Tag Archives: poems from my week

Poems from My Week (6-6-16)

i went home back to where I’m from for my brother’s high school graduation. i was a mess the day I got back. i am more of a mess five days later.

1:
I can wish to be more than I am.
I pine for hardships that make better stories,
That suffering that gains me sympathy and somehow,
Magically,
Street cred,
But I can’t fabricate.
I can only show you what I am,
What I have,
Who I am,
Right now.
As faulty and sheltered,
As unwholesome and irreverent as I am,
I can be nothing other than myself.
I make no apologies for that,
Not anymore.

2:
I missed being touched.
God, he was so warm.
I wanted to make him portable,
So I could walk around all day, and always be warm.
If I ever become rich, I’ll always be warm,
And I’ll have blankets piled everywhere,
No one will touch my thermostat,
Warm.

3:
This is the mood.
The one I stay up all night reading on countertops waiting for the sun to rise.
I’m in that mood.

4:
Most of my life revolves around having to put a bra on.
As in,
Do I have to,
Right now,
And why.

5:
I am weak in a lot of ways.
Mostly, I won’t disagree with you out loud.
Because I know how it’ll end.
I’m always right.
So I’ll stay quiet.
Instead of confronting, which is what I should usually do.
It’s not the right way to go about things,
But it’s just about all I can do right now.
Take a seat, please, and watch me push you away.

6:
She collects movies she thinks she should watch, instead of the ones she likes.
This woman who is nice.
When she is authentic, as pasta sauce,
She shows her insecurities
In insulting me.

7:
I’m still pissed my sister thought she needed to tell me I’m smart.
It wasn’t the – I’m so proud of you because you’re smart.
It was the – I should tell her she’s smart because she needs the confidence boost.
My mother must have told my sister something I had confided in her,
About feeling unequal when we were younger,
Because I couldn’t keep up with the conversations she had with my father.
Great.
I had to find my self-worth on my own, thanks.
I haven’t needed it from you for years,
Nor do I need your approval, or look to you as a totem pole.
But I loved that condescending reminder of who you used to be to me.
I don’t have to prove a goddamned thing to you.
Let alone in waffle house.

8:
Oh my god I just looked at engagement rings online
Someone help me.
I’m reading about women who get pregnant.
Is this because I went back on facebook?
Did I do this?
Did I create a timeline in my head I have to follow? Kids. Marriage. Steady, plan-y things.
What the hell me.

9:
I need to give my brother a speech about consent,
Because no one else has.
If I can get him on the phone.
And he’ll listen.
It would have been nice if someone had given me that speech.
No a boy can’t do this to you.
And,
You have to say this out loud.

10:
Your wedding photos are terrible and it’s making me happy.
Bad lighting, bad composition,
Your husband’s ears are sticking out,
And his father looks significantly more handsome than your guy.
Damn.
Shouldda gone for him.
Also, you were mean to me in high school.

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Poems from My Week (3/31)

i’ve been having trouble getting my thoughts together in one piece this week. so this week’s poems are structured a little differently to accommodate

1:
I’ve learned that you need to be straightforward and honest.
Say what really happened, because otherwise you’ll forget what you were lying about, and it’ll slip out.
It’s less work for you in the long run, if you think of it that way.
Which is how I think of most things.
Like why I still go to church, and won’t tell my parents I don’t really believe.
It’s less work for me in the long run. Less to deal with.
My mom can make her own assumptions, but this way it doesn’t come between us. And it isn’t a thing.

2:
I felt like I was a guinea pig, being used to see how a process would work, it’s not a good feeling, being a product. It’s really not.
It might make more money. But it makes me sad.
Because I don’t feel like me, I feel like I’ve reacted a certain way based on the circumstances you’ve place around me.
Unnatural. Forced.
There’s nothing I hate more than being told to feel something.

3:
I understand now.
Why people bring little bits of things along with them.
It’s so something looks familiar.
It’s so unsettling. To have nothing you’re sure of. Nothing you already know.
When you know how it breaks, cracks, falls
It’s less to think about. You know how the bugs move.

4:
I went to a funeral today, for a women whose kids were taken away.
She drank herself to death.
4th this year. In a town this size.
This place has a nice tradition. They wear the dead person’s favorite team’s jerseys to the funeral. I like that. I think if I died a few people would show up and wear some Colts stuff. It would mean a little bit of something to me. That’s some sense of community then.
Everyday I feel like a belong a little more, when I meet someone and think they would come to my funeral.
It’s like high school all over again.

5:
I have so much trouble going to places where I’m supposed to feel a certain way.
I want to sit in the back and crack jokes, and be inappropriate.
I can do it at home, no consequences. I’m an asshole.
But here, everything is noticed, and it doesn’t work nearly as well.
And I haven’t found anyone to let my guard down against.
I have little hope I’ll find someone, who’ll let me be.

