Untitled
I am fractious.
I smile
I frown
I drift in and out with the tide.
The water is hollowing out the useless parts.
Only the strongest lines will remain.
I am being worn away
Into a curiosity.
Tag Archives: poem
Journal – I don’t belong here
I have Imposter Syndrome so bad today. I am not cut out for office work. I keep waiting for someone to notice.
I send emails with incorrect data, retract them, send them again. Leave stuff to the last minute. Oh look another typo on some vital spreadsheet. Sure I took care of that email yesterday… oh wait I’ve been neglecting them for three days why do I have no sense of time?? Basically I seem to get away with murder. Then a supervisor gives me a piece of candy and goes, “Thank you for your hard work!” and I’m like, “Oh they are so sweet, fuck I don’t belong here.” I feel like a horse in an aquarium. I’m waiting for someone to gently shoo me out of here. It’s exactly what happened to me at my last job, I got gently shooed out. They were like, “You are the nicest person but we need someone who will sacrifice their soul to this place, secretly put in extra hours, you know. Not you. We don’t want to fire you but it would be nice if you left.”
The funny thing is, I think I was better at that job than I am at this current one. But the current job, they care about their employees and try to make them feel valued, which has the strange reverse effect of giving the crazier ones Imposter Syndrome. What can you do?
I just need to go for a run. Everything is better when my blood sugar stabilizes. Until then, poetry is my only recourse.
I don’t belong here.
I watch everyone smile
and talk about the weather
like it really is fascinating.
Everyone seems so stable.
Everyone is caretaking dying people
Yes, you heard me right
and they still manage their lives pretty well
and their work gets done
and they fi gi===
Okay. I know this isn’t true.
I know that the one who is caretaking a dying person
Is stressed out of her mind.
And the other one
has withdrawn deep into himself.
I know that the really beautiful ones
who eat organic food out every day
and are probably in debt
and lie with the smiles on their faces.
And there are several here
who are just as crazy as me.
But it’s hard to talk myself out of my crazy.
I’m just as human as they are
They are as human as I am.
I’m very grateful to have a job.
I’m too grateful to have a job.
Dear god make the gratefulness stop
Against the Next War
In response to CafePhilos’s call to make peace viral. A noble effort, and worth a try. Please give his post a read.
Trying to do a slam-style poem. I really hope the audio turned out OK on this. Apologies if it’s too quiet, I’m still figuring out how to make videos.
If I imagine them
Taking my brother away to war
I shatter.
I don’t want to lose anyone.
Especially not to something as stupid
As war.
Maybe you like the idea of war
Because you’ve confused real life with action movies.
Maybe you hate another group of people for what they have done.
I can’t convince you to forgive another’s atrocities
That is something you must grow into on your own.
But I can beg you this:
When dogs of war bark
Don’t feed them.
You will be told it is the honorable thing
To die for your country.
You will be told you have enemies abroad
Monsters in human flesh.
But the monsters are in your back yard
Baying for blood.
Don’t
feed
them.
You will be told
That if you love your family
You will abandon it
And submit yourself to the state.
Give up your mind, body, and soul
To be consumed.
Don’t feed them.
You will be called weak
You will be called subversive
You will be stamped
Kicked
Drowned
Thrown into jail
Dumped in the gutter.
Still,
don’t feed them.
They will scream about the chaos
Unleashed in the world
They will plead for your aid
They will put weeping women before you
They will show you the bodies of children
They will appeal to your humanity.
But if you join them
You become the monster.
You will rape the women
You will bomb the children
You will force them all into the machines.
Don’t feed them.
They offer you money
Insurance for your families
Early retirement.
Ask your wife how she feels
When you go abroad.
She may smile then, proud and supportive,
But when she gets the letter,
Insurance will be a cold comfort
A reminder
That her loved one was eaten alive.
Don’t feed them.
The politicians get fatter.
The generals get fatter.
Our fearless leaders
Have little to lose.
What is noble
About sacrificing yourself for these people?
Are they so wise, so just?
They have enough.
Don’t feed them.
This moment
Happiness is
A hot mug on a cold day
Someone kind to sit with
A comfortable cat on your lap
Happiness is
The ability to make your own choices
His profile when he’s driving
The first bite of a cheeseburger.
Happiness is when things rebalance
Delay and satisfaction
Cold and warm
Hunger and satiation.
Happiness is to be present
Fully aware of reality
And nothing else.
No past, no future, no illusions.
Happiness is wiggling your toes while waiting for the microwave
A furry blanket
The unique way she tells stories
Happiness is feeling safe during the rain
Looking for the most perfect flower in the yard
A story like music
Music like a story
A color that glows
The smell of freshly baked bread
Clean hair after a shower
His fingers intertwined with yours
When the movie theatre darkens
and the score thrums alive.
Happiness chooses a moment
holds it softly in her warm hands
until everything pauses.
Haibun #2
She is on her side on the couch. In her arms lies the dog in full bliss, eyes half shut. She absentmindedly scratches his ears, but never too much, her natural compassion an unconscious impulse. A lifelong struggle with acne has left small scars in her skin. Rich hair, dark eyelashes, full lips, artistic hands, and a glass of tequila at her side. She holds the dog as if he might want to leave her.
“I don’t deserve friends like you,” she says. But she is wrong.
She is dwindling
See her pain, see her pain run
We watch, powerless
Sarah D. Silvey 