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A Year of Poetry by Amanda Paweska



THE NEW YEAR
New year,
same past.
-Steps closer,
still falling back.
Nothing changes
from a calendar’s flip
or time’s single tick.
No instant switch
that some expect,
no magic night
with a year predicted.
But a chance,
yes, a new chance;
to find a fresh start,
to make it anew.
Be proactive
and try,
not sit back
and fail.
A new year
offers a clean slate,
to make use of time
and achieve
your own change of mind.
The New Year
and maybe,
hopefully,
the new start.

01/01/05




SECRETS AND LIES
Sweet little compliments
drip from your mouth,
saying the things
I don’t see:
I swear you’re in love
with a rumour,
amused by an image
and fooled by a lie.
And I’m seduced
by that same lie;
wanting to accept
lies for truth
with the prettier picture they paint,
and the sweet security, however false.
I don’t see
those kind words,
just secrets and lies;
Ones you offer
and the ones I hide.
Who started the rumour,
cast the image
And spun the lie?
Why? What purpose,
What gain?
Is there truth
hidden in these lies,
or more secrets
covered in your words?
Maybe we should
love the rumour,
embrace the image
and believe in the lie.
What harm could come
from keeping secrets
and having happy lies?

01/03/05




WORTH IT?
Fighting for you
against myself-
doubt and hatred
stronger than want and desire.
Wrapped tighter in solitude
than a lover’s embrace,
a much more common touch
in night’s late hour.
Pulled open,
emotional more than physical,
sharing secrets
and confessing fears,
exposing more than flesh.
Trying for you
against better judgement-
trying for me
against all my odds.
But is it
worth it?
Are you worth
this time and struggle?
Or am I setting up
another great fall?

01/03/05




WHEN WILL IT STOP?
When will it stop
getting harder,
when will it stop
hurting so much?
Seeing his new
shiny happy family;
locked in with wife and baby.
For a second
It could have been mine,
mistake and convince
or maybe, just maybe
affection and desire.
When will it stop
stealing breath away,
when will it stop
turning me away?
Shock and awe
remembering the night,
reliving the memory
like life flashing before eyes.
Frozen in place
like watching a car crash.
When will it stop
eating at me,
when will it stop
taunting me?
Curing the feelings
he forces on me,
fearing no one
will ever match them.
When does love
just stop?

01/07/05




ISN’T IT
Bend me,
break me,
use me up
and spit me out.
That’s what I’m here for,
after all,
that’s why you came
in the first place.
Isn’t it?
Take your words
as gospel,
take your offers
as gifts.
Kiss me,
touch me,
use me up
and drop me off.
That’s what I worth,
after all,
that’s what you saw
in the first place.
Isn’t it?
Make a friendship
as benefits,
make your promises
as lies.
You take me,
you use me.
But it’s me
who’s the whore
isn’t it?

01/15/05




SOMETHING SAID ABOUT BEING
Something can be said
for being the whore;
They want you,
some even need you,
and they come back
for more.
Some trill
in their game,
some fantasy
in their head.
How can you say
you don’t see the slut,
when you make me her?
when you want me as her?
Something is missing
with being the whore;
They use you,
some even take you,
and expect to be allowed
for more.
Some chill
they give me,
some illness
the infect on me.
How can you say
all those pretty things,
when you lie to me?
when you dirty me?
Somethings go unsaid
about being me.

01/15/05




REALISATION #1
Their mind fuck
has spread
over body and soul,
from fear to reality.
Sprout pretty lies
and create the false security
like a lullaby into death,
a slip into bed.
An unproven fear,
lurking in the back of the mind,
held up to the light
by their groping hands
and hungry eyes.
Labelling
made truth.
Stripped away
any pure ideals
of love and beauty,
soiled and stained
by the carnal,
what was always thought to be
is realised.
The labels and marks
have always been there,
they’ve all read and followed
and written them,
carved into flesh and soul.
The realisation came
that which is feared
is what I’ve always been.

01/16/05




REALISATION #2
They make you
and try to break you,
hate what you are
but refuse to have you change.
Their own personal fantasy,
an image, a creation.
Think it’s free will
and realise
it’s what they made.
A reflection;
not trapped in a mirror,
but made up, roaming free,
in all their words
-hurtful and precious,
evil and ugly.
Sell you lies
to buy you,
the human trade;
body for soul?
affection for worth?
Finally seeing
what other people see,
what others have denied;
it’s not pretty
nor is it clean,
it’s me,
the one they made,
the one they hate
and desire,
the one, I see, scares me.

