Jul 07

Who am I

(spoken word performance)

I once described myself as a river
I flow, I change, I fill spaces the way that they need to be filled. 
I am like a tree, reaching my roots into the ground, the dirt sliding up my skin
My hands and my arms are the branches, my fingers are the leaves, stretching up to the sky 
not to say, Look at me, here I am 
But to stay alive 
People hug me 
sometimes, when I let them 
People tell me I am pretty, and people tell me I am nice 
But when I am broken and crying on the bathroom floor 
They fade away 
Like a bell chime through the fog, there for hours and then 
I once described myself as the sun
far away and distant, so pretty from down here
But up close, I am fire, and I am burning
From an indirect point of view, people tell me I am pretty 
But the closer you get the more you can see me writhing 
in my own skin
People say I am strong

Jul 03

Storm Warning

(meant to be read out loud) 

It came when I didn't expect it, and it cried 
Like a child, it screamed longer than it should've 
and I couldn't ignore it, nobody could
Radiowaves crackled in a painful way this time,
like lies that hurt and that you can't ignore 
it blared an alarm like all my past mistakes 
saying pay attention, don't make the same mistake again 
My fingers hit the volume first 
turned it down, then turned it up when the never ending siren ended
Like a bell chime through fog, there for hours and then 
A quiet voice whispered in my ear 
Run, hide, the storm inside of you draws near 
I wish i could've called a friend 
And held a hand and held up my head 
but instead 
I bit my lip and looked away 
through the window at the rain 
I realize now that I was riding in a car heading north 
And that the sound was just the radio
It's as simple as that

Feb 23
poem challenge: Climate-Message

Time is not on our side

Whittlers while away time with sticks and knives. 
Me, I wait with diamonds, scratching lines into the sky. 
Down, down, down, down, and then one across 
One for every hour that waiting has cost. 
Waiting in lines, praying for movement, 
Praying for a movement, temporary resolution 
Are we still, are we silent? 
Are we quiet, defiant?
I see our hourglass, and it is mine 
Time is not on our side, I'm running out of time 
Jokes pile up in boxes on my table 
The tales of our defeat stack up like fables 
Lost, losing, choosing not to fight 
Will we stand up, will we do what is right? 
And then; what is? What is our salvation? 
Will it come like rain, soothing our nation 
or will it come like a wrecking ball 
and leave us broken just like we were 
so we can pick up our photographs, marked 2031?
But when the stars align, and fossil fuels fail 
Will we perservere, or die leaving a trail 
Feb 17
poem challenge: Immigrants


Hold up my head, hold my hand, because I am falling 
Hold me together, with tape, with glue
Prayers aren't enough anymore, nobody's listening. 
Tie a noose with the laces of your hole-filled shoes.

Hold up my head, hold my hand, because I am falling
Letters written, stamped, then sent
Apologies aren't enough anymore, and they are refused.
I'm looking for a future, hoping I'll be free when the rules are bent

Hold up my head, hold my hand, because I am falling 
Asking a simple question, am I to be refused too?   
Running from my home isn't enough anymore, for I am not safe here. 
If all I am is a problem, what can I possibly do 
to show you that you were my promise land, a promise of a better place, where I can be safe, where my family can be safe, and yet - 

Hold up my head, hold my hand, because we are falling
Jan 21
poem challenge: Impeached-Part 2


Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 
How did you not see this coming, sir? 
You've been sitting behind your desk like charlie brown's teacher, wah wah wah, while we're here saying, really? 
I can imagine the phone calls now:
"Sir, there's nothing we can do. You're impeached."
"No, it's fake. There's no way they can put me in a peach." 
"No, sir, you've been impeached, not put inside a  - " 
And so on. 
You've become the first president to be impeached twice! 
Maybe they will make a new term, inoranged or something? Imoranged, maybe.  
My only question is, why did it take us this long?
Jan 21
poem challenge: New Day

Wait for it

I see that he's president, finally. 
I see he seeks to erase his predecessor
and the tyranny that rushed through the administration that came before, I see how he is good, not bad, however simple those words may be. 
I see how he, instead of looking down on the people,
looks up to them and seeks to serve them, not himself. 
Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country, that is his rule. 
Ask not, what can I gain from this. 
Ask, how can we gain from this. 
How can we reverse the scars and tears that were carved into our history? We cannot, should not erase the pain of the people. To do so would belittle all the suffering the people have faced. 
We can, however, seek to eradicate the mandates, the sermonic rules that created that pain, that suffering, in the hope that our actions will prevent it in the future. 
Jan 08
poem challenge: Insurrection

They were the rioters

Insurgent: A rebel or revolutionary. 

know his claims are false. 
know he is grasping at straws that nobody else can find, that nobody else will ever find. 
know he is not a leader, not a promise of a great country; does that fuel my anger?
And then there's them. 
They believe he will save them. 
They believe he will lead them. 
They storm the gates to keep him hiding behind tweets and marble pillars.
They praise him for what others say is idiocy. 
know his words are empty; they don't mean a thing. 
know he will not be there for us; he hasn't been before, why should he be now? 
know that he is the cause of these deaths; 4 people, only 4, but they are more than numbers. 
And yet, how can we ignore them?
were the rioters. 
They held the guns, pulled the triggers. 
Dec 26
poem challenge: Goodbye 2020

There is no title for this poem



I wish I could wish it all away. 

The pain, the tears, the scars... We are not built for this. 

We should never have had to endure this.  

Are we the glowing, dirty dystopia pictured in book after book? 


We are… indescribable. 

We are defeated, deafened by our own weapons. 

Are we lighting fires for the good of the people, or to feel the good the people lack? Are we becoming the amalgamation of bitter resentment and better butter? Are we becoming the very evil we wish to destroy? 

Are we dying?  

Lost within our own salvation, we are not ruined. 

Nov 11
poem challenge: Relocation

Find a way

Nov 03
poem challenge: CJP-Waiting


I'm sitting here with no socks on.
It's mundane.
I'm watching my father 
who is listening to Ozzy Osbourne
because it's that kind of day.
I disagree.
With music, there is organization,
there is rhythm .
With today, there is no organization,
no rhythm,
only chaos.
I wish that I could say 
I knew what was going to happen,
but I don't. 
I hate it. 
I can't reasure myself,
because there is no way to know what's going to happen.
Nobody knows what is going to happen. 
We all just have to wait.
Wait, and swear, and wait, and swear. 
I can only wait.