I called you. You spoke in fire. I spoke through falling rain. You told me you saw a plastic mess and left it. I told you I grew tree roots from my hands. You informed me of broken china. I informed you I was stuck to the wall with super glue. You notified me through eight books. I notified you through nine, but then you switched to ten. You stomped across your telephone, while I muddled by mine. You gulped oxygen, while I telescoped the window. The sky was lightning. We were the burning meadow below it. You concluded that I never talk. I ended with you never looked. But if you had been the wanderer I thought you were, you would have known my eyes are books and your ears are broken.
I wonder why poems spill out of me, fully formed; beings. Stories aren't this way, they takes time, tears, and more patience than I am willing to give.
So I sweat over my laptop at two in the morning, the icy-tipped fingers of franticness creeping their way up my spine.
Why are poems so nutured by me and stories left out in the cold? Started and abandoned in and instant but poetry so lovingly and delicately crafted? At all hours I'll answer it's call (In language arts class, while doing homework, after waking up from a dream), but stories have set timers in my phone?
My heart is open to poetry, my ears straining to hear it in public, my brain winding and unwinding letters and words and phrases, gentle stanzas that come to me in the night. No rhyme or reason.
Environment What environment are we putting out Do people feel comfortable Being themselves Do we make people feel safe What about gay people What takes over Implicit bias Or do you get to know them first Gay Lesbian There I said it Sometimes people are afraid to use these words Some use these words as an insult And so what if you are What are people running from Yes some people are different Live with it We all can’t be the same So whatever you are running from Stop running
Our country has changed so much since 1948 Where gay people Were forced to question there choices We are here now From June 26 2015 When the law passed that LGTBQ people could first marry Each Other in all 50 states That is about 3 years From now And some people Still don’t come out Everyone should feel safe
Flipping through rows of vinyl records lost in an obsolete technology maze that holds past memories around every corner records of past lives and creative ambitions. I admire the flashy covers and try to imagine what the music might sound like. my ears crave new music, they wish to consume all sounds in the known universe, but their is not enough time in the short lifespan of a human to hear all of it and the records are so expensive. I can feel the store owners gaze piercing my neck, of course he expects me to buy something. I grab everything within my grasp and bankrupt myself to obtain soundwaves that will resonant with my soul. If only I actually owned a record player than I could play all these dusty things.
In the future I wonder what types of old media we will grow nostalgic for perhaps when we have computer chips implanted in our brains