Tag: book

Love poem: Soy una princesa (productos mexicanos)

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Love poem: Soy una princesa (productos mexicanos)

Oh, you won’t like my picture?
Because you’re mad at me?
Which one of us is reverting to our old ways?
I got something real cool just for you
Rosas blancas
Oh but – they’re mine, they’re mine
They’re mine

I go to the market, Productos Mexicanos
Roll my window down as I drive
Close my doll-like eyes
And the sunshine hits me in the most pleasant of ways
Saying to me, saying to me
You’re crazy
In the most pleasant of ways
Nobody leaves voicemails like I do
Nobody looks as good in a dress as I do
Deserving of rapture
Deserving of fire
Gasoline and lilac fumes to invigorate the night
Soft candle-light, hold me real tight

Yeah, we’re getting high from nothing at all
My mom was right about you
Your concept of me isn’t capable of changing
I need freedom, I need freedom, baby
To be who I want to be
It’s the only way I can be, who you and I both want me to be
The only way to be free
The only way to be me

I need a boy I can speak Spanish to; I need a boy who’s Latino
City Terrace Drive, I take the 605
I want a boy with his own apartment, his own car
Rev it up on the highway, scare the living daylights out of me
With your thrill, hot thrill
Wind in my hair
Let me be free with you
Follow my dreams next to you
Walk alongside you, and only you
Be my thrill
Avalanche on a hill
Inspire me to be whole again

Walking around town, thinking you’re so cool
You don’t have a car & you dropped out of school
Painting portraits of me is the only thing you’ve ever done for me
Ever done for me
Ever done for me
Now it’s done for me

Soy una princesa
No olvides eso
Yo soy la reina
Llevo el mejor perfume
So what do you have to lose, when you can’t see through me
Can’t understand me
Doesn’t even try
I’m vacant as the forever in-bloom, wide open sky
I write and I do not know why
You’re not calling me right now

Right now, right now
Right now, right now
I want a white wedding gown
El supermercado mexicano

Rosas blancas
Rosas blancas
Give me white roses
Love me on purpose
Rosas blancas
Rosas blancas
El supermercado mexicano

Thought I lost you there
Thought I lost
Thought I lost you there
Thought I lost

But I always
Always
Always
Always
Always

Win

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Free-verse poem: Simon & Garfunkel, truly terrifying (New York)

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Free-verse poem: Simon & Garfunkel, truly terrifying (New York)

My baby didn’t even have time to pack his suitcase
Left his things sprawled all over the floor
He told me he wanted to go to the city
Find the things he didn’t know he was looking for
He wanted more, he wanted more
He wanted more
Jars of honey, sweet fiber network
He wanted more
And I knew, across moments in space and time
That I had done my good deeds
And I could get my coat off the rack
He’s looking for more
In black tar and spiderwebs
He’ll find a new job in New York
A city that has too many important people in it for anyone to ask about

Gentle as the sea
Unbecoming as you dissolved directly into me

I cast the glow that tried to diminish my solitude
Playing Simon & Garfunkel deep into the night
To surround me in playful melody, and memories of nights in hotels
Where I didn’t know anybody
& nobody knew of me
& the thick, ivory, vintage & carefully sewn cloth that lay on the table where I had a drink (a mix of elderberry for immunity, and something with zinc)
I squeezed a lemon into my eye
(Just to try)
(Just to try it once)
I became like the night

Smooth in rapture
Rough like the ocean waves
Not asking anyone to hold me, because I wasn’t in the best company
Never understood why people use other people when they feel lonely
I find no solace in that regard
That kind of domination, to utilize temptation
What good would it do for me- my little, fawn frame?
My agony and stillness, harshly disillusioned
A maiden’s last words
A goodbye in a picture frame
Held up by safety pins for decoration of the living room, my sweet residence
Very far from New York

They read my poems and think they’re separate, short ones instead of long form stories
But at least they’re reading
It’s good for the brain
It’s almost a necessity to understand someone else’s pain
In my bedroom, I have roses on the left side of the bed
Audrey Hepburn on the wall
Reading a book, casually, a photograph taken & never explained
Who will ever take photographs of me?
Will anybody capture me in my own reserved solitude?
Press a camera shutter when my face looks nice from the angle the lens hits me from,
In the right light?
With a nice mannerism?
How cruel it is to live years without memories
Nothing to think about with morning coffee
Nobody to dream of when I’m feeling despondent

It’s not that I try not to, but I can’t stop writing
It’s like the medication hasn’t yet absorbed
You tell people you’re a writer and they nod their head
In agreement, almost
I think it’s an act of disregard
Find me a publisher!
Buy my book, whenever it comes out!
Support my dreams!
No, no
Nods his head
It’s an act of disregard
A repetition in disguised portrayal of an affirmation
Fleeting hopelessness mixing in jars of honey that fade to silk and an ambience destroyed by lightning in the dark
Making way for the gloomy inhabitants of New York’s city streets
As he neglects to pack his bags

He retracts
Shoulders back
Panic attack
Upright and tall, a self-preserved, startling enchantment
Eyes so sharp and clear but in my nonchalant mind I’ll still remember them as filled with fog
Some people- you can ask them a million different questions, yet fail to receive a hospitable response
A succession of worries
“What if the plane catches on fire, what will you do then?”
“Will you call me when you land? Should I stay awake?”
Fog, nothing but fog
Dove tails & tales of romance, swept like ashes falling from a neighbor’s cigar
An afternoon sky of abysmal disobedience

When we were young
We were gentle like the sea
And I was becoming something great, something to be remembered
But his benzodiazepines have no regard for memory preservation
So with every step he takes, every fragment of clothing he doesn’t arrange
He dissolves directly into me

