Tag: poetry

Thank Gosh

Thank Gosh for movies, Thank Gosh for friends

Thank Gosh for silver tequila, Thank Gosh for the soundtracks from 80s b-side movies that no one remembers

Thank Gosh for two-sided conversations, Thank Gosh for car rides

Thank Gosh for heat in the winter and cold in the summer

Thank Gosh for water when I’m thirsty, Thank Gosh for the freedom not to care

Thank Gosh for silence and being alone and warm sheets and that moment right before you fall asleep that’s almost like the anticipation of a kiss

Thank Gosh for good-natured laughter, Thank Gosh for the listeners and observers with wide eyes and a full heart

Thank Gosh for the moment when anxiety leaves your body and you let yourself believe it’ll never come back, but also know that it probably will and oh my Gosh, this won’t last forever

Thank Gosh for the ability to try, Thank Gosh for clarity

Thank Gosh for now and then and now

Thank Gosh for that sunset this evening and that crescent moon with its sharpened blade

Thank Gosh for accomplishments making us feeling accomplished

Thank Gosh for fitting in with the out-crowd

Thank Gosh for all the memories, Thank Gosh for the ability to let some go

Thank Gosh for companionship and love, but maybe also for all the bad things in the world, so we can tell them apart from the good.

Thank Gosh for honesty and balance

Thank Gosh for the rules that I’ve learned so I know how to break them.

Thank Gosh for parents and brothers who care

Thank Gosh for forgiveness and patience

Thank Gosh for the nighttime peace that overtakes me as I will myself to close eyes and leave this planet for awhile

to enter the unconscious realm of dream that is connected with some dimension of the afterlife where maps exist and paths are being drawn and made and transmitted by radio into the synapses of our minds, making our hearts thump a little faster and harder as we wake up, trying to figure out what it all means.

Because we can’t take the map with us. So Thank Gosh.

because figuring it out is part of the journey.

And what is human existence without that?

The Sister in Me

I have a sister in me. A twin.

I never saw her before today.

She looks just like me. Spitting image.

But she’s wiser, less impulsive.

Kind smile, no judgement.

She hugs me and says, “It’s all going to be okay,

don’t get hung up on the past, it doesn’t matter anymore, really”.

No words leave her mouth, but I can translate.

I can read her mind because we’re the same.

Sometimes it just takes some deep thought and concentration

to break through our own mental, metal barriers

unknowingly created by ourselves

to protect and survive.

Although sometimes shields are double-edged swords in disguise.

If you just let it happen, it’s not that hard to

pull it out of the stone.

Grief and Laughter

You know, I was thinking just now
about
grief
and
laughter.
Why do we do it?
Why feel compelled to utter forth
a hiccup
or
a loud guffaw?
It got me to thinking –
Perhaps we cry
in attempts to heal the wound,
as water brings new life.
And gasp at the air
so that the pain in our lungs validate
we are still here – suffering.
And when we laugh
we are shaking off the snake skin,
constricting us for too long.
Or breaking the iceberg that exists
in us, in others,
so that we may breathe
a little easier.

the message no one wants to hear

it’s like no one cares

so why try?

gravity is sitting on me today.

you’d find it hard it believe.

and it’s so easy to disassociate

who you think I am

with what I’m feeling now.

so go ahead.

the only truth is your own view.

it’s completely subjective.

and it hurts –

life, giving life, being life.

I’m afraid to stop trying

because what if I miss out

on something great?

it’s this stupid fucked up idea

that I think I can change you,

think I can help.

and I want to do that – all of it.

but I fumble with the words,

unsteady hands,

trying to smile and look brave.

it all feels alien today.

I want to be that genius kid.

I want to prove you all wrong.

I want to surprise you in the best way.

it’s the message no one wants to hear.

it’s the tears I keep bottled up ’til they burst.

I’m embarrassed by it.

but if I were to tell you, you’d never believe me.

it’d sound fake. it’d sound like I’m making it up

but I’m not. I swear it.

it’s these moments strength is a weakness.

I just want to mean something to someone,

to anyone. Not beg for the attention.

because that’s so messed up.

it doesn’t work that way.

it feels like plastic and gloss.

I am the lioness in the tall grass –

unseen, but seeing everything.

but when it comes to me it’s all cloudy

like the weather in real time.

accurate metaphors.

those are the best kind.

because in this information age

feeling is all we have.

It may be swayed and manipulated

and faked and flipped off,

but they can never take away the essence –

the exploding electrons, sparking nerve endings

shooting up

fireworks to the limbic system

at arousal, at anger, at absolute serenity.

so this is my new thing:

having my fingers do the talking on an impossible wednesday night

(sign language, type language)

nothing leaves my mouth and I can make mistakes and you would never know it

because I just press backspace and the white is clear and pristine as before.

I like it ’cause it’s not real. It’s not really how it is outside the screen.

here it’s all square, all perfect.

and for a moment it all seems beautiful, all seems okay.

but I still have what they can’t take away from me.

it can’t be fixed. I’m stuck with it.

I can’t amputate the shitty feeling that’s weighing me down this evening.

I bring the sideways L to my temple and bend the thumb down

in jest, in play, pretending to restart and start over.

games are so misleading. they always are.

huxleyhuxleyhuxley,

you have scarred me for life.