01/17/05




STRANGE DANCE
Strange,
his hand slides
across my back,
his voice whispers
in my ear –
false declarations of faithfulness
for her
as he caresses me.
My value is less,
much lower,
much more primal.
In their wandering eyes,
as well as hands,
frustrations boil
and I’m burned.
Stranger still,
the wires are crossed
but the message clear;
they touch me
but never try and keep me,
never tie me up
in false promises
or under tarnished rings
-only tarnished reputation.
Dance at night,
but leave by morning.
Strangest of all,
I wear this mark
not because you gave it
but because I choose to bare my cross.
I wear it for me
against you.

01/18/05




SOCIAL SHAPE
We think
we’re free, modern and just,
when we condemn a man
for loving a his fellow man,
stone a woman
who reads a different GoodBook.
Taught and tease
‘till all laugh along,
too afraid to think
outside the global box,
too scared to just be.
No liberal saints,
all too busy sinning,
to prove our point.
Ah, but the condescension;
“there, there dear”.
Revolution, evolution,
Reversed liberation;
Sex is fine and natural
at night,
but evil harlots in morning light.
Double standards
in single lives,
pants versus skirts,
shirts against skins.
So very noble we are,
How very selfish.
Glass house,
first stones and all that.
We’re trapped,
ancient and biased,
we just don’t like
admitting it.

01/18/05




THEORIES IN CHAOS
If a butterfly’s wings
cause a typhoon
then a kiss
must mean something more.
Is a kiss
ever just a kiss?
What’s making love
versus just sex?
Can two bodies connected
mean nothing
as a butterfly brings rain?
The moon,
she moves the tides,
don’t our lips
say something.
Too much meaning
in small things?
Or not enough
attention to detail?
A heartbeat
tells all secrets,
a simple pop song
is hidden declaration,
a kiss
screams everything
--but a falling tree
is silent
if no one listens.
Bodies are read,
words are dissected,
but that touch
slips right under.
Or is it
that the butterfly’s more rare
than this physical experience
of…nothing
--of greeting, goodbye,
revenge, love, boredom - everything.
How do I say
‘I love you’
if I don’t know the words?
How do you
hear it
if no one is there?
Raindrops
have a beat,
snowflakes
have a shape,
and we are
all connected.
So is a kiss
really just a kiss?

01/30/05




MESSED UP AND TURNED AROUND
Could you
ever love me,
all broken and scarred?
I’m needy,
making mistakes
bigger than myself,
scared and frightened
like the child grown too fast,
numb and cold,
locked in those words
they’ve called me
(claimed me as).
Could I
love me,
when daddy can’t,
and you’re only there for bed?
All messed up
and turned around,
What’s fake
and what’s real?
Do I believe in love?
All poetry,
and fictions,
those sweet sounding songs.
A story we tell
to make the night pass,
to make it allowed.
I see it
as justification for hurt,
I feel it
as pain
(You can hit me if you say you love me)
Don’t kisses and promises
heal abandonment?
Sceptical and unsure,
is there a fairy tale
for the Frog Princess?
What do you say
to the little girl
who can’t smile,
or the monster
lurking in the shadows?
(One slit and they all bleed away)
You see
the blonde hair and soft lips,
breasts and ass
but you never look
(scarred skin and fat body)
Love is the myth
I’ve never understood,
how can you say it
when you don’t know the words?
But you sell it to yourself,
so you can breathe.

01/31/05




ALL CAUGHT UP
All caught up
in your soft skin
and strong tongue;
lost in you,
in wanting you.
The memory of a night,
we existed
only in dark;
a fantasy too real
to live in the light.
Was it all
a trick of the haze,
a fogged mind
and veiled eyes?
All trapped
in the feel of your hands,
and the taste of you.
I want to be lost,
desperate for it,
in your arms
however short the lie.
Your promises,
both sweet and sinister,
in my ear;
a trick
of your tongue
and draw
of your hips.
Still all caught up
in your lie,
the ignored meeting, meaning.
A fool to fall
for soft touches
and that wicked tongue,
a fool who wants, needs
to fall victim again.

