Tag Archives: human

What stories can do

 

We live in loneliness
Anger, laughter, fear, love
We all have loss
We all seek redemption.

Upon these commonalities
Stories are built.
Strong foundations.
Because life as a human
Is also about what we share.
We need this sharing
To feel the same,
To remember that we belong,
To eliminate the loneliness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

On Secrets

 

Going through my poems
Looking what to post
There are some powerful things I’ve written
And hidden.
There are a lot more
Terrible things, atrocious writings,
Embarrassing nonsense
I’ve hidden that too.
The best of me and the worst of me
Still under the rug
Am I even doing
What I set out to do here?
Am I a writer
If I can’t write what bleeds
If I can’t share what hurts?
If it’s all a secret
What’s the goddamnfucking point.

I want to be a monster.
If I ate people
I wouldn’t have to worry about a job
About relationships
About anything except the next meal
I could spend hours hiding in dark places
Or if I were one of the big ones,
I could go city-wrecking,
Send it all to hell.
But I wouldn’t be either of those things.
If I were a monster
I would end up
A Jekyll and Hyde type
Or a werewolf who transforms on the full moon
Someone who has to keep up a human pretense
And deal with human problems just the same
While also dealing with monster problems secretly.

When I was young
I loved secrets.
They made me feel special, unique.
I liked knowing I could do something the others couldn’t
That I’d seen something the others hadn’t
That I knew something the others didn’t.

Now I hate secrets.
I can keep the secret of another for a lifetime
But my own secrets eat at me
Like a wet infection
So I air them
Systematically.
And every time I do
I find
Everyone has a wolf inside.
Everyone’s like me.
There are no such things as monsters
When we all pretend humanity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Walking Absurdities

 

It’s been one of those days when everyone seems to be having a rough time of it, except for me.

Maybe this will help lighten the mood.

 


 

What are we made of?
What is this puttylike substance?
Doesn’t anybody notice
We are ridiculous.
All stretchy faces and brightly colored insides
With two bright eyeballs in front
A wide mouth below
And the nose!
An absurd protuberance
Set far outward
So you can stick your shelf nose right over stuff
And vacuum up smells.
We’re not God’s finest work.
We’re awkward creations.
We’re the hairless cats of primates.
When excited, we bray laughter.
When we age our teeth fall out, our skin gets baggy.
We wallop each other with closed fists
And break our silly noses
Right across our stretchy faces.

Our trunks split into limbs split into digits
Which splay and wiggle and toy with things
Which pick and slap and pop zits.
Our toes are stubby.
And we do stub them,
Repeatedly.
Sometimes we break them repeatedly,
Through stubbing alone.
Sometimes they break
Because we collided with another clumsy person
Who accidentally landed on them.
Sometimes we break them
Because we were moving a couch,
Filling a nest with worthless treasures
We found and attached value to,
Which we then dropped on our foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Apostrophe to a Tatty Old Pillow

 

Good pillow
Keeper of wishes
Kisser of dreams
Wicker of wetness
Tear sponge
Writing prop
Sore muscle press.
You accept what’s ugly,
You bolster what’s weak.
You hold the disconsolate.
Selfless friend
You give fully,
Never ask.
You take kicks
Soften blows
Cushion bones
Swallow screams.
You are always there
Ready for another round
Padding the worst of what we are,
Filling in our spaces,
Supporting both
Our helpless loves
And brave imagines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Paper Boy

 

I had a dream
I was a paper boy
I had paper hair
Paper teeth
I crinkled when I laughed
And when I cried
I fell apart.
Paper isn’t allowed to cry.
Human moistures destroy
Anything made of paper.

The next day
My old papers fallen away
I’d become paper mache.

One step stronger
For having been destroyed.
It will happen again
And again.

Always a circumstance is greater than you.
Always you are crushed.
Always you are reconstructed.

Scar tissue
Is stronger
Than anything ordinary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

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