6/30 - National Poetry Month

a crow squacks, early morning,
   a waking dream voice,
"Is anyone there?"
three kittens curled round,
un-alarmed

take note,
all is well

blind-altered sunlight, mid-day
  coffee on hand,
"Is anyone there?"
repose comes slowly
when awoken by such sounds

keep track,
something may be amiss

moonrise, eight p.m.
   electric porch light fizz,
"Is anyone there?"
three kittens curled round,
un-alarmed

take note,
all is well.

5/30 - National Poetry Month

I was writing this in my head on Saturday, but laid down at midnight and realized I never wrote it out.

She used to sit and stare,
behind those eyes, what she saw,
I can't say

It never occurred to me
at the time
what plagued her
was palpable,
   unacceptable,
      curable

OCD habits pertaining to sugar,
cereal, and tissues --
I thought were just preferables

and the staring,
  oh the staring,
      and the griping,
just...
   bearable

Knowing now
what I never knew,
that I could have known her,
   met her,
      really seen her
if only someone had known,
   what to do.

4/30 - National Poetry Month 2014

Whisperings,
once I used to be paranoid
of the voices,
not in my head,
but all around
quiet, but so freakin' loud

What if so-and-so thinks I"m a
what-and-what, or if
he-or-she says I'm a
good-God-can-it-be,
then I realized,
I'm none of those things,
so what does it matter
what you-over-there thinks?

A lesson, you see,
you learn
as you go
is
it
is
quite simple

just be,
what you know.

3/30 - National Poetry Month 2014

Racing cats, more like kittens

Growl

Hiss

No more fun

Baby poem, circa grade three

Type

Scrawl

Now we're done

2/30 - National Poetry Month 2014

Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?

is running in my brain

even though,

I can't recall ever seeing it until

that poor boy was... 

Well... 

You know... 

Dead.

Not a boy,

but a man,

remembered for...

Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?

What will it be for you,

me,

us,

we.

Whatchu talkin' 'bout?

1/30 - National Poetry Month 2014

television-deprived,
too much always,
go, do, be,
never through

or is that
alive?

fish,
saltine-crusted,
malted milk ball,
mustard

eat,
to sustain life

daisy-cluttered meadow,
shallow sea,
painted frames,
look

or,
go see.


April 1, 2014

Shower Poem

Water

Heated drops of respite

bearing down like

kisses

Calm

Warm

Delightful

No power to

daily tragedies, triumphs,

fears, successes,

on naked skin

in showered safety

Power

Life

Growth

Water knows

Refreshing bits of habit, 

necessity, livelihood,

now spin to infinity

Onward

The Poetry of the Socially Anxious #3

Mostly,

over socialization drains me,

like coke frozen overnight,

BAM! The explosion of faces

makes me appear normal on the outside,

while inside the bloating has 

hollowed

what was once enthusiastic 

bubbling triumph,

to emptiness with sticky residue 

The Poetry of the Socially Anxious #2

I lived in the shadows,
most of my life

Not the dark corners,
where,
drug dealers
and convicts hide,
just those grayish areas
where you'd rather remain,
unseen

Not out of loneliness,
friends were always
by the handful,
nor lack of agenda,
life goals fill an expandable
notebook buried
deep in the shadows,
unknown

An embarrassment,
perhaps,
at unintelligible chatter,
being translated by the
naked ear as me, with an IQ
much lower than accurate,
true knowledge, unseen

Yes, but then,
shadows became
maddening, and true self
tried to win,
standing in the light,
standing out,
meeting so many new faces
shrouded by too much sunlight
that
it's hard to remain in the light
unseen

The Poetry of the Socially Anxious #1

There are ways to battle social anxiety, namely by socializing... I just wanted to take a moment to ponder this uphill battle.

A party bus,
bound for a 70's themed
excuse to emboozify,
to mummify strangers into
companionship,
doors shut me out

New "friends"
ride into the night,
"catch the next one,"
they call,
tears strike
as alone in the dark
in an unfamiliar campus
with shoes that cut me,
I succumb to
the safety patrol bus,
which takes me home

The only safe place,
always home.

Crowds,
since the beginning
unnerving,
four or more people,
whether known or not
shut me down,
shut me out,
make it impossible to utter
complete sentences,
only phrases,
then tears strike

stupid, shy, snobby,
a smorgosboard of "s" words
destined to describe me.

The only safe place,
always home.

Newspaper splatterings,
and social network murmur,
friendings and minglings,
people who've met you,
but don't remember

Loneliness,
never my only friend,
always one or two or three
or ten, on which to "depend,"
progress
has no rules that match
the quick tick of time,
one day splendid,
the next day fine,
but without exception,
soon the need to hide,
shut them out,
cry.

The only safe place,
always home.

A film premiere,
meant for me,
200 some people,
the actresses, a few friends, family
the after party,
just an appetizer room
with wine,
heavenly wine,
no one mingled with me,
even though the film, it was mine
17 days straight, I worked until I almost died,
and my only friend was myself that night.

doors shut me out,
which takes me home,
always home,
then the tears strike,
destined to describe me,
always home,
don't remember,
cry,
always home,
and my only friend was myself that night.