I want to eat my life
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Posted:Jun 18, 2021 3:53 pm
Last Updated:Jun 19, 2021 6:56 am
7270 Views
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I want eat my life
—Olga Broumas, "If I Yes", Gift of Tongues
I want to eat my life
written June th, 2021
I
me, us, we
he, she, they
singular
plural
all of us
all of me.
I
want
that aching sensual word
not the bare factualness of need
something born in the soul
it takes hope want
and incredible bravery.
I want
eat
slowly like little bites of chocolate
then voraciously like melting ice cream
all of it - every last bite
because it is my favorite thing in the world.
I want eat
my
mine - not borrowed -
not shared - not apologized for -
not stolen - not ashamed of -
not asked for - begged for - pleaded for
mine.
I want to eat my
life
I want to love it - build it -
want it - claim it - live it fully
from top to bottom and side to side
every inch of it known, explored and claimed.
I want to eat my life.
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8
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Survival of the fittest
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Posted:Jun 3, 2021 4:55 pm
Last Updated:Jun 19, 2021 6:57 am
8063 Views
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Survival of the fittest
written October th, 2020
Survival of the fittest.
What does that mean?
Fit for what?
Fit for keeping a multitude of shameful secrets?
Fit for being able fill multiple mutually exclusive roles?
Fit for loving the ones who hurt you over and over?
Fit for hiding in plain sight?
So you survive
and you are so good at being invisible
that nobody can see you.
You love passionately
moments from the past
and books from the present.
You are a multitude
but none is complete
or known by the world.
You hold the secrets inside of you
until you are the only one
that remembers them.
None of these skills
help you
in the real world.
Sometimes the result
isn't survival of the fittest
but just survival of those that survive.
______________________
I usually include thoughts about writing the poem, but I think commenting is broken, so here are my thoughts:
I have written myself out of life for so long, and erased myself even from my own poems. Here is another one that has been sitting in my notebook for so long. I don't know if posting it brings some resolution, or if now I will just need write this poem again. I have heard that healing is a spiral. Perhaps the next version of this poem, will be more complete.
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2
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Time reveals
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Posted:Jun 2, 2021 7:10 am
Last Updated:Jun 2, 2021 3:47 pm
8751 Views
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Time reveals
written May 25th, 2021
Time gradually reveals
treasures dear
lines of poetry
flows of water
buds on the tree
they feed the soul
if patience perseveres
polishing
raw painful shards
until they crack open
revealing glorious brilliance
that shines briefly
time dearest
just another day
another second
hold on
for time to reveal
her treasures.
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2
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For you I would build
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Posted:Jun 1, 2021 12:23 pm
Last Updated:Jun 2, 2021 6:51 am
7810 Views
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For you I would build
written May 9th, 2021
If I could build a life
if I was that kind of architect
I'd build days filled with sun
soft colors - soft light - soft surfaces
you would always have shelter
and never be cold
your nightlight would be
the steady stars in the sky
your world would be filled
with food music and books
to help you grow healthy and strong
nourished with delight
I'd be every kind of person
to hold you
to make you laugh
to inspire you with wonders
so you are never alone
I would build this
if I could
for you
___
I whisper to you
you are safe always
just be brave
and whisper back
if there is anything you want
I would pull down a star for you
plant a tree in the middle of your room
inhabit it with koalas
make an oasis in the desert
a bridge across the ocean
(I am an engineer - and so - you are also)
Each day I try
to face my fears
for us
I live waiting to hear your voice
to know you feel
safe enough to want.
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3
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I want to go home (ptsd related poem)
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Posted:May 30, 2021 7:40 pm
Last Updated:Jun 1, 2021 5:46 am
8013 Views
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I want to go home
started April 7th, 2020
I sit in a corner
a small
and cry, saying:
I want to go home.
I have a lovely safe home
but I'm not sure
I always live here.
I want to go home.
What does 2020 or Atlanta mean?
Sometimes it feels like
they have no context.
I want to go home.
My first definition of home
was built of opposites:
comfort-pain
violate-nurture
shaping-shattering
love-hurt.
When everything
is tainted what is left?
What is the opposite
of everything? Nothing?
I want to go home.
I cry for a home
that was my everything
and that was also no home.
I want to go home.
I learn how to breath
over and over again
trying recognize - redefine - repair.
I want to go home.
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4
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I want to know why? (ptsd related poem)
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Posted:May 30, 2021 6:38 pm
Last Updated:Jun 1, 2021 5:47 am
7558 Views
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I want to know why?
written March 31st, 2021
I want to know why
you had to do
the things you did.
I know you hated yourself
and everything about your world
and I know
you loved me.
I know there were generations
of alcoholism and abuse.
Nobody told me,
but I know.
I want to know why
I have to live like this
the chaos and fracturing inside
on these bad days.
I want to know why
there isn't any answer
no balm or salve to sooth
this rampant infection in me.
I want to know why
it has to be this way.
