Gaslight

you told me my fault
and I shook my head
but you undermined
my own abilities
to think clearly.

you told me my problem
and I said it was yours
but you convinced me
that I was in the wrong
and locked away my song.

Paralyzed

Paralyzed in the spotlight,
bright lights shining in my eyes
I dance but forget the pattern
I live but forget the steps.

Paralyzed in your heart
a picture of what was
but I'm not meant for stillness
and you won't move on
with me.

Lace

Cover me with your smooth face

and soothe me with your quieted word

take me away from this dark place 

and make my pain into lovely lace.

Convinced

The convincing bruise on your arm
tells me everything I need to know,
but you won't give up convincing me
claiming a lampshade as the source
of your pain.

The pained look on your face
deprived of joy, of the sunshine
that fills the rest of the world
but somehow leaves you devoid.

The convincing bruise on your face
tells me I should have spoken sooner
that I should have done something, anything
to save you when I could,
when you weren't dead inside.

Greed

Greed will break your heart, dear child,
and take you into poor, tired shaken smiles.
Fancy clothes and expensive gifts mean little
and at the end, everything is brittle.

Cheek

The notes play quietly in the background
while the priest in white prays at the altar
asking for ending goals out of God's reach.

The notes play quietly in the background
while the little girl with curly brown hair
begs her mommy to leave: she's bored.

The notes play quietly in the background
while a young woman bows her head
in prayer for her deathly-ill mother
and a single tear wets her cheek.

Third Seat From the Left

Third seat from the left of a moving subway train
sits a little girl, flowers in her hair, oblivious to the way
that her mom is watching her, wistful eyes speak of pain.
Dark brown eyes watch as the little girl laughs and plays,
as she smiles at the strangers who wave at her and say hello.

Third seat from the left of a moving subway train
where this little girl and her mother sat every day -
empty now and no one seems to know or care or claim
that their missing presence carries impact and almost seem ashamed
that they had never cared enough to learn either of their names.

Something

You are not perfect, exactly,
or perfectly imperfect or any of that nonsense
that people try to glorify flaws with
but you are special and sometimes
you shine brighter than the city lights,
and sometimes you glow
with an inner life that overshadows
your less pleasing characteristics.

You are not perfect, exactly,
nor will you ever be,
but you are somebody,
and you are something.

Ghostly

Transparent hands touch the metal handle
of the multi-level ancient asylum
where doctors used to torture patients
and occasionally burn them with candles.

The ghost haunts the sterile bleakness
causing current patients the same discomfort
it once suffered, uncaring for their ailments
and exploiting their weakness.

The patients mumble about the spector
in a white hospital gown who haunts
their dreams and makes horrific sounds
yet somehow they feel it's their protector.

Look

Look:

the waters part with such force
that fish are seen jumping,
trying to resettle into a new part
of the rushing river.


Look:

the fire burns with such intensity
that it scorches the air around it,
blurs the images behind it
into living ghosts.

Constraint

One hand out the window
and one foot on the floor
balancing precariously
trying to be more.

I want greatly too please you
yet I'm not sure how;
I am my biggest critic
harshest voice within the crowd.

One hand out the window
and one foot on the floor
gazing at the pictures you paint
while I represent the best
constraint.

Downhill

Ecstasy takes over him
as the boy rides his bike downhill,
smiling as sweat rolls down his face.
He hears the pedals turn with a squeak
and his brother challenges him to a race.
Together, they begin atop the long, steep hill
and ride side-by-side, at least until,
the boy moves slowly forward,
inch by inch, and he reaches
the bottom first-
he wins!

stay

gray lines fill the edges of my vision
with static, the kind that reminds me
of harder days, when I wore rocks on my back
that were too heavy and bent me forward.

the haze is greater today than yesterday
and I stumble around, feeling my way
past the bleak walls and try to remain
where the pain fades away, because
it is there I'd wish I'd stay.

Silver Shiver

My heart shivers like a tambourine
whose player has constant shakes
in his hands, a pitter-patter
of metal clanging against metal
whenever I hear your silver voice.

My heart shivers like a tambourine
a rhythm not over powering but flavorful
within an orchestra of horns and violins
and yet it is the sight of you that conducts
the players to a fortississimo
and my heart to an allegro.

Antigone's Witness

"No slow, painful starving death will exist
as I quickly end my life with this noose
while knowing I did honest justice to him,
my brother."

The body hangs limply in the air.

"My Antigone!  I've come to rescue
too late - and star-crossed - I suppose
this is our fate - dear one - one more moment
might have spared us both."

When his father comes rushing in,
the husband plows his own sword
through himself, dies with a gasp.

And so the Gods gave Creon
a moral learned through carried-out threat:
an ancient Romeo and his Juliet.

Sidewalks

singular noun:
me, I, you, him, her.

the plot:
lonely girl watches
a couple
and the girls best friend.

the twist:
lonely girl is content
to be alone.

the end:
girl walks out opposite door
but finds more couples
giggling on the sidewalk.

Take Me Under

Take me under your spell
invite me to your sunrise breakfasts
and teach me how to arise
your secret thoughts.

Take me under your spell
invite me to your afternoon lunch
and teach me how to love
your quirky banter.

