“A poem about disassociation”
Move.
My brain is here.
My body there.
I need to move.
The body doesn’t respond.
My body.
I am not in control of this.
My body.
A cracking blur
it sends parts of me
-farther down a road I can’t see.
I need to push-
I need to break the world.
Something between slips when I reach.
A wall grows taller to capture my body.
I will fucking climb this wall until it comes down.
I will move.
The wall grows higher.
I can’t control
my limbs, my blinking: my self.
I see the body on the landscape, staring
my blood is cold.
With the discovery of my own horror
I melt down into the depths of my brain that should belong only to me.
Who else would they belong to? I was born with a body that fights back.
I didn’t know it would fight me.
I see lists of things that are out of my control scroll past like the credits at the end of a movie that should still be playing.
I see the seconds count down like popcorn falling into my lap. One by one, I see my fear swallow myself, but I can’t control my throat to make it sink faster.
I don’t know why I need more beat for my heart,
but here I am
climbing walls going down.
But I give
I give my gasping breath for
another minute for
another second with my child.
I’m breathing with my own lungs again.
My blood is here, not for pain
not for a reason given from a faraway God
but for love of my one child of mine.
I’m ready for the next scene.
“I can’t date this person because he is depressed and I can’t do anything about it.” -anonymous
Did you feel never
when I kissed you?
Was your heart hushed when you kissed me back?
Distance grew when you found a hole in yourself.
And you told me to fill it.
But my heart is only a spark for you,
I know I can feel it in you, wrapping comfort like a cocoon when we spoon.
But you need a fire to be free.
And I’m not a cure for your shaky sunset.
Here, I’m outside the compound.
I can feel monsters on your edge:
small as your days and large as your heart.
But, I can’t push a storm with a sword.
Here I am;
I’m on the side, watching trains go past .
Wishing they would stop to let me on.
This is when you come close.
This is when you kiss like a dying star-
A tumbling ball of ash down every galactic throat around.
Choking me with no emotion to grasp warmly.
Because you left hot temperature behind, hoping someone like me could pick up the scraps.
But I’m here.
Here, when you want to feel me,
Here, when you’re ready to feel you.
Write a poem about people that love multiple people.
Some heartbeats roll like dough
Picking up the dust nearby
Picking up the silent nods from afar,
Until they are warm.
But I know some that don’t feel the warmth
The sunset waves do not tug their hearts
They can’t take the rays one at a time.
Instead, they ask for more.
So, they ask for a fleet of roller coasters to pull them
They go up in roars and grease
Arching their backs for more
And they come down
They wait for more
Some people are built with a world inside
And they wait for one to explore
Some have more roads roaming
Some, more rivers running
Some people are just waiting to be built-
Feeling everyone near,
So the cities can be populated
And they are seen from afar.
“How to get your wife back with ritual sacrifice.”
They say you shouldn’t sacrifice people
but she doesn’t want diamonds
she doesn’t want kittens or kids
and waffles didn’t bring her eyes
back to mine with sweetness
but I am willing to appease this goddess
Through ropes and blades I carve my love
one hole in a fair maidens chest
one little heart for two
so, I gashed a grin with sin
-one swift grope to the chest
and felt her smile rise
Now, a dozen kisses met again
from a time buried long ago
and our blood felt hot and bold
like summer in our skin, all bounds unbound
praise to my goddess, boundless be.
BONUS CREEPIER VERSION:
With a series of storms,
her eyes push me farther out to sea
but my heart drums on
Swarming in a dozen thorns
she thickens a cloud around
but I still feel the smile she tried to bury
a long time ago
To save her heart from sinking slow,
I paint the ground a pity red
dredging my marriage with a fleshy angel
giving a piece of heaven to my goddess
we’re taking back the art once lost
true
some sacrifice for seasoning rain
some, sacrifice for bringing pain
but, I give the life for the wife I held
We are the ship wreck that set sail
and we feel the frothy sea pushing,
heating the hell-heaven in our wind.
“Write about an unrequited love that keeps me awake.”
She walks without slack
loose with wine and sand
roaming by the waves
scratching with the seaweed
she is a hymn from the tumbling tides
The warm and friendly sun hums along.
Once the sands push for the moon
and the sea curls for more sea
and the clapping wet world comes closer
the sun belly flops – bright to dim
she unhooks her hands
I search with my steps unkempt
losing the sandy path
I struggle to see her now
through my moonlight,
my hands cold
and I find only a foggy whisper filling my head.
Under my crooked helm I pull
like rain, I draw the echo down
scattering in white splash noise
needling my best heartbeats
like a masterpiece wrapping myself
away from control, sinking in the delta.
Growing and shedding all growls I peel
freshly as a raspberry picked messy
flowing and drumming
blindly red as a baby born
thrown together in the lush.
