Poetry

From Memories to Paper Trails…

 

 

 

It has been so long since I have written, so long since I have even thought of writing. I’ve had dreams and dreams since I first picked up my pen, and now I have had dreams mixed with nightmares.

Lately my world has become full of beautiful things, almost magical things! It is almost unreal the stroke of luck I have been so graced with. My life has become dreamlike in that I have done what seems to be impossible. I quit my factory job and become a medical assistant, with no prior knowledge! How does this happen??

 

You vs. Me

 

 

“Is the really the competition or is it all in your head?”

 

I AM A VICTIM OF INTERNET BULLYING! I keep my life happy and humble, and yet there are still posts of comments I have made to no one other than myself. I don’t see my life as better than anyone else’s, I just try and live in love with my husband and children.

No. It wasn’t about you, but if it offends, don’t read it.

I am a medical assistant and LOVING IT!!!! I love being a working mom, and coming from a background where one parent is in prison and the other is a drug addict, I am proud of where I am. I’m sorry me being happy makes you feel your life is worse off then mine. BUT! As someone a year ago told me, if the boot fits, wear it.

Wonder in Absence

I am here but distant. My anger keeps me at arms length, and yet here I am, arms open.

Moments passed today, I was fairly glad to see them go. My fifteen minute drive home was made longer by an unwillingness to be there. Depression doesn’t always mean suicidal tendencies, but an overwhelming urge to run anywhere but where you’ve been.

Today, I feel depressed.

 

 

Strings

 

 

Dancing notes and echoed tones gracefully arise,

Bringing forth the thunder followed by cloudy skies.

Booming, trembling, wind and rain racing towards the earth,

Crashing, splashing endlessly upon my windows eyes.

Strings of song glide through the cracks and upon my house it set,

A sorrowful bird with no heart nor a soul cackling out of regret.

In puddles drown droplets of rain mixed with dirt waiting for the end,

Gliding down the streets of dark hoping to never forget.

 

Chickens

 

 

Clucking chickens never hush
They always run their mouths to much.
Clucking, pecking at the dirt,
Spitting, hissing words that hurt.

Clucking chickens always lie,
Stupid chickens never try.
Ugly chickens only hurt-
Themselves from pecking at the dirt.

 

 

Bodies

 

Busy bodies always moving,

Scheming, seeming motherly; soothing.

Hateful bodies constant shame,

Wondering how to enhance the lame.

Fear plays a desperate role

In how the human sells their soul.

Money, food, sex, objects,

Happiness, hatred, human subjects.

Let the world bask in your restitution,

Like you’re living in your denial, destitution.

Money, fame, degrees make us brave,

Cover us; shower us under the same earthly grave.

Busy bodies never learn,

About the wonders after every turn.

Straight paths to heaven through easy lives,

Bashing, lashing at those who are tried.

Encumbered bodies know no rest,

Between their “knowledge” of right and best.

Starving bodies know their limits,

Forget the world and all that is in it.

The soul of bodies who walk winding trails

Running, jumping, embracing the frail:

Upon their back they carry the weak

Happy, laughing, not afraid to speak.

 

 

Haiku

 

 

Swaying with the winds lost breath

Bend and break my roots

Fade into the Earth’s warm arms

 

 

Sociopath

 

Dear oh dear Miss Sociopath,

Who have you hurt today?

Between your pleasant poisoned tongue

And the love you gave away?

Dear oh dear Miss Know It All

How I feel for you.

To have a world upon your hands

And in it no love for you.

Dear oh dear Miss “I’ve been wronged”

Have you come to term?

Dear oh dear Miss “You are wrong”

When will you ever learn?

 

Blade

 

Sleep in the arms of the earth’s tall grass

And fall beneath the waters surrounding

Every blade in life sustaining elixir.

Curl up by the waters in the cell,

Between the walls and chloroplasts

Beside the widening stalk.

Fall away the dirt below

Making way for growth

Beneath the earth’s warm surface.

 

The Angels Repentance

 

Forgive me my brothers for my baby sins

Forgive me this hunger that creeps up again.

Forgive me my sisters for dark restless nights,

Forgive me my sleep that won’t start until light.

Forgive me my bed for not sleeping still,

Forgive me dear pillow the nights that I’m ill.

Forgive me soft blanket for stains left in rest

Forgive me dear sheets for yellow at best.

Forgive me dear mom for marks left so wide,

Forgive me my dad that you had to run and hide.

