contemplating complex concepts
finding the best words/metaphors/allegories
still feeling vaguely like
a vast amount
of vapor
Month: September 2021
September 19, 2021
…where has that feeling been?
that connection with the universe??
[it’s probably packed up in a box somewhere—
i’ll find it again once we’re all moved.]
September 18, 2021
getting things done
accomplished
organized
prepared
ready to go
is important.
but so is
chatting
stories
fun
reminiscing
venting
holding space
re-connecting
taking time.
[is this what my therapist means
when she says
‘self care’?]
September 17, 2021
road rage
comes from
feeling safe
and secure
and invincible
in your little metal box
but actually
you never know
who you’re honking at
so maybe
just maybe
just
chill.
(of course, in New York City, all bets are off,
because everyone honks at everyone
and no one really takes it as rage any more
it’s more just part of the general soundscape
of the city.
so…
)
September 16, 2021
normally, i don’t mind
the kind of worship-full relationship
we have with our animals,
our pets,
(nos animaux de compagnie),
but when it comes time
to pack and organize and box and move…
i do feel a tiny bit resentful
that half of the beings in this home,
that two of the four of us,
don’t contribute at all
(and, in fact, often make things a million times harder)
September 15, 2021
woke up
in a mood
in a mood-y mcmood-mood
such a mood.
will blue raspberry waffles help disentangle me
from this darn
mood ™
?
~
waffles helped
as did a nap
and coffee
but mostly
doing
rather than sitting
and writing
(unlike most days)
how about that?
September 14, 2021
stress and
apprehension and
a desire to make these poems
go somewhere.
i’m constantly plagued
haunted by
itching with the possibility
of a full story
expanding
under a reader’s nose
(what was that one book?
Green Angel?
something like that?
where it was poetry
that unfolded
into a complete story?)
and i want these Morning Poems
to tell my story,
but how can they
when my story isn’t done yet?
i may be right at the beginning
i might be hella in the middle
but one thing’s for certain:
life is messy
and stories are good or bad in how they’re told,
not the stories themselves,
especially when they’re true
honest
nonfiction.
it’s the fiction that gets the nice, neat bow at the end;
life blurs around the edges
try hard as you might
to color inside the lines
so embrace the chaos
cacophony
quandary
(and, of course, let your imagination ride out
the potential
of telling a portion of this story
your story
in this form you’ve happened upon…
maybe there is a way to tie up
the loose ends
of a fraction
of your tale.
in fiction,
of course)
September 13, 2021
mantras and manifestations are weird:
to fully believe them
isn’t necessarily to
fully believe them;
it’s to throw them out into the universe
and trust
trust
trust
that they will come back
(and to trust
trust
trust
that you’ll be there,
fully,
to catch what returns)
September 12, 2021
how am i supposed to write the most beautiful
heart-wrenching
new-fangled
captivating
epic
poetry
if i can’t even bring my eyes
to focus in enough
to read my own words
for longer than ten lines?
September 11, 2021
twenty years
it feels like less than ten
i’m still a mid-western teen at heart
trying to figure out how to live life
after witnessing that kind of trauma on live television
in my own school,
barely a month after cancer took my mom
man, that year was fucked.
~~~
the response
to 9/11
was nearly as traumatic
as the tragedy itself
instead of finding solace
and comfort
within community
we (the usa) blew it out of proportion.
we became the poster child for
acting out
(starting wars)
tantrum-throwing
(testosterone-fueled über patriotism)
and general bad blood in the world-relations stage
and the problem with the way our patriotism showed itself
(by literally shoving our ideals down other cultures’ throats)
is that it made youth like myself
not feel safe in our own country,
not feel like our representatives to the world community
truly
represented our best interests
(and yes,
with many fundamentalist factions of many other countries,
that is the same,
whether it’s oppressing lgbtq voices
or women’s voices
or a religion other than the majority…)
i simply feel a sense of
terrible
irony
that the usa invaded multiple countries
(but not the country that was actually responsible for the attack)
as a way to “loosen the oppression” on those oppressed,
but back home
the oppression
of queer,
of female-bodied,
of Black and brown and everyone of color
was growing
day
by day
by day by day by day
and the hypocrisy
of all that
feels so egregious
(but, i suppose, it always does, doesn’t it?)
(only those with the power to oppress others
will feel like theirs is the only power
to un-oppress
everyone)
~~~
it is important
to remember and honor
those who died,
but in doing so
we must also remember and honor
those who died in the endless wars
(american/soldier/and otherwise)
and those who died due to any sort of oppressive regime,
including, but certainly not limited to:
slavery,
ISIS,
AIDS,
Taliban,
Holocaust,
war on drugs,
general hate/white supremacy…
so now you see what it’s like in my brain
all the time
trying to honor and speak out against
all unnecessary deaths
and hurts
and oppression
and not entirely knowing how…
[i suppose that’s why i write poetry]
kipventures 