02/18/05




MIDNIGHT CONFESSION
All written out
along past lovers’ skin,
across empty bed sheets:
My declarations,
my vows
to love, to honour
and to cherish
- at least for now.
I wanted you, needed you
so I went to you,
to feel, to live,
maybe to love.
Each kiss on my lips,
every hand on my hips
ment everything,
means everything.
How can you say
it’s all been nothing,
that I never feel?
Every hand that’s touched me
has marked me;
their names are etched
so I never forget
Ever uttered promises
wraps around my heart,
security blankets.
All attention is relished,
every touch cherished:
a body and heart
confused,
a girl
caught in the middle.
Feeling and bleeding,
crying and laughing.
How could your hands
not touch me?
How could your words
not move me?
I confess to you,
in the solitude of darkness,
maybe I am just
like everyone else.

02/19/05




WHO ARE YOU
Not a crisis of faith,
a crisis of existence.
Maybe they’re all
moving on, moving up
without you.
You’ve filled a void,
but are now
left in one yourself.
Maybe you’ve outstayed
all welcome
and need.
Who are you
if no one sees you?
What are you
if no one loves you?
From someone to something,
regression, revolting
twisting, changing, morphing
into the unrecognisable.
Ugly, strange and different;
too afraid to look,
unable to turn away.
Only alone
can you start to see;
truth, lies, twisting, forming,
finally showing.
Crisis revisited
with every growth and change:
days, nights, weeks, months, years,
seasons, stages, cycles;
still blindly fumbling
for something, someone
to be.

02/23/05




THAT ONE MOMENT
Do you believe in me?
I no longer know
if I believe in you.
I can’t sit and wait
for your judgement to fall,
I have to be acquainted.
Have I lost
my place?
Have I fallen back?
Feel as if
I’m pushed away,
just reach
and pull me back,
pull me in.
Need reassurance,
like that child,
lost and lonely.
More pain
than I’m worth?
Long forgotten memory?
Freak-show
and failure,
friend, fiend,
friend?
Confidence shattered,
steps slipped,
steps missed.
Has my place
been filled,
or worse, forgotten?
Can we ever get back
to where we were,
what we had,
to who we were?
Bridge the gap
-time, space, distance, memory.
Just reach
and pull me back!
Let me
reach for you.
Can you believe in me?
I no longer know
if I believe in me,
without you.

02/28/05




FOR NOW
Want and need
for a moment,
a connection:
Five minuets of
human affection.
Not looking for
forever,
not forcing you
to promise;
just love me
for now
and forget me later.
Can be anything
you want,
can fulfil any wish,
just grant me
this time.
Desperate and lonely?
No, it’s not
about that,
but the desire
to feel and be felt.
Five minuets
is all I need;
time, touch
and false attraction,
fumbling along
for blind bliss.
Love and devotion?
No, it’s about
less and more,
it’s about for now.
The moment,
the touch, and taste;
the love you give
for five minuets.

03/13/05




WOMAN TO ME
Small pathetic breasts,
milky, no
pasty, pale white
and used.
Soft skin
scarred and marked,
jagged points
and dark corners.
Vast back
Broad planes; squared.
The arms, long and short,
to hold, comfort,
push back and defend.
Scratched and scarred wrists,
a past carved out.
Nails chip and break
like souls and egos,
nothing is perfectly polished.
Round and soft areas,
pliable but un-mouldable;
can’t break to change,
what you see is what you get.
There’s a truth
in this image,
a reality
in the realisation.
Skin cracked, dry;
works hard
at staying afloat,
keep everything moving,
must stand ground.
Strong calves,
slender muscles
powerful force.
Wide thighs;
smooth and lumpy?
Lumpy spots meet hips.
Large or tight?
The body’s warm apex,
the centre of the universe,
the cycle of life.
True organ of interest;
thought or passion or action?
Please don’t let
beauty only be
skin deep.

03/16/05
Some people paint…Me, I write self-portraits.




ASK THE WIND
It’s not a question
of do you love me,
but could you?
Could you ever
with stripped away ideals;
leaving the naked truth,
in all its sin and beauty?
Could you see beauty
in my pain,
could you find normalcy
in my twisted thoughts,
could you ever
truly see me;
would you try?
A question
to the wind,
asked to the silence.
A hidden desire,
or not so secret
need to know;
if the possibility existed,
if a chance remained,
however slim,
that someone could.
A fantasy mate
-more than a lover,
who knows
and somehow understands,
who would try and learn
this book
written in foreign verse.
Is it even possible,
could I find that?
Is it too much
to ask
of the wind?

