Tag: Poetry

We Howl

Within me is a silent rage,

It screams and pounds,

Threatens to tear the world down with tooth and claw,

To burn to cinders the structures so old,

The modern world is left to suffer.

~

Within us is a silent rage,

It creeps out and tears at our throats,

Makes us cry out to the ones above us, with power and voice,

To stop, to see, to feel.

It makes us impotent and numb,

Our caged anger poisoning our blood.

Will no one see, will no one listen, will no one change?

~

Within me is a sacred rage,

A fire burning with a will of its own,

A fury that won’t be put out, won’t be forced down anymore,

By your discomfort, by your offense, by your egos.

A rage that wants what’s right and just,

So I howl.

~

Within us is a sacred rage,

A knowing that humanity will fall if we don’t change,

If we don’t rise above our ignorance and arrogance,

And see ourselves as one.

Within us is a truth that we are only hurting ourselves,

And so we howl.

Return to Myself.

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I promise I will be brave.

I promise I will give my all to my heart’s desires.

I promise I will work hard and achieve my goals.

I promise I will rest when needed,

And take good care of my body, mind, and soul.

I promise I will trust myself,

That I will believe in the good in people,

And love without restraint.

I promise I will be good,

By my own standards of good.

I promise myself I will be me.

And whenever I lose my way,

I promise I will always return to myself.

This Time

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How will you react differently this time?

What do you know now that you didn’t before?

Will you ask for help if you need it this time?

Understanding that it’s your right to ask,

Just as it’s the other person’s right to say yes, or no.

Will you do your best to practice patience this time?

Will you do your best to believe that even in suffering we can grow?

Will you have faith that it’s all good, and all will be alright, in time.

Passenger

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And I see all these things that I was not meant to have,

Confectionary in a shop window,

Shining jewels behind glass,

And mourn with heavy, envious heart and eyes,

The embrace my fancies give other.

The mother with her child in hand.

The lovers tossing coins into their futures.

The explorers finding new soils to walk on.

The fortunate stacking bricks of wealth.

And I open my eyes, because telling myself

I was not meant to have these things seemed easier.

I’m a passenger, just passing through,

Observing the confectionaries in shop windows,

Shining baubles behind glass and steel.

And with mournful, heavy eyes,

I secret my fancies away.

If I were to let go of all that I’ve decided

Was not meant for me,

And see with new eyes, unblinded,

The open sign at the door,

The taster menu to life’s opportunities

Stacked around my feet,

What would become of me?

Would I no longer be the passenger, just passing through,

But the archangel, winged and ready,

To trample underfoot and soar?

A History of Rejection.

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I’ve lived a life.

I’ve been an office temp.

I’ve cleaned toilets.

I’ve got tattoos I don’t regret.

I’ve had crushes I thought were love.

I’ve been loved for being someone I thought I was supposed to be.

I’ve drank champagne and ate caviar.

I’ve tried squid, octopus and crickets.

I’ve been rejected for being myself,

Rejected by people I thought I loved,

Loved for who I thought they were.

I’ve been loved for who I could be,

And been rejected by myself when I failed to be.

I’ve been to Italy and prefer Cornwall.

I’ve been to Disney Land Paris and feel I was too young to appreciate it,

The gift of it, the pretence of it.

I’ve sung in a choir.

I’ve been a part of two art exhibitions,

That I never attended myself.

I’ve wanted to be seen by others,

And hidden away from all your gazes.

I’ve seen someone lose the skin of their right arm in a mosh pit,

And been too high on the music to care.

I’ve travelled to the Caribbean and back again.

Been stranded and relied on the kindness of strangers.

I’ve lived a life.

And yet, I’ve convinced myself that I haven’t because I haven’t lived your life.

I’ve never had a full-time job, rented or owned property.

I’ve never been in love.

But I’ve lived a life.

I’ve lived my life.

I’ve lived a life of Anne Rice Novels and indie movies, Sandman comics,

Skipping ropes, paintbrushes, spinning vinyl’s, tears, hope and rejections.

I’ve lived a life,

A life that can’t be dimmed by what others think a life should be.

American English Mine

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I’m a child of two countries

One I was born into

The other surrounded me from birth

It wrapped its flag around my eyes

And poured its dialects into my ears

Through screens and radios

It made my mind its own

Now I think and speak with two minds

Two tongues

Now I see the world two ways

The country I was born into

And the one that forced its way inside