Ageless

I know that age matters not

right now, but then it did.

It mattered when we raced against

the wind. I was just a babe in your arms.

You were a man even as a teenager.

You had this way of bringing me love

on a tray, and spoiling me until

I was full on your love. I had it

all, for a brief time. I showed you

my cuts and bruises

and you kissed them. Your lips

on my shoulders within seconds.

My hands unbuckling your belt

in such a frantic youthful way

in an ageless time

between this world and the next.

Let’s remember where we were

and lament the age of us.

It matters that you see past

the girl. We felt invincible

and will never know that freedom

again, that youthful love we held

onto so naurally.

Reasons

Some people love you

for all the right reasons

but you still go searching

for the wrong ones. The ones

that keep you up or

make you want to smoke up

all day. I never hide behind

a persona or a brand,

I am what I am

sometimes ditzy

sometimes brilliant

but always me. I woke up

in a Woody Allen movie

you can guess the title

but you know it’s dysfunctional

and petty yet narcissistic. I

liked talking to you

because you never interrupt

and this is such a quality

that I adore. I don’t have

scorn, I just love you

so I put up these walls

to protect myself

from how much I care.

I will never tell you,

of course, or maybe

if I’m drunk and Purple

Rain’s solo is on and you

turn to me and with your

eyes you tell me

how you never meant

to cause me any sorrow.

I know. I am smarter

than you think. I carry

you like e.e cummings poem

nowadays it’s modern:

in my phone, in my pocket,

but in another era

it was in my heart

and you,

you are invisible to everyone

but me. You are like

a magician

popping into my life

like the pills

I swallow.

I loved you and lost

you like

a true poet

and you can’t get

any closer to

art than a few hours

alone in a locked room.

Favim.com-florian-nicolle-art-beautiful-soul-emotion-573684

Stay beautiful and strong

Featured Image -- 6242Stay beautiful and strong

when others try to break

your soul, it’s not you

they want, it’s your beauty and art.

Some people create friendships

to bully you, steal your man,

betray your wife. Some people

want to catch you weak

and vulnerable to spread it

on the evening news. The

only way to love is by blocking off

negative energy

focus on your art.

People will either love you

or hate you

and if you are really talented

if you have a gift

they hate you even more.

It’s too easy to kill a spirit these days

with group chats instead of mobs

with tweets instead of telephone wires.

It is as if people have lost the ability

to be compassionate

and only care for attention

seeking out the evil

perpetuating hatred

jealousy through harassment.

The sad part is most of these

people I have witnessed doing this

are women. If you want to get your

power back, this is not the way

to do it. It sickens me. And for this

my heart gets broken

I feel too much and I would rather

not.

In My Own Flood

 

It was a crisp autumn night. We changed

the course of our history. We lit

up the night with the stars in our eyes.

A thousand ships sailed by. Still. We

did not look away. I tried to drink my

cosmo slow. I tried to not peek at your

hands. But nothing I tried, worked.

I’m drowning in my own flood of words.

Can you still see me or have I faded out?

Hope and hockey hold hands in love and I

think about you. All the fucking time.

You did it. You made me want you when I

didn’t even try. You said nothing about me

was common, and other phrases that kept

me awake. Running to the moon, right before

sunrise. Your words are ingrained like

photos in a wallet. A lost love. Art. Habit.

I should insist more but I like to drive

fast and sing along to your favourite song,

wear your favourite perfume.

But the most impressive part of this book

is how it showed me how to find myself in between

the realms you never looked. img_0793

 

 

 

This is the first time I am publishing this poem on my blog. It is from my book of poetry of the same title.  Hope you enjoy it.

Working on a new chapbook, to be published by Mad Wolf Publishing.

 

Physical Pain

I met you at a time when I felt lost

and all the physical pain

collided with my emotional state.

You were the last person in the room

to approach me, and the first to notice.

I told you a story about how lovers

were stuck between all the worlds

they created and you rolled your eyes at

me. Oh, God, you said, another poet.

I’ve never met another one, I said.

Don’t fall in love with him I told myself.

Although I knew I would be the first

to fall for your dark eyes before you

even noticed mine. They were

as dark as my thoughts. You’ll

break my heart and I’ll lose count

of all the ways you want to love me

and other stupid thoughts kept

pestering my brain. shutthefuckup my brain.

I just want to get over someone

so badly, you said.

Me too, I said because it didn’t sound

so pathetic as (well step right up handsome

I’m the one). It’s funny how my mind

says one thing and my mouth another

or my mind thinks one thing and I type another.

No one really knows me then.

They just think they do.

I went to the bathroom and you were gone.

I thought that was just perfect.

A perfect ending to an awful night.

I had concocted all these ideals

that you were  the one

and other such bullshit

but in the end

you were  another character in my poem

I never knew.

I scared you with my witch eyes for sure

and other such nonsensical thoughts

raged my brain

of why men leave me.

 

 

 

 

Date

I want this date to last more than hours

but you never even made it to the restaurant.

It is so fine with me, I would rather eat alone

and dip my fries in sauce and eat like a pig

and not be judged for using too many conjunctions.

I want you, I really do, but I am changing

every day into an evolved woman. Not yet

married, divorced, separated, cheated,

I am only a young girl wanting someone

who I can never have because then all

the morals written in my chest will be

broken. I will feel broken in this city

we can never see each other in. I already

see the future of Sundays turning

into every other day.

You are so close to my house

and even if you drive by

I will have aged like a dog.

You will have had a multitude

of women while I am hooked

on one life line. It is this way

for I drive my own car and

let no one guide me.

I know which walls to put up

and which ones to let you in

but remember a date is

just a time and place

when two people

either show up

or decide otherwise.

Either way, it’s a date.

 

 

 

 

From Love & Vodka, a book of poetry for glass hearts

I see the beauty in you and the darkness. Both are brilliant.

-third eye


my book is available at all on-line bookstores

9.99 at Amazon now, limited time offer