03/28/05




THE SILENT SCREAM
Lost
is the world of light,
how can
the cloud of darkness
cast it’s shadow over me,
again?
Hail Mary,
mother of grace,
Dear Goddess,
blessed be.
Is anyone listening?
Feel cold
and dark
in the bright sunshine,
it weighs
heavy on my shoulders,
can no longer pin point the pain,
and never ignore it.
Alone
in the crowded room,
suffocated
in the presence of family.
Dear Mary,
Hail Goddess;
are you working together,
can you pick up the phone?
Necessity
is the mother of invention,
can one
invent the Mother?
Drowning in air,
restless sleep,
hunger pains on full stomachs;
everything
is turned around
--or is everything I do
just wrong?
Mary, Goddess
can I go home?
Call me a cab
and send me
on my way.

04/04/05




MY CONFUSION
If I’m honest to you
am I being honest
to myself?
Over exposed
and raw naked;
drunken confessions,
lonely night admissions.
I need your touch
and attention,
against all better judgement,
against your best interests.
Even as it makes
me selfish.
I hate me,
I think,
at least these parts of me.
The only promises broken
are the ones
I made through you,
ones greater than you.
If I liked you
I’ve never known,
affection blocked by need,
and blinding want;
a validation.
If I hurt you
I did it through me,
I bear this,
if I’m being honest.

04/06/05




DEFENCE
I’m not as cold
as I act;
my heart beats
patta, pat, pat.
I still bleed
at the sound
of your name.
I won’t apologise
for living my life,
I won’t reject
the blood in my veins,
the life in my body;
the body I am.
I will not deny
the power of this body,
the pull of the moon,
the call of the Mother.
I hear it,
I feel it,
I live it.
Every touch written
on every inch of skin,
every word embedded
into the flesh,
every emotion flowing
through my blood;
flowing in and out,
up and down, all around.
Build the defence
keep me safe,
cover.
pat, pat, patta
I’m not as cold
as I act
for you.

04/19/05




FEMINIST
Listen to your mother
but live
how you feel fit.
Grow up to be happy,
and make your own rules.
Rule of the body,
your own possession;
Sow only the seeds
you want to have grow,
Admit only your desire
into the garden
- Not every Adam,
not even every Eve.
Tend to the hearth
or blaze a new path,
it’s only where you want
to live,
or maybe a visit or two.
Father, master, never;
how do they direct
when they don’t know the part?
No piece better than mine,
or yours, or her's.
No destruction to build,
we grow and evolve,
from the earth, reach the sky.
Listen to the Mother,
she whispers in your ear:
live your life,
in your terms.

04/19/05




FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT
Feel myself going
the wrong way
- or is this
the right way?
Fighting the current,
avoiding the herd.
Stand up,
stand straight,
fight, fight, fight.
The bigger they are
the harder they fall,
but how much
will it take
to bring them down?
Do I have enough
to see it through?
The lone arrow;
both curved and coloured,
standing out,
standing up, among the masses.
Finding voice,
finding fight:
never be silenced again.
Reclaim the body,
free the soul
You raise your sword,
I’ll raise my pen!
If I don’t like it,
I don’t have to take it,
you can’t use me
against myself.
If it’s a fight they want,
a fight they will get;
kicking and scratching
and screaming.
Stand up,
stand tall.

04/20/05




THE SAME INDIFFERENCE
They kiss me
and touch me
but who
wants to keep me.
The girls who kiss me
write me off
as a thief in the night,
the boys who touch me
brand me
as one of those type.
They bend you,
want to break you,
remake you.
Find the label
they use to rape you
- almost as bad
as the physical;
though, I’ve had both.
Can live
to tell the tale:
Both sides will hurt you,
but that’s how
love goes,
in the stories they write.
You feel invisible
cut out, cut off.
Highly visible,
hide you away
until they explain you away.
Change the ending,
change the time.
Do you blame them
or is it yourself?
They shame you away.
You bleed to scream,
shatter the silence,
paint the wall
and leave your mark.
And all you’re doing
is living,
is being
just like everyone else.
Why is it different,
why must you fear,
the same blood pumps
through your veins
as theirs.
We’re the same in difference,
the same indifference.

04/21/05




STRANGER
Of all the strangers
your parents warned about,
they forgot
to mention me.
The strange girl
with the strange eyes,
and the even stranger ideas.
She cries when it’s sunny,
laughs in the rain,
pulls the punch-line at death.
Can’t be tied down
in label or definition,
not in social confines.
Became some fantasy
instead of seen
in the reality.
Maybe it’s whining
or misguided attention,
misdirection
of the real intention…
Am I more
or less?
Broken toy
with long lost pieces,
dictionary
with no word,
an object
they have abused.
Of all the strangers
they warned me against,
they never warned me
against you.

