Every time you speak of the future
We’re to share
You forget to say we
But continue
To say
I.
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Defined by no man, you are your own story,
blazing through the world, turning history into herstory.
And when they dare to tell you about
all the things you cannot be,
you smile and tell them,
“I am both war and woman and you cannot stop me.”
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Across the wide waters
something comes
floating–a slim
and delicate
ship, filled
with white flowers–
and it moves
on its miraculous muscles
as though time didn’t exist
as though bringing such gifts
to the dry shore
was a happiness
almost beyond bearing.
And now it turns its dark eyes,
it rearranges
the clouds of its wings,
it trails
an elaborate webbed foot,
the color of charcoal.
Soon it will be here.
Oh, what shall I do
when that poppy-colored beak
rests in my hand?
Said Mrs. Blake of the poet:
I miss my husband’s company–
he is so often
in paradise.
Of course! the path to heaven
doesn’t lie down in flat miles.
It’s in the imagination
with which you perceive
this world,
and the gestures
with which you honor it.
Oh, what will I do, what will I say, when those white wings
touch the shore?
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Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
Of the strong wind and shattered spray;
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound
Of the big surf that breaks all day.
Always before about my dooryard,
Marking the reach of the winter sea,
Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,
Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea;
Always I climbed the wave at morning,
Shook the sand from my shoes at night,
That now am caught beneath great buildings,
Stricken with noise, confused with light.
If I could hear the green piles groaning
Under the windy wooden piers,
See once again the bobbing barrels,
And the black sticks that fence the weirs,
If I could see the weedy mussels
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead, of the wheeling gulls,
Feel once again the shanty straining
Under the turning of the tide,
Fear once again the rising freshet,
Dread the bell in the fog outside,–
I should be happy,–that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine!
I have a need to hold and handle
Shells and anchors and ships again!
I should be happy, that am happy
Never at all since I came here.
I am too long away from water.
I have a need of water near.
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I drink your favourite cocktail
Thinking that maybe I can taste you.
I wander around London, looking for you, I fail.
Yearning to kill my emotions—aspiring for something new.
Laying on the floor completely drained
Of any feeling to go on.
Cut my hair to disguise my former self.
But my love for you keeps me forever chained.
Staring like an idiot at a blank TV screen
I conjure up your image in my dreams.
And I wish I could just blot you out
But instead I keep on wanting you.
You never seem to accidentally bump into me
I’ll bet you keep yourself protected from me.
If only you’d understand the effect
Your lack of affection has had on me.
Yes, I’ve stopped eating again
An anorexic pin-up girl is what I’ve become.
Smoking makes me hide
And so I feel less pain inside.
Do you think I’m pathetic?
Do you feel any remorse?
Hitting walls out of frustration dilutes the strain
Nothing on the sheets but solitary blood stains.
And I know you love me.
If you’d only comprehend
I’m not trying to force you
But I know you want me.
Wrapping satin sheets around me
Your scent still clings to them.
Bastard night! I detest you because
You make me feel more lonely when you fall.
So even if you hate me
I don’t want to hear it.
I only want you here beside me.
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Will I ever have that moment
Where I’ll become
Someone’s safe harbor
I wish to be the port
Someone unloads the secrets
You reveal at 3a.m.
Over cigarettes and coffee
Will I ever have that moment
Where I’ll become
Someone’s safe harbor
Where the sight of my port
Will bring the greatest relief
After weathering storms
Will I ever have that moment
Before my time runs out?
Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Bleed Like Me: Poems for the Broken
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Darkness cradled me in its arms.
There was a tickle at the back of my neck as the woods stood still. Not a single sound was heard across the vast forest. I waited for my eyes to adjust, both curious and afraid of what may lie before me. Gooseflesh prickled my exposed arms, but all I could think about was the cake that would be waiting for me at home. Sweet sixteen. I hope it was red velvet with a heavy dose of cream cheese frosting. I wondered if my sister had made the special punch that I loved. But I couldn’t go home until I finished what I came here for.
I took another tentative step, well aware that only because I couldn’t see them didn’t mean that the red eyes weren’t watching, hidden behind brush or gnarled limbs. Again, I felt a tickle at the back of my neck. I stopped. Not yet. My fingers wrapped around the only weapon I had brought along with me.
Sometimes I despised my family’s eccentric traditions. This was one of them. Every Myrige daughter was tasked with crossing Ember Woods on their sixteenth birthday. It was a rite of passage. Why? I could only find out once I was on the other side. My ears perked for any sounds and when it was clear that there were none, I started to half jog down the worn path that now, after my eyes adjusted to the darkness, could see.
How many Myrige girls had walked blindly into the woods not knowing what would lie before them? When had the tradition begun and why were the origins such a huge secret whenever I tried to ponder?
Then I heard it.
Footsteps.
I stopped. There was a tickle at the back of my neck. Only this time it was different. This time teeth followed. I yelped quickly turning around to meet the offender.
“Drew!” I exclaimed when I caught sight of who had nipped me.
He laughed unable to contain himself. “You should’ve seen your face, Marlo!”
“I told you not to follow me!”
“I know, but when you said that I thought you were ditching me to see another boy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please, I told you that I had a family affair that I needed to tend to.”
“Honestly, who isn’t allowed to spend their most important birthday with their boyfriend?”
“This girl,” I said and turned around. I continued walking, watching the moon slowly peek through the clouds. I clutched the weapon hidden in my letterman jacket. It’s almost time. Dread seized my chest, stifling it like a set of bricks.
