Poems · writing

Rules Beset

Inspiration on thin ice

Those melodies don’t play nice

When you’re underground

Hairlines gathering dust

They concede that you must comply,

For at least what’s under my

Jurisdiction

Poems · writing

Write My Poetry

Fear of failure I’m close to giving up

Untethered froM reality

The vowels they compound and we—

I’m lost when I’ve fallen into you

Authenticity,

Your electricity

You enrage and enlighten me

Frightening prospects and the sound of your name

Risking a cliche I’m too afraid to say it casts lightning

All the same.

Drunk on my inhibitions,

These admissions,

They’d never let me in.

My ticket was stamped for yesterday and there is no way to see the show, now.

Did I mention feeling exposed? Yes.

Surviving on instinct,

I’m sure I’m meant to act this way, why not?

Who can ever tell, anyway, between what’s real,

What is blocked.

Configurations.

I’ll wait for the circus to come to town

Write to me then, when the madness comes back around


I’ve been a little disjointed lately, and I’m sure this reflects that. Doesn’t that suck? When you feel like you’ve got a grip on yourself and your brain goes “hahahaha nope. You’ve gotta do it again.”? Oh well. It’s fiiiine! It’s fine. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Poems · writing

Out Of Line

Frost bitten, love ridden

Cracked and bitter lips frame one of those smiles that keep you up at night sometimes

My coat does nothing to keep out the cold.

In this quiet kind of sadness,

I’m missing those warmer months.

A trapeze.


A shorter one from a couple months ago

Poems · writing

Disconnected Dreamscape

I lose myself so easily,

Slipping masks on that never even fit me.

Irony being in that I know now, more than ever, who I’m meant to be.

Too often, though, this surety escapes me.

A ruse, this game we play,

No two thoughts ever the same

Coexistence, a mortal flame,

Realizations hitting, too late.

We’re all the same.


Now why don’t you act your age?

Smile and rage.

Ladylike pains.

Ignore the kerosene flowing through your veins.

I need a desperate act. A heart attack accident just waiting to happen.

Sweet leaves condense underneath your tongue.

Oh whisper to me the things you would never tell anyone.

I’ll hide them under my pillow,

Dreams, fears, delusions.

I fall asleep to laughter and tears, moments collected over the years.

There are shared songs and stories—my joy, I find, has settled here

Content to rest in the times you were near.

writing

Thoughts on: Pain

So, pain. It’s relative. I mean, everything is, but for some reason when someone is going through a lot, our tendency is to say stuff like, “Hey well, at least you have your health!” Or, “It’ll get better, just be grateful it’s not worse”, things like that.

This is…kinda shitty. Yes, thank you for reminding me I have both arms. Yes, I know the world doesn’t revolve around my pain, I know I’m not unique in that, I know.

What would be more productive, though, is acknowledging the fact that people experience all different levels and all different kinds of hardship.

Someone has a falling out with a friend? Their feelings are valid. Someone else loses a pet? Those feelings are valid, too, and no one gets to decide how long or short any kind of grieving period is. We as people love solutions. Cut and dry ways to “fix” things, but that’s just not how humans work. You can only get so far with that kind of problem solving, which is why I love and hate self help books.

I love them, because there are so many kinds for so many people. I also hate them because, more often than not, they’re prescribed as a kind of “fix-all”, like those all-in-one cold medicines. “Cures all symptoms. Fast relief!” Like, sure, my nose is clear, but I’ve also been staring at this wall for the last twenty minutes wondering what flavor Pepsi is.

Figuring yourself out is…never ending. People are different, and there is no single solution for hard times. It’s trial and error, and something that worked last time might not work for whatever you’re going through now.

Something I heard from a lady earlier tonight really stuck with me, though, and (at least for now) her advice has changed my perspective in my own troubles.

It’s basically that, when you’re saddled with a lot of pain, and you find yourself asking “why”, hoping, praying for better circumstances or some kind of change, it’s better to look at yourself.