04/22/05




FOR THE RECORD
It doesn’t matter
what I feel for you,
you never really
see me,
or is that ignoring me
so you can sleep at night.
Is it soft and safe
in that bed
without me?
Do you wake up
reaching, desperate seeking
for me,
for my touch.
Or is this mine,
my fantasy
where I’m wanted
maybe even craved for.
I want you,
to want me,
to be desperate for it.
It’s not breaking you,
it’s about breaking me,
laid out, exposed.
It doesn’t matter
how I feel
with my name on your lips,
you never really
say it enough and mean it;
I never hear your voice,
it’s the one
in my head anyway.
The ideas
in my head.
It doesn’t really matter,
these only things that matter,
if I’m the only one
who knows…
but if we’re taking stock,
for the record,
I may honestly love you
- not that it matters.

04/23/05




THEIR WEAPON
Sex is a tool,
sex is a weapon
- the lessons
they’ve taught me.
Use it on
and against;
pain, pleasure, twisted joke.
When does
the pleasure start?
When does it
become more?
Sex is the weapon
they’ve beaten me with
and raised me on
- spare the rod,
spoil the child.
But what is it
they create?
Cool, callused, confused.
Learn how to use it,
careful, not to abuse it.
They’re written your past,
don’t give them the power,
find your future,
change your path.
Forget the beatings
they gave, still give
and fall into feeling,
find a meaning, a worth.
Sex as a tool,
and every tool
can be a weapon.

04/24/05




ATTENTION
I feel invisible
when you pass me by,
my life
doesn’t stand up
to your expectations,
your entertainment.
I spread it out for you,
an open book,
and you can’t be bothered.
Silence can be deafening…
Click a button,
make a connection.
Just reach out
and tell me you’re there.
Don’t need you approval,
that’s not
what I seek:
It’s attention
the moment of validation,
knowing someone listens.
Don’t we all
need to know
there’s someone there,
someone that cares,
someone at the line’s end.
It’s attention we crave,
it’s what we’re denied.
The one voice,
the lone voice
that speaks up,
that tells us we’re here.

04/26/05




NOISE
Not all noises are vocal,
my words
scream out
from the blank page,
from the bare canvas.
Does a tree falling
make a noise
if no one hear it?
Just because
no one hears it
doesn’t mean it’s silence.
The noise
does not rise
from the hearer,
but from the screamer.
Raging against the night,
the dark forces,
those twisted, gnarled hands
that pull you apart, down.
Raging against the day,
the forgotten,
those invisible memories
that hold you back, down.
Lean to distinguish, to hear
The meaning from noise,
The facts from noise.
Bombarded with images and words,
white noise, blind noise,
choose what you listen to.
Not all noises have value,
not all noises are vocal.

04/29/05
A tribute to Ani DiFranco




ABOUT A GIRL I KNOW…
I long
to be touched
by those hands,
you claim to have.
Some sick love,
- or maybe lust
to have what it is
I want.
I know how to want,
but not how to have,
nor how to get.
Waste your time girl
waiting on a dream,
broken promises
of those late night ideas shared.
Trips planned,
fantasies made.
I want to taste you,
have you,
to touch you.
How I sound
like that dirty old man,
with images of young flesh,
with so much of me
young and lost
as it is, on it’s own.
The things invoked;
awakened affection,
colours painted,
but what can be told
with a world between.
Others come
and go,
others have come
and gone,
still I’m here for you;
not waiting
but offering thoughts,
(maybe feelings)
I have no courage for,
no reason to share,
just listen.
I know how to want,
not how to have.
Are you
one of those,
leaving footprints in my life
but never
really here?
Did I leave any marks on yours?
Silly delusions, girl.
You know,
learning who you are
can mean nothing,
still not living
up to the ideals,
that nasty reality.
How that old man
creeps up,
confuses age:
can be older,
but feel younger under you.
I long
to be touched
by someone,
who touches me like you.

05/02/05




VIOLENCE
Spent years,
stray years,
a lifetime of days
building a character.
Building up,
forming and reforming
a stronger existence
- they deceive,
they start to feed.
Comfort in offers;
affection, attention,
aforementioned.
Stripped off,
pulled away,
an act of violence,
the ones who’s marks
aren’t seen on skin,
go deeper, dig deeper.
Relearn the fight,
from real to virtual,
from home to home.
Forced to fade
and find the light,
a twisted game
this violence they play.
Create a question
of existence,
an answer, a label.
Here only words,
marks on screens
and typed symbols.
They devalue
the greatest of realities,
they ignore
the loudest of voices:
they act out,
they act against,
their violence
without blood.

