24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
There’s a time capsule inside of me
No one else will ever see
For though I pour things out in verse
Few know the stories behind the words
They’re written snapshots of my life
Every poem that I write
Has some basis in my truth
They’re parts of me I give to you
I don’t have all the answers, see
Just a time capsule inside of me
I know darkness, I know pain
And survival is my middle name.
~Mandy Kocsis©2021~
Xenophile
“There is telepathy between hearts.” @positive women0 on Instagram
“Your Heart is not a lock, it should be already open.” Her Pen Pal, Hallmark movie 2021
Can’t speak Korean
know a little Italian,
even less Spanish.
Can read a few words
of Gaelic
none of French or Hebrew.
No attempts on German
or Middle Eastern dialects.
When a song is heard
or a poem is read,
emotions are translated
in any language.
When I hear Salvaje
or Suelta.
My body moves in Hispanic
dancing tempos.
When I heard Oxtail Soup
in her Korean tongue,
felt someone loved left her
taking memories with them.
I never knew her Grandfather,
but learned this poet’s love.
We should all embrace the sounds of our differences.
Learn from cultures other than our own.
Together we’ll recognize this world
is not small and closed by insecurity.
It’s open and it’s wide like a new book, new song.
We can always be a teacher and a learner.
When my tribe rises,
I will not be there.
When they hoist the flags,
and draw their swords,
I will not be there.
When they play their pipes
and shout their oaths,
I will not be there.
When they call on their gods
and strike their chests,
willing their demons
to leave the dark dens,
I will not be there.
When the slayer’s songs
ring out in the hills
and victory burnishes
its dented, bloody shield,
I will not be there.
And then, when they are
finally tired of their war,
and fall like the dead
into their weary beds,
I will not be there.
I will not be there.
Small hands made this.
I can tell, because it’s made of Lego.
And the note’s in faded colour.
I think I had these gel pens too.
“Hello” say the faded words
They cannot spell ‘millennium’.
“I hope you like my unicorn,
I live with my dad and mum.”
I wonder – should I put this back?
Should it sleep again for decades more?
Until the hands that trace these coins
Don’t find them so familiar.
I rent the back room here, ground floor.
One studio flat, a little garden.
The house partitioned, no space now
For dad and mum and little Morgan.
“We are very happy here.”
She writes to me, from childhood.
“My favourite is the library van!
I think the future will be good.”
Morgan may be out these somewhere,
Renting someone else’s home.
I carefully reseal the box,
And place it back beneath the loam.
The note I folded, repacked, buried,
But I kept a little hope behind
A gift to me from this optimistic child
Like myself, in an earlier time.
The water floats over my body
as if it were a cloud
coming to wash away my nightmares.
The lyrics slam into my soul
as if they had been born from within myself.
The calm takes me over
as I lay,
longing for peace-
for happiness.
“Remember me?” the note taker screamed.
We were at a party and I was already wondering if I knew anyone here
besides the hostess, who had made herself scarce to the point of having
French exited her own soiree.
The character in front of me had too many underscores for me not to realize
I was supposed to remember her.
“Did we work together?” I asked, with fingers crossed behind my back.
She seemed crestfallen. Her ambersand fell in like a sinkhole.
“Oh, you have to be kidding me!”
Before I could answer, my arm was grabbed as my interrogator was swooshed to the side.
“Hey, Nellie, don’t hog the guest of honor!”
My new friend was my new friend for all of three to six seconds.
His name was an almost endless array of letters and numbers that
I wouldn’t have tried to pronounce but, knowing this, he pointed
to his nametag and proudly proclaimed himself,
“Sa5555Kaw9!%win8@_tha_R3^^^^3&.”
He beamed out of sight immediately after I told him my name.
If anyone had noticed the moment, it appeared I was talking to myself.
I sat down at a small table and listened to the chatter above my head.
One of the other guests was telling another that her name was Imp3ach18! I did know her,
but didn’t want to be the third-party intruder.
“Maybe this party won’t be so bad,” I was telling myself when one of the other guests came
to me on his knees and reeking of fluids both organic and inorganic.
“Will you tell me your name again? I think I have a message for you about your account.”
This time, I made no attempt to be polite.
I stood up and reported him to someone who knew the hostess and seemed already aware that
the troublemaker, now turning a spongy pink color, had a nest of complaints surrounding him.
My mind scrolled the room, certain I’d meet variations of the same individual no matter to whom I spoke.
It had been a long night and hearing the beginning of a joke was all I needed to find the door.
Just as I was making my exit, I heard “How many passwords does it take to enter a new password?”
The cacophony was shambolic.
There was a point in time
When I used to despise myself
Much to my own undoing
I stripped away layers
Unveiling my true self
Assuming that I was loved for just that
But who I was inside was never quite enough
Concealed by the shadows
To form the truth they conjured
Flickering within the candlelight
Never quite true to myself.
I was what they wanted me to be
Shaving off the edges of my square peg
To fit in the conformity of their round hole
A cycle spinning like a top
Round and round I went
In the merry-go-round of life
Until finally, I stopped toppling over
Visions of the self they imposed.
Kicked into a dusty corner and forgotten
Before I made my walkabout
And realized for the first time
The illumination of my mind
The self-realization of strong will-
I was lost, but not forgotten.
I love with a ferocity that tends to be offputting
I love with intensity, overwhelming those
Who cannot fathom its depths
I write poetry and prose to express
The intricate details and quiet strumming
Of the music from my thought
And the wonder that my love
Brings to life within me-
Whether it is reciprocated or not-
My love inspires me to be, more than I am
And believes it to be so, though
Silence is still so unforgiving
And distance much to my heart’s torturing.
Yet still such emotion so infinite
I drown myself within
And forget within elaborate fantasies
The boundaries that have been drawn.
I think with a child’s innocence and
Hold hope between my teeth
A bit that I bite upon
That leads me to my knees.
I am simple and complex
a mystery and what’s known
I show now what I want to see
The strength that has always resided within.
I find laughter in the obscure and silly things
I laugh at the juvenile
I cry tears of the innocence
Still fretting over just being myself.
But here I am, unapologetically
Exploring my map of life
And realize that no matter what
No matter who leaves me
No matter who comes to me
I will always be in my life.
I will continue to love as I do
Nothing shameful in that, it’s true
I’m as honest as I can be
Because I can be honest with myself.
There’s no point in trying to hide it
The complexities of who I am
I’m loved, I’m lost
Without my heart
So I hold on
And embrace my faults.
I moved to the city and was welcomed by rain
Rain in the mornings, rain in the afternoons,
Dripping down my window, when I go to bed at night,
I realized then maybe,
I only loved the rain before,
Because I lived in the desert
It starts when you first realize
where you are.
It’s all the rivers and
roads you traversed along the way.
It’s looking deep inside and knowing
this is the pinnacle of existence.
This is where we’re meant to be.
