Poetry Friday: It’s Not Supposed to Be Funny

It’s Not Supposed to Be Funny

It’s not supposed to be funny.

It’s cresting again,
the dark tide rising inside,
and the outlets are closed, rusty,
marred by disuse.

Black thoughts run free—
unwanted, scorned—
yet free in my mind.

I laugh but only for the fix.

The darkness feeds me,
grounds me,
and the mystery inside
finds voice to paint the
summer air with howling cries and sobs,
abandoned under
flower print covers,
latching to loneliness
like a starving babe.

It is late but technically still Friday where I live so I’m posting this Poetry Friday! I recently found this poem in a stack of my old papers from July. At first I thought it was really confusing and pretentious, but I had a good time trying to decode its meaning. Now I just think it’s pretentious. Enjoy!

“The List” or “I’d Like to Gnaw My Leg Off”

The engaged girl’s eyelids droop with black goo, a flat smile taped on her mouth. She leans against her boy and determinedly suppresses her building scream of frustration as well-meaning women’s words entrap her in a room of polite, civilized people.

Conclusion: The only thing worse than a wedding shower is planning one.

#ohlookmylegnomnomnom

Poetry Friday: Late Night Poetry

Late Night Poetry

Late night poetry
up with the full moon

quite house, quiet girl
so self-absorbed
so lost in worries

lonely lover,
little girl with a lover
far away

one room lit in a dark house
wide eye stares in the night
window to a soul
heavy with life

little girl lies in darkness,
the eye closing for good

Poetry Friday: Taking Notes in English

Taking Notes in English

They said they liked high school fine, and
at least no one died while they were there.
My insides clenched and I thought of you,
Andrew.

Dead dead dead,
kick the stone all you want but he can’t feel a thing.

Cut me open, display my insides to the ceiling,
snip and saw and slice and
just figure out where the pain is coming from.
Eyes wide to the sky, fingers clenching,
I’ll watch your expression as you operate, perform the autopsy.

Throw books against the wall
scream
topple tables and chairs but no one will put you down,
wrap you up all snug in white silk
or even a snuggly jacket.

Crack open my skull, crush it crush it crush it kill me end it stupid stupid
never gets better, never heals, never fades from memory.

Hold them to the wall, scalpel to their throat
shake them but they have no answer.
It just wastes their time, it’s just embarrassing.
Words can’t fix it, time just numbs you for a while.
Blood running red
running down
running out
running out of time.

I cry, scream, alienate and destroy.
In my mind, I am a naked little girl in a corner
pointing a shattered mirror at the indifferent crowds,
hoping I can pass under their radar,
or at least cut them if they come too close,
or care.

* * *

Hey, sorry this is so dark. It surprises me when moments like this strike. It’s been about four years since he died. Mostly I’m good now. And I don’t want you to worry. No one is going to get hurt; nothing bad is going to happen. My mind is calm and safe. But this happened the other day out of nowhere, and I just wanted it out there again.

Poetry Friday: Empty

Empty

Picture frame,
lifeless shell without a name.
All your friends look just the same.
Blank.

Crystal vase,
simple curves and heavy base.
Flowerless, you hide your face.
Hollow.

Diamond ring,
round a finger you would cling.
Unworn, you don’t mean a thing.
Abandoned.

Poetry Friday: Library Distractions

Library Distractions

White swirls down in this
stone and crystal atrium,
a life-size snow globe.

Poetry Friday: Mortality

Mortality

A cemetery:
If this is all we come to,
it will be okay.