Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
'the' voice.
November 20, 2017.
Originally written in fall of 2013.
i'm what gives her heart life.
it pounds,
it quivers,
it flutters.
she keeps listening for more.
i'm so
versatile
so slow.
she presses play
over and over
again
because she wants it all.
nonstop.
i don't know how i do it,
but it's more than just her
that obsesses for me.
i had difficulties in the past.
they've been overcome
and i'm what he's remembered for.
as sweet as the wine she drinks,
i touch her
so smoothly,
so boldly,
so irresistibly,
it appears as if i'm a guily pleasure.
she'll never stop.
i stop,
but i'm still vocal
in her mind,
in her daydreams,
in her soul.
and when the time comes,
i can't be heard,
i won't give life to what he wants to say,
she'll miss me,
maybe more than she'll miss him.
she won't be the only one
longing for me.
Originally written in fall of 2013.
i'm what gives her heart life.
it pounds,
it quivers,
it flutters.
she keeps listening for more.
i'm so
versatile
so slow.
she presses play
over and over
again
because she wants it all.
nonstop.
i don't know how i do it,
but it's more than just her
that obsesses for me.
i had difficulties in the past.
they've been overcome
and i'm what he's remembered for.
as sweet as the wine she drinks,
i touch her
so smoothly,
so boldly,
so irresistibly,
it appears as if i'm a guily pleasure.
she'll never stop.
i stop,
but i'm still vocal
in her mind,
in her daydreams,
in her soul.
and when the time comes,
i can't be heard,
i won't give life to what he wants to say,
she'll miss me,
maybe more than she'll miss him.
she won't be the only one
longing for me.
To my (past) love
October 28, 2017
To my (past) love:
it’s been long, but that isn’t bad because
long isn’t truly long,
like we make everything out to be.
Everything unavoidably finishes.
Long like the rivers
throughout the world that end,
Long like the hair
that runs down my mother’s back.
Oh, my love. Long is never too long,
because long will eventually
bring an end,
a demise we will try to push aside
for forever,
so that long will never meet our paths.
But,
it will. And it has.
To my (past) love:
it’s been long, but that isn’t bad because
long isn’t truly long,
like we make everything out to be.
Everything unavoidably finishes.
Long like the rivers
throughout the world that end,
Long like the hair
that runs down my mother’s back.
Oh, my love. Long is never too long,
because long will eventually
bring an end,
a demise we will try to push aside
for forever,
so that long will never meet our paths.
But,
it will. And it has.
'One year without you.'
October 16, 2017
A very sophomoric way to release the thoughts I've been having this week...
You died just over a year ago
and I don't feel overwhelming sorrow
Your presence continues to remain
each time I enter your old domain
We rarely had to cross paths
but when we did, we'd share laughs
Your warmth endlessly radiated to everyone
can you tell me where you have gone?
I think about my death and when I'll leave
if others will have a similar reaction or even grieve
My presence underbearing, just mundane
nothing in comparison, so there'll be no pain
Even to me, someone you barely knew
you made a difference and I grew
I won't be that person, though I try
I'll die with that, being a minor passerby
A very sophomoric way to release the thoughts I've been having this week...
You died just over a year ago
and I don't feel overwhelming sorrow
Your presence continues to remain
each time I enter your old domain
We rarely had to cross paths
but when we did, we'd share laughs
Your warmth endlessly radiated to everyone
can you tell me where you have gone?
I think about my death and when I'll leave
if others will have a similar reaction or even grieve
My presence underbearing, just mundane
nothing in comparison, so there'll be no pain
Even to me, someone you barely knew
you made a difference and I grew
I won't be that person, though I try
I'll die with that, being a minor passerby
'Selfish sorry.'
October, 11, 2017
There's nothing for me to say.
I don't know how to make things better
Relying on time to drive the memory of me away.
We can't go on this trip together.
The effort is dragging me behind
How could I do this for-fucking-ever?
I become a person I don't recognize.
Voices make me angry
Forcing me to constantly apologize.
