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    Shitty Poetry Dump/Catch All

    Chest is bursting,
    Emotions boiling and churning.
    Will there ever be an end
    To all this fucking yearning?

    Maybe I could rip it open
    My chest, I mean.
    Rip it open and let it all out
    Maybe then I'd feel clean?

    I'd rather be a void
    Than feel like I do now.
    Trapped here in this body,
    Beaten over brow.

    My brain is fucked,
    That much is clear.
    Overcome by emotions,
    And especially, by fear.

    Medication sometimes works,
    Until it starts to not...
    That's when I get broody,
    analyzing every single thought.

    One thought leads to another,
    And another after that.
    Like I'm choosing pieces of paper
    From my gigantic trauma hat.

    But there are way too many pieces.
    I can't sort through them all.
    The pile keeps growing bigger,
    and I don't know who to call.

    I can't seem to stick with therapy,
    Maybe because I'm broken.
    There's so much locked away,
    So many things remain unspoken.

    Even I don't know what it is
    This inner turmoil that spins,
    Maybe if I can get my footing
    I'll be absolved of all my sins?

    Probably not.
    I don't know what to believe.
    It's all so very complicated
    and difficult to conceive.

    He loves me, He loves me not
    Both my husband and "God."
    Ripping petals off of flowers
    It's just a fucking fa├žade.

    I seem to fail at every turn,
    I'm a terrible wife and mother.
    Maybe if things could be different
    They could thrive with...another?

    Should I fade into oblivion,
    Taste that freedom I desire?
    Don't bury in me in ground.
    Send my body to the fire.

    And when you collect my ashes
    Don't shed a single tear.
    This is what you ultimately wanted
    ...isn't it, my dear?

    To be free from the cage
    That seems to be me.
    If I were not here,
    Then you'd be free.

    Just promise me this,
    When my ashes are in hand:
    Throw me off a cliff,
    And pray I never land.

    #2
    If freedom were a fleeting hope
    I might dream of happy things.
    Of sprouting feathers, arms stretched wide
    Testing my new wings.

    I'd find a mountain, blue of course,
    And climb and climb and climb.
    I'd climb until the trees grew shorter,
    Beautiful and sublime.

    I'd peek around for fairy folk
    Caress moss-covered rocks.
    I'd close my eyes, and listen
    As the wind drowned out my thoughts.

    I'd climb until I reached the ridge
    And survey the land below.
    Miles upon miles of untouched trees,
    Just like back when life was slow.

    I'd see a ledge, jutting out
    A perfect Green Man throne.
    I'd scramble quickly to that place,
    To see if He was home.

    Alas, I'd never glimpse Him,
    But that would suit me fine.
    For that would mean that time and space
    Would finally be mine.

    Once on the ledge
    I'd gaze in wonder
    At the beauty before me,
    Above me and under.

    My body would quiver, as if on fire.
    The Transformation begins.
    I'd twist and shake and bend and claw.
    I'd finally shed this human skin.

    Free of the chains humanity bears,
    I'd stretched my wings out wide.
    I'd proudly turn my feathers to the sun
    Finally, I have nothing to hide.

    Before I'd give myself to flight
    I'd turn to look behind me.
    Behind the shrubs and in the trees
    I'd see His eyes, twinkling kindly.

    "Hello, my daughter," the Green Man would say,
    "I've been waiting for you here.
    Go now, and be free.
    You have no need for fear."

    I'd smile, He'd smile, then disappear
    and I'd turn back to the sky.
    I'd take a deep breath, run, then leap.
    Free, away I would fly.

    But freedom isn't a fleeting hope.
    It's not even something to consider.
    So until my soul is released in death,
    I'll just continue to...sit here.

    Comment


      #3
      Dirty, unclean,
      A sinner through and through.
      You'll never be good enough.
      But it's also not up to you.

      Believe or perish
      This is what I hear.
      But I can't believe unless He wants me to,
      So should that be cause for fear?

