Self

Overlapping emotions and the motion of my stomach swings to try to accompany them in a nauseating wave, I struggle to calm. Anxious and empty. Fully aware and solid like lead bullets flying through empty space before vanishing into hearts without a trace. Fall like autumn on unsuspecting children who’ll dance through puddles and muddle through mixed messages as their parents teach them to embrace the moment, but keep their hands to themselves. Shelve the books, shelve the dirty looks and store the emotional baggage on a plane that’s destined to be taken hostage. Lose control to the disciplined instructions of passionately ignorant and courageously stupid captors. Get lost in expectations and reflections in store windows, can you see yourself in their stereotypes? Wipe the make up off your face and vanish without a trace into an empty identity. You are the you that no one else can see, if you let yourself be this will it piss him off? Will she fail to be your friend, is it the end when you succeed independently from the Banana Republic? You don’t know yet, but you let your hair down, falling off the shoulders in waves, you grow older as you shed the winter coat in colder company. Alone, empty, strong and vulnerable - empty and aware, looking straight ahead, they all will stop to stare, and you will wonder

Why did no one look before?

No Poetic Language

Beautiful adjectives generously piled upon delicate nouns, surrounded by adverbs, with the hint of an unknown subject, overwhelmed by the weighty verbs and all about to be swept under the rug.

I do not have the patience for poetic language.
If I am to say what I mean, then I should speak with the words closest to my conscious. Those simple short phases, the briefest cliches that were easily ingrained to my childlike mind. And I’m sure if I thought long and hard I could find an acute adverb that would accurately say the same thought in a much more eloquent sounding way that people would hear and say, “I need a dictionary to understand her.” And upon finding the word in the dictionary they would understand my point so well, they would see that I had none. And not only did I not have a point, I wasted their time by saying it so beautifully that they felt the need to decipher the most eloquently coded crap. I do not have time for such deception I would much rather ramble on using the plainest of language, the lamest types of slang, and the sort of grammar that makes sense when spoken, but looks atrocious on paper. However if you read my words out loud my voice is easily recognizable in the rambling run-ons with inadvertent rhymes and the sort of questions that are a waste of time to think about.

So you may keep your eloquent prose, touch your nose with your finger, and pretend to be a sober singer. Worry about the meter and rhyme, symbolism and crime, and I shall be busy writing honest non sequiturs so simple that 4 year olds could understand them, but original enough that no one else can stand them.

Siphons Her Soul

She siphons her soul into the sounds seeping from her lips.
Lost in the silence of a kiss.
She lost her soul.
Pure fools gold, for only fools can love with the enthusiasm of dreamers in a cynic’s reality.

He rode on cloud nine hoping to reign over her heart.
But when the storm came, he was the one who fell.
Broken bits revealed in his twitch, he tried to hide the damage behind the manly smile of a boy too afraid to feel anything real.
Laugh a little too loud for happiness and hope to make the best of this,
he was a second best silver rest for a gold hungry hunter,
rushing to her manifest destiny and the best he couldn’t be.

She siphons her soul into the sounds seeping from her lips.
But she’s still living in a silent emptiness,
so she leaves with a kiss.

She siphons her soul into sounds
But if no one is around
Is there no sound?

Has she lost her soul for a heart of fool’s gold?
Or has she lost her innocence because she grew too old?
She doesn’t know, so she siphons her soul into sounds and says nothing.

Coffee

Like the conversations she eavesdrops into
Her coffee is bittersweet and missing something.
Perhaps it’s sugar? Or maybe substance?

Like the vapors above my coffee
And like the coffee itself
She vanished hours before her impact.

Scuttle on

Scuttle on little one
Avoid time, or the adventure’s done.