05/16/05




LITTLE by LITTLE
Heartbreak,
little by little:
It chips away
at hopes and dreams,
eats those tiny fantasies,
those thoughts that keep you warm,
the untouchable, unreachable wishes
you once believed,
(maybe even counted on).
Are those broken promises?
Shards of ideas and plans,
like broken glass on the floor,
you can never find every piece.
The happiness in others
can kill you,
will kill you,
slowly kills you,
and you have to watch
(have to smile and be happy):
the fall, the trip
that grad decent.
Can never help
what pushes you over,
or who you wish would catch you;
it’s that sick twist
of fate’s knife, of life’s role.
The little games it plays
without you knowing the whistle blew
and that it had started.
Little by little,
you see, you learn,
you dwell, you rot.
That part of you dies,
or maybe hardens and hides.
Maybe,
if you had said something.

05/19/05




Untitled (the idol)
She’s like an idol,
a false goddess, never to be touched,
only wanted, worshipped, wreaked.
She’s a weakness,
a weakness in me;
painful desire,
admittance of dark secrets,
love.
But never touched
by my moral hands, lips
- not enough,
never up to that standard.
Pay homage at her feet,
beg for the notice, the time;
give self-sacrifice,
shall I pay in blood or tears?
I am stupid enough
to love someone I will never see,
I am stupid enough
to repeat past mistakes,
I am stupid enough
to be blind to her fault.
She is lost to me;
an angel off her pedestal,
a demon off her leash,
running wild
in her human form and heart.
I’ll keep her, for me,
as that untouchable image,
that false idol,
- so much safer that way.

05/22/05




SCARE ME
It scares me,
how well you know me,
how you never get it right.
You represent something:
you offer a chance,
a chance I can’t pay for.
But everything’s at a price,
even you,
through the price is mine, me.
I’m terrified
that you’re it,
that you’re the last chance.
This fear
gnaws at the back of my skull,
settles in my gut;
can’t open up to you,
can’t spread for you,
but it doesn’t stop you,
you take
- proving I’m unknown, unknowable,
the wilderness to discover, tame, claim.
It’s our pattern,
maybe it’s our game.
I’m afraid, I fear
I’m too comfortable with this,
the way you use me,
the way I use you.
It’s scary
how abuse becomes familiar,
almost safe.
We scare me,
I scare me,
I can’t walk away.

05/24/05




QUIET
Keeps the unasked questions
off her lips;
those possible, probable
verbal sins.
Easier to hide
if they can’t find her,
if they never hear her.
Think about it still,
the cool, slick kiss
of metal, the bite.
Best way to hide,
Best way to run?
Life is full
of twisted games;
love is the cruellest joke
we play on each other.
No, the cruel words
we explain to ourselves.
That quiet writing
of scars on skin,
the story
only a few can read
- probably more, maybe all.
But if she keeps quiet, still
no one will know;
The sins stay covered,
the crimes stay hidden,
and they
can’t get her, reach her,
they can’t save her.

05/25/05




HUMAN ART
I am not art,
and nothing of it,
I merely try to create it,
maybe even fake it.
Paste together pieces,
cover the ugly spots,
- all the spots – and fix it.
Life is the canvas,
that’s how to look at it,
and you make it, whatever it is.
But are they,
those pretty images,
already there, looking to be uncovered?
Ah, but the artist,
is the art,
the creation made up
of all that lies around it.
Mixed media, broken pieces,
paint splattered on board.
Pure beauty to one,
is in the eye of another.
Uncover the ugly spots,
celebrate them, show them off;
it’s in those spots
that art grows, lives, exists.
Are flaws mistakes,
or the point?
Maybe we are all art,
unable to fake it, to fully realise it.

05/29/05




A LOVE SONG
Smile,
and be happy for them,
forget that tight clench
that works in your chest.
Why
is one’s happiness
at the expense of another?
Strange fate
that makes you wonder,
how is it worth this?
Wake up once,
scream,
fuck it all…
can’t find the worth,
when you’re always paying.
Unrequited, unwanted, unknown;
rejection sets in, settles around,
like an old, comfortable blanket.
Cry,
though no one cares,
and no one truly listens.
The sad tale,
written up in verse
and slathered in other wasted arts.
Laugh,
at how insane it is, it makes you
always breaks you.
Pink hearts and red roses?
No, always a personal slight,
a broken and missed right;
maybe it’s the colour green.
Wake up again,
alone…
But the beautiful people,
the ones all shiny and new now,
they smile,
and they mean it.
A secret,
they don’t share,
selfish proof.
Taunt, tease, torture;
pain creeps in, covers
in that thick smog.
And it’s all
in the pretty little love songs,
isn’t it?
Not the ones I hear.

