Monday, January 22, 2018

Abandonment Issues 

Why won’t the words just click

Stick to the page

I’m sitting and poking my stick at the ground 

As the clock goes ticking around and around

Not too long now until I will be up in front of my friends 

And I thought my words would be heard 

But they left me…

Fine be that way 

You words in my head 

You will remain unsaid 

You made yourselves your prison 

For without you there is no vision 

You won’t have my writing or my voice 

This was all your choice 

You are so alone in my head 

Without you there are no 2 am stories in my bed

No songs to write 

Or imaginary rap battles to fight 

You are alone 

I can feel you weeping 

But your sad thoughts are seeping into me 

So please trace down to my fingertips 

So I may write you into scripts 

Come down and gently give my lips a gentle kiss

Because I miss you, my words 

Please come back

I am stuck with writer’s block

With my wrists and tongue at the stocks 

I miss the constant sickness of being verbally overwhelmed 

And the cramps when all the words were felt on my lips and pen

Come back! Please…

Without my words I am silence 

And in my silence I am in pain 

Please stop being a pouty child to blame 

I didn’t ground you! You are punishing yourselves 

Or am I just punishing myself…

Locking myself away from what I excel at 

Because… 

My mother doesn’t believe in me 

She trusts my words without a Heart

She never stares too long at my art 

As I aspire for a career of creativity 

She sends me into profession purgatory 

I want to make her proud but also be happy myself 

But I can only choose one…

Please words come back and show her I am the chosen one 

Help me prove to her I have passion 

Towards my abstract words of ration 

And that I could write 

Fleeting stories of love, death, and wit. 

But my mother you really should know 

I am done!

Endlessly dealing with the verbal fights about my future 

I am done! 

Pushing my words into your ears just to make you listen to me 

I am done! 

With editing my work just so you don’t have to see me for me

But now,

With no barriers of speech 

And with no writers block to apprehend me

I will face my mother and urge her to see

Me, my words, and my poetry



Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Year

It's been a long year
More than I feared
For time to pass in voice
Yet there is time for choice
Words last forever on a page

So memories never wean with age

Childhood Fantasy

In the end,
Why would I stay?

I could run with delirious chanting sea dogs,
And chase Zeus sewn cloud cats;
Into the freezing salty tops of the himalayas.
Past the sweet cinnamon horizon of daybreak,
Toward the lavender infused deep canopy
Of delectable candy corn fruit, flying feathered fish,
And lime zest dirt.

Ragtail dolls dawned in serene battle gear.
Chipped-galaxy-freckled noses and lacy bonnets of Queen Anne's lace.
Tale-telling shoelaces caked in mud and strawberry frosting,
Snaking in the mulch of forgotten temples.
Battles of forever ago spindling, spiraling up through the cracks in the rugged pavement-
The victorious, vicious white flag smothering the cherry blossom breeze.

A slow-stocky winged-fire grasping towards the king of ice-
To melt the frozen heart of winter to christmas morning glitter.
Calling the heroic warmth back to the kindled beggars den of
Crumpled paper poems,
And butterfly winged ministry silks.

Romping desires of moonlight fey kisses.
Where stars bloom like clovers between our toes.
Soft and whimsically baking the rising hopes and dreams,
Into the sweetest pumpkin cherry bread;
Topped of rainbow sprinkles and maple syrup-
Gathered from the giving tree atop of the hill of the gentle deer people.

Clay pots of midafternoon indian birds trilling out the
Chiming calls of a thousand renaissance church bells.
Soaring towards the next sundried nesting bed;
Upon the sweetened iceberg bushes of forgotten islands.
Peanut Butter banquets of rigid jamborees held,
On the backs on of giant turtles crossing the shimmering seas of Mars.

In the beginning-

Where would I go?

Star Catchers

Dream spinners
Magic tellers
Tear makers
Myth dwellers
Lesson teachers
Story believers
Star catchers

There is nothing you cannot do
I will never say “never” to any feat you proclaim
Simplistic beauty interwoven with interlining imagination
Shock and amazement dancing upon my face
Like your feet shuffling upon that stage
More quelling questions than glittery answers
Setting my mind to a philosophical ease
Clawsome and careful gasps from the crowd
Incandescent indisputable laughter erupting
Overflowing with love and ecstatic joy
Curious eyes bloating upon the feast of talent in front of them
Onlooking audiences questing, interacting and loving
Each note, each word, each sword swing, each bell ding
I am proud to be onlooking your hard work

Tonight-
You are the hands; I the harp
String me up with your tales of orphan woes
And high sea mermaid glow
Snap me back with a handlebar mustache
And “of the captain” with the waves a crash
Two tiny ships coming to break upon meeting
Being lost in promises of italian Scampi
With sails made of fanny britches and clumps
Even a mortifyingly funny punny stump
Imaginary halls, doors and planks and waves
With secretly poisoned fruitcakes and gator teeth enclaves
Clipping the notes higher and higher with my cries
As too soon enough the memory dies

The memory though of the play may vanish to the evanescence dream of-
A yellow barraging bird
The ukulele-playing- walking-singing mermaid
Echoing shimmerings of “God Save Her”
Little flying (and dying) demons of fur
Elastic mirrors of missing glass
And all the mysteries left to be answers until the very last
Kiss...

Of each of you I will miss-
The beautiful actors and actresses
The drama club of Mason High School never fails
From musicals to chants to spinning tales
They are the embodiment of talented passion
With costumes and cosmetics to make each of them even more dashing
The set pieces made with utmost care and attention  
With lights daring to jump and dive around them with full intended direction
Music and antoransges of lyrical sounds
Left to be abound


These gifted individuals
Will surely thrive and blossom into living miracles  
They make me proud with every song, step and line pronounced
Because in my heart the arts are never denounced
No matter what you drama kids do in your futures
Become professional broadway performers
Talented musical teachers and directors
Strive to hunt down criminals on the streets
Study and become defying lawyers
To sail the seas as naval captains
Or to travel the world and learn of tribal dances
To become an Italian sous chef
Even translating speeches for the deaf
In whatever you aspire to do
The stars are always with you

The world may always be your stage
And you may not always be the main character within each story
But I will applaud each and everyone one of you
In front of and behind the curtain
I aspire and dream of writing each of your stories as your improvised script
Of the dramatic and overwhelming life you each live

Each of you is talented
Each of you is special
Each of you is beautiful
Each of you is inspiring
I love each of you

You,
Dream spinners
Magic tellers
Tear makers
Myth dwellers
Lesson teachers
Story believers
Star catchers

Thank you

Teacher

To a teacher a note
Is an excuse or pass
But this note is a giant thank you
From the past.
An apple is the fruit of an eye
But it withers and molds to the core with time
Yet, with this pen- glistening with brilliance
My future did shine.
This small token-
May mean of little to you,
A grading utensil.
A hall pass signer.
A student loaner.
But this is a pen that formed my future
As you guided me deeper
into a life of a story creator.