Category: Blues

Not a love poem: Swan lake memories

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Not a love poem: Swan lake memories

Butterflies flying into me, crashing lightly
You told me my skin was soft, and though I knew it to be true,
I felt in part indebted to you.
Like I couldn’t carve out a space
Large enough to climb into
Show you why your dreams are just make-believe

Not my responsibility to teach anybody anything
Because who do I think I am
Easily tan, have Swan Lake memorized & I do pirouettes in my dining room
I still remember the dress I planned to wear
Continues to hang on the shelf
I don’t look in that specific direction

A poem that is not a love poem because it doesn't have a happy ending, or an ending at all.

Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)

Exhausted from doing nothing at all
About how your bad habits look even worse when I look into a microscope
Focusing on school
Highlighting my study materials
No, not you – there, waiting for me,
Opening the door
Letting me cry
Telling me you liked how I felt safe.

I want to hate the trees you like, but there are so many in every place I’ve visited in the last year, and I feel weak when I want to photograph them because they’re so beautiful, and memory plays in time-lapse frames to make me feel sick and dismal with its reminders.

I feel weak anyway
I know the neuroscience of loss, but who I wanted to be I forgot
You make me weak, you made me vulnerable
I loved it and I hated it
I retained it
Delicate like a fine-point pen drawing insects on your arm that isn’t covered in tattoos
I wish I could hate you

Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)

I’ll move like a moth, I think you forgot
The area code that leads to a postcode
That leads to a telephone wire on an absolutely fragrant fire
In the middle of the city, and the chaos causes lawsuits
We like it because we’re in trouble
Playing tag in the backyard of your grandparents’ house
I miss the smell of hydrangeas
That changed colours
When they felt like it, like I do

I feel weak in places I didn’t know were part of me
When I see a tree
That makes me think, he must be there
Sitting pleasantly
Wasting his life without me

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Poem: In real time (vast chasm)

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Poem: In real time (vast chasm)

Arched back, my universe
A mint sage green to invigorate me since I’m so,
Tired of the way things have been going
Parts of me I loved, not really showing
Vintage glamour too much of an effort; I’m sinking down
I know that I swim very well, so it’s not sensible to drown
But I have this one thought I want to get rid of
That maybe it’s peaceful down there
I know I can bring to this valley some flowers
But what if the prettiest ones are underground
I’m scared of this one thought I pretend not to have
That maybe I can take something and finally find out
I’m scared of this one thought I have

I simultaneously do and don’t want to be
Wondering if people in other vehicles on the freeway can see me crying.
The depth of the city
Pale bloom mid-toned grey, avalanche of a highway
Miles per hour in the hundreds – this is my place
It’s my crisp green apple
So why am I disconsolate in lowercase
Feeding into a winter sunrise that falls on me like a torrential downpour

Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)

Your brown eyes, they see something in me
Oh, I believe it
But I know I need to see something too
I’m scared of this one thought I have
That perhaps this book is becoming too long
I have all these notebooks
I’ve never written in
I have all these contacts
That I just delete
The sun hits me hard and the skies wake me up, but the noise is like tar and I do love the black
But the panic attacks
The heirloom pink that fades so fast
When I eventually fall asleep
Time and space not linked, so casually on the brink
Of falling in

Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)

Don’t want to be someone
That is too tired to make their own cup of
Coffee
Don’t feel I need someone
Halfway think I don’t deserve it
It feels so unconventional but on-purpose
Like a car that refuses to accept gasoline

I have a fence
That grows taller around me
I spin in circles
But not to break free
If someone saw this
They’d conclude I was insane
But I am clearing cobwebs
From my own brain

Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)

Arched back, my universe
Anabolism and violent television shows that I don’t watch
Avoiding mass speculation and trembling violations
My white chair that faces two separate vases of flowers
I love it here
And I can’t bare to hate anything at all

Except being
Unable
To make
A cup of coffee
In real time

I am surprised
That I
Can write

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Poem: Choking on grapes

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Poem: Choking on Grapes

It was on purpose
It wasn’t a mistake
I got
Frostbite
From choking on splinters
Peeling them like grapes

Thin as a needle
You make it seem easy
The ploughing is destroying the peyote
And I have created a party for you, the reason for my demise
I’ve been so intrigued ever since you rolled down the window for me to feel the breeze

You will always have the medicine with you
Wherever you go

Poem: Choking on Grapes, continued

In Texas, I felt free because the gas was cheap, and I had salt in my
Teeth
Washing my brand-new blue jeans
Wheat fields and a can of cola, riding in the bed of a truck looking over my shoulder
Tired of having nobody to say anything to
I feel alone and even though I’m used to it
I still have to shrug it off, it seems
A fig tree standing for no one