      Probably - the threat is Hell
      Fuck, I need to believe.
      Well maybe this really isn't so bad
      A much welcomed reprieve?

      A reprieve from my life,
      An answer to my "prayers"
      A place that feels safe enough
      To air my woes and cares.

      At first it was a joy,
      But you know, the suffering kind.
      Because suffering should be a joy -
      At least in the Christian mind.

      Taught to love, taught to forgive
      Taught to seek the truth.
      Confess your sins to God and man,
      But don't dare to be uncouth.

      The Church is a hospital
      That is what they say -
      That it's for people who are sick
      In need of a bed to lay.

      I wish that I could tell you
      I found hope and comfort there.
      But all that I have ultimately found
      Are fucking clouds of hot air.

      Comment


        #4
        As I sat and drank my coffee
        Feeling tired, feeling spent
        I heard the wind begin to roar
        So out the door I went.

        It roared as if it was for me
        It roared as if it knew.
        It flung about the trees and grass
        Upsetting the morning dew.

        I stood outside and closed my eyes
        Frigid air blasting through me.
        It invigorated my senses
        Ridding my soul of the dark and gloomy.

        A roar or a whisper
        I care not which way it comes
        The wind is like my lover
        To his touch I will succumb.

        In his arms, I feel alive
        My body ripped from it's cocoon.
        Awake, aware, his breath is life
        Please, my darling, come back soon.

        Comment


          #5
          Dear Sparrow, I'm so sorry
          I feel emptiness and despair
          That I never met you earth side
          That you never once drew air

          I'm sorry for my body
          I'm sorry for my womb.
          It was supposed to protect you
          But instead became a tomb.

          I wonder and I dream
          About how life would be
          If you hadn't had to leave
          If you'd been able to stay with me.

          Would you be blue eyed like your brothers?
          Would you have their dark blonde hair?
          Would you be crazy, wild, untamed
          Or would you handle yourself with care?

          Would you be a daddy's girl?
          Give him a run for his money?
          Would you charm and soften him
          With a voice smooth as honey?

          Oh Sparrow, my dear daughter
          Mommy loves you so.
          Over and over I'll say it:
          I hate you had to go.

          I never got to hold you
          Never got to smell your breath
          Never got to rock you to sleep
          Instead, I mourn your death.

          The platitudes never helped
          They never touched the pain.
          Even now I cry and I cry
          My tears falling like the rain.

          My only respite is simply this:
          That one day I will die.
          And when I do, I'll come find you
          And together, we will fly.

          Comment


            #6
            Soul.
            Separate from flesh and blood.
            Caged.
            Trapped in this body made from mud.

            Freedom.
            Unattainable, ever out of grasp.
            Melancholy.
            To my dreams, I forever clasp.

            Hope.
            I had it once, at least I think.
            Despair.
            Because hope dies - when you blink.

            Death.
            An anticipated, welcomed friend.
            Life.
            It won't begin until I end.

            Comment


              #7
              One day I stepped out on my porch
              To grasp a moment of peace
              I happened to look to my left
              And that's when I saw the crease.

              It was barely there, I almost missed it
              I rubbed my eyes and blinked.
              Around the corner came my ginger cat
              He look at me and...winked?

              I stared at him, he stared at me
              And then I swear he smiled.
              Then he turned, walked to the crease
              What happened next was wild.

              First he was there, and then he wasn't.
              My jaw dropped to the ground.
              What the hell is happening?
              Am I that mentally unsound?

              Shaking off self doubt
              I walked up to the spot
              The crease was shimmering slightly
              "Here goes nothing," I thought.

              Hand outstretched I touched the crease
              In it went, and disappeared
              The feeling wasn't necessarily bad
              Like that scratchy tickling from a beard.

              I took a deep breath, I closed my eyes
              And into the crease I stepped.
              Scratchy, tickling, then nothing
              I opened my eyes, and wept.

