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

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.