Sunday, February 4, 2018

Last Words

Last words are my first


The best words to end with are the words you start with
The words that spawned from my lips and created poetic lisps
And alluring alliteration that aligned and audibly awed the air
Being able to chime a primed rhyme every time my poetry climbed until I got
tongue-tied


My poetry bringing my tears like glistening rain on his shoes
Or a flag proudly swinging and dancing in the wind with every color adorned
A butterfly kiss settling on each of your ears and your minds of inner beauty
A pâro on my half when I carve my grateful sins and prizes into the stone
pillars of my poetry sanctuary


When tiny wonders of literate and illiterate words cross my pen and lips in
vomiting spells
When writing became my lost lover and his name laced each L and Italicized
each I swinging with every S
As coffee poetry explained why I didn't go to parties and gray was the only
color I felt in the room of strangers but the black and white key pulled me out of the dread
As smile pills faded to none and the fall slowed and became a flying climb


My words etching the future in the gospel of my mind
My reflection no longer a fool but someone who people see is beautiful
When I break all word limits and extend to all 7 pages of a poem that made
my knees shake as I trembled like a violins tremolo


When Kay, it's all in your head, only the world and the eraser wants your words dead
But with my voice as my savior, I speak and read and write my own chrysalises
Herding my ugly ducklings and picking up four-leaved promises
Because I have a right to speak and for my sister to be, just perfect the way she is


A princess in the paper stars lit up in the sky by expensive light bulbs
A crush who began it all in midnight terraces and Harry Potter robes
A flock of birds and doves and sparrows on their arms and released in song
Because abandoning my words would hurt me more than speaking them would ever be


When you are... Beautiful
Like looping and swirling cursive on ancient gold leafed pages
When you are... Exciting
Like sticky spray paint on damaged and faded red bricks in some alley


When you are... Painful
Like glass knives in my feet and a shot of an audible gun in my heart of sophisticated
simplicity
When you are... Enlightening
Like warm sunshine on a swing, seeking and reflecting off leaves like stain glass
windows


Because you are... Broken
Like the discussions, I hold in my blue carpeted therapy sessions
Because you are... Strained
Like the perfect 16th note slurred crescendo of a harmonic g minor scale in 4/4 time


Because you are... Worried
Pacing halls as clocks countdown, the echoes relaying to you the anticipation in
slipping sandy time
Because you are... Forced
An improv of life where the last line you said moved too fast for your lips and you
trip and stumble


You are... Love
Like kissing slit wrists and shaking palms, cutting ropes touching people and
hugging loved ones
You are... Emotion
Like the days you start out watching your screams echo out as tempered breathes,
your anger painting the floor you tread and your tears burning the salt into your
skin but laughing so hard the rooms spins


You are... my poetry
All 72 beautiful, exciting, painful, enlightening, broken, strained, worried, forced,
loved, emotional, poems
I wrote and composed and performed with my heart in my lips and my life in your fingertips
Each dating back to the first fearful day of poetry club back In October
Going through the lines of activist, gratitude, talent, tradition, self-love, pride, luck
and... Last words... My first words


Life,
The definition is the animate existence of an individual
With deeper thinking, this could become quite critical
With our own thoughts, it would become mythical or biblical
But not all life is visible


Like the poems on my mind or the rhymes in my tongue
You cannot see it all
But that's why I perform my poetry
So people can hear my pain, taste my love, feel my stress, smell my trust, see
my words


Not all life is visible but mine is
The demons in my head hitting the page as ink blots
The pencils striking the paper like dulled blades
The stage of my life behind my smiling eyes, where I am who I want to be when
I perform


Where in life I'm too scared to sing but I belt out in Broadway songs on the
wooden floors
Where in life I'm too scared to dance but I jig and swing and waltz with the deep
red curtains
Where in life I'm too scared to laugh but I roll along the floor and stare at the lights
with jingling bells of laughing tears caress my cheek
Where in life I'm too scared to live but I live to the fullest on my stage, forgetting al
l judgment, forgetting all pain, forgetting all abuse, forgetting all figures, tasting
the freedom and wiring my book


My life is my book filled not with acts and scenes and chapters
No page numbers or titles or single spaced font
But a binding of out of order poetry of problems and solutions,
ends and beginnings Last words and first words


like a scribbled goodbye on one of the first few pages
In the corner where it's early notes and half erased
The goodbye is for my facade
And who they think I am


Or like a luminous hello on the last page
Looping and large and enticing
Because by the end of my poetic journey you joined me in, with snaps and standing applause,

You finally know me

Friday, February 2, 2018

Pool

My heart 

It pools and drowns

My lungs 

With the tears

I have yet 

To shed

And cry for you