              I had stepped into a forest
              But not like any you've ever seen.
              I could see the soul in every plant
              Every tree, rock, and stream.

              I could hear their soul songs in the air
              A glorious orchestra of spirits.
              My tears would not stop streaming
              I wished everyone could hear it.

              It was then that I realized
              everything around me was rather...big.
              And then I look down at myself -
              I was no bigger than a twig.

              I finally saw my ginger cat
              Sitting across the way.
              His purring had drawn my attention -
              He was being scratched and rubbed by...a fae?

              I blinked, and blinked, and blinked again
              Yes, I was certain about what I saw
              A little, sparkling, translucent fae
              Sitting on my ginger cat's paw.

              Our eyes finally met, she flashed a smile
              And with her tiny hand, she waved
              I sensed that she was beckoning me
              I hesitated, then caved.

              As I made my way toward her
              I looked up to the sky
              Fae were everywhere
              Down low and up high.

              So much twinkling overhead
              It was the most beautiful sight
              They flit and flew, to and fro
              Like shooting stars in the night.

              Her lips never moved
              But I heard her just fine
              "Hello, my dear one, you're here!
              We've been waiting such a long time."

              "What do you mean?"
              I asked, heart beating out of my chest
              Was this some sort of trick?
              Or maybe some sort of test?

              "You know what I mean," she said with a grin
              "Close your eyes and recall
              It's okay, dear one. It's been a while.
              I promise you, you'll remember all."

              I obeyed her command.
              Closing my eyes, taking deep breaths
              I searched my mind
              Traveling to the deepest of depths.

              Deeper and darker, until I couldn't see
              Hands outstretched, I stumbled.
              Then suddenly I felt a wall, no, a door
              And a handle with which I fumbled.

              The door was locked, what could I do now?
              Far away, I heard the fae's voice
              "Dear one, you have the key. Use it
              Or don't. This must be your choice."

              I thought of what I'd lose
              I thought of what I'd gain
              I wondered if it would hurt
              If I was unlocking hidden pain.

              Again I heard the fae's sweet voice.
              She laughed with a melodious lilt.
              "Do not fear, " she said to me.
              "You'll feel no shame or guilt."

              A deep calm came over me
              I softly told myself, "Go."
              A key appeared in my hand
              "Go, and you will know."

              I placed the key into the lock
              I turned it, pushed the door.
              There I saw a golden light
              Emanating from a child's core.

              The child was me, I knew at once
              But this child was also fae.
              Suddenly the memories flooded back
              Of that terrible and fateful day.

              Stolen from my home
              Raised as a human child.
              Entombed inside this dying flesh
              When what I should have been was wild.

              My eyes snapped open
              Heart thundering in my chest
              Finally, my whole life made sense
              I knew why I found no rest.

              I had lived in one world
              But was born of another.
              Raised by random strangers,
              Not my father, not my mother.

              The fae, she smiled, and gestured happily
              I looked down at my arms and feet.
              No more was I covered in human skin
              Weighed down by hunks of meat.

              Instead, my body shone, and sparkled
              I looked like all the rest
              And for the first time in my entire life
              The weight was gone from my chest.

              I felt as if I had never known life
              I felt as if I had just been born.
              No longer shackled to my former self
              No longer feeling torn.

              I laughed and cried, all at once.
              My ginger cat purred, seeming smug.
              All the fae began to sing
              And this is what they sung:

              "Blessings - to She Who Is Returned
              The forest welcomes you, dear one.
              We bestow upon you the gift of joy,
              The gift of laughter, the gift of the sun."

              Comment


                #8
                I shared my pain with you
                It was intimate, sincere.
                I signed a piece of paper
                Rules to which I'd adhere.

                Because of your position
                And because of your facade
                I foolishly let my guard down.
                After all, you're a man of God!