Grab the granite blocks
Build a sense of self in confident steps

Don’t slip or fall
Just grab at what’s in reach, avoid the rest

And climb away
Forget the day
Forget the sunset
Forget the regret
Forget the names
Forget the places

And fall away from your identity
Left somewhere on the ground with what you used to be

Million-Headed-Monster

The million-headed-monster was beheaded. So many heads squirmed and bled upon the ground. And from the necks sprang forth in a violent fashion, three more apiece. The three-million-headed-monster ate a big mac for breakfast, stepped on its neighbors toes before noon, and changed its clocks three months before June. The three-million-headed-monster tore its home to pieces and ran free around the world. Stomping the mountains to valleys, grinding the trees to pulp, over-fishing the seas, and sleeping far too much. But in the months leading toward November, the strangest thing occurred. The three-million-headed-monster tried to decide which head it needed more. Teeth bared, claws scratched, the three-million-headed monster was pinned on its back with millions of heads fighting to be on the side that would win. Necks began to break, and heads began to fall. But unlike before, this time it was all for those unlucky enough to be slain - and the three-million-headed-monster began to look the same. Two million fell fast enough, but one million was much more tough. But at the end of month, millions of heads littered the plain, and the three-million-headed-monster was never the same.

Conch Shell

If there was a god, and he were to walk along a beach, pick up a shell and put it to his ear, what would he hear? The infinite sound of the seas trapped and reverberating against their calcium cage? The cries of his creations yearning for a moment of contemplation while they drown in activity? Would he hear the infinite spectrum of all that could be and the echos of eternity? Or would he hear the claustrophobic cries of a conch who died long ago, leaving a phantom to moan.

Love Crime

I hand her a diary
I hand her poetic confessions
I had her my heart
I hand her my obsessions

Sitting on the curbside with a free sign
Take away this emotional love crime
Hate crimes are easily pointed to
But love crimes make me hurt you
A graver offense
To which there’s no defense

Stolen hearts
Resold lies
Broken ties
I tried
I tried

Driftwood

When all is said and done, too much is said and not enough is done.
But words fade like newsprint memories and actions are condensed into summaries.
I wish I could unwrap the present with a sense of anticipation, but these boxes are a burden and weigh me down as I move around. When gravity waves me down, I head down to the waves and gaze past the shore hoping with a heavy heart.

Wondering if I will someday find the moments that don’t need to be placed in stories to be remembered. The free floating and always supporting sense of self that comes from active living which is a way of life, not escape from strife. And I wonder, if I were to find it,

Would you drift with driftwood?
Or sink with stones?

I don’t think you would.
I expect I’ll be alone.

Sushi Whale

We were having a whale of a time before we were made into sushi. Eaten raw over rice. Served with hot tea and water over ice. Cold shoulders and broken phrases. It was just a phase before the plates were cleaned. And now the night is over, or at least unseen.

Roman Goddess Razor - spoken word edit

Please listen gentlemen and ladies,
pretend I’m bananarama and this is the 80s
But two decades later the accolades have yet to be heard
For this is the first time this girl will use her words

With an open mind, open eyes, and the ability to despise apathy
I seem to find unheard cries and people sleep walking at me

I see an
Ignorant voter,
empty mind,
echoing head,
emotions raging red
Read the newspaper last year
and fear’s been reigning ever since
His dunce hat fits well,
it was tailored to fit to the times,
we’re guilty of crimes
humanity replaced by vanity,
mirrored in the media,
repeated on the blogs
hog the limelight,
burning bright lights
and overdone hype
lemon-lime soda
is caffeine free,
and yes men on the news all agree
we’re the generation who’s too lazy to breathe

I read the news today
Oh girl
This whirlwind whips up my emotions
Dry legs need lotion,
The goddess of my razor is
Fueling the latest craze or
just another mass media market
Spark it and park it,
Gas prices get out of hand
So stay at home, and start another rock band

Boyfriends,
Girlfriends,
one way streets and dead ends
Deadbeat dads
and the latest fads,
broadcast on broadband
YES WE CAN Raise your hand
Be counted and count to ten
Control your emotions when we’re ignored yet again
Pen a letter to congress,
digress into a rant,
Politicians attacked, no problems explained
Feigned attacks and listing what you lack,
he likes your rack
But doesn’t see your mind,
Find meaning in leaving
His colander mind,
you slipped through, leaving your essence behind
Unwind like a cassette,
You let yourself be tossed out
Lost another bout with reality versus your duality