05/30/05




DELUSIONS
I love him,
but will never ask:
Did those touches
mean anything to him,
when they
spoke to me.
Was it truth
in that kiss
or something
to fill the night,
that night.
What did it mean
when he whispered my name?
A question to ask,
but too afraid
of the answer.
What image will shatter
if he confesses,
shares the little joke?
What heart
would break
without it belief?
How quickly
he pledged himself
to someone else;
forever
if he had only waited…
What?
Would there be a difference?
Can’t blame him
when it’s my mistake,
my heart’s mistake
to hold on.
I never asked,
he never promised
if I fell…
What harm is it
to believe
the what ifs,
the could bes,
and the sure ofs?
If I never ask,
if I never learn,
I can never lose
what I never had.

07/14/05




UNDER SPELL
What wicked magic
plays these tricks,
of witches, leprechauns and fairies;
a kiss.
Curve of lips
and glint of eye
-mischievous manner
breeds dirty thoughts.
Electric air
between two bodies;
butterflies, flip-flops, tingle.
Slight of hand
or trick of light?
A touch, a caress
however light.
Repeat my name;
chant, enchanted, incantation.
Old black magic and witchcraft,
or love,
the natural magic,
with spells of its own.
Fairytale, folklore
A magic fell for.
Of one over the other,
heart over soul,
body in body.
Blame magics and mystics,
poets and playwrights
and any superstition
-cross your heart.
No magic words,
no cauldron bubble
just a spark,
an undeniable spark.
The real spell,
the magic,
and gnarled twists
of love.

07/14/05




ACCEPT IT
Cold splash, slap
the hard hitting, breath stealing reality,
put off, ignore, it attacks.
Lost lonely child
when the heartbreak breaks through,
locked away and hidden,
can’t cower in bubble gum dreams
and candy coated self lies.
(so easy to lie to yourself)
Backed into a corner,
pushed against the wall
- spitting, screaming, crying.
It finds you, it breaks you
slowly devours you – maybe quicker.
We remember the shiny baubles
with fog hazed edges,
block out anything real, everything false.
(we blur those lines to sleep).
Slap in the face, and shaken awake,
the rug pulled out from under
the laughter behind back – cruel joke.
Never here, but always there
since it’s created,
and believed and hoped for.
It’s harsh light
that sheds reality,
the cruel mistress
(or maybe master)
when you realise, when you know
when you accept.
But you still don’t like it.

07/21/05




THEM
The ones in my head
they’re stronger, louder
and easier to believe.
Always there,
yelling, screaming, repeating
(no one loves you, no one could)
Faith goes
to the constant,
the steady presence,
the one that’s always there.
(you really are stupid, and have no talent)
Reassurance and comfort
never found in the silence,
the dark corners where it breeds.
The monster you know
but can never escape.
It’s part of you,
the hidden side, your Mister Hyde.
(I can only tell you truth)
Death grip on head and heart,
slowly slips around the body,
emotional gone mental gone physical
made real.
Doubts, dreams and insecurities,
fed on and created.
- the world through their eyes.
Always stronger, always faster,
they only sleep – never die.
But they kill.
(you always were worthless)

07/22/05




DON’T YOU?:
CRY OF A COMMUNITY
As everyone else;
See me, see them, see you,
see us. See one.
Same blood, same heart,
same in skin and bone.
How not same in spirit?
Why not…
Everyone needs,
everyone wants,
everyone feels.
I love, I lose,
I cry and bleed.
Don’t you?
living, laughing, surviving.
My fight is for you,
for me, for all.
All who breathe
and all who couldn’t stand to
anymore.
All with stolen voices.
For yours and mine.
For the people,
by the people,
all equal
under the law.
Why is it
we can stand together,
as one, as whole,
until my lover is named?
I love him, her, you
don’t you?
I fear, I’m afraid.
The future threatens to be dark,
the past does frighten,
and still
I dream. I try.
I forgive,
but I remember:
we’ve all fought,
been punished, been persecuted
been killed.
Than we realise,
as we are different, we are the same.
We stand together. We survive.
Don’t you…
I thought
we were all human,
all in this together,
all looking to live, to be.
I know I’m human,
I’m real.
The question now,
Why don’t you?