Pharmacology is lovely & my favourite toothpaste is by Arm & Hammer
I drive to the nearby Rite Aid, where I get a lottery ticket for my mother
Mixing up my favourite numbers
I never win, but she swears I’m so lucky
I couldn’t spell it out right if you had the guts to call me
The ravens in the sky figured out how to fly
In ways that make girls and boys want to order cameras that run on film
See a kid skateboard home and it’s like it’s 2008
And my hair is blonde
A lavender bush smiling for no one

Poem: Choking on grapes, continued

Cut in half an apricot
Can run for miles; dimes are all I got
My backpack is lilac, because I want the items I own to be beautiful
To represent a part of me that feels eternal
Colour schemes and fever dreams
I get lost
Upside down
Tangled in between two separate swings
Lose and find my favourite things

It must have been on purpose
It was no mistake
Soft cotton
Precious limestone
Overflowing bookcase that survives California earthquakes
Girls are selling their poetry on Instagram and I’m

Still broke
Choking on splinters
Peeling them like grapes

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Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven

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Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven

An inner emptiness that you can’t translate

Sea urchins watch me spin like a landslide
Unsure what comes next
Not sure if I’ll pull through
Lavender sea bed, schools of orange fish with blue stripes
I breathe every chemical in, and I’m doing so fine

He doesn’t call to come over
I got a dog that comes when called
Didn’t expect that to be
But it fits me quite nicely
She lays against my running shoes
As though they belong to the godly Earth
Call my mother and tell her I’m doing so fine

Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven: Continued

You come across as
Tender
But you’re more violent than the tornados found in Oklahoma, Nebraska, and the South of Dakota
The plain states which are far from plain, because the bartender knows your name even before you walk in and order what the masses are having

There is a certain irony to how he shows callousness to the world
It so evidently depicts what he tries to hide
Myself, I’ve given up staying wide awake to wonder why,
As there are lavender flowers with higher powers than standard protocol would lead you to believe
I tremble on flat ground, but am most composed where it’s rocky
Try to remember what it was like, but my eyeglasses become foggy

A raindrop in the company of a million oak leaves
Desperate for its singular, idealized attention

You have to be observant without reading too much into certain things
I’ll fade in the summer months, but come up vibrant with the snow in February
Callow and shy, but on Neptune the temperature is
Humid like a riverbed overflowing with algae
Extracted for supplements you find at the natural food store
You only walk in because the weather is poor
(Doing laundry and then doing laundry again because you’re bored)

Tender spirit
Your affection is like
Surveillance footage I watch on repeat

This dog comes when called
I think this is heaven, after all

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Poem: Angel (first impressions)

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Welcome to my poetry website! If the colour of a poem’s background does not change, it’s still the same poem. Each poem ends when you’ve reached the Soundcloud box.

I’m working on a new email newsletter for post updates. xx

Poem: Angel (first impressions)

I’m made of limestone; artists come from across the world just to carve me into
Something that can breathe
I’ve got angel wings
That never tear
Can see right through my own teeth
My future with anybody
Carve me into
Carve me into
Something that’s alive and breathing

Drawing faces on eggs and putting them back in the carton at the local market
Way I walk makes a man wish he could properly aim at a target
Not everything comes with practice and this I keep written on the inside of my inner lip
Angel feathers, sparkly pink cream lip gloss
Climb to the tops of the trees he painted when he was severely depressed
Cut down for a holiday that I do adore
Like the perfume I let flow across my bedroom floor

Hazel eyes that are this close to igniting a fire
Soy coffee Frappuccino, five boxes of matches
A liquor cabinet that only holds candles
My love is addictive, so I’m careful where I place my things
The rocks at my apartment complex are fake and so are the looks he gave
Buying lighter fluid by the barrel
Why would you do that to your own home
When it looks so sweet amongst cobblestone
The air is fresh like a diamond that I found in Nevada
Next to waterfalls that only fell
When I would ask them to

My black jeans hold eye drops and amphetamines
A boy in a beanie ordering coffee has forgotten his own name
He doesn’t know what to say
I say pick one, you can be anyone – don’t you know?
He coughs
I melt
Slip in-between the ash brown tiles that line the floor
I only like three bands that make alternative rock
And the rocks are fake around my block
Like the looks he gave when I sipped my coffee and began to realize I was
So much in the wrong place
Glasses that are black, lips that make you blush
I’m used to
I’m used to being both too much

And not enough

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