riding that high
back to stage
i can sing
i can engage an audience
i can act through a song
i can do riffs and runs (?maybe?)
i can do all the things
i am talented
i am hardworking
i can do it
i can do it
i can do it
i am good enough
i am enough
let this be a reminder
to my future self
who does’t believe
in me
they say
not to judge
because you never know
what someone
might be going through
but i’d adjust that
ever so slightly
to say
don’t judge someone
because you never know what someone
might be going
or still be going
through
because
there may be some
who
if you know their current life
well
they could bee going through
a whole ton
of good
but still
their mind is trying
to make sense
of a hardship
that happened
years and years before;
whether because
childhood trauma tends to stunt
the receiver
at that age
until healing can fully
occur,
or because they may have gone through
a whole ton of shit
at once
and they needed to only unpack
one traumatic suitcase
at a time
so now’s the time
to look into
not only what happened
so long ago
but also what holding on to it
for so long
made them feel,
or maybe they simply have never gotten
the help
(professional or otherwise)
they needed
to get through that thing.
so i suppose what i’m trying to say
is don’t judge other people.
that being said,
i offer love and compassion
to a point–
i don’t really care how many traumas you
were exposed to
at whatever age,
if you start taking your rage
out on folks
who have less than you,
who your power holds
a tight strangle-hold over,
and you don’t offer them
the compassion i’m offering you,
that offer is rescinded.
and keep your damn legislation
off of the backs
of Black,
Indigenous
folks,
people of color,
especially those who you deem ‘lesser than’
because they can
create life inside,
and especially
especially
get your laws away
from trans folks,
particularly trans children,
who are just trying to survive
in this life
that could be a joy
if you’d just let it.
and of course
maybe, just maybe, let us
have some healthy Earth
to give to future generations.
i just want
to do something
so i can feel like
i’ve done something.
ever feel like
you’ve regressed
in your talent
even while you’ve spent
every
single
day
practicing at it?
nah, me neither…
i heard an acting coach say, once,
that her actors and their problems
could be pretty precisely divided up
into two distinct groups:
those who did all the homework, and needed to stop thinking so hard,
and those who weren’t coming in with the work done, and needed to put forth
more effort
i feel like i fall into both categories,
no matter how split she thought them;
i overthink and overanalyze and over worry
and yet, i feel like i never actually finish my basic homework,
and i come in with the feeling of flying by the seat of my pants
every chance
i get.
maybe i am in the first group
and my problem is
even while i’m not doing work
(and therefore think i’m in the second group)
i am still worry-working
and spending a whole ton of mental energy
as if i were in the first group
and that makes my general vibe
an over-thinker
over worker
over do-er
so where does that leave me now?
i’ve been writing
for
450 days
writing poetry
every morning
for
450 days
and this is still my
wake-up
this is still my
focus-time
this is still my
resistance
you know?
~~~
itching for adventure
one coming up soon
not soon enough?
~~~
the plan
is planned
for today
stick to it?
i may…
i’ll never think flags
are dumb
again.
while there are flags for every
little
sexuality
gender
identity
feeling
fandom
these days
(even the different states in america have their own flag!
and cities!!
it’s getting ridiculous, guys…)
and the ‘meanings’ behind the colored stripes
i often find
a little forced
but
i know of multiple
*multiple*
people
(some i knew personally,
some i only heard their story from their mouth
over a little known
‘clock app’)
who, being non-binary, never felt ‘trans enough’
‘yes’ they’d think to themselves,
‘trans means someone who does not identify
as the gender they were assigned
at birth,
but i’ve had no transition
social/
hormonal/
surgical/
how does that really imply
*trans*-gender?’
and then they’d learn that the white stripe in the middle
of the trans pride flag
is for non-binary folks specifically.
‘i see myself in the trans flag’ their faces of delighted surprise seemed to say
‘i am trans enough—
i mean, i’m part of the damn flag!’
and i recently learned about the disability pride flag
(it had a re-design so those with sight sensitivities
could scroll and not be assaulted by the
zig-zag making strobe effects on their screens)
and i’ve been trying to do more research into the disability community,
one i admired from afar,
and read about,
and wondered if any of my strange nerve pains are
an invisible illness sneaking up on me,
or if my glasses are enough of a mobility aid to think of them as such,
or, still, if my depression/anxiety interrupt my day-to-day
in this world built for neurotypicals
to even imagine them as disabilities.
but in learning about the disability pride flag
and what those colors mean
and that blue stripe
right there
calls out mental illness—
very
obviously
states
that mental illness
is part
of the disability
community
and i have never breathed such a loaded sigh
of relief
of pride
of protection
of fear
of the weight of what it means
to be disabled in a culture
that would rather pretend a global pandemic
is over
than admit that disabled people
are bearing the brunt
of the deaths and tragedies from it
so
even though
i take on most of my mental illness
in isolation
(except for some poems
here and there
in this here daily poetry blog)
i’m starting to think of myself
as one who has community
rather than one
without
welcome,
those of you who have decided
against
celebrating the us’s birthday,
glad you’ve arrived!
not to say i’ve been here that long;
i always kind of half-heartedly enjoyed
the fireworks
the cookouts
the bonfires
because
they were fun
but i never felt that loved by this country
(even after ‘marriage equality’ was bestowed upon me);
my last ‘official’ july 4th was
2019.
in 2020 i listened as
people who don’t look like me
confronted july 4th
and taught me what
holding a country accountable
could look like
in 2021 i had a quiet day;
bettering myself in an acting class
run by a
trans
woman
of color
immigrent
who let me let my
witchy poet side
rise
and this year…
this year it’ll be another quiet one.
our plans are simple:
my spouse is creating their own company
with the intention to make life better
for those who have to deal with this
capitalistic hellscape;
and i will be making art for protest–
embroidery,
and writing,
rehearsing for queer shows,
and reading more words by more folks
who don’t look like me/
who weren’t raised in the privileges i was raised/
but we still have so much in common.
and the two of us, my spouse and i,
we won’t spend any money
(except in donation
to those who need
more than we),
we’ll make our own food
and cut our own hair,
mend our own clothes,
and give each other care,
and maybe some seeds will sprout today
(both literally and figuratively)
that will give future us even more reason
to stop giving to this country
until this country gives back
to those it’s taken from.
(it’s a small protest, we know
but maybe, if you can do a little bit, too,
we might be able to dismantle
systems of oppression
bit
by bit
by bit)
so, welcome,
those of you who have decided
against
celebrating this day today,
we’re so glad you’re here.
even when i’m sad
or overwhelmed
with the state of the world
this puppy doesn’t know
this puppy just wants to play
this puppy will look at me
with a tilted head
trying so hard to figure out what i’m saying
this puppy will sleep so peacefully
her feet dance and dance and dance
this puppy may not know
what’s happening
in the world
or down the street
or even fully understand
what’s happening in this house
but this puppy is happy
and that happiness
infects me
infects us
every day
and makes the world’s problems seem
a little
less daunting
for a moment
(and that is what i call
self
care)
i have a recurring dream
(in that it has happened twice)
where i’m trying to get to a
circus training place in
Bushwick
but the daytime trains are all delayed
so i have to take a lesser known line
but instead of being like a regular
subway
system
or even an
elevated train
it is pretty much a
mine cart
tromping
open aired
through secret forested areas of Brooklyn
on smaller rail lines
held up on top of stones and rocks
reminiscent of the tracks
i grew up
walking along
at all hours
day
and
night.
kipventures 