24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I’m over it
Not writing
But performance
I feel alone
Like no place is home.
I’m tired
And I just don’t know
If I can mass produce
The energy it takes
To maintain this smile upon my face
It all feels incredibly fake
And again I say…
I’m over it today.
I have never been to sea
though I always wanted to see it
the vast ocean of clear blue
along the shimmering sand
and the breeze, offering a respite
under the Sun full of warmth
or so I have been told
I have never been to sea
only knew of it through words
and pictures and stories
of others
and I am lucky
finding something to look forward to
in a future where existence itself
is uncertain.
I will never make it to heaven.
You cannot tell me that
I will make it there.
All good people go to heaven.
This is it,
My bad deeds outweigh by good deeds.
You cannot tell me that
I won’t go to hell.
Somewhere out there
there’s a place called home
where I’m free to be me
without judgment or scorn.
Somewhere out there
there’s a place I can breathe
where I’m loved and accepted
for who I be.
My inner compass is set to north
I check it daily to stay on course.
I push through the dense brush
and wade through the sludge
going home, going home
to a place called love.
Winter 1891
One frostee day Emma got control the hous.
I was told to leeve. I learne reed and writ sum. But not enuf to teech skool.
Also, they dont take girls like me.
I got a room.
One windo. Sum lite. Dark nite.
The rent is hi. I see men by 30 or more everee day. Then I may pay.
Befor they bring gifts. Now they thro cash and use my stomac like a bed, down ther like a spring.
I am sor. They cum and cum and only in dark nite do I clos the door.
Sum beet me since they drink. Sum beet me since they pay.
A bottle cheep gin by the bed. A bottle on the table. I use it cleen the smell.
I use it dul my head.
I use it til I will bee dead.
Where dragons breath meets fire and blades of grass become those of steel I find myself a not so innocent stranger in this world that seems unreal cloaked in robes of finery a crown upon my brow a nod for the passerby that assumes I deserve a bow not a normal faire of sorts but I try to carry it well when I say goodbye to my past and announce fare thee well
Respect
A place where people are valued
No matter what
No hurt
Open communication
Easy breathing
Trees everywhere you look
Looming gardens
Vines wrapping around each other
The world is singing
Death is nothing to fear
The sight of sunshine does not make me frown
Comfort
We are at ease with ourselves
Open and free
Defensive tendencies are a thing of the past
Orchestras sway as we dance the dance of understanding
Educate me is synonymous with I love you
We understand that our time here is short
We are not the only ones here
We must treat her well
Witches practice openly
Children learn that magic is real
We bake our own bread
Laughter fills the space that grief used to inhabit
Smiles adorn the faces of all we see
Kindness shines bright in their eyes
Art is encouraged
Learning is not a privilege
Differences are celebrated
We make space for the sadness
Tears to water our flowers
Turn them into something beautiful
Just like you will soon
Bloom.
A last shot final phase
running on full glaze
a whirred out notion
tied up to the hilt
of guilt and smile–
let it rip run terrify
until the magnifier
loses its lens
a plastic handle
left in hand.
You’ve got this.
Keep it up on high
blow it out
make it magic
chase the rainmaker
and wave your withered
flag only when it’s
over on your own terms.
