Studio Ghibli piano music
sings out of speakers
playful and delicate
and a butterfly flutters just outside the window
where our one speaker sits
calling the magic of life
towards it
life
February 22, 2024
half of my self
wants to run around
and have adventures
and meet only new people
and hear stories
and create more
and never ever ever stop
moving
and the other half of me is so comfortable
having a night in
television blaring
but not staring into a screen
instead cuddling up with my kip
or embroidering
or organizing bookshelves
or cleaning
just the menialest of menial tasks
feeling
so satisfied
but whenever i do one
i feel fulfilled for a bit
until i hear the other option
calling to me
and the only place i find i can fully balance out
is in sleep
when my physical self is at rest
and my imagination is bursting
[i really need to write more than poetry sometime]
January 4, 2024
maybe i just need a kick in the pants
a push in some direction
any direction
to just try some things out
let’s dabble in dancing
in aerial theatre
in embroidery/stained glass/poetry/story-writing/singing
i want to be performing
and i want to stay home and safe and comfy
and i want to be known
and i want to never be perceived
and i want to grow my talents
but i get so frustrated when i’m not immediately good at something
and i can’t help but think
that this is what life is
so if it’s what life is
then maybe i should just
enjoy the ride
that i’m on
December 23, 2022
how does one get
better
at poetry?
is it all about alliterations
and internal rhyme
and the thousands of metaphors
that have already been primed
to be shared, to be taken, to be overused
to the point of cliche
to say i want to be a poet
is not to mean i want to spoon-feed you stanzas of
love
as a beautiful weed
or churn out odes to
the moon
(though our lunar satellite is pretty cool)
but i digress
i must confess
my digression into this poem was nothing more than a question
not a contemplation of how i am the best
(my goodness, i know i’m not the best)
but i want to know—
for the poems that i read
and hear
that flow
and hit me right here
(that’s my heart, in case you aren’t watching)
they speak of the human condition
universal language
of love, joy, pain, suffering
maybe one day i could write
as well as
Amanda Gorman
Angel Nafis
Staceyann Chin
Audre Lorde
(hah
i remember a time the only poets i knew
were crusty old men
and look at me now,
just off the top of my head
badass black femme poets whom i’ve read
rather recently
and i want to imbibe more
more cultures
more languages
more experiences
because—
and here it is
the point i was trying to make—
i think
to be a better poet
you must have experiences
life experiences
living
breathing
interacting with people
experiencing all this world has to offer
this universe
and so
in conclusion
i guess i should go
live
more?
)
December 2, 2022
self-care december
we’re doing things we don’t normally do
(and some we do, in fact, normally do)
to see ourselves become the version of ourselves
we/
the planet/
each other
needs
it can be an event
a food
a conversation
a lack of workaholism
a slowing down
a dancing up
a gentle nap with our injured pup
pretty much
anything
we deem
good for ourselves
it should help us breathe through the holidays
it should help us enjoy these dark day times
it should help us get into next year
relatively unscathed
and still breathe through every day
mindfullness
meditation
self-care
no longer foreign concepts to be misunderstood or eye-rolled at
they’re recommended because they work
because repackaged for a non-colonized audience
that’s simply called
living
June 25, 2022
constitutional protections
to life
liberty
and the pursuit of happiness
are being stripped away to reveal
all we ever had
was the right to make money
for others
~~~
i’m all for corpse rights
but
when a dead person has more
bodily autonomy
than 50% of living citizens
something seems
off
~~~
although
with gun rights the way
they are
we might be dead soon anyway
so…
…yay upcoming rights?
April 13, 2022
did the work
did the thing
should i feel accomplished?
here’s the rub:
i know it could have gone better
(i know it could have gone worse)
but
it has become part of me
part of my mornings
(alongside my coffee)
and yeah, i guess i’ve learned a little
about myself
my words
my process(es)
my struggle-busses
(though i still feel so far away from having any of those
actually/totally ‘figured out’)
but does it have to mean anything?
does there have to be a large lesson learned
do our lives ever truly have
a beginning/middle/end
(except
birth/
the entirety of our lives/
death)
?
so,
i tell myself
from myself
to myself,
stop trying to make a neat story
where life just is
(that’s the fun thing about life:
it doesn’t get tied in a nice bow
at the end of every chapter;
it seeps
and bleeds
into every part of you;
your childhood
didn’t just cut off when you turned teen,
your teen-self didn’t stop teen-ing
when you entered college,
and with every passing year
you grow
but you can’t just let go
of who you once were,
you carry those stories
those strengths and faults
those likes and dislikes
those selves
with you
always,
they are part of what helped you get here;
you can’t have leaves without the branches,
and you can’t have branches without the trunk,
and you certainly can’t have a trunk without the roots
(and, if we’re comparing ourselves to trees now,
we might as well commit
and talk about how,
underneath,
supporting the roots themselves,
are mycelial networks
helping with nutrients
and
connecting trees to each other
and
living symbiotically,
so community
is the lesson learned there:
not even trees
stand solely alone)
)
so
i suppose
what i/this poem
are saying
is
this experiment might continue on for another year
or another five
or stop abruptly
just before another year mark
or i might not poem tomorrow
the point
is that i did it
i proved to myself
that i could do it
(though, with my stubbornness, i didn’t have too much doubt)
and i’ve written
(at least) one poem
every
single
day
for a year
and posted them
for the internet to see
and that’s all that matters
(right now, at least)
March 25, 2022
i am amazed
at this body i was gifted
i am enraged
at this body that was
forced upon me;
i never gave my consent
to be born to this
but what a miracle
is life
is it not?
October 21, 2021
i’m a writer who draws
and an actor who overthinks
and a spouse with a cat and a dog
and all i really want
is to create some beauty
through this slog
called ‘life’
August 22, 2021
i [will i ever?] never do anything with my
‘Big Poems’
and i have so dubbed them because
they are (for lack of a better word)
Big™
there are many words,
the concepts are huge,
the concepts are also, often, risky
(as in, i’m leading with an opinion
or a statement
that has the potential
to anger
a whole group of
[already very angry]
people.
and as a bit of a pacifist,
that concept is terrifying
(both from a my-own-safety
and from a my-own-philosophy
kind of way)
but as a bit of a radical
anti-capitalist
anti-patriarchal
and 100% anti white supremacy
-ist
i should feel comfortable
confident
to speak my own truth
knowing
that to uphold life
above profit
in all things
is righteous
not wrongteous
it’s just that…
the other side is so loud
and my ears already hurt
from closing them to my own personal truths for so long
(but that’s another subject
for another poem
for another day)
today we are wondering
if i’ll ever bring those Big Poems out from my document
share them with the ten or so readers that ever traverse past this page
and even if i get up the gumption
what then?
they are saved and stuck for another reason,
and that reason:
they still feel unfinished.
but, as i think i’ve written before,
i’m bad at finishing things
i’m bad at conceptualizing endings
i’m bad at wrapping things up…
(but maybe that’s what the Big Poems need…
big ideas don’t necessarily have a nice ending
wrapped up in a beautiful bow,
so…
)