It's well past-due to catch your flight.
The alarm won't stop buzzing
Reminding you you're alive and alright.
This has been taken way too far.
Get on that plane at last
To find yourself another lonely star.
The whys still linger in my mind.
I can't control how I feel
The thoughts push and repeatedly grind.
Message once landed and taking your drag.
Yeah, I still have a heart
But one that journeys through life stag.
Don't think I'm not disappointed too.
I'm longing you were who I thought
So I’d be not as alone as you.
Finding me.
September 19, 2017.
I felt confident and comfortable on Sunday while I was relaxing before my radio show; I was wearing one of my favorite shirts and wanted to put effort into my hair and makeup despite the fact I'd be sitting in the studio alone for the majority of the night. After embracing the warmth from the sun and snapping a few photos, I smiled as I reviewed the shots. Damn, I don't look too bad. I look genuinely happy and not that weird-looking. Why can't I look like this every day?
Music is an integral part of my self-discovery and self-acceptance this year, especially trying to find myself and find out why my life goals have kept me in Ohio for two years. Music actually has always played a role in my identity, just unconsciously and I'm now looking back and discovering the ways in which it did all those years ago
I've met a lot of wicked-awesome individuals, in real life and online, who (I hope) label me as an acquaintance, at the least; they have taken the time to discuss nearly anything and everything about the musicians we mutually enjoy. They should know I'm thankful and appreciative of their time and friendship. TY, everyone.
Nothing ground-breaking here; I wanted to be vulnerable. That's all.
Foreign melodies, clanking chimes, talking, my voice, all of it.Loving my selfie is getting easier, but by no means is it something I'm able to do every day. From the facial scars to the various worries of how my face-size appears - plus the fact I still appear college-aged - it's sometimes hard to not think about the ridicule and comments others may make and, even more, my own perceptions. It impacts self-worth when it shouldn't.
I need any one way, any one thing, to drown it out.
Turning away, to turn to you.
 |
| "I'm just fine here, finding me." -VH. I'm also just fine here, wearing one of my favorite shirts. |
I felt confident and comfortable on Sunday while I was relaxing before my radio show; I was wearing one of my favorite shirts and wanted to put effort into my hair and makeup despite the fact I'd be sitting in the studio alone for the majority of the night. After embracing the warmth from the sun and snapping a few photos, I smiled as I reviewed the shots. Damn, I don't look too bad. I look genuinely happy and not that weird-looking. Why can't I look like this every day?
Music is an integral part of my self-discovery and self-acceptance this year, especially trying to find myself and find out why my life goals have kept me in Ohio for two years. Music actually has always played a role in my identity, just unconsciously and I'm now looking back and discovering the ways in which it did all those years ago
I've met a lot of wicked-awesome individuals, in real life and online, who (I hope) label me as an acquaintance, at the least; they have taken the time to discuss nearly anything and everything about the musicians we mutually enjoy. They should know I'm thankful and appreciative of their time and friendship. TY, everyone.
Nothing ground-breaking here; I wanted to be vulnerable. That's all.
"Don't tease me about my hobbies...
May 2, 2017
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
It's hard enough as it is,
to let you into my life
to let you bear witness to my insecurities
to let you see how the anxious-ghosts control me.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
These hobbies are not true to definition,
not quite fun and games
not quite leisure-like activities
not quite my choice, if were able to have one.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
My struggles are not for your entertainment,
the decision on how monthly income is spent
the decision to make use of my already low social energy
the decision of my food intake beyond its obsessive-compulsive routine.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
The past haunts me to follow these pursuits,
my fear of not having money to spend
my fear food inflict sickness I attempt to prevent
my fear I'm disappointing you all professionally and personally.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
I'm the only who has to embrace the routine,
getting through the day with an imposter's smile
getting through all my obligations finding an unrushed breath
getting through the what-ifs of tomorrow every fucking day.
Tease me about my hobbies.
Adding another anxiety isn't a concern at this point,
like another dent to a bashed-up car
like another ghost in line with a mafia of them trailing my thoughts
like another match in the flame keeping a boil to my panic-attack cauldron.