                In the beginning, it was great.
                "Hey, I think we should be friends!"
                But now I think friendship for you
                Only has manipulative ends.

                It must be easy
                You must be the star.
                You talk about your self a lot.
                Seems to be taking you far.

                You need a cast of devotees
                To make yourself feel good
                You say it's not about numbers
                But that sentiment is hollow, like wood.

                A pastor needs to lead
                A shepherd protecting his flock
                But you, sir? Nah.
                I don't think you give a fuck.

                It's all about your name
                It's all about your face
                It's about becoming famous
                In a theological race.

                I'd say I don't give a fuck,
                But clearly, I really, really do.
                So all I can say at this point is,
                "You snake, wolf in sheep's clothing - fuck you."

                Comment


                  #9
                  It usually comes out of nowhere
                  A feeling, a growing pit.
                  I start to feel foggy, drowsy
                  Light of life, suddenly unlit.

                  I struggle framing thoughts,
                  I want to go to sleep.
                  I've felt too many feelings,
                  Time to lock them in The Keep.

                  My body trying to keep me safe,
                  Drowning out the din.
                  Can't allow the feelings to rage,
                  Lock the grenade with a pin.

                  I'm learning how to cope,
                  Pushing self awareness and growth.
                  "I am worthy of happiness."
                  A shaky but solemn oath.

                  So I'll take a selfie to edit,
                  Maybe write a silly rhyme.
                  Maybe if I keep analyzing it,
                  It'll be better next time.

                  This, I will tell myself forever,
                  Until the last of my days:
                  "You are strong and you are good."
                  A little light in all the haze.

                  Comment


                    #10
                    People think that I'm aggressive.
                    Chomping at the bit.
                    So attached to my opinions
                    Fire and brimstone, poisoned grit.

                    Would you believe me if I told you
                    I don't think this is me?
                    That it's a symptom of feeling unheard -
                    Blare it, shout it, need to feel FREE.

                    Free to make my own decisions
                    Choose the life I want to lead.
                    "You're wrong, you're bad," said my parents:
                    The planting of the seed.

                    Is it really any wonder
                    That I threw myself at God?
                    "You're a sinner, you aren't worthy."
                    I could only cry and nod.

                    A festering childhood wound
                    Reinforcement in the church.
                    Is it really any wonder
                    That on Christianity I did perch?

                    Back to being aggressive:
                    I really thought I was right.
                    I thought that God could help me
                    Heal the thoughts I think at night.

                    Or the depression, the anxiety
                    That steered my course in life.
                    I wanted others to follow!
                    I only sowed seeds of strife.

                    Regarding feeling unheard,
                    And the aggressive label I bear:
                    This is something of which
                    I have recently become aware -

                    "No one ever hears me,
                    If they did, maybe they'd agree?
                    Why do they hear him? Or her?
                    Why can't they hear me?"

                    "What makes me any different?
                    I must be crazy, like it's been said.
                    If this must be my life - well...
                    I think I'd be better off dead."

                    So I shouted from the rooftops.
                    What else was I to do?
                    To be heard, gotta shout in their faces!
                    If you felt that unheard, wouldn't you?

                    Back to my original point -
                    I don't think this is me.
                    If I had been raised in a healthy way,
                    What kind of person might I be?

                    I hope I would be caring
                    Creating a non-judgmental zone.
                    A person that you could tell anything,
                    So you wouldn't have to be alone.

                    I know that crippling feeling
                    It's my Familiar, my Companion.
                    It's been the only constant in my life,
                    Something I hope to abandon?

                    I don't know if it's even possible.
                    Just a matter of learning to cope?
                    Thinking about it that way
                    Gives me little glimmers of hope.

                    If you've made it this far,
                    Sorry, I know it's long.
                    Or maybe I'm not sorry -
                    This is me, right or wrong.

                    Bear with me as I heal,
                    As I learn to calm my mind.
                    If my aggression ever hurt you,
                    I'm so sorry I wasn't kind.