Take me under your spell,
invite me to your midnight dance
and teach me how to melt
into your waltz.

One Seashell

One seashell placed carefully
on a marble bathroom sink
carries reminders of days passed
and pains older than Catholic Mass.

She holds it in her palm,
listening as it sings its ocean song
remembering a face long gone
and clutched it so strongly,
it shattered, and changed
its tune into forgiving psalms.

Swoosh

blue waves crash
swoosh
against rocky sands
swoosh

clown fish wave
swoosh
bring you to lands
swoosh

where worries turn to ash

swoosh.

A Journal

filled pages cry red ink
bleeding from the pain
written into them.

ripped pages scream
terrible sounds leftover
from the bloodstains.

Blurred Edges

Blurred blue edges speak
of life underneath
the rippled surface.

The gentle dolphin
beautifully plays
and hides behind
shyness.

Blurred blue edges speak
of lives disturbed
by human hands.

The yellowed plastic bottle
murdered a stranger
from a careless toss
into a breath-taking spot
of ocean.

Nature Battles

Lonely flower in the glen,

white petals circling the green

glow of the pollen and grass.

The petals droop down,

the water pulses too harshly

for them to reach upwards.

Lonely flower in the glen,

determined to stand firm, alone,

armed for battle,

and yet it's not the water but the wind

that sends it home.

Constant

I am cold with a constant 

beat inside my head.

I tap my foot,

impatiently wait for bed.

I am cold with constant

negativity in my head.

Close my eyes,

hope desperately for the best.

I am cold with constant

tension in my thoughts.

Hold God's hands,

beg for His forgiveness

because I do not believe

but the pain is too great

to not be some sort of divine

and this is the only kind

I've ever known.

I am cold with constant

frozen sadness in my veins.

Tap my foot,

try to stay within my guided lanes.

I am cold with constant

uncertainty in my mind.

Close my eyes,

desperately wish it was peace

I'd find.

Release

Cold rain covers the grass,

smothering the sharp blades

which poke my feet 

as I walk through the yard.

I sit underneath a tree

and ponder whimsically

if cartwheels are possibly

the closest I'll get to flying.

The sun says hello shyly,

gray clouds fighting for stardom.

I lift my face towards the warmth,

welcoming the new dawn.

Read My G****** F****** Profile

Here's a list of things
that make me play the saddest strings:

If my hair makes your heart pound,
If you think my opinions are too proud,
If you can't take being called out,
If you're short or tall or average about,
If my appearance makes you pitch a tent,
and if you read my profile,
you would know all this.

Now, I see, I must continue
as some guys just can't get a clue.

Here's another list of things
that make me play the saddest strings:

Bare pictures, empty profiles
first messages planning dates,
sexist men with no sense of style,
guys who just can't take a hint,
and still, if you read my profile,
you would know all of this.

But please, keep in originality lacking
your message will be added
to this poem while I cry from laughing.

Reflection on a Sad Thought

I am after sweet release,
trying to find lovely peace
when my displeasure increased.

I had a thought today
that I wished wouldn't stay,
so I chased it away
with threats of yesterday.

It dragged my spirit down
and even the clowns frowned,
so I made no strong sound
and slammed it on the ground.

I shattered it in pieces
that hide within my creases
so that my peace decreases.

Unwrapped

Unwrapped like a candy bar,

I feel exposed, scared that the world

will take a bite of me

and decide I taste like spoiled strawberries

rather than decadent chocolate.

Chocolate is too sweet 

to define me, I am much too bitter

most days - though dark chocolate

is supposed to be "healthier" for you -

I am no sort of healthy for you.

For you, my wrapping is protection:

it seals my sharp corners 

and smooths my vicious words,

but it seals these in -

I am the victim of me.

Contented

Tiny hands reach
towards Mommy
who snuggles
him deeper.

She sings him
a lullaby
full of tender
love and words.

First birthday
cupcakes smooth
his shrill cries
to kind laughs.

Mommy's tired
and hands him
to daddy
who snuggles
him deeper.

Daddy's silly
faces make
him giggle
and clap hands.

One year old
kisses smooth
exhaustion
of mommy,
of daddy,
and they sleep
contented.

hold me quietly please

hold me quietly please
do not make more
of this
than it is.

i am lowercase
at this moment
unimportant
tiny and afraid
unable
to shout.

hold me quietly please
do not make me
analyze myself
more than i
already do.

i am struggling
but you grin, prompting
me to reach
for you.

hold me quietly please
i beg of you
keep your arms tight
around me.

you hold me
but it's too loud
and i drown
in your deafening
sounds
but you help me
crawl my way
out.

I no longer ask
for you to hold me
quietly.

Upright

originally written on April 3rd, 2016.

The burnt orange taste,
bitter in my mouth,
reminds me
makes me
regurgitate what was.

The sour feeling,
itchy on my skin,
takes me
transports me
back to you.

You.
You make me:
hurt happy angry.
I love - I hate that you
twist me in a way so
I cannot stand
when you
kiss me.

The putrid sight
of seeing you with her
and tangling your fingers
in her hair while
kissing her
breaks
me,

and
I can tell
she is struggling
to stand upright.

While I am getting a late start for National Poetry Month, I plan on having 30 poems by April 30th.  Please join me on my poetic journey this April!