Forgive me dear father for causing you sorrow,

Forgive me my mother for I’ll see you tomorrow

 

Stock-Still

 

Let my hands stay still and let my words run dry. Let the fear of leaving paralyze me until my body becomes the dust upon the ground of the dying earth. You can ask me why I am afraid of dying and I will answer you

I’m not.

I am afraid of living still.

Still as in stock still: Still as in not moving, not breathing, not turning the wheels of my life that are attached to the spokes of the government. My legs are tired and when I say tired I don’t mean from walking. I mean my legs are tired from carrying the weight of taxes on my shoulders. I don’t support just one family, I support many.

My body is stock still. My arms are weak as noodles that are cooked on high in a pot for five minutes longer than the directions told me to; because I’m a rebel. My fingers fidget with the tattered hem of my shirt, torn from making rags to wipe the tears of my children because they are afraid that mommy won’t come back from her factory hour shift, and I am criticized for not spending time with my children.

You see, I have no fear of dying. I have a fear that fifteen years down the road I will be wound so tightly around spokes that my body won’t be buried in a coffin, but a packet of Ramen Noodles. Sad enough that I can guarantee those Ramen Noodles will be more flavorful and healthy than the twenty-eight cent wax death, we sell to kill off the poor in our grocery stores.

You can say I am depressed, but depression isn’t the only thing that knocks at my door. Anxiety and paranoia knock just as often, sometimes on the windows and the ceiling. The only escape is to wrap my noodle arms around my eyes and sing “go away” until the FBI agent in my phone’s Siri tells me I can open them.

 

Thanks buddy!

 

A Smile I Can’t Forget

 

A day blurred by sleepy eyes and coated in the shadows of the evening sun, reflected your moon kissed eyes. Your voice, deep and soothing, spoke of simple things you were encumbered with. My heart sank with worry that I couldn’t help, or rather it wasn’t my place.

It can’t be my place.

Minutes ticked by slowly, checking my watch discretely. I have plans, but you. . How can I leave you with such a heavy heart?

I can’t speak out of line; biting my tongue, regurgitating simple “I wish you well”‘s and “maybe we can help”‘s, knowing all to well you won’t accept.

Maybe you can vent, I will always listen.

You smiled at me and for a brief moment, I saw my hero once more.

 

Past

 

I am here among the garden trees,

I am here about the fallen leaves.

The house is cruel to more than these,

For I see nothing but the leaves.

This house is big and wide and tall,

From the roof we see it all.

But this house is not a house at all,

For it has a garden.

A garden.

A garden.

 

Abuse

 

The days drag on in ways of despair

For things left undone yet who cares

For the one with the heart broken and bleeding.

The smiles I fake became very misleading.

I became what I hated and cry for no ‘one’.

Things left undone are things I have won

The right to be yelled at, as I am most times

For giving opinions on things that aren’t mine.

My mouth has been closed for two days and on

The only response was “cat got your tongue?”

Well yes and no but the scars are there

Hidden from everyone because who would care?

But I am no victim, you are the one

And sorry doesn’t fix what I’ve become.

I hate what I am as much as you love another,

But it is a burden I hide because I am a mother.

 

Where Thoughts Come To Die

 

It’s been a long day; staring at my feet watching the water pool around them in large puddles. A shower is more than what I needed on a day like today, but still greatly appreciated. I tilt my head and lean it against the wall. My eyes line up with a crease that runs both parallel and perpendicular to many others the same distance apart.

Tomorrow I have to go to work and leave my kids at home with their aunt, and I know that that is not a big problem however, I still wish I could spend more time with them.

The water breaks the back of my head and warm and soothing streams. I feel like I’m counting the minutes down from the time I stepped in the shower until the time I’m expected to get out. I feel like I’m always counting down time. Counting.

1 year get a better job.

6 months get an even better job.

3 months how am I going to afford food this week?

4 years is that how long it’s going to take for me to become a nurse?

10 minutes, I’ve been in the shower 10 minutes.

 

Tears Break Walls and Hearts

 

Do you fear for me little one?

Yes.

Fear for my lost ways, lost time, lost treasure?

For your lost smile

Do you fear for where I will go, or where I stand now?

I fear it will go far

I’m sorry, little one.

Don’t be sorry

It is my job to protect you.

Just stay with me.

Does the sadness in your eyes reflect my own?

I’m sorry I am such a burden.

Oh how I wish you wouldn’t cry.

I am sorry, mommy.

 

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