The Romantic I
Have not allowed
To persist
Has silenced my
Inner Skeptic
While I slept
-a.r.
Drawing: Gagged Women
Found here: https://bluebig.wordpress.com
A Poet’s Dream
•April 8, 2015 • Leave a CommentCatharsis
•April 2, 2015 • Leave a CommentCatharsis shook my cobwebs loose
But my spiders fell out too
Their space for sticky spinning cleaned
What else were they to do
With corners of my mind cleared, I’ve
No arachnids to control
But I miss their many eyes and legs
Catching my creations whole
-a.r.
Drawing by DREAMandDIFFER on deviantart.com
Bare Bones
•March 27, 2015 • 4 CommentsThis morning the top of my skull popped off
I noticed it dangling askew
The hook on the left had unfastened itself
With the right hardly holding for two
I ran my hands over the misaligned seam
And the gaping space left by the split
The smooth and the cool and the emptiness
The prominences and the pits
With great care I began placing pieces
And gently I reshaped the hooks
But the bare bones they brought me to beauty
This death cannot be overlooked
-a.r.
Springtime Marketing
•March 23, 2015 • Leave a CommentThis morning the birds are mocking me
I cannot abide their bright, their bustle
For today it only serves to hustle
To trick me into giving up my well-earned
Pocketful of crusty coins, my minted discontent
Their incessant chattering and attempts to sell me
Hope, of sun and spring and teamwork, nope
I am not interested in giving up my grief just yet
I will shutter them out and sit for a minute, still
In what remains of the dark and dust of winter
And tender all my leftover change to only this
Until I am completely spent
Perhaps then I can let their springtime jingles in
Let them tempt me with their happy little wares
I could be content knowing I have nothing left to spend
Entertained, yes, and unable to buy anything
-a.r.
Image found here: http://terrie-johnson.tumblr.com/post/31139046554
Perfect Failure
•March 20, 2015 • Leave a CommentThe world has become
A skilled surgeon
I, half-conscious on the table
Could tear out tubes
Stumble open still
This unhealed mess, if I am able,
A blood stained horror
To admit the former
And the taken pound of flesh
A gutting gamble
To pursue the latter
As I will end up bones at best
-a.r.
Artwork: Perfection Failed by Malin Lind
Honest Word
•March 18, 2015 • Leave a CommentMy child
is not
the “best thing
I have ever done”
she
is
not
finished
nor am I
and to declare that as fact
is a sappy fairytale
an empty delusion
at best
And
a reduction of me
and my highest possible form
of usefulness
to
sex object
uterus
vagina
at worst
I will not do that
To either of us
-a.r.
Painting: Motherhood by Veronica Jackson.
Instinct
•March 16, 2015 • Leave a CommentI am tired
Like the frightened finch
Who nervously leapt
From his springtime nesting
With wings wildly flapping
Losing feathers
Flitting furiously he stayed aloft
In exhausted purgatory, terrified
His little heart racing
His dangling feet flailing, frantic
Only inches from his resting spot
With bits of twine and twig
Still stuffed deep and spilling
From his tiny beak, muted
Unable to sing or scream or speak
He could not complete his work
Or even warn the others
His only option was to hover
Madly in midair
Watching, biding, wasting time
Until he could decide
Whether it was better to abandon
His half-built home
Or, tired, fight his fear
And light
-a.r.
Image found on Pinterest, artist unknown
Explicit Fragments
•March 13, 2015 • Leave a CommentTo be honest
To be human
To be exposed
To be terrified
To gut myself
To destroy myself
To heal myself
To fuck you
To obliterate you
To understand you
To find silence
To find belief
To find the answer
To spew my venom
To spew my violation
To spew my questions
To show myself
To show you
To show them all
To be brutal
To be loved
To be allowed
To remember
To imagine it
To forget
To create connection
To create perfection
To create a monster
To disturb you
To soothe you
To encourage you
To illustrate
To plainly state
To rail against
To exist
To matter
To leave behind
To be brave
To be fortified
To be immortal
To be a lie
-a.r.
Painting: Transformation by Maciej Wierzbicki
The Last Lip of Winter (again)
•March 11, 2015 • 7 CommentsAnd so I sit
At the edge of seasons
With my ghostly legs dangling
Over the last lip of winter
Can I let myself slip
Loosen my grip
On these moss-covered teeth
Above and below me
While it yawns at my back
This mouth black melancholic
That once carried me ’round
Inside color drained out
Frightened but familiar
Strange safety was found
I could crawl back inside
This giant gray gaping wide
But it stinks of stale breath
And there is a breeze, fresh
Flora blooming below
I have never been one
To let myself fall, to spring
So freely towards hope
I only know how
To gulp and let go
-a.r.
Painting: The Precipice, by Lea Kelley
This Vessel
•March 6, 2015 • Leave a CommentNo more attempts
At fixing me
Will be allowed
Long live the mad
And drooling demons
I have yet fleshed out
-a.r.
Painting: The Exorcism by Kevin Kinkead
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