I hear ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’ repeating softly in my mind
Holding on to the melody in a way that
Truly terrifies me
As I dissolve
Repeatedly

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Love poem for a boy: Physics study hall

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Love poem for a boy: Physics study hall

There was a boy with a voice like yours in the physics study hall
I thought it was you
I could feel myself glowing
A little bit
But when I looked in his direction
I only saw my own reflection
In the clear glass of the windowpane
And I looked so gentle
So foggy, so full of you
So full of it
(Hope)

It comforted me
Me there, temporarily filled with bliss
Listening to a voice that was just like yours
Of a guy that was distant, too, but reminiscent in ways
That surpassed my expectations
But ruined them at the same time
(I wanted you, there)
(I wanted you, standing, there)

While I was editing my little daily tasks in my peony-covered black planner
Carbon black
Panic attack
So remarkable, engrained with tact
Grab me right back
Panic attack
Hold me like that
Crisp edges
Distant, so distant, so distant it seems

Lake Michigan, Chicago, Illinois

Take hold of me
Run with me through the pouring, strong but absently delicate rain
Ask me about my past
Tell me about back home
Where your parents are from
Where your sister lives, with her husband, and why you’re not married
By now
In your late thirties

Tell me about the years that you came of age
To blossom, to endure
Rabbit holes
Soft edges
How you became a man
Sharp, marked silhouette, dark fragrance
Cascading vision
Bold and crimson
Smooth and hollow
Ambient surfaces
Ribbons tied with cherry-lined trails
Puddles on the ground and clusters of snails
The stillness seeps beneath me so absentmindedly

I’m reading about
Restriction enzymes
Wondering what I’m going to say to you
When I see you
And I’m wearing my Chicago Cubs baseball cap
Because I know you’re a Dodgers fan
And I wonder
To myself
If you’re going to say something
About that
Fact

And you
Didn’t
And I’m alone now, in the car
About to drive the fourty miles home
Not vacant because I’m too whole to begin with, to be disembodied
But still
Not knowing
Which fragrance you wear
And seeing
Your long blonde hair
Falling alongside your bold, hardened face
That was not looking
In my
Direction

Like a marble that rolls far, far away from you
I thought I heard you in the physics study hall
But I only saw my reflection in a still-glass superficial surface

And that told me all I had to know

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Free verse poetry: Dream garden (dust)

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Free verse poetry: Dream garden (dust)

Avalanche
Dream garden
February twenty-nine

Too beautiful to me, it is
The way the truth falls but doesn’t diminish its overwhelming servitude
Grief like hollow images and stills
To be flawed and fawned with grey embers & soft wax
Rolled on Ireland’s greenest pastures
My dream garden
My avalanche

I wake up endlessly absolving my sins, unraveling for you
Tell me what it is you want me to do
I’m so aware of what I can and cannot be
And I think it’s best you not be there for me
I tire in my own sleep

Morning cereal
For four in the afternoon
You wash over me like an
Avalanche
Like my dream garden
White roses and picket fences, freshly painted
Soft tuberose fragrance
Dismantling me from within
Fabricated and built in great jeopardy
Soft and of the finest fabric

I think of you in waterfalls, that I’ve never seen before
I ask you to close the door
I’m impatient in the mornings but by evening so wrapped up in comatose fiber sheath
Toying with my own nerves
On purpose
Like a fever dream
Like ants unscrambled
Running out of fear, hiding beneath dust
Moving pollen and feathers to their corporate offices

When I pass by you on the street
With my kitten heels and utmost softness
Try not to
Try not to

Go back to your dream garden
Your avalanche
Beneath dust

Connected by the sheer composition that melts in broad daylight
Collectively held at
A disadvantage
Brought together in the Spring when the ambiance paints a different mood
For the dust underneath the conjoining ether
Without reserve
Still and unenthusiastic
Hopeful, yet without meaning

Find me in my personal dream garden
When the smoke clears

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Love poem for him: earthquake

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Love poem for him: earthquake

You know I stopped myself before I could love you
But
We broke apart
And I can’t help but stare
At your blank, sad face
And the only thing sad about it
Is that you’re not afraid to let me go
You’re not afraid to let

I tried to wake up
But I’m always on the wrong side of the bed
We never got to have that night in the hotel
We never got to have that heavenly first dance
The first and the last pages don’t make me too sad
It’s the way the world turns
Your fingers latched on
Not very tight
Like a blouse that’s unloosened
A foggy memory that never becomes clear

I’m trying to relive the skyscrapers and unraveling chaos
Though all that comes to mind in abstract vision and delusion,
Is you screaming in my direction
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop

What makes you so afraid
To show love to an unloved person
The way you play guitar
It makes me so sad
It makes me so sad
Not for anything do you feel bad
Like grey, fallen embers on a cold winter night
Even though you’d say you’d never
Be there for me
Your sovereignty
Your power

And I remember you
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
The distance that separates me from jagged, carbon you
In ocean waves, we grasp at what feels familiar
What’s underneath us will quench our thirst
Yours, preferably
Mine, isn’t regarded
Unless it’s four in the afternoon & the sun is piercing your nerves
Telling you that these antics are your last fatal curse
I’m far removed
To tell you the truth
I do only the things the boldest among us do

I don’t wait until there’s nothing left to take
In the distance between your brown eyes
And these soft, fallen embers of Victorian blue
Crawl back
Crawl back
Panic attack
Mesh and in pieces
Forgive me for grieving

All ends in love, and love has its reasons
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me

It’s so unnerving
Like an earthquake on purpose
It’s so delectable
Like you’ve lost your ability to reason

I’m always portrayed as the one who leaves the throne
Gown is disheveled, porcelain skin intact
Like an earthquake on purpose
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
What has become of rage has given its way to you

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