6:
I’m so upset right now.
Why am I upset, the counselor in my head asks?
I’m upset because it is the final day on my contract,
And I had a final call with my supervisor.
This is the job I quit when I moved up here.
And she was rude.
She blamed me for not doing something I did.
I’m so angry.
Well, here’s what happened.
We scheduled a call for 9:30 a.m. EST
That means, 5:30 a.m. my time. I woke up early specially.
The guy who was supposed to be on the call never showed.
So instead we went over things that might need to happen.
There are two things to be sent for review.
During the one time I got to talk last call, she must have zoned out.
I am unlistened to. That’s frustrating.
Because I said what she’s getting mad about me over the phone.
I said out loud what was going on with the blogs.
Not only that, I added it to a physical document, then shared the document with her in two different ways.
You have no right to be mad at me.
I’m mad that she’s mad at me.
God, I’m so glad I left.
So, so, so, glad.
Literally you can complain about me all you want to your little friend, bad-mouth up to high-heaven, I did what I was supposed to do. When I couldn’t, I got out. What more do you want from me?
Uh-oh. I’m asking the question only jerks ask.

I feel like I’m waiting for a clock to run out of time, or finish that no one else can hear. My countdown isn’t on your timer.

I think, maybe, once I’m done with this year, I’ll stay rural. Maybe not Alaska rural. But rural. I like being this far away from my family. I like it.

7:
Anyway, I’m trying to express what’s really there, and it’s not working.
I’m trying to open up.
But, there’s something blocking, something I can’t tell you or anyone else about, and that’s hard. I think it’s stopping me. I think I’m starting to sound like a lifetime commercial.

Screw it. I’ll tell you about it.
But it’s one of those, that I really hope gets buried in this pile of regular rubbish.
I’m trying to be open and honest here, because I am no where else.
A guy my roommate, new person, only person I know, introduced me to,
Helped me look for her dog,
Went out fishing with,
Invited himself over to hang out while she wasn’t here.
Fine.
Everybody drinks here. They won’t eat processed foods, but they’ll drink rubbing alcohol.
He brought a backpack full of PBR.
Fine.
We dyed easter eggs.
He touched my knee.
And I said I had to ask my friend before we went farther.
That didn’t work. But it didn’t go too far.
I feel so guilty.
It took me two days to tell her he was over here.
Then she asked little questions,
And I did what I do best,
I sound like an idiot and distract.
But, oh man. He was so warm. And there seems to always be a chill here.
The man in the iron mask was playing. And we watched chuck Norris.
And I’m a terrible person. I’m so alone.

I try so hard to be cool, calm, collected.
I just mess it up every single day.
I think, oh man, this time I won’t say anything.
And then I do.
Why do I say anything.

8:
My dad said something a little racist on the phone, and I wasn’t sure what to do.

My new roommate said something interesting, she said, I wish there was a guide, one, two, three, four steps you could take to make it better. But there’s not. Not for when your parents drink themselves to death while you’re still young, still in high school. You didn’t live with her anymore. But still.

I did something wrong again. And I don’t know what. I keep messing up.
Can I have one day I do right?
It’ll be the day I sleep for 24 hours.

Poems from My Week (2/5)

One of these is for you. Yes you, goofball.

1:
There are those moments when people are in perfect sync.
It happens sometimes on the internet, when people presented with similar information react in similar ways.
My favorite appearance of it is in Mrs. Dalloway when both she and her husband understand each other for a moment.
I love that perfect comprehension without saying a word, even if it makes me lonely.

2:
This one’s for you. Don’t read it if you can’t take it.
I’m not sure why I’m so upset.
But, damn, am I upset.
So upset I started looking at wedding dresses to try and find some peace in picking apart the minor details in something someone else worked so hard to make.
You told me, wait, what did you tell me, because I can probably quote it verbatim.
I need to learn to control my emotions.
I think that’s what it was.
Well let’s over-analyze that, because really, what else am I good at, hmm?
Maybe you meant you didn’t want to hear me whine. But.
You made me cry, did you know that?
And then I got mad at myself for giving you that much.
I can’t decide if I should tell you why that hurts.
Or just cut and run and call it a sunk cost.
Did you know I was emotionally abused?
I don’t think you do. I don’t think you know how many years it took me, to be able to say my feelings are valid as they are. I am fine the way I am. They’re not wrong. Feelings can’t be wrong.
I can’t even type that without crying.
To tell me to control what I feel is to take me back there, when I was nothing but sand.
Did you know that?
Because you wouldn’t have said that.
You wouldn’t have hurt me on purpose.
Please.

