21~7
No one knows what normal is.
Only a word.
Remember this always.
Make every day count.
Always be yourself.
Love who you are.
Prompt 7, Hour 7: Normal
Ever since I was a young teen, I wished I could be normal.
Have a brain without mental illness and anxiety disorders.
No chemical imbalance.
Lifetime depression would be absent.
Sometimes, I don’t want to be me.
Some days, I’m so tired of being alive.
Few days, I actually feel all right.
Sometimes, I tell myself over and over I’m okay.
Some days, my mind won’t stop.
Few days, I don’t believe my mind’s insults.
I take an anti-anxiety pill and breathe out.
If I was normal, I wouldn’t struggle to hold a job.
If I was normal, I’d be confident.
But I’m not.
Becoming
awash in the colors
of a moment so
present it feels like a memory
as if what was now is
but now is the past
Ode to repressed memories
Shrieks. Uncovered memory.
Get up. Get out.
Vulnerable, trusting, three years
old. Afraid of the dark, of dark
smiles, of dark men. Screams
that bleed the throat,
phlegm and blood and mucus.
Wake up. Get out.
Navy shirt, Navy hand,
navy darkness when he flips
the switch. Flesh under small
soft nails, begging to be heard.
Please. Listen. Please. Help.
Brushed off, lively
imagination, lights turned
off. Still there with eyes
opened, with hands filled
with acorn curls, large strong
nails hiding flesh beneath.
Get up. Get out.
Coughs producing blood. Get
it all out. Purge. Purge the phlegm
and mucus and memory.
Come back.
Scream. Scream. Scream. Scream.
Afraid of the dark. Every light
on. He’s still there, gentle voice.
Slapped on the shoulder, embraced
by those brighter than he. Brushed
off. Begging. Screaming.
Cold tile beneath. Get out.
Wake up. Screams and coughs.
Afraid of dark men and their dark
smiles. Helpless and three years
old. Ignored. Overreacting.
Active imagination. Screams.
Wake up. Come back.
Urine on tile, ice pack on crown.
Scream. Blood. Purge. Wake up.
Normality
This hour the prompt
Has broken my brain!
Chasing my thoughts
Driving me insane!
Refusing limitations,
I shall not be cubed
Condensed into normal
Is just short of rude!
Majestic and magical
With unicorns I ride!
Joined by the Fairies
We jest and and we vibe!
Over the clouds
And the rainbow!
Let’s go, my new friends
There the words flow!
Revel in mystery,
Folklore, and such!
Normal is a word
I never must touch!
Weird Is What We Make It – hour 7
Weird is what we make it
And normal’s just myth
Paid for by their bottom line
It never did exist
They tell you what you want to wear
Then tell you what to eat
In marketing and strategy
And everyone you meet
Give me gothic unicorns
And Edgar Allen Poe
A little Plath, a lot of black
And a pen to tell my woes
Normal’s overrated
I’d rather make it weird
Than conform to their vision
That would make me disappear.
~Mandy Kocsis©2021~
Ekphrastic poem The Last Leaf at Myrtle Beach
The Last Leaf at Myrtle Beach
The last leaf at Myrtle Beach.
Holding on for who knows what.
His friends have all preceded him,
alone in the sand he lies.
He is unattached with no
commitments. Red with
embarrassment about his
predicament.
Waiting for the last wave
to carry him to his watery grave.
He leaves a shadow in the sand,
does the last leaf at Myrtle Beach.
3 pm – Untitled Haiku
You don’t know this me.
New voice, fresh eyes, filled with love,
held in Holy things.
Happy place
The sun is warm on my skin
Heating me from within
When I close my eye
I can picture the clear skies
A single bird flies by
It’s wings spread wide
I breath in the fresh air
Feel the wind blow through my hair
I’m calm and at peace
All the tension has been released.
This is my happy place
8 Dragon
My dragon sleeps with her head on my king bed
Her body rests on the floor while her rather
Long tail wanders out the window to the brook
She will not offer her name so I call her Dragon
Hoping she is not offended though she responds each time
Dragon is centuries old and not to pry I don’t ask
Dragon requires no food from me and I hold out hope
She refuses to murder the sweet creatures in the yard
She’s a healthy girl with clean habits and little care
A secret to all including my pup who shares our bed
I don’t risk being misunderstood and considered
An aging old gal in need of professional service
I always wanted a dragon not realizing that all
I had to do was ask and behold she was here
To lean on in sleep and dream past this life
I look forward to one windy ride before I die
With long white hair billowing behind me
My final blessing in this already grand life