I read the news today
Oh girl
This whirlwind whips up my emotions
Dry legs need lotion,
The goddess of my razor is
Fueling the latest craze or
just another mass media market
Spark it and park it,
When gas prices get out of hand
Stay at home, and start another rock band

Sing songs to empty walls,
decorate them like Escher
Another MC
that wouldn’t agree with the status quo
That’s the way it goes,
Or so would say Vonnegut
Who’d go on again,
Rambling thoughts interrupted when
The chapter’d end and
next thought began
without an intro
Who needs it though?
Reality got confused today
What does the media have to say?

I read the news today
Oh girl
This whirlwind whips up my emotions
Dry legs need lotion,
The goddess of my razor is
Fueling the latest craze or
just another mass media market
Spark it and park it,
When gas prices get out of hand
Stay at home, and start another rock band

Pseudo-science is an art
and I’ll take it apart
ratings off the charts
as I break your arguments the way she’d break your heart
Just shut up when you don’t have a point,
Appoint a leader
Walmart greeters and trick or treaters are both friendly
And unwanted.
Haunted house with phantom friends
Dead ends, discovered on google maps,
keystroke types
Enough hype,
used the internet to discover another lover
Covered your tracks,
packed and tracked his path
E-stalker on facebook, figured she’d take another look
Never read a book,
but knew spark notes and themes
Had a sense of direction, but she lost all her dreams

I read the news today
Oh girl
This whirlwind whips up my emotions
Dry legs need lotion,
The goddess of my razor is
Fueling the latest craze or
just another mass media market
Spark it and park it,
When gas prices get out of hand
Stay at home, and start another rock band


Sing your blues and belt technicolor fantasies
Change realities or just let them be
Like his sorry ass, he was a bit too crass

He was slow to think, and quick to judge
Sweet like chocolate, thick like fudge
Black and white and read like the news
Now on youTube with 2 million views

I was the news today
Oh girl
This whirlwind whips up my emotions
Going through the motions,
I’m a Roman Goddess just like my razor
it’s the latest craze or something more
So open the door, and open your mind
Change direction and try to find the sense of adventure you left behind
Curse when you’re foiled and burn the midnight oil

be a Roman goddess like my razor
I’m the latest craze or maybe just the latest crazy
Lazy-boy, oh girl
I read the news today. Oh girl, I read the news.




(Original version previously posted - but I cropped it and added an intro yesterday for an open mic. Went pretty well considering that it was my second time doing spoken word before an audience.)

Recycled Words and Love

I used to assume recycled words had no meaning.
I love you.
You’re everything to me.

The pin-up words worn from overuse
peeling off the walls in a nostalgic mind
Glorified in fantasy,
hot mirages leading you through a desert of disappointment.

Faded photos made mundane details disappear
And all I could hear was
echos...
echos ...
ECHOS!
Reverberating in my empty head like phantom arms embracing in an empty bed
And in the faded photos the smiles seemed more radiant
Forget the lame jokes which prompted the expression
Forget the thirty tries to get a flattering shot
Forget the way you gave it all you got
And only remember
That smile.
Remember the radiance that captivates from across the room.
Remember the silence still like an untouched tomb
Gentle embraces soft like a silky cocoon
And when you’re released you find yourself more beautiful
delicate
aware
And you fly without a care

The words of yesterday’s cliche feel like comfort food in your mouth
And swallowing your pride
you smile and repeat words you swore you would never say and
Find the only phrase that could encompass this feeling
these new sensations wrapped in nostalgia
this comfort with risk wrapped in certainty
the growth of your heart’s capacity
the way you’ve become a casualty of war
caged in the four chambers of her heart and finding freedom within
And you swallow your pride and speak
I love you.
And she already knew.
Because your eyes told her, the way traitorous eyes tend to.