3:
I’ve still never forgiven you
For the time when we were driving home from our every-other weekend with Dad,
and you made me feel guilty for not spending time with him,
and I cried, and you knew I was crying,
and Mom said nothing.
We were right outside town.
I’ll never forgive you for that.
I don’t care if it ruins me for the gold in heaven.
I’ll never forgive you for that.
For making me feel guilty for doing the same thing you’d done.

4:
I always put up these filters.
and when I take them down,
I think, I should leave these down all the time,
Then something I say beautifully gets used against me,
and they go back up with a few extra support bars,
And more space to cover.

5:
I’m the kind of person who says they don’t like to talk about themselves
But is still so insecure,
That if someone is interested, I’d love to be thought of as interesting.

6:
I’m sorry Mom.
I’m sorry your friend is dying.
I know you become closer to her because she’s dying of breast cancer.
And you’re worried you’ll die of breast cancer, because Grandma had breast cancer.
I’m sorry your fussing over this woman,
Didn’t take away your fear that this could have been you.
I’m sorry.

Poems from the Week (7/14)

1:
It rained so hard today I wanted to cuddle with strangers.
The sky turned to winter morning’s green.
I hunkered my shoulders.
I wanted someone to notice I wasn’t ok,
And hold me while I curled up in a ball
From the big scary noise.
Desperation bred lovability today.

2:
I woke thinking life had nothing but horrible thoughts for me.
Then I got something done,
Not everything, mind you,
But something.
And I only thought, “I have to get out of here” when I stopped to think.
That must be why busy people never stop to think.
All their little day saddnesses would play catch-up.

3:
Someone’s beautiful place of memory
Got destroyed today.
Those poor red shutters on the old brick house,
And all the overgrown fence posts,
They’ll never be like you remembered them.
You can’t go back to double check yourself.
Did I really feel like that,
When I saw the sights I’d seen a thousand times before
With different, healthy eyes.
I’m so sorry little memories.
I should have written you down to keep you safe.
I should have sketched you in color,
I should have photographed with sound.

4:
I do not want to talk to my old teachers.
I will be reminded of all the things I promised myself to be,
The last time I came across their desks.
Let me stay unjogged, more likely forgotten,
So that I can slip by,
Accountable only to myself today,
Instead of the, look where I’ll be, girl with shorter hair.

5:
Pain pills chill on my desk leftover from surgery.
I don’t take them.
I have to say I can overcome some sort of addiction.
I’ve left them on the desk because they fit in.
Like I’ve left that bird turned just sideways.
I have to be able to do something right.

6:
I want to be noticed, but I can’t say I want to be noticed.
So I have to pretend my below grade flying is destined on purpose.
I could be famous.
If I wanted to be.

7:
It’s true,
You find love together in the moments,
Then the waiting for the next one.
Maybe this next one will be better,
Or maybe he’s forgotten.

8:
I met your father for the first time,
He knew all about me,
Oh god, I’m a topic of conversation around your damn meatloaf.
I thought we thought of each other as friends.
Dammit, why didn’t you tell me, you know I’m blind about things like that.
I never saw you again after you left for school.
You an all curl hair.

9:
My dyslexia kicks in.
I’ll tell you what happens.
I’ll be stressed, I have to say this quickly, and it has to be accurate.
I know exactly the word I want to say,
I try to say the word, but I can tell it’s coming out wrong,
And I can’t fix it.
I know it’s the other thing I want to say, the opposite,
But I can’t figure out how to say it,
And there’s no time,
So I go with what my mouth was trying to say,
And I can’t figure out what I said, or meant to say, except I’m mad at myself.
It happens with words.
It happens when I’m writing down a phone number and can’t figure out if I’m writing down a 6 or a 9, and I know something’s off but I can’t see it. My b and ds looks like butterflies, with bumps on both sides.
It happens when I’m thinking too. I’ll think wrong, but I know what I mean, so that one’s not so bad. When I’m reading the letters will flip flop, the letters and the words, and the lines, sometimes it’ll sound funny, and I can laugh to myself. It gets bad when I’m tired too.

10:
I’ll never be beautiful.
I don’t mind.
It means I don’t have to put on makeup.
And no one lies to me.
They know they can’t tell me I’m the prettiest.
I can be fine with me, and my perfectly normal features.
I’ll draw you a picture of me one day here soon.

Poems from My Week (6/7)

1:
My mother is powerful.
She can’t lift a dresser though.
She’s sharp, but she can’t make you bleed.
She gives you the blessing of guilt.
I am so blessed.

2:
I wanted you to be perfect.
The best in the world, for me.
I wanted to have someone who fit.
Understood me.
I guess I just thought you did, because you talked to me.
It seemed like you were talking just to me.
But you’re human again, and far away,
And I don’t know how to fix it.
God, I want you to love me. I’m so disgustingly selfish.

