Wednesday, July 10, 2019

withered and dried

I feel as if I have somehow forgotten how to write. My vocabulary casts shadows in a barren wasteland. My metaphor has metamorphosed and died. I have no drive, no life, no will. Is this how it ends? My hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal and emergency brake on?
I'm empty. Straining for dust bunny verbs and adjectives that have faded in the sun. 
Nothing is won through my misery. All is lost in my hope.

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

5/25/19 1:21 PM

Wrack my brain of what remains 
Scattered splatters of dead dying thought 
Lost to the lock and chain of my fear 
Nothing is here between my ears 
I've burned every cell and swallowed the ash 
At last, reminded and reunited with what I have forgotten 
Kindle the coal, reignite my soul 
Dare not leave the barren plain of my home until I have bled my bones dry 
Memory bleached in the sun 
Remembered not for my deeds, but rather what I was to the eye

shallow water

Stagnant water is all I have become.
 A surface lost to my reflection.
What lies beneath that mirrored surface? 
That dusky dusty unmoving water? 
Do I dare ripple the pond, stir the seabed, release the river? 
I must, I must, or I shall eventually dry and die; ascend I say, and fill anew. 

My words make no sense, a jumble of rhyme and smudged ink.
Flowers heavy laden with dew. 

Disturb the glass surface of my mind. 
Treat my thought as clouds, lose my light to rain and time. 

I'm tired- only tired will not explain my formless shape in the sand. 
Exhaustion can only draw in breath for words that will whimper when released. 

Help me I cry, never in an order that is new, never in a way that is understood

Monday, July 8, 2019

the chill of a Happy graveyard

Every time I wish I was dead 
I write a little letter inside my head 
Of wishes and history 
Things better left unsaid 

Seldom do I find the time to rhyme 
These secret little thoughts 
Or allow them space to shine 

They're rather a selfish bunch I think 

For hoping for a day 

The world would be better if I stayed

baby mine

Sweet darling, cradled close
Darling angel, limp against my breast 
Blessed precious, your wide eyed gaze
 Affixed so gentle
Upon my face 

I am not a mother In that I did not bear you 
Did not feed you
I am not a mother in that you did not need me
When you first came to be 

I am a mother in the way that I weep 
For the years lost to us 
The tears you keep 
I am a mother in the way that to watch you breathe 
Releases the terror in my own lungs 
I am a mother in the way that I wait for you to die 
Praying only that it brings you peace

Bug Tanka

little bumbling bug
so busy doing his chores
why do you live bug
when you crunch quick underfoot
your life as fleeting as rain

Tuesday, April 9, 2019

multiverse maddy

according to the multiverse theory
there are places I've never seen never breathed
people I've met; never seen
worlds that I might be,
worlds I already have

a time in which I've died every day of every year
glancing over moments a thousand times over
counting seconds to minutes long passed

how does the universe handle me multiplied to infinity?
has she collapsed cracked bent beneath my million dreams?
run out of stars from wishes I send on blown away kisses?
does she stretch at the seams? stitch my heart on her sleeves?

another day another way another chance for me to be made anew
used, same lines over and under
looping on the script of my predictable lives
lies, I'll do it someday I swear I say
have I done it in world #2?

you would think with all my tries that I would have something to prove
lose, did I ever manage to hold on?
have my goodbyes replaced the meat on my bones?
am I the same person without my mistakes?

raise the stakes, heaven's gates have closed
worlds have grown heavy with the weight of my soul
lost, to the ravages of time
I've burned and lost count of the embers at my toes

are the scales ever balanced between the avenues of my potential?
am I ever good or evil or merely inconsequential?
be gentle, I plead, there are roses on the thorns embedded in my knees

please, smile and pretend with me
that the cities in my dreams are more than make believe
that I've achieved more than just one moment to be proud of
that bones are not all that I contain within
that fruitless tales are far from all my hands have wrought - brought, gifted, bestowed
my ribs have finally closed over the heart I begged them to free

but maybe it's just me

longing to be more than a girl in one world

painting closed doors over walls

telling myself that the one that opens is where I belong