“What’s the hurry?” Drew chuckled, grabbing hold of my free hand to spin me around to face him. “I’d almost say these creepy woods could be romantic,” and his lips grazed my own. I allowed myself to abandon in the kiss before I sunk the blade deep into his belly. Blood spilled from his parted lips. Confusion knitted his brows.
“I’m sorry,” I shrugged. “It’s a family tradition.”
Then the eyes came out from the woods and everyone was dressed in black robes.
“About time,” my mother stepped out. Then she knelt down and dipped her fingers into Drew’s wound and rose up to meet me.
“Happy birthday, now you’re a true Myrige witch,” she said carefully painting an upside-down cross on my forehead with Drew’s blood. Some of it trickled down to my lips and my tongue flickered at the metallic liquid.
“Tastes just like red velvet,” I smirked.
*This short story was recently made into a short film! I’ll share the video once it’s available.
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Twenty years, and we’re still waiting
For the moment we were promised
Big changes were in the air
But our good intentions were a route to hell
January was grey as I listened to my favorite song
And some days I still long
For those teenage mornings on the quad
Smoking Camels with the cheer squad
Goodbye, 1999
The planes are falling from the sky
We were ready for a party
Glitter dress and tinsel toes
The cops fucked up and took us home.
And from the backseat I sang,
“Goodbye, 1999….tonight’s gonna be
my final night….tonight’s gonna be….”
Fire and smoke, it was on the news
Didn’t you see those towers burn?
There’s no spark or fuse
Only lessons to be learned.
But I don’t know how to move on
I keep looking backwards – whiplash
It was the summer of hate and the autumn of dawn
Show me again how you monster mash
Goodbye, 1999
The planes are falling from the sky
We were ready for a party
Glitter dress and tinsel toes
The cops fucked up and took us home.
And from the backseat I sang,
“Goodbye, 1999….tonight’s gonna be
my final night, tonight’s gonna be…..”
We’re a generation stuck in the past
Not knowing that our youth isn’t gonna last
They robbed our dreams and killed our souls
And we forgot to rock and roll
Mary had a little lamb,
But now she doesn’t give a damn
Dead and bloody – the lamb is gone
And we’ve forgotten the holy song
Goodbye, 1999
The planes are falling from the sky
We were ready for a party
Glitter dress and tinsel toes
The cops fucked up and took us home.
And from the backseat I sang,
“Goodbye, 1999….tonight’s gonna be
my final night, tonight’s gonna be…..”
I met a boy with a sad smile
I asked him to stay with me for awhile
But his feelings are shook – misunderstood
One day he walked into his Science lab
And fired a gun – a girl fell, holding a hall tab
Nothing’s been the same since Columbine
Little hearts carved on the table, SG forever mine.
We didn’t need a Nixon, we had a Bush
We had endless wars and thousands dead
We’ve spent our youth in Swedish beds
And sleepless nights in H&M
Just so we could push and push
And I’m singing, “Goodbye, 1999.”
The planes are falling from the sky
I was promised a party
Glitter dress and tinsel toes
But the cops fucked up and took me home.
And from the backseat I’m still singing,
“Goodbye 1999….tonight’s gonna be
my final night, tonight’s gonna be the night….
The night I die.”
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Smoking with your aristocratic manner,
I gaze at your magnificence.
The world of tinted roses has become
Butterflies circle around you with divinity.
I fall into the moment
I fall into the mist
I fall into the mystery
I fall into you.
Smoking with your sophisticated manner,
I try to paint your face within my mind,
So that it remains milk fresh inside my adoring eyes.
I’m hiding beneath the smoke
That fogs this room.
I’m crawling beneath the smoke
To reach you.
I fall into this madness
I fall into the insane
I fall into you.
Smoking ever so seductively,
I’m trying to contain my runaway emotions
For I am afraid that they could harm you.
I’m hiding beneath the smoke
That fills this room.
I’m fading beneath the smoke
In order to reach you.
I fall to the ground
I fall to your feet
I keep on falling….
Falling into you.
***
Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Bleed Like Me: Poems for the Broken
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The neon pink hand beckons the night
as the clock sways to midnight blue.
His time has come to assume a disguise, puckering cherry
lips and setting the wig on his head. Glitter
dances across the golden ringlets, velvet
hugs his silicone bosom like a faery.
Jack piles more makeup on his face, with faery
eyes that shimmers night,
he grabs his red velvet
bag as he closes the door to the blue
feelings that he’s left inside. For the glitter
emotions dipped in cherry
wine and spread across pallid thighs, convert to cherry
cream resting on ethereal faery
wings that covet glitter
dreams of passionate nights
spent in burning bliss. The blue
tears no longer dripping on the velvet.
Drinking champagne from cupped hands, velvet
scarves pin his lover to the cherry
bed, until he begs for more. The blue
emotions disappear like unchained faeries.
Flying into the lusty night
dusting his lover’s eyes with Star Dust glitter.
Sensuous fingers trace over glittered
flesh, pouring scalding wax from velvet
candles. His lover whimpers into the night
as Jack toys with a candied cherry.
He now has the power of faeries
to kiss away the broken blues.
The clock has struck. It’s time for the blue
veils to fall upon the glittered
fantasies of his soul, his faery
wings have been singed, his red velvet
bag carries the remains of his cherry
pits, to remind him of sadistic nights.
The hour has come to assume the blue disguise until tomorrow night
When he can douse himself with glitter, fill his palms with cherries,
And transform into a lovely faery that whispers poetry in ears like velvet.
Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Bleed Like Me: Poems for the Broken
DID YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU JUST READ? IF YES, THEN SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG, GIVE THE POST A LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT! NEW POSTS ARE UP EVERY TUESDAY & THURSDAY!
The Inkblotters 