Poetry

Talk Session Ten

Advertisements
Standard
Poetry

Stagnant Water

my body isn’t mine dawn and dusk

it belongs to the restlessness

the tomorrow never comes

only the in betweens are mine to control

my imperfections are mountains

i am climbing myself

rain is boring into my back

water is filling me up

i am too heavy

the slippery stones give

but the ground doesn’t want me

i attempt to fly

i am at the edge looking into the stomach of time

i don’t see wings but i have faith?

i imagine flapping

i take a leap

i fall

the ground doesn’t want me

my soul is a stagnant water

Standard
Poetry

Rodent Parade

i have a whole room to myself.

yet, this is me crouching in one corner.

square rooms are prison cells.

they end everywhere.

can you smell the loneliness on my tired clothes?

sweat-drenched XXL Lacoste

made bed. too made to be lain in.

my mind is a gutter. all the waste gathers here.

it is a filthy, filthy place.

my memories are rats.

big ass rats gnawing into my brain.

last night was a rodent parade.

Standard
Poetry

there’s too much valley here

when the sound of my own breathing reaches my ears

and my skin is warm

and time attaches itself to my brain

vulnerable, i am my most, here

now, inside sheets reeking of aging dreams and dying hope

there’s too much valley here

when do i start climbing?

 

Standard
Poetry

Your first love

your first love’s

tattooed on your heart

and it burns, still burns

like it was just yesterday

they decided to be fire

instead of water.

Standard
Poetry

Dark Places and People

How many more scars

do you need on your body

to remind you of the existence

of some dark place?

To remind you to not

stray too far

To not bring along people

whose hands cannot build home

or hold one down?

Standard
Poetry

Painting Survival

While you’re painting survival

with your blood and tears,

do not forget that this war you fight

began with your permission

and will end only when you decide

that you have seen enough

of your own blood being collected.

Standard
Poetry

The Lying Game

there’s a way you hang on to words

even after the last letter has escaped the lips

even after the last pause

even after the last exhale

that is you being expectant

that somehow the lie will be given up

and the truth will, for once, make an appearance

and when it doesn’t

when it dawns on you

how much you’ve always known this person

there’s also this way you look at them

their eyes

their lips

some i-told-myself-so jumps up from within you

your insides are on fire

you begin to think of the many definitions of a fool

beginning with you.

 

 

Standard
Poetry

How To Fight the War Inside Your Body

War is raging in your body

Oppression of all sorts under your skin

The same that tore your mother down

and your sisters, too.

The same that will break your daughters

because you have not been taught how to love yourself

but everything outside of your own.

 

Yesterday,

down to your birthskin and into immersion,

water resuscitated all of your unjustified guilt.

Bathroom mirrors scrutinized more than just your upper body

You fought

And you lost

Crumpled to pieces at your own reflection

–  not enough strength to pull yourself from the shame

Not enough will you hold your head high

and look you in the face.

 

You have long made excuses for this repression

Worn it like a crown upon your head

Adorned it with your diamond tears

Deified it

Even given it face

And form

Given it home inside your most sacred places.

 

But if you will wake

Give yourself some of this love you give to others

You will find an army sitting inside of you

ready to help you extract freedom from any kind of oppression

You will be done fighting

Because you will love

And you will heal.

Standard
Poetry

Homecoming

Your walls will go up again.

And this time you will swear it.

You will swear to keep them standing.

You will swear to protect yourself.

You won’t break like tired wood.

You won’t fall.

Your bridges won’t burn

because there will be none – no crossing to the other side.

No marching against yourself.

You will surrender to yourself.

You will belong to you.

Not to the promises.

Not to the waiting.

Not to the wishing.

Not to the lonely nights,

or the dying lights.

Not to self-destructing habits.

Not to people who aren’t or things that aren’t.

Not to what you’ve lost

or what you will never gain.

You will be yours now.

Yours to guard.

Yours to defend.

Yours to secure.

You will come home, to rebuild.

 

 

Standard