no really, give the drummer some...
i write.
…to the beat of a perfect drummer
my heart.
divinely produced beats.
any speed…
I can kick freestyles over palpitations…
while the DJ skips beats
and then slows it down…..
or rock acapella over cardiac arrests.
but no worries…
my pen knows CPR.
….. the words live on.
this is what boredom looks like...
Someone look at me
I am easy on the eyes
Please behold my sight
words are reflections
i see me in my poems
i don’t need mirrors
How about you guys write a haiku about yourselves too? You know you want to….
please.
i hate…
silence.
i don’t want to hear
repression.
memories then have my undivided attention
nothing to drown out the incessant firing of synapses
playing target practice with my pain.
Seriously, silence is the bane of my existence. Some people need quite meditation time, but it is torture to me. I must always have some sort of “something” going on in the background. Whether it is an unwatched television, constant music, or even the clacking of a computer keyboard, I need it. I think I am scared to be too alone with my thoughts. If you knew some of the thoughts or memories going on in my head some days, you would truly understand. I have a problem sometimes with facing things head on. I have hit the ground so many times that I have decided I need some sort of safety net up to deal with that. But until I get confident/strong enough to get rid of my stunt woman or take down the net , turn the music up and end the silence.
Stand up!
poetic defibrillator
what is poetry to me?
these words are my pacemaker
sending poetic currents
to pump this inspiraiton
through all of me
to sustain… life.
literally...
cardiac couture
i am a simple gal
high fashion confuses me
all i wear
is sleeves adorned with ventricles and muscles
and then you came along
and ruined my outfit.
when you tugged on the strings.
put my heart in your hands
and walked away.
word!
step into the arena
i have been to this arena before
where hearts and logic fight to the death
and conundrums are taking bets
and love is the only referee
but is too scared to call off the fight
and for once…
let the heart win by decision.
poetry from the heart
vicious cycle...
pressure
is a funny thing,
but not like ha ha.
it can create
and destroy
but always changes
things.pain
is a funny thing
but not ha ha
it makes it harder to create
and easier to be destroyed
but i won’t allow the latter
because this is far beyond
a laughing matter
it is my life.
and i am worthy of creation.So time for me
… to abandon the vicious cycles
…..and running in circles…
I am gonna run ….
in some new shapes,
ellipses,
rhombuses….
no.
fuck that.
I am multidimensional.
I’ll run, walk, and glide in 3D,
run in dodecahedron
excel in this sphere….
yup!
no more running in circles
…that always ends in a cube….