A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity

No matter where I go,

I’m asked to “tone it down,”

and then asked why I’m “lookin’ so mean”

when my smile rests in a perpetual frown.

My loquacious words and awkward sentences

never find their place…

not in public, or shared areas,

not even in my own safe, sacred space.

I have to change, an emotional carousel;

the “right” reaction always just out of range

signals crossed, just slightly, like a bad battery cell.

My regular outbursts of self-expression

interspersed with brightly colored f-bombs

and enthusiastically mismatched clothing and eclection

should not be reason for anyone to try

to quiet the way I live out loud –

Just as the clouds peacefully coexist in the vastness of sky,

so too do I want to be accepted in a world

that’s too proud.

We are encouraged to follow our hearts,

chase our dreams, accomplish goals –

do our parts.

We’re reminded to embrace who we are,

who we were or could’ve been,

who we be and who we will be.

I try, and in doing so, am “too much,”

dare I be so bold.

R.I.P. to all the pieces of me

that inadvertently die

when I squelch even more of my desire to be.

To avoid offending someone else,

I rearrange and release more pieces of myself…

The loss poignant like a phoenix’s death –

new fragments rising from the ashes

the previous body left.

And even no matter how far “downed” the tone gets –

No matter how docile I try to appear,

I still feel unwelcome in most spaces –

And maybe also, I’m just afraid

that one day someone will speak to me

as though they were listening

instead of only waiting to hear.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Inner Peace

True wealth is the wealth of the soul


Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.


A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity


Art Studio Dumfriesshire

%d bloggers like this: