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Sick and tiredi'm sick and tired
of words that turn to dust in your mouth
and still you spit them out
i'm sick and tired
of holding your hand, and your heart, and your demons off
all along with mine
i'm sick and tired
of being so cold
and colder because of you
i'm sick and tired
of fading faster
in the onslaught of your artificial sunlight
i'm sick and tired
of biting my tongue
after I've failed to keep it silent
To the parents of my generationSometime we need it a little louder so we can here the noise
Sometimes we need them drawn onto our skin before we can understand what the words mean
Sometimes we need to carry color in our hair so that we remember who we are when we are stripped of our childhood
Sometimes we need to decorate our bodies so that we throw off a light of our own
Sometimes we need to rebel in order to feel wanted/ valued/ remembered
Sometimes we need to scream at the only people we trust to love us when we're done
I will admitI
to waking before the sun rises and hiking into the hills, laying on my stomach in the dusty trail and sticking out my tongue to taste the early morning dew from the sweet grasses
to running and vaulting myself onto my bed at night in order to avoid the monsters under the bed-frame
to touching myself out of curiosity rather than in search of pleasure
to putting glitter in my bath
to running barefoot through mud of questionable origins without a thought
to eating strange things in strange combinations in strange places
to staying up reading and sleeping late
to chasing after birds and lizards
to believing in true love and mythical critters
to being an empath
to holding a grudge
to being afraid to dance
to singing in the shower
to giving in to distractions
to reading ahead
to putting on airs
to writing in books
to avoiding pain that needs to be faced
to playing the devil's advocate
to dyeing my hair because it makes me feel like a rainbow
to acting younger than I am
to not ta
Dont Call This NumberI am a self-admitted chronic eavesdropper.
because really, maybe the world DOES need more female truckers.
589-9320, you say? Sure, I'll call you back. Monday, right?
God, I KNOW! My last dog was picked up by a hawk too! That's living in LA for you.
No, babe, I didn't cheat on you, and her name was Sonya, not Sarah.
I wonder if these people realize they're not in a cone of silence on wheels.
I shake my head at you fools.
Scarywhen did I stop being nice
and became "scary"
was it when I started correcting others' grammar, other than just my friends?
or was it when I found my voice, am I talking too loud?
is my pushing people away too forceful, too pronounced?
instead of the weakness I am trying to hide, do they see cruelty that isn't there?
I never thought people would believe the front I put up so thoroughly
maybe I am too forward, too present.
I think it is time I sat back
and stayed quiet.
Poem In Progressmy daughter drowned in a pond impregnated with duckweed
less than knee - deep and cold, like a body just vacated
beneath the greenery little fish dark about
like a cross between your generic goldfish and a common minnow
they lie in wait
they flutter around the feet and legs of curiosity
they open their jaws, exposing rows upon rows of tiny needle-like teeth
and before you know it they've latched onto the skin
but they're not why my daughter drowned
the stoneturtles that lie for years undisturbed
their shells buttered by algae
bite (when stepped on)
but it wasn't the stoneturtles that killed her
teabirds dive-bomb wanderers
tearing out lost-ones' hair
raking skin with their claws
I'm dreamingI flew in my dreams for the first time
and quite honestly, its not all its cracked up to be
yes, there is a sense of freedom
but its not that amazing
I still felt lost
and no one told me I'd be running from something
something I know is not there
so my first flight was powdered with feelings of supreme stupidity
and weighed down by disappointment
even in my dreams
jeromeJerome where have you wandered
around which river and bend
upon which tree have you climbed and looked onward
which bird did you follow back home?
kidsmake no mistake, she is wind-kept
wild hair and blank eyes
she'll dance through your lungs
leaving you breathless
and colder (than before)
he is a child of mournings
skin a soft gray and the coo of a dove
as if a touch would push him
and he'd scatter like dandelion seeds
they are a pair of river rocks
twins - without gender or feeling
if ever there were hearts made of stone
I've found them
my children of earth and stone
my children of flesh and bone
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Because He'sHe’s listening
Millions of them.
A flash of red
And a navy hat
No warning – now motionless
With skin turned to shadows.
Effluviawith a laugh like her's, like rain pattering on windowsills
i comment, watching arms the color of cream flail and reach for something not there
you'd think she'd sound better drowning
all i get is a shrug in response
bodies say more when they're silent
tongues and hands lie
eyes, not so much
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