                    Comment


                      #11
                      Can I have a do over?
                      Another start at life?
                      Too many cords running to my heart,
                      Need to sever all with a knife.

                      Let me begin again.
                      On another planet, a different time.
                      Where unicorns exists,
                      And people only speak in rhyme.

                      Maybe the trees are purple,
                      Maybe the water is pink.
                      Or maybe completely different colors
                      Of which the human brain can't think.

                      A life in which I could befriend a star,
                      Ask moons about their day.
                      Where pain, hurt, war, and famine
                      Have no place to stay.

                      Where fairies tend to cuts and scrapes
                      With sprinkles of pixie dust.
                      Where nothing is ever unfair or hard
                      Where everything is just.

                      A place where you're born whole and good
                      And always stay that way.
                      Nothing to break your inner parts
                      A fantastical utopia, you might say.

                      This of course cannot be had,
                      We call it childish fantasy.
                      Something adults shouldn't think about
                      Lest they be marked with Insanity.

                      I'll think about it anyway
                      Let it get me through hard nights.
                      Why would you ever want to snuff out
                      Even the littlest of lights?

                      Comment


                        #12
                        One day I'll be old.
                        Wrinkles no longer small.
                        Hair completely white,
                        Life slowing to a crawl.

                        I hope I'm still an asshole.
                        I hope I still like memes.
                        I hope I still think farts are funny,
                        I hope I still have big dreams.

                        I hope I'm super weird.
                        The one kids talk about.
                        How they're scared to pass my house,
                        But still keep me on their route.

                        When they finally get the courage
                        To ring my spooky doorbell
                        I'll open the door and say, "BOO!"
                        Make them jump, scream, and yell.

                        But then I'll smile real big
                        Maybe with a golden grill.
                        They'll pause and reconsider,
                        "Okay, maybe this lady is chill..."

                        They'll give me the once-over
                        "Wait, is she wearing fairy wings?!
                        Does she have glitter on her face?!
                        How do her fingers hold that many rings?"

                        I'll usher them inside,

                        Show off the things I own.
                        Oddities and trinkets, books
                        Maybe a fake unicorn bone.

                        They'll marvel at the sight
                        While munching an offered snack.
                        But they'd still be in for another surprise.
                        I'd lead them out the back.

                        A little secret garden
                        Statues of mystical creatures.
                        Creeping vines and bubbling fountains
                        Just a few of my garden's features.

                        A fantastical little haven
                        A place to lose yourself for hours
                        They'd run the paths, climb the trees
                        Pretending they have powers.

                        And then before the sun starts to set
                        I'd send them on their way.
                        Stomachs and hearts equally full,
                        Already planning another day to play.



                        Comment


                          #13
                          "I am," said Jesus, when asked who he was.
                          "I am," said God, forcing thoughtful pause.

                          "You are," said I, looking for peace, hope.
                          "You are," said I, grasping for a way to cope.

                          "But who am I?" I thought, feeling guilty, wrong.
                          "But who am I?" Washed in his blood, says the song.

                          "I am." For God, but meant not for me.
                          "I am" For God, so he can make me free.

                          "I am," for me is, "Selfish, sinful, bad."
                          "I am," for God is, "Powerful, Creator Dad."

                          "But me?" What, who, where - is that?
                          "But me?" Don't ask God, the question will fall flat.

                          "I am," said I, trembling with fear.
                          "I am," said I, every day of this year.

                          "I am," say I now, feeling much more certain.
                          "I am," say I now, a lifting of the curtain.

                          "I AM," I SHOUT. The opposite of his plan.
                          "I AM," I SHOUT. Sin, a thought I ban.

                          "I AM!" I scream! "This is wholly me!"
                          "I AM!" I scream! "I am not wrong, SEE?!"

                          "I am," say I, when asked who I am.
                          "I am," say I, "A lion, not a lamb."

                          Comment

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