08/17/05
it started as being about bisexuality but, it’s all the same fight. Highly political




ASSUME NOTHING
Is what you see
what you get?
Just because I kiss girls
don’t assume I’m a lesbian,
just because I fuck boys
don’t assume I’m straight,
just because you see me
don’t assume you know me.
Nothing is that clear-cut,
no one is one sided.
Cookie cutter people
are a Right Wing dream,
the twisted fantasy in black and white.
Reality is in colour,
streaks of a rainbow,
all different shapes.
I am not
what you want me to be,
what you’re comfortable with.
I am me.

Is what you think
the only truth?
Just because I say no
don’t assume I’m frigid,
just because I’m closeted
don’t assume I’m ashamed,
just because you label me
don’t’ assume you know me.
The only label I know
is the one I create,
I will not
wear your brand,
I will not
be cast in your ideal.
People are well rounded, real
in the layers of a life, reality.

Is what you were told
what is real?
Just because I’m me
don’t assume I’m you,
just because I’m different,
don’t assume we’re not alike,
just because you hate me
don’t assume you know me.
All people are different
and because it the same.
But the key,
is to embrace the distinction.

Don’t believe
all you read,
don’t buy
all that is sold,
be careful of lies.
Learn the life lesson;
think for yourself,
and assume nothing.

08/25/05




SURVIVOR’S GUILT
Why am I here:
When you’ve written
volumes upon volumes,
and I can’t string a sentence.
When you’ve sung
of heart and soul,
and I can’t carry a tune.
When you’ve loved
once, one person, forever,
and I can’t settle.
When your smile
was new, pure and open,
and I’ve become jaded.
When your first breath
may be a last,
and I inhale.
When you are lost,
maybe, I don’t know.
And there’s nothing
I can do.
I panic, I pray,
I can’t understand,
I just can’t grasp
…how I’m dry
when you drowned.

09/02/05
My reaction to Hurricane Katrina…my need to say, something, anything.




REWIND
Spin the gyre back,
unwind the thread
- send time back,
and undo the last years, lost years.
No history repeated,
no future created;
time at a stand still
while we wish
a happy birthday.
What is it
but time passed, things missed,
and memories gone by?
If we snap the string,
if we quit spinning,
are we doomed to repeat,
are we stuck in limbo
over and over again?
- still doomed, still stuck, still…
There’s a beauty
in this breakdown,
a comfort
in the same.
Milestones, memories;
speed bumps in the road,
slowing things down,
dragging it to a stop.
Where this year,
more than any other,
we wish to rewind the thread,
to spin back the spool,
to relive the past.

10/18/05
for my birthday on the 19th.




A QUESTION OF US
A question,
a simple pondering
that plagues late, lonely nights;
what were we,
what was us?
You labelled it,
your own word,
your way back;
staking claim in my heart
- a spot you never knew existed,
or did you?
Do you?
Do you read it
in my eyes,
in the way I see you,
the way I breathe you in?
The way I need you.
Score one for you,
the girl is hooked.
She feels foolish,
that is, I do,
for the fear, the wonder,
the desperation I feel.
The way I am
like a child, with a crush,
under your wake.
The way I love you,
since I can’t have you.
Is this us?
Some silly game,
as girls with dolls,
as boys with guns.
Some faded memory,
with teenagers and angst,
quiet nights and wet dreams.
Do you still want me?
Even a little,
late at night, when she won’t touch you.
Was that us,
those drunken fumbles,
without fucking?
An unfinished act,
a frightened plea,
get off, go home,
before I love you – that went unsaid.
Is this us?
A page in a diary,
a line in a poem,
a laughing remark to a new bride…
Us, it suggests more
but means less.
This is us,
you there, me here.
And the definition fumbling between.
You said it,
But never explained it.

11/29/05




IMAGINE FOREVER
Peace, love
and sadness.
A man falls,
even before his time,
my time,
but a legend rises.
As a phoenix from flames,
a new life,
a fresh level of existence.
Not a holy idol,
not even a false one,
but imagine,
an image, forever.
An idea
in human form.
Shots to silence backfire,
voices cry out,
voices rise above,
voices carry on.
Angels lose sleep,
and a generation,
a second generation,
mourns and weeps;
but imagine,
a message, forever.
Magic and music;
A life spelled out
in song.
A beat, a heart beat
that goes on.
A session,
of love making,
that never ends,
and includes us all.
A dream,
we were all forced out of.
But imagine,
imagine forever.

12/08/05
for John, twenty-fives years later.