Mar 28

Old Words

 
The sound of my typewriter
Clicking and clacking and buzzing
Keys pressing down
To create the stories
I guard in my mind.

The sound of my typewriter
Drowing out all other noise
Paper shifting and gliding across the top
The smell of fresh ink
Staining white paper.

The sound of my typewriter
Old and filled with a thousand
Words, a thousand people, a thousand lives
Bought for a fraction of its worth
Enveloping me in its click, clack, click, clack. 
 
Mar 28

"did you want to see me broken?"

*inspired by Maya Angelou's Still I Rise, and the line, "Did you want to see me broken?"


Hey, can I sit with 
you guys?
No, the loser table is
that way. Sorry.


do you 
like to know
that after i've 
walked away
after my smile
has been seen
after my head
has been held high
my grin starts
to fade and 
my shoulders
start to droop
and my eyes
fall
to the floor
as tears cascade
i can't take 
this anymore

what makes
you feel like royalty
the 'friends' that
TAP-HEART-TO
LIKE-IMAGE
your selfies
the admirers wistfully 
eyeing you as if they'd 
kill 
to be 
in that empty
chair next to you
feeling just as powerful
instead of hiding 
like me

when you're all
alone
do you feel 
satisfied
Mar 28

Flowers

Hate does not
make flowers bloom
their purpleredpinkorange 
petals (delicate 
as lace) 
do not touch the sky.

Hate does not
make children smile
their mouths (hungry, 
sometimes unfed)
do not stretch wide
with happiness.

Hate does not
make you stronger
those ugly poisonous
words(aimed toward the
innocent)
do not make the world
a brighter place.

Hate does not 
make us look different
our eyes are 
still bluegreenbrown
but our thoughts 
(once used for a greater 
purpose, meaning)
are filled with 
bitter dislike.

Hate does not
make problems go away
in fact, it creates more
a domino train
(taking on and letting 
off passengers routinely)
so much now, heaps
suffocating
the illuminated world.

Hate does not 
make us unite
our hands, all shades
Mar 28

Ode To Writing


Oh, writing,
How I love you!
With your eyes that I can
Fall and disappear into,
And your safe arms 
I wrap myself up in. 
Whether I'm reading
Or creating stories of my own
You're always my friend,
My love, even. 
When I'm sad or
Stressed or tired of the world
I fold myself into your pages
And with a sprinkle of 
Literary dust-
Away my problems go.
Writing, you are my love
And I hope we shall never be apart.
You let me release 
The haphazard thoughts
Travelling around in my mind.
You let me read your words
Soaking them in like water.
Your pages are my paradise.
Please, let us be apart no longer.
Each moment without you
Is dotted with tears.
Where do I put my stress and fears?
But then you reappear
And I love you once more.
If we shall be apart any longer-
Oh! I might die at the thought. 
Mar 28

Footsteps

All alone in the world
My hesitant footsteps echoing infinitely
I check to see if anyone's following
But no one seems to see me at all.

Daybreak opens the clouds like gates
Will the sun see me?
Ah, nevermind. Silly thoughts for someone
Who's all alone in the world.

Snowflakes fall down like cliff-jumpers
They risk melting so we can see
Their iridescent, ominous beauty
Still, I am all alone in the world.

Night comes behind me like a thief
I'm surrounded in darkness
But I feel like the light-
The only one in the world.

Everyone's asleep, snoring in their beds
Even the moon has slumbered off,
Behind the wicked clouds.

And still, 
Still I am all alone in the world
As my hesitant footsteps echo infinitely. 
 
Mar 28

What Being A Teenager Is Really Like

I am a broken traveller.
My compass fell long ago
Now it's leading another lost soul. 
I left my map
Somwhere in the maze
Now it's finding its own way home.
I dropped my backpack
Trying to climb over a fallen tree.
Now all my food is decomposing in the ground.
I am a broken traveller.
My shoes were abandoned
They never helped me anyway.
Now they're worthless litter that once were mine.
I forgot about my jacket
While dodging a ruthless bear.
Now all he has is ripped up nylon.
I don't have a compass
A map, a backpack, shoes, a jacket.
I lost them all
In the dense forest
Of growing up.
I am a broken traveller. 
 
Feb 15

Stranger


#vtwrites18

The nicest thing a stranger has done for me is when I was in the mall. A man walking by was talking to someone on his phone, and glanced back over his shoulder at me. 
"You're beautiful," he said. 
Awestruck, I didn't know what to say. "Thank you," I replied. 
I couldn't believe it. He was probably running late somewhere, on his phone, in a crowded mall, yet still stopped to look me in the eyes and tell me I was beautiful? My eyes were wide in shock. 
Jan 13

Red Rose

a promise
is a feather 
you hold carefully 
in your palm
not letting go
until you know it's gone

a promise
is when you laugh 
and you start 
to believe 
you'll be okay
before tumbling down

a promise
is freeing your heart
to live in
magic, love, loss
to know it's okay 
and you're not alone

a promise
is a gesture
a single red, red rose
or a thousand
singing doves  
that fill you with joy

a promise 
is a letter
maybe faded, maybe lost
dusty, wrinkled, 
but full of love
he'll be home soon

a promise
isn't forever 
not always,
maybe never
but a promise
is something to trust

a promise
is full of hope 
whispering wishes 
in your ear
you know he'll
be home soon

a promise
is the relief
that you feel
when the door opens
Dec 06

Photographs

Oh, the ways that photographs lie.
A millisecond caught 
With frozen faces
And lying eyes.
A frame 
Of a faded memory
Yellow, old, and forever stuck
In a moment
Where you see
Everything but the truth.
The people it snapshots
Will always seem
Just Great!
Perfectly Okay!
Those people are quite 
Talented, in masking
Their monsters.
You know, the hungry
Terrifying beasts
That rage on and 
On inside us.
Instead, you see 
The perfect couples
The silly children
The carefree teens.
Oh, the ways that photographs lie.
 
 

 
Nov 26

Everlasting

Pain:
Heart aching with sorrow
Slowing to a near stop
Restless and sad.
Pain:
Shooting, powerful, wealthy pain
Knows its deceit and torture
Then smiles as you cry.
Pain:
Senses the slightest fear
Dives at its victim
Claws latching on with precision.
Pain:
Like a knife in your body
Twisting and waltzing 
Enjoying your suffering.
Pain:
Thirsty for more success
Never to be defeated
By the scoff-worthy pills.
Pain:
Disgusting to watch
Dauntless with control
Eager to show you its strength.
Pain:
Shudders run through you
It just won't leave
That infinite squeeze of hurt.
Pain:
Like death but less mortal
Everlasting and eternal
No escape for any or all.
 

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