Posted in Poetry

Pages & Screens

Sometimes the pages of my journal
seem like a confines;
neatly boxing in my burbling expressions
of creative inspiration.

The pages in my notebook
are a bit more forgiving,
though the margins
are lines my writing dare not cross.

Occasionally, there’s rogue spillover.

The Notes on my phone
are useful and pretty
but are often stiff,
limited in range of motion
and less allowing of room for error.

None of this is to say
I’m not grateful for these mediums,
only that there are many times I’ve imagined
transcribing my thoughts
directly into open space,
watching them interact with
the environs around them.

With enough intensity,
I see the words dance from my synapses
to the tips of my fingers, and across
pages and screens –
transforming into sentences, stanzas, and prose.

But also,
knowing the pages of my journal are safe space
is ultimately more freeing
than stifling.

 

 

 

27 November 2019
Posted in Forgotten writings, New Work, Poetry

Tiny Pearls

You don’t like the thoughts
I think –
only when they’re in written form.
But, hell…
even my conversational inclinations
tend to wear on you
over time.
So I
think my thoughts
and swallow my words
and I
cradle my writing precious close…

Tiny pearls, my words,
that I rediscover regularly,
and keep cultivating;

I’m careful not to hurt the clam.

 

 

 

23 September 2019
Posted in Forgotten writings, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth

Tone-Deaf in Continuum

Highly intense,
and so much more awkward;
lapses in social skills and judgments
results of consistent self-isolation
from being ostracized
in public space…

Because, never give them the opportunity to do it for you…

Time spent in my own mental
space
stripping me of the ability
to properly converse
with other persons of being…

writing all my conversations
with myself
into continuum –

Those who’d talk to me
soon quickly found
I’m conversationally tone-deaf,
either too intensely enthused
over things that didn’t matter to them,
or awkwardly-anxiously bumbling along,
self-conscious odd silences
interspersed with diluted outbursts –
just trying to keep up
with ebbs, flows, and full stops.

Afterward, obsessively replaying,
unending cinematic
repetition –
Visions that torture the consciousness
and made me wonder what else
I could’ve said, at the time…

Never once,
did I ever [stop to] consider
my partner(s) in these discussions
might have been experiencing
the same doubts, notions,
and internal confusions
as I.

And even today,
I sometimes still struggle
to articulate,
even with all my words
and colorful profusion of expression
I still feel always
that I’m missing
some critical element.

 

 

 

04 September 2019
Posted in Forgotten writings, New Work, Random

Wavelengths

It seems like the more I align with myself and move my life in what I know to be the right direction, the more people [think: family + some friends] think I am pulling away from them.

And honestly, maybe I am…we all have our own [life] paths to travel, and as I grow, I’ll continue to draw people and energies into my life that are on similar levels – unfortunately, that doesn’t leave much room for those not on the same wavelength.

 

 

27 August 2019
Posted in Forgotten writings, New Work, Poetry

Compartmental

Break it up, break it up
store it in boxes
divide it into compartments
with neat little labels
and color-coded dividers…

Leave some things here,
in this odd storage;
You’ll feel lighter.

And the rest?
Well, they’re free to be;
free to roam,
except when opposites
become truth.

But it’s my mind –
it don’t quite fit
within these bonds I’ve created
to restrain its willful roaming…

And sorting
is now a bit of a personal nightmare;
It seems
the more and the more
I attempt to refrain
from the compartmental,

the more I find
in these hurt lockers;
put away, forgotten –
break it up,

but don’t bring it home.

 

 

 

26 August 2019