Category Archives: Poetry

Divided

We are at Rock bottom.
Divided, a canyon wall separates those of the left and right.
Walking together on separate paths
Seeing altogether different facts
In these #metoo days
Should men worry about being accused?
Or should woman worry about being believed?
“It’s a scary time,” both proclaim
Are humans causing an Earthly detriment?
Or is the Earth warming on her own?
Surely, it’s only one way or another.
And the other is just a conspiracy.
Should we be America first
And celebrate the almighty dollar?
Or should we embrace globalization
And work together on each other’s wealth?
Should I stand
And pledge my allegiance to the flag?
Or should I kneel
And protest institutionalized racism and brutality?
Was the reason jobs fled the heartland
Was because of cheap labor elsewhere?
Or did modern technology automate processes
Replacing the human?
Will no one offer a path out of this abyss?
Certainly not the man in the oval office
Whose 2am tweets dig deeper holes,
And taller walls with barbed wire fences.
And certainly not the Establishment Left
Whose positions have been bought and paid
By the dark money corporations
That they decry of the Right
Somewhere in the middle
a lifeline exists
Someone must have the tools
To bridge the divide
The Mason Dixon line has been drawn in the sand
Unless a solution is found,
The war will wage on
Tearing our country apart.
Let us let go of out heartfelt beliefs for a moment
And consider the truths of the other side.
Let us come together at the top of the wall
And be undivided.
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Ode to Dr. Ford

He was a favorite uncle,
A babysitter,
A neighbor,
A classmate,
A brother in law,
A cousin,
A modeling agent;
A familiar face in a young woman’s life.
A touch unwanted,
A photograph taken,
A sleep disturbed,
A shirt removed,
A moment stolen,
A scream muffled,
A No unheeded:
“No, no, no, no!”
And then:
Fear,
Shame,
Guilt,
Pain unending;
Broken.
A whisper in a friend’s ear,
A rebuke and a cold shoulder:
“Boys will be boys.”
“Why didn’t you say no louder?”
“Why did you wait so long?”
“How dare you ruin his reputation!”
But I say to you:
Make no excuses for his atrocities,
Collect those tears and triumph over your fears;
Let no man take away your humanity.
You are:
Strong,
Valiant,
Valued,
Righteous,
Courageous.
You are more than the sum of his actions;
You deserve to be heard.
Shout from the rooftop for justice;
You survived.
Now, keep surviving;
Live, and live well in spite of the pain.
But don’t fear to grieve innocence stolen,
Or face the naysayers; there are many.
Each day is a puzzle piece of solace returned
Each day another opportunity to bring your light into the world.
Just Shine.

Needs a title (please suggest one in the comments, bonus if it relates to fall)

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
Words muttered in desperate prayer.
Who is it that you hate?
You of course:
The rough cracked pot
The broken human
Days never ending
The world digging into your heart
Begging for a release
Release from this Juptonian Gravity

“I love you! I love you! I love you!”
Words muttered in thankful meditation.
Who is it that you love?
You of course:
The mended pot
The healed human
Days full of possibilities
The world cradling your heart
Begging for a chance
A chance to make a difference, no matter how small

“I hate you! I love you!”
Which is it today?
Shall you rise and fall with the seasons
Changing anon
For one, you shall surely wither into Winter
And the other, bloom into Spring.
For now, you should embrace both
In the multi colored realm of Fall

Not My Suicide

*trigger warning* 
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one sitting on the couch
The world digging into my heart
tears streaming down my face
no, no more tears
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one holding my head in my hands
Fearing my own thoughts
Breaths coming quickly
breathe, just breathe
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one lining pill bottles on the table
researching the MLDs
wondering how much time is left
Time, no more time
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one drinking a second bottle of wine
pondering my very existence
Will I be missed?
Hope, no more hope.
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one holding the knife
pressing metal to flesh,
tearing into veins;
blood, so much blood
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one on the phone
calling for a lifeline
wondering if anyone can help
Help, just help
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one climbing into the ambulance
answering 50 questions
losing consciousness
Lost, just lost
 
