do i terrify?

It’s that time again. This is my Introductory post for year 2.

 

My name is Angel. I’m 21. I’m doing the full marathon (I hope). I will be at my friend’s house for a pool party / cookout during the Marathon, but so long as the WordPress app doesn’t fail me, I should** be able to post on time. I’m guessing that during the busier hours (while I’m outside) I will just be writing really short poems (less than 10 lines) – which I normally do, I love writing epigrams. Then when it gets later and I’m settled in more I will try to write a few longer ones to even it out.

 

I’m not entirely sure I will be able to complete this but I’m going to try my damn hardest.

 

A little about me: I have two hairless dogs, a wonderful girlfriend, the best mom. I work for a lawyer, I run my favorite band’s Facebook page (OTEP), I love Amanda Palmer and Sylvia Plath. I barely read, which I think puts me at a huge disadvantage as a writer. I am published in small literary journals, mostly from colleges.  I’m not at all adventurous.

anvil diet

sometimes people tell me
to stop worrying about
my weight
like i hadn’t already been trying
like the idea of
shoving the worry to recess on the moon
wasn’t already my favorite
i carry the launch in my backpack
on the way to school
sometimes
ignorance sounds a lot like
“you don’t even need a diet”
“you’re not that big”
“life is too short to worry about it”

life is too long
to be stuck longing to be
yourself in a different way
to say “i will always be here
i will just change the way
you see me
i will be altering my first impressions
and my right to exist”

this weight is an anvil.

ignorance sounds a lot like
“size doesn’t matter”
“you’re beautiful despite it”
“you’re too young to worry.”

but too damn
old to waste any more of a lifetime
throwing dimes into wishing wells
and picking up lucky pennies
asking for self control
a smaller jean size
the relief echoes
as i walk down
the stairs
to being
myself
again
my
identity
rests within
my ability to shrink.

__ar.

slaughter rust

they could call me schizophrenic
for the ways i am keeping myself
alive
i stopped being human at
two in the morning
my voice grew hoarse from
talking myself awake
instead of counting sheep
i send them to the slaughter
instead of night sweats
i wake up soaked in memories,
i was left to boil
in a pre-rusted pan
though after i settle
i am blamed for the rust

 

__ar.

mother’s clothes

she’s renting to own from
two and a half different decades

marriage put her into t-shirts,
oversized hoodies and jeans that flare
at the bottom

divorce threw her back into spandex and dresses
painted her lips pink again
and taught her body to stop asking for
guidelines to feel
belonged to

 

__ar.

rainbow bridge prompt

there is a poem called “the rainbow bridge” which illustrates that pet and owner are brought together again after death in a part of ‘heaven’

regardless of your beliefs – write a poem in which a pet and owner are reunited after long years apart in life and death

 

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. 

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. 
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. 
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. 
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. 

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. 

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. 

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together…. 

swype poem

Elements sail
Survivors
Distinction
Welcome wishing,
Digital downfall, civilization.
Documentary – Romanian Soprano.
Contact woman.
Wingspan sovereign.

 

(I ran my finger over my Swype keyboard on Android to get random words and make them into a poem. it almost would make sense.)

inconvenience

it’s not wacky wednesday
but the tree is on fire
and somewhat upside down
but to extinguish
would be to electricute

it’s not manic monday
but it’s a housewide blackout
my internet
is disconnected at the root

it’s not freaky friday
but damn
I have to go
to the bathroom again
(for the third time this hour)

 

__ar.

(The prompt was to write about 3 inconvenient things that happened today. lol….)

fixing cliches 2

cat’s out of the bag
don’t cry
over spilt milk
unless you’re laying in it
don’t spill the beans
unless you’re feeding the homeless
don’t open a can of worms
until you fish
you read me like
an open book
at a Library

 

__ar.

sometimes a mother’s love isn’t medicine

I have two daughters
but one child
she has no siblings
but there are two of her
the one that held my hand
and laughed at my smile
and asked me questions,
sitting on the kitchen floor
viewing me as a skyscraper
and the one who
thinks blood shot eyes are the new black
and that lying is
a solution
she collects bottles of alcohol
and lost count of her
one night stands
every new one
is a reason to stop
for twenty three hours
and then the reason
binge
so close to death that
the graves become pillows
a mother would rather be blind
than watch a butterfly
lose its wings,
when it can’t be called a caterpillar

 

__ar.

 

(Addictions poem from the perspective of the mother)

parenthetical

(s)he wants a lover
he wants a friend
but h(er) parents do
not know
what to call h(im)
at family dinners
at Sunday brunches
or on field trip attendance forms
all of h(is) friends think that
(s)he was so pretty and that
(s)he could have any boy
that he wanted
if (s)he wanted him
but he just wanted
a friend
to hold
h(is)
hand

 

__ar.

(poem on transgenderism. needs much revision. was just a concept, i didn’t fully draw it out)