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2
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Some songs have no name
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Posted:May 30, 2021 4:19 am
Last Updated:May 31, 2021 12:49 pm
7678 Views
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Some songs have no name
written October 19th, 2020
I come back to the same theme
of pain and the past
manifesting in my present.
I have tried ignoring them.
I have tried fighting them.
I have sought therapists and seers
who teach me new ways to battle,
but what I fight and avoid
just seems to get stronger.
Forgive they say.
I WILL NOT
say it was ok
tell you to go peacefully to your death
with no stain on your conscience.
I try
living with the demons and memories
the hurt and betrayal
where there should have been safety and comfort.
Will I die an lady one day
still crying and hiding?
Will I find a peace of my own?
Can origami cranes and butterflies
fill my skies?
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3
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Lamentation
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Posted:May 29, 2021 7:41 am
Last Updated:May 30, 2021 3:37 am
7282 Views
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Lamentation
written May 25th, 2021
I want to weep
for all those lost
I rend my garments
for those without hope
I tear at my hair
for those in pain now
I bow my head
for those who will hurt
(which is all of us)
my lamentation sings out
so they know they are not alone
my words rise up
as my tears spill down
onto the page
let my tears - this lamentation
purchase a moment of relief from the gods
for the lost, without hope
hurting and in pain
the gift of one
deep sweet breath
filled with peace.
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7
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Are you like me?
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Posted:May 26, 2021 2:11 am
Last Updated:May 26, 2021 4:54 pm
6952 Views
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Can someone just hold me?
Don't fix me, don't try to change me
Can someone just know me?
'Cause underneath, I'm broken and it's beautiful
—"Broken & Beautiful", Sung by Kelly Clarkson. Written by Steve Mac, John Mcdaid, Alecia B Moore, Marshmello
Are you like me?
written May 25th, 2021
I look for
reflections of myself
in the world
that aren't apologies
or clinical definitions of hurt
more than
an easy cliche in a song
but it is a start.
I listen to songs
read books and poems
watch tv shows and movies,
when I see a hint of familiarity
I get so damned excited
"Are you like me?!?
No? Sorry, my bad."
So I keep looking
trying to be brave
making expeditions into the world
while holding close
the book I find
the people I know and knew
who know me.
I don't tell anyone
what I am looking for
leaving it up to chance
hoping that fate
will bump us together
long enough to find out
Are you like me?
__________________
Thoughts about this poem:
That song bothers me a bit. I would never create something that was broken intentionally. It's far from an ideal way to live life, but since I am this way, I need to find the beauty in it. I need to find people who can hold me and know me. Go listen to the Kelly Clarkson song. The depth of her voice makes that song.
Of course I love so many people who aren't like me, and there are people who know me who aren't like me, but I want to see myself somewhere in the world. Thank you to the artists who write themselves for the world to see.
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1
comment
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Written on my soul
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Posted:May 23, 2021 4:18 am
Last Updated:May 28, 2021 5:18 pm
7155 Views
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Written on my soul
written May th, 2021
Some poems
are written
with pen and paper
in the light of day.
Other poems
are written on my soul
when the night is so thick
no light will pierce it.
They all come from the same place
and must be written
either easily or through hard labor
with trembling and tears
ink the color of blood
waiting for dawn
reveal what was written
the night before.
Often I am scared look
and fold it away
look at another day
when I am feeling stronger.
What was written
on your soul last night?
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4
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Still Night
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Posted:May 22, 2021 9:35 am
Last Updated:May 26, 2021 2:06 pm
6620 Views
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Still Night
written May th, 2021
The stillness
of dark night
surrounds me
swallowing the light
suspending animation
sinisterly whispering
stealing my breath
stifling me
and I wonder
how long will it be
still night.
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5
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I wait
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Posted:May 21, 2021 7:16 am
Last Updated:May 23, 2021 5:50 pm
6642 Views
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I wait
written May 9th, 2021
I wait
for the sun rise
so I can see
if the trees
still reside
outside.
I wait
for those who slumber
to wake
so there is the possibility
of . . . ?
I wait
to know the question
so I can search
for the answer.
I wait
to find the key
that makes it all
make sense.
I wait
for the tears
to start?
to stop?
to know why I cry.
I wait
for daylight
so I can cultivate
something other than
silence.
I watch my cats sleep
in the middle of the night
and I wait.
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6
Comments
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The halls of my mind
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Posted:May 20, 2021 4:23 am
Last Updated:May 21, 2021 12:43 pm
7039 Views
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The halls of my mind
written April 6th, 2021
I spend my time
walking the halls
of my mind.
Parts are like
an Escher drawing
with stairs that go
everywhere
and nowhere.
I take a set of stairs
that leads a spiral
circling inward
never reaching
the center.
Until my next step
almost takes over
the cliff
at the outermost edge.
Sometimes I sit
that edge of the world
looking out at
the neighboring universes
and wonder about wings.
Eventually I turn back
down a long unbroken hallway
which is as long as my life
and continue walking these halls
that are my world.
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3
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