Back to the start, I crave better
sunshine for our mistakes
fondly, I lie with our eyes
closed with smiles wide
weighing memory by the glimmering distraction
boxing all Pandora black.
“Milk and toast.”
On the kitchen counter she waits:
delicate and raw; pale and melodious.
My crusted dreams carrying this vista
of the real bliss in the kitchen sitting
before my unripe eyes she gores my world.
With one splash, a coy white dive;
all curves into glass- escaping the carton cage.
All fragments of melancholy dispatched in cinders,
and a new tingling begins below my edge
as I sink into the calming coals of the toaster.
Here I feel the deft flames tighten my skin
and my crumbling becomes a hardened rattle.
I see nothing, but flickering of digging fire-
pulling me into their black meddling; smoke.
Too awake for shedding my dreams, I feel
her wet caress in the distance; calling me ready.
My crust stretching blackness, sealing the wait.
As my height gropes air, and I tumble a sigh
my existence of bread unshackled, metamorphed
poised like a prince, fresh from flight, another sigh.
There the glass rests, upon the counter it grips
but an emptiness. A colossal bottomless nothing.
All seeking is shed and my terminal entrails
drift into an unbridled tide of littering pieces
with the falling below, my world tipsy dizzy
until the distance takes my wheat and white dreams.
“A poem addressing a ‘you,’ describing for them the wonders of this world, and with each one explaining why it can’t compare to ‘You.'”
I see the world, sprung
forth from stars,
burned from beautiful heat.
Humans walk, and You are born.
No wonder on the rocky plains,
No wonder on the sands of Egypt,
No bablonian gardens growing,
until I saw You.
I walk and see ancient power,
but old dust and walls-
crumble like bones and bread
spread on the roman stones.
The vision of You- completes
my submissive mind.
Obsession wheels me far
to great walls to falling towers.
These petty stones built for your toes.
I saw Zeus in white marble,
majestic and abrupt, I walked on.
You have more power in a touch
than a thousand touchstones on Olympus.
It is no wonder that the gods came
down from the skies to kiss
strangers, but no gritty love
between the pyramids or towers.
Beauty seeps from You,
in pools of unexplainable gold
and I return with shallow
news of distant sunshine, fading.
You are above all distance and stony structure.
You are the richest sunset stretching
around my world.
“Family”
Family is a chain unbroken.
Linked in legacy and love,
forged for years in many homes.
hands over hands holding strong.
Family is pink laughter with green hope.
Encouraging, balanced, loving.
Always returning, opening arms-
warm, white joy surrounding all.
Family calls for us to care
To keep the nest tight
To ensure every embrace
that sweeps all strain away.
“Hello
I would like a poem about a dolphin that falls in love with the spanish armada. But it’s actually a metaphor for cheese making. Or, one about love.
Thanks”
My love has slowly brewed
warmed for only five minutes
spreading from fin to tail,
like quiet waves approaching
the clean white beach.
The wooden ships on Spanish shore,
bobbing – blowing gently with natural tendency.
Sweet tender Spanish armada, sleep.
I will wait for dawn before stirring,
because our love can only thicken.
Your covered decks seize the dawn,
stretch your rafters, nest, and sails.
Today our love lifts away from here,
with your elegance – my heart elopes.
I follow you in these changing seas,
but my heart seems to only dissolve in you
as you trudge bravely on to war-
brushing my painted heat into the ocean.
You remain unstirred from my touch,
but I follow your white sails silent.
Whispering heartsrings tug me to you,
forever across this callous sea.
Now hark! What rope is so cruel
as one which turns your cannons.
Lighting the air to new flame,
striking the stranger.
My Spanish sunshine smashed,
a rage of smoke sweeping all.
English and Spanish sweat strain
breaking the peace with gunpowder.
The admiral’s sword cuts swiftly,
turning and cutting through English muck.
I smash against the wooden hordes,
and pieces break from all sides.
My heart flicks unbridled and furious,
but mi Armour is no more.
Shriveled and shrinking, he is cut.
I took the pieces away.
Scraps and splinters.
My wooden treasures I keep,
like clouds saving the sun at night.
Slowly my love comes again,
and I take one piece of the bow under
into the salty depths of the sea
so we can fly from the smoke.
Bloody waters gone,
now we must hold together,
tightly- for the sea is harsh.
We wait for the moon to wane
and wait for the sun to shrug the pain
and my fins can bandage our love again.
“Im making dream catcher for a fair.
Im nervous about people hating them. Inspire me?”
Some small crafts I love
like the ones that curve
around and around,
like wooden clouds above.
If you would share snares
that snag the harshest dreams,
then surely you can earn
a bushel of special cheer
to take home with care.