Tease me about my hobbies.
I have to live through them
no
matter
what.
... I don't tease you about being an asshole." - Mark, in the movie Garden State.A poem, titled: Don't Tease Me About My Hobbies
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
It's hard enough as it is,
to let you into my life
to let you bear witness to my insecurities
to let you see how the anxious-ghosts control me.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
These hobbies are not true to definition,
not quite fun and games
not quite leisure-like activities
not quite my choice, if were able to have one.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
My struggles are not for your entertainment,
the decision on how monthly income is spent
the decision to make use of my already low social energy
the decision of my food intake beyond its obsessive-compulsive routine.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
The past haunts me to follow these pursuits,
my fear of not having money to spend
my fear food inflict sickness I attempt to prevent
my fear I'm disappointing you all professionally and personally.
Don't tease me about my hobbies.
I'm the only who has to embrace the routine,
getting through the day with an imposter's smile
getting through all my obligations finding an unrushed breath
getting through the what-ifs of tomorrow every fucking day.
Tease me about my hobbies.
Adding another anxiety isn't a concern at this point,
like another dent to a bashed-up car
like another ghost in line with a mafia of them trailing my thoughts
like another match in the flame keeping a boil to my panic-attack cauldron.
Tease me about my hobbies.
I have to live through them
no
matter
what.
Unofficial National Poetry Day: Haiku poems by an anxious person.
March 21, 2017
Someone on Twitter decided it was National Poetry Day; I can't find credible sources to support this. But, I thought I'd share a few Haiku poems anyway. I wrote a few when I was feeling anxious and was too afraid to ask a friend to listen and guide me out of the dark a few weeks back.
One of the major struggles I have with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) is that asking for someone to help me with a situation or just a friend when I'm down is a battle, a constant fear. It takes time to just build the courage to even ask. It's not about the shame I have for admitting I have a problem; I ask for help on a daily basis at work when I'm in a rut or don't have an answer.
Trapped, lonely, and sad.
I just need you... or you, now--
but never say so.
Someone on Twitter decided it was National Poetry Day; I can't find credible sources to support this. But, I thought I'd share a few Haiku poems anyway. I wrote a few when I was feeling anxious and was too afraid to ask a friend to listen and guide me out of the dark a few weeks back.
One of the major struggles I have with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) is that asking for someone to help me with a situation or just a friend when I'm down is a battle, a constant fear. It takes time to just build the courage to even ask. It's not about the shame I have for admitting I have a problem; I ask for help on a daily basis at work when I'm in a rut or don't have an answer.
Trapped, lonely, and sad.
I just need you... or you, now--
but never say so.
Just not right now.
January 14, 2016
A poem to express how unreal I'll be feeling these next few days as I grasp I lost an inspiration and friend today. A friend I never met (only in my dreams) but who changed my life.
I'm going to be happy. I'm going to smile.
I'm going to laugh. I'm going to live.
I'm going to fake it for now. Things will get better.
I will be happy. I will smile.
I will laugh. I will live.
I will fake it for now. Just not right now.
A poem to express how unreal I'll be feeling these next few days as I grasp I lost an inspiration and friend today. A friend I never met (only in my dreams) but who changed my life.
I'm going to be happy. I'm going to smile.
I'm going to laugh. I'm going to live.
I'm going to fake it for now. Things will get better.
I will be happy. I will smile.
I will laugh. I will live.
I will fake it for now. Just not right now.
Let's get personal...
May 1, 2013
The semester is winding down, and my finals are starting up Monday. As soon as Muskingum's graduation is over, I get to go back home to Chicago and start my internship (woo hoo!). I am working with a Muskingum alumna and cannot wait to start! Check it out!: 60625news!
The semester is winding down, and my finals are starting up Monday. As soon as Muskingum's graduation is over, I get to go back home to Chicago and start my internship (woo hoo!). I am working with a Muskingum alumna and cannot wait to start! Check it out!: 60625news!
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