Most of the time we don’t have a choice over what goes on in our lives, and that can be really devastating, that lack of control. So her thing was, “there’s a reason for everything”.

Okay, alright, I can feel the eye rolls. Just hold on, geez!

There’s a reason for everything, and sometimes the thing you need to focus on changing is not actually the circumstances, but you. All suffering is not in vain, so since you can rarely change something you don’t like, it only makes sense to focus on improving yourself.

When things are all good, when you’re happy? It’s hard to change. Definitely not impossible, but it’s hard to find motivation. You don’t want to fuck it up by going around making tweaks to yourself and whatever. You want to enjoy the happiness you have.

So once you’re thrown into chaos, your heart kind of clenches up and (I know I personally do this) you throw a pity party for yourself. That does just about nothing, though. By all means, be sad. Pain is relative, remember, but once you start looking for solutions, maybe look to yourself first instead of your situation.

And, obviously, if your situation is that you’re choking in a restaurant or something, that’s not the time to be doing any soul searching. Get to a hospital, you maniac, stop writing things down in your Feelings journal.

But yeah so, if things in your life are out of control, and you feel like nothing matters, you’re right!

Okay, kidding, sorry. Two jokes in a row. Bad form.

It’s kind of true, though. You don’t have control over how people receive your words, and sometimes you don’t have any way to fix things going on in your life. The only thing you really have control over is you.

You decide how you receive pain and what you’re going to do with it. Take advantage of whatever shit has been thrown your way and use it to become a truer version of yourself! It probably won’t change your situation(s), but at least you’ll know yourself a little better.

Obviously, this is a universal solution, being able to change yourself through pain, so you’re welcome for this discovery of mine.

What?? Are you seriously going to just accept that after everything I said? God. You need more help than I do. Fortunately, I know of a self help book that did wonders for a friend of mine I can recommend to you…

Old stuff · Poems · writing

Never Enough

Inspiration fine as silk blown away by a fluttering of eyelashes, a pair of eyes too bright, a connection from one soul to another

Too fast.

Too soon.

Blooms grow from these solid bones this sordid flesh of mine

No one means to hurt not really

The mind can be a comforting thing in the face of our misery, never thinking twice of the wounds it will leave behind.

Take a breath, try to speak, and find you have nothing to say

They can see it all. Staring into yourself you know there is a flame within trying so hard to flicker out failing time and time again

Children learn to tie their shoes to count by two

Children learn to tie up strings to fall in love with dirty things

Fingers tracing new horizons we color outside the lines

Dreaming is my drug of choice the only side effect a heart void of this world and its inhabitants

Every day the same causes a shift of the beat inside, strumming in staccato the words and visions I cannot reclaim as I try to explain in these too little sentences some desire deep inside

Beat yourself black and blue marvel at the change as blood attempts to flow again through your broken veins

[Written sometime in 2013/2014]

aUtHoRs nOtE: Writing the tags makes me realize how sad some of my stuff is and it’s a little depressing LOL.

Old stuff · Poems · writing

Flames

   Of course the day after I promise to post everyday my family practically blows up. Trying to hold it together. I didn’t get the chance to take a breather let alone write, but here’s an old, silly poem I wrote awhile ago because I don’t want to give up. I’m worried, and honestly scared, but I will not let that control me. We will be okay. 

Trying to sway my hands in a way that somehow seems melodic. 

You watch me enchanted as I utter condolences to that iguana who died last week.

I know he thinks I’m fancy but really I’m ok. 

Because that iguana didn’t care if his tail was on fire, he barely felt a thing.

So why do you expect me to keep on singing when I’m just like that stupid iguana.

Spinning in circles amazed at the flames burning me alive.

[2013]

I wanted to add that I thought I was pretty edgy back then, but honestly I can’t say I wouldn’t write something similar today and also think it was extremely edgy, so. What can you doooo.