This can’t be me
I’m not the one waking up in the hospital
missing whole days
wondering where I’ve been
alive, just alive
That couldn’t have been me
I’m not the one near the end
my story is not finished;
I persevere
life, sweet life

Manic Revelations of Fall

If you’ve ever been curious about what a manic episode is like; then, read this:

Clock flashes, 1am, another lap round the block

Shoes, you need more shoes.
And notebooks
And sparkly pens
And pink flamingos
Cause your garden is lonely
2am, you speed ever faster, fishtaling corners and flying through school zones.
Walmart, your midnight savior welcomes you
with open arms, inviting infinite swipes of plastic cards
3am, you’re the now the proud owner $3000 of 23 new dresses
and matching necklaces
And 13 bright red scarves
And unpaid electric and phone bills
4am, The world needs your awesome hot spot kiosks
It’s the best invention ever to
carress your smartphone’s skin
Facebook will launch it millionaire status!
5 am, competing radio stations blare cacaophony in your head
“I will survive..”
“I’m a little teapot short and stout..”
Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive…”
“Here is my handle, here is my spout…”
I’ve got all my life to live…”
“When I get all steamed up, hear me shout!”
And I’ve got all my love to give and I’ll survive…”
“Tip me over and pour me out!”
6 am, sunrise, your 3rd without slumber
You embrace the universe as your soul melts into the firmaments
Glittery green and sparkling gold scream behind your irises
The trees whisper their secrets to you through their tender tendrils
Magical revelations of fall
7am, breakfast, Canopy Cafe
Must have all the eggs
And bacon
And pancakes
And muffins
But eat nothing
What fairy creature eats food?
8 am, devour the fine man specimen walking through the door
See me? Want me? I’m the most fairest in the land.
Smile, flirt, gotta have him.
With a flutter of wings, phone numbers drop into hands
9am, phone rings
plans breed ever more exhaulting plans
Must have mancicle for dessert after work
He’s perfect, you’re perfect
Match made in heaven
10am, work forgotten,
Words vomit upon the page
The world’s next best selling novel takes it’s true form
Who needs an editor when perfection is born?
1am, there’s a knock at the door
But there’s no one there
Big brother must know where you live
Get it out!
The bug in your ear.
2am, you hear your heart beat
“Thumb, Thump,”
“Thump, Thump,”
“Thump.”
But it’s not yours anymore
3am, from a distance you see yourself walk out the door
Around the corner
Down the hill
Crossing busy streets
Heading towards nowhere
4am, you yell at the trees for their inane whispers and evil glares
“I hate you!” you utter to the wind for laughing at your turmoil.
5am, Alone on a park bench, which park you have not a clue
Eyes, thousands of tiny eyes, stare at you from the sky
You phone a friend pleading for protection from the omniscient universe
6am, Sunrise. You watch the sky bleed from the front seat of your friend’s car
You explain the eyes and cacaphonious voices to a bewildered face
You smile as you finally have a sympathetic ear.
7am, Hospital. Snake crossed knights offer protection and succor.
The tiles on the ceiling number 546.
The well worn floor records lap number 104.
Said knights in white give shots full of sedation
8am, Sleep. Glorious sleep.
Head reaquinted with pillow four nights forgot.
Was it all a dream? What is reality?
Wings clipped, you fall back to the Earthly realm.
Restoration begins.

This Autumnal Exisistence

As I walk alone down the path in the woods I search for solace
Step-by-step stumbling along wondering if this step will be my last.
What is this existence? Why must we don these flesh suits and toil all day only to be like the dead at night. Rinse repeat.
The dawn comes whether you want it to or no. The night engulfs all bright thoughts.
The lighthouse guides the mariner through the darkest of nights; As I seek The Shining Star through the gloomiest of moods.
I breathe with the trees, inhale the sweet Florida Air, exhale all my broken promises and dangling dreams.
If only I could photosynthesize like the Summer’s green leaves, produce my own happy energy.
Instead I must fade to red and then brown in this perpetual autumnal exisistence. The days grow short and I wait for winter, dreaming of the Spring that may never come.
But come it must, for though I may never grow from acorn to mighty oak, I will persevere through the changing of the seasons. Even in Autumn, the cool winds of bliss blows upon my brow.

Old Man Willow