3:
I’m at peace with my two front teeth.
I don’t have an even line smile,
It’s bumpy and crooked
And two are chipped from, well, it’s a funny story actually.
I am not a straight and narrow person, nether are my teeth.

4:
I got a little bit of money from my Dad.
I was so excited. I need so many things.
Then I was sad. Because I can afford one of the things I need.
Shorts, new necklace, socks.
I don’t have enough money to buy morals.
I have to shut off the part of me
She says this is wrong, what you’re doing for money.
But I don’t have a choice. I always feel trapped.
Trapped into taking other people’s money.
Stuck into graciousness.

5:
Make I statements.
Don’t insult the other person.
Address the issue with respect.
Outline the precise nature of the problem.
Kill me now, please,
All this hubbub because we have to be nice.
This just sucks.

6:
I cry in the car on the way home from work.
It has become my blue chariot of peace.
It flies between two hells on the highways.
I walk into the second and hug the emotional torments who call me daughter.
My biggest argument tomorrow will be with myself,
And how to exit the needle nest
To make vain for someone else.

7:
When I’m overcome with emotion,
I spout cliché,
Not my own words,
My own words take so much longer,
And seem lesser,
To the apologetic blank mind of the moment.
I wish I could make myself smarter,
Faster. So I could tell you what I felt right then,
And not have to wait for this thing between my ears to settle and explain itself.

8:
I thought I could understand everyone.
I am wrong.
I do not understand the humorless.
I cannot comprehend their pride.
Are they nervous?
You cannot live with yourself, if you cannot find your weaknesses ironic.
I do not understand.
I think, you have no soul, if you do not find humor.
Why does she scare me so much?
This woman I know.

9:
I cannot do this. I can’t.
But, see, I don’t have the ties of family,
I don’t have, I must do this for the kids,
That makes it harder,
Having no one to work for,
It makes it harder to stay.
Because I’ve always run, shied, hid.
And somehow, where I am, responsibility means exchanging your heart for a timeslot.

10:
I’m always going to associate with the worker over the boss.
Even when I’m old, and know people who started this thing when they were young, and became heads of companies, with fancy names and hair cut styles.
I’ll find myself on the side of the picket who values people.
I always will.
I’m mourning the loss of the boss in me.
I’ll never make that much money. I have too much humanity, and middle child syndrome.
I read somewhere, I think, that if you’re poor when you’re younger, you’re more altruistic. I think we were poor. I’m not super sure.
But we’re union.
I find my family values where I can and take them for their linearity. You don’t side with the mighty against the powerless.
I know that. And when I see myself starting to look for positive black numbers in excel sheets,
And avoiding how much people need to see bits of themselves in other humans,
I think, maybe it’s ok I’ll never be somebody.

Poems from my Week (5/28)

i am. a penniless, schedule keeper. but i thought i’d tell you about my week

1:
The dentist took my wisdom teeth.
I had to go back to his office.
I had to be polite
To the man who caused my week’s worth of pain.
He should sell himself as a weightloss specialist.

2:
They know who I am as soon to look.
Then I have to be the attitude they’re expecting,
Because they’re waiting for it,
They’re who I’ve always wanted to be.
They’re women who knew what to do with their hair,
Because their mothers told them,
Because their moms knew,
Because their moms cared what their hair looked like,
And not that they were late.

3:
I would much, very much like to know someone who would
Celebrate a very merry unbirthday to me, to you.
I want someone to push me,
Accuse me.
Ask me why didn’t you finish that when you were told.
I put more of you on paper as real.
I’m hoping you’re the one person of whom I can say,
“She knows me, she gets me, she understands.”
You know why I need to pour tea from a watering can and cry.

4:
I want to talk to you, but you’re high.
I can’t even tell the difference anymore.
When did I become a nag?
My mother bugged people like I’m starting to.
He doesn’t love me enough to stop.
I haven’t asked.
I can’t ask.
I can’t complain about something I haven’t spoken of.

5:
You’ll know me, then be bored of me, then leave me.
I am me without you,
I am me without you.
If I see you again,
It’ll all come back,
Like driving past elementary.

6:
The skin cancer man didn’t wear sunscreen,
Until the doctor told him:
Please continue, I have two kids to put through college.
Insult to the way you handle money,
Only to be pull off by a stranger in authority.

7:
Complain about yourself.
It can’t be your fault.
Oh, the most horrible thing happened.

8:
I cussed out the woman who lives in my phone.
She directed me to three closed coffeehouses
Before she found a tea place instead.
I wanted to hold her accountable, and couldn’t,
It’d be better if I could.

9:
Remind me to tell yous –
Are remembered after it’s been lost,
And it’s raining,
And your shoes are squeaking,
And the food is cold.

10:
She called – just to chat.
I talked for an hour.
Thursday night ramblings of weekends and weeks before and things and trees and shrubs.