Tag Archives: poet

Accidental Confidence

In the morning,
I start with my eyes,
Creating them like artwork,

I have accidental confidence,
I have gotten real good,
At creating a mirage,

I apply the primer,
You need a clean slate,
To begin any change,

You know the advice,
Show the world what you want them to see,
They will see it,

I move from the outside in,
Making it bold but natural,
Don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard,

Well, I got real good,
At making myself,
Appear to be someone else.

Picking a color is important,
You want your eye color to pop,
So they can see the twinkle in your eye,

The first time I was told I was confident
I wanted them to elaborate on their view,
Give me a glimpse of my persona,

When you get to the inside,
Apply a nice shimmery color,
That’s where the shadows naturally fall,

I have a pretty face,
A name that is easily remembered,
I have a naturally kind soul,

Blend into your brow bone,
Make sure it doesn’t look like clip art,
They should look like they want to belong,

I turned into an iceberg,
My eyes above water,
Below the water line, deceiving.

Mascara finishes the look,
Those lashes are the curtains,
To the show behind it all,

I have learned to hypnotize,
The colors, the shimmers,
All do their jobs,

I should be pleased,
That you don’t see
My ununiformed to society body,

You insisted that I ride the rollercoaster,
I faked motion sickness,
You accepted that.

Accidental confidence is a product
Of learning how to decipher the code
To be accepted among the masses.

When you pull me into a trendy store,
I don’t have money; I have too much in my closet,
I’m too lazy to try on clothes today,

So when I bat my eye lashes,
I wait for the day when you
Don’t just stop at the gate.

I need you to stroll the grounds,
The curves and hidden pathways,
From the rose garden to the dark forest,

I love that you don’t need to see more to love me,
But I need you to see more of me to love me.

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Recipe for Brains

You decimate my impulse control
with a glance in my direction,
causing me not to feel a swoon,
but the need to punch you in the face.

I’m not a violent person,
my blood pressure elevates
until it pushes all common sense
out of my finger tips.

I’m no longer human,
just a vessel filled to the brim
with memories and emotions
of everytime you wronged me.

I hate what I become.
A zombie with red eyes
my only goal in afterlife
is to bash your brains.

I swear this is not me,
just a horrible recipe.
I added faith and kindness,
I expected human decency,

What I got was society,
brown and bubbling
it’s fragrance toxic to the mind.
You are their best accomplishment.

They praise you for being
decisive and independent.
You do not run by people’s expectations,
what a revolutionary.

I am too innocent, they say,
Rose-colored glasses on my nose,
I am foolish
to expect the golden rule.

I am just a second chance,
no worries, extra-mile,
works late on fridays,
smiles at strangers girl.

So, I’ll just pull my sunglasses down,
my eyes turn into sunsets,
fueled by the fire behind them,
to prove you wrong.

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Trauma

Wind waves pass,
Saying hello,
The house stays still,
Not wanting to play,
Ignoring the breath,
Staining the window.

Only the sound of time,
Remnants of moments,
That were once inviting,
Now covered in layers,
of distance and neglect.

A shell
Of a life once lived,
Etched with meaning,
Within its organs.

Trees are ever changing,
Waiting for a jolt,
From a storm or
An awaiting rainbow,
To bring a pulse,
Back into it’s walls,

And the wind,
Will come dancing through
As an old friend.

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In a Moment

Worrying just makes you suffer twice.
Movie advice.
Revolutionary idea.
Easy to grasp, hard to follow.
I need an electrician.
Wires crossed.
Suffering in silence.
Silence an enemy.
Chaos a friend.
Too much time.
Thinking.

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Tuesday

Today, I was stupid,
I was a human,
I made a human mistake,
A simple miscommunication,
A word slipped past my ear,
too much going on,
it missed it’s exit,
So, I end up stumbling,
blind to the quick sand at my feet,
until its up to my neck,
I had a moment to decide,
to sink or swim,

My heart feels like its going to explode,
hours after the sand has seceded,
I feel as though I am sinking,
but
I swam,
I swam,
I swam.

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Light

The fan turns,
and turns
and turns,
until it’s swirls of greys and whites
A transporter in time,
My eyes close,
I can see your sleepy smile,
Hear your shallow breathing,
Feel the weight of your arm on my hip,
Aftershave drifts across the pillows,
I’m slipping,
For a moment, I forget the trick,
Until I wake to a room too bright,
With all of the covers,
You used to turn off the light.

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Broken- A Rewrite

Every poem that begins,
Sounds like a eulogy
That I will have to give.

Forgive me.

I can’t paint you
Into a thousand words
Watercolors always bleed
One thought into another.

The mind doesn’t allow
The ignoring of obvious possibilities.

Imagination, a child’s play thing,
The child being my anxiety,
My mind the playground,
The ground is lava.

My hands are always slipping
Across the monkey bars.

Is this insanity?

Maybe if I will it hard enough,
Lily pads will appear beneath my toes,
Will I be strong enough to let go
And trust that everything won’t burn?

I’m pink with the rising heat
Someone has a basketball
Thump,
Thump,
Thump,
It vibrates though my body.

It is not me.
It is not me.
It can not be me.

Hanging above a deathlike pit,
Allows your mind to wander.

Imagine the tips of my fingers
As mini concrete cinder blocks,
Holding me in the air,
Like a circus trick.

I hold all my strength in my hands,
Out in the open for people to see,
If they wish to acknowledge it,
Strength can be intimidating.

Better to be left unsaid.

Better to fly across the monkey bars,
Show your flair and speed,
Those are qualities they want to see,
It is weakness to struggle.

Even if that struggle,
Means hanging everyday,
Over lava,
Thump, thump, thump,

Heart is always racing in your ears,
A reminder you are alive,
Keeping on the pressure,
With the rising heat,

That you must not let go.

Isn’t that strength?
Never letting go.
Even though it would be easier,
To get some long deserved relief.

So, my words can keep sounding,
Like a eulogy that I will have to give,
But I’ll use them as gloves,
To keep my self up in the air.

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