Month: December 2016

control

i.
stop hiding
masterful monologues
from open society,
slap it with a stamp
of novel appeal

ii.
come out
from your turtle shell
play constellations
to a welcome audience
let your voice be heard,
pure as hatred

iii.
stop digesting
toxins
for a week
straight
simply to feel
hollow
and clean

iv.
quit letting
prescription patience
control you
taper them off
and surely
you’ll still
be the same

v.
you’re sober now,
so throw away the box
sitting smugly
in your desk drawer
tempting you
yet comforting-
you know you’ll
never
let go

–

written r30jun2011.

prompt: five things you have never done (but would like to do someday)

–

organs, stars

i swear
you could unzip my ribs
and my chest cavity
would be hollow
except for a heart
(to pump anxiety
throughout my body)
and a stomach
(to create pain)

 
all around me
i feel this void
causing previously-ricocheting emotions
to spread into a whimper
as if they were never there
in the first place

 
organs are useful for nothing
except for causing you to scream when they quit working
and then stop when they stay that way
 

–

written t28jun2011.

–

online songs

silent student
traps herself behind a desk for days
not one word spoken
besides yes-ma’ams
and thank-yous

silent student
ventures home, spills her guts
all over the keyboard
inky fingers twitching stories
hellos, how-have-you-beens
to names on a screen

silent student
trusts her virtual friends
[her online confidants]
with pit-of-your-stomach secrets,
spun-glass truths

but
when the “real” people
have nothing to say,
she won’t waste her time
to reciprocate

–

written s26jun2011.

real people are just hallucinations caused by staring at a screen for too long.

–

throw it away

your hobbies-
darts on a checkered target
reel back and
thwap
a needle
pinning your hopes and dreams
to the corkboard,
butterflies preserved for the harvest

 
you can see
you lived the dream,
your life splayed out
before you-
some sort of sinister
Pollock on the pavement
 

you had it all
and then you blew it away,
two hands held together
like a small child mimics a gun
two shots-
bang
             bang

-and there’s not a shot.

–

written a25jun2011.

–

silently

i am the one

who sits back to watch
the apocalypse
not delighting in destruction-
simply apathetic
at the worst of times

who soliloquizes silently,
handpicking syllables and synonyms
        ripe and bursting with hidden meaning
from the lexicon at
the back of her head

who lives for noise but won’t open her mouth
instead dancing nimble fingers
over black and white keys
creating shades of grey

like shades of stone and metal,
a self-built prison
with bars of music never shared
and concrete words unspoken
but still misunderstood

–

written f24jun2011.

–

dysfunctional

father is
a startled sparrow,
paranoid personality disorder
depression, bipolar
        [father lives on lists,
         father strives for consistency
         with what has been written
         by doctors-nurses-politicians
         serpentine and setting standards too high to reach]
a neurochemical molotov cocktail
always dreading
the day he’ll explode.

father regrets
every single mistake he makes,
father wants to make sure
daughter is
perfect
so she won’t end up like him.

father lectures poetic
on sadness and suicide
rebellion and self-pity
as if they are the scum of the earth
as if he is the scum of the earth.
        [and self-esteem was not a gift
         he could pass down to daughter]

mother is a maple tree
standing tall and strong
        [but forgiving]
mother swallows her pride
and knows that she is not perfect
and neither is daughter,
that good judgment comes from experience
and experience comes from error
        [but even the best of parents keep secrets,
         silky snakes wrapped around the best of times]

daughter is a rabbit,
just an ordinary rabbit
scared out of her wits
by the future
she is not perfect enough to endure
        [silky snakes devour rabbit-flesh
         indignant misled sparrows scavenge on what is left,
         bereft]

–

written r23jun2011.

–

declarations

i.
you smile too much.
it contrasts nicely
with your barcode arms.

ii.
there’s a python circling your wrist,
scar tissue constricting your skin
and setting you free.

iii.
faded scarlet scars
paralleling mine-
i’ve tried to knock that habit.

iv.
and yet you turn your arms upward
baring your mistakes
with no lack of self-esteem.

–

written w22jun2011.

–

music to my ears

abandoned her
golden rapunzel tresses
for chemically altered darkness
something to
match the way she feels
about her lack of attention

she has complimented me
perfectly
for the past nine
[and a half]
years

sunrise still lurks in her face
her voice
penless
does the same
as mine

she dances glory
over the rooftops
[she plays beauty] music
to my ears

she calls me
every once in a while

–

written f17jun2011.

about my childhood best friend.

–

counterculture

not the american dream:
a true american would never fall this far.

but i have to hold onto
this image-
        the phoenix
        crawling out of the ashes
        of the bridges we burned
    rising to glory
        by doing the one thing
        that got me into this

nails chewed to the quick
stubbed toes, eye leakage
over nothing special

self-pity
is nothing beautiful
morbidity
is low-key
revolt
is commonplace

“more real,
 more raw,
 more sincere”
don’t demand this of me
        (my standards are all too similar,
        but i’ll pretend they aren’t
        just to spite cliché)

counterculture
still draws upon society
as a photonegative,
a source of injustice
to rebel against

don’t give me structure
        rhyme in your own head
        hoard punctuation for yourself
don’t give me standards
        keep your mouth shut
        impress monotony upon your own

my standards are enough for me

–

written m13jun2011.

the prompt: what inspires/influences you?

i’m no good at sticking to prompts.

–