Category: Blues

Poem: Twirling in my nightgown

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Poem: Twirling in my nightgown

Ivory evening gown, parchment paper thick
I had all my notebooks – there, sprawled out
You took the venom out of me
Inhaled it so smoothly
Inhabited your own internal cavity void
I said, hello
I thought that, we were having fun?
You were collecting the ends of my smoked cigarettes
Cos you like the tar
Cos you like that, that’s all you are
Spinning in a web not suited for your own self-depreciating destruction
I was on holiday

Although, I do, admit
I get a little bit obsessed
Stepping out into the rain & noticing all the new cobwebs
You’re so, calculated, in a way that’s so mean
Worst part is you believe in being a human being
Arrogant honey, how do you get it so wrong
Can you see me twirling in my nightgown
I light up the city streets with the way I get down
Uninvited from the palace
My darling, take your coat

Poem: Twirling in my nightgown (continued)

I swim in baby blues; I sing in the shower real loud
Monday morning, skin is pale, I am ready for everything
It tires you to pieces,
Tears you to shreds
The way you’d play your electric guitar &
I noticed it was the exact same sound
Repeating
Unchanging
Have I ever been so bored with regret
I thought you and I would be perfect in a garden shed

But by the time we got there, all the flowers were dead.

Poem: Twirling in my nightgown (continued)

I thought, sweet honey, how are you so in tune with
Things that don’t make sense to anyone else
But so out of touch
With reality,
And a girl who’s made of real flesh
I said, pretty baby, you’re made of pure mercury
I’ve never seen your ribcage
Not the way your back muscles look
Which is fine, too
No photographs to collect in my scrapbook
My stark cold baby, how can you be so obscene

Trying to get in and out of escaping everything.

Poem: Twirling in my nightgown (continued)

I’d put out my cigarettes on your balcony
And you’d save them in a crystal jar
Are they still there, pretty baby
I’d take you back if you had been more nice to me

Asphalt and a flourishing society
My marine ecosystem is too vast for you
Stay where you’re safe
Sweet baby, don’t drown

I both found and left you in the lost & found
Twirling in my nightgown

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Poem: Anarchy is fun; you should try it

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Anarchy is fun; you should try it

I am like Thumbelina
But I don’t quite fit anywhere
Two devout Russian Orthodox women are going to a NATO-ruled country to buy the world’s finest, pristine porcelain to throw it at indoor walls

The best poison was made
In my father’s grave
And I love him for forever hating the country I live in

Poem: Skin-tight clothes (brainwashed)

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Poem: Skin-tight clothes (brainwashed)

I saw, I saw that you were beckoning for the sea
(Told me you couldn’t swim, told me you couldn’t swim)
I stood there, pink ribbons in my hair, on an off-white, paint-faded ship
Thinking oh man, oh man
He thinks I’m going to dive in and save him

When I unravel, I am
Terrified
Of turning into you
I spit and scratch the walls so loud
I’m scared the world
Is made of you
I stick my tongue out
At the wrong crowd
Oh my god, I’m so alone
I come bleeding
To the ER
They say, I should just go home

Poem: Skin-tight clothes – brainwashed (continued)

I don’t want this to stop
Me from meeting someone
That would love bringing me flowers
By my bedside when I deeply sleep
I’ll never wake up
To daffodils
If you’re staying up late
Working on your manuscript

I hate your brown eyes
Because that’s my type
I don’t want this to stop
Me from meeting someone
I stick my tongue out
At the wrong crowd
Oh my god, I felt so completely alone
I stared at
My stupid phone
Like a teen
Like a naive little
Teen

Poem: Skin-tight clothes – brainwashed (continued)

I secretly, I secretly think you liked it all along
Pulling me left just to wreck the boat
Spilling my champagne and me nervously blaming it
On the musculature of my skeletal framework
What a girl, what awful weather
To spend with someone who’s complaining, had me thinking, “this is actually my favourite kind”
Lightning bolts
When the sky collapses like it’s angry
And bitter
Writing poetry
Months after
I secretly, I secretly think you adore all of this
You’d throw me to the eels if I didn’t know how to swim

But it was you deep down under the pouring, crashing waves
Tormenting your most refined, well-calculated grace
And I am one of the best swimmers this Earth has ever seen
But there came a moment where I could no longer see
Then, I could breathe, and you couldn’t hate me for it
So in love with the delusional chaos of the ocean
Oh, you hate it, oh, you must hate it
That I have a God that knows my full name

Poem: Skin-tight clothes – brainwashed (continued)

You think religion is a brainwashing force
Well, I think you over-dry your skin-tight clothes
I ran so hard I almost collapsed, and I started to laugh
So free, so free, should have seen me finally feel so free
Not attached to memories
Oh, you must hate it
That I can be my own blanket
That I can be a saviour
That I don’t need a faux promise or a parched favour

I saw you, perched over, frightened of the waves
You said let’s just leave, save this for another day
I pushed you in because I trusted the Earth
To swallow you whole and make you
Comfortable

That was a battle I truly lost
But God loves me, oh, you must have forgot

You must have forgot,
What a terrible thought
That I can be taken care of by something that’ll cleanse my brain

So brainwashed

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)

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Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)

I think we’re
Not getting too wrapped up
I’ll get up soon
To turn the microwave off

I think we’re
Naturally not too wrapped up
I’ll get up later
To turn the microwave off

I scratched my leg violently on rose thorns
As if I would ever mind
It’s been a long time since
Brown eyes, green eyes
I hate when they turn hazel
Like an olive tree
Park my car on Chestnut avenue
It’s a longer walk but
I like the name
Burn it to see embers
Collect street signs
All the rose thorns in the world are allowed to scratch me
In fact, I’ll invite them with bliss
Using long, Bambi eyelashes

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick) [continued]

I think you would be
Friends with the quarterback
I never cared about football
We could make fun of
The way they drop the ball
(Again!)
Wearing their jerseys’ cos we like the material
So supportive
What a team effort
I clench my hands together because otherwise I think I’m going to lose my mind

I never really understood the concept of romance
Is it you buying me a vegan strawberry milkshake?
Dirt on my face at the park and you think I look pretty?
I have thousands of songs I’ve been dying to share
With somebody
They mean
Too much to me
To share, though
So I’ll
Keep them to myself
Out of bad habit
I’m the bad habit

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)[continued]

Show up late and get there just on time
I wouldn’t get through security clearance with that
Type of ambivalence I could
Make a rosebud dream
Of grabbing me from the interior and
Turning me inside out
So the world could know
I wouldn’t get through security clearance like this

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick) [continued]

What’s that?
Is that romance
You getting me a vegan strawberry milkshake?
That I put in the fridge
To enjoy my second half the very next day
Laughing to myself
Sharp edges soften
My shampoo smells lovely
I can’t get through security clearance like this

An olive tree
Okay, I’ll be an olive tree
If you pick me
Okay,
I’ll be an olive tree
If you choose me

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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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