my brain is not awake yet,
nor is my body, really,
and the first sip of coffee is cheap
when
you know you could sleep for hours
even with the whole mug in your bloodstream,
and i keep getting distracted by tiny chores
which probably could/should be done,
but will it take away from these
morning page poetry streams of [semi-un]consciousness(?)
and
why can’t i think of myself like i did
at fifteen
seventeen
nineteen
when i fancied myself a mini-ee cummings
well on my way to
making language my b*tch(?)
even though now it’s probably more reality-based
to think that someone else has thought of
‘streams of [semi-un]consciousness’
before,
but boy,
did it give my ego a boost
to think i was thinking
entirely new thoughts
new concepts
new words
new communications
with new people
instead of how my brain is now
knowing that there are no new ideas
and instead of that spurring me on
to create without worry of plagiarism,
it instead spurns every concept i have
with the barrage of
‘you will never be creative enough
to think of anything
fully
new’
[
you
].
morning poetry
February 4, 2022
man
these morning poems aren’t doing shit for me
and i’ve felt adrift since 2022 day three
and i thought i’d found where my serotonin was lost
but it turns out it was just capitalism in a silly mustache
and i tried for a while to follow the dopamine
but i guess that dopamine i followed wasn’t meant for me
so i suppose i could just succumb to the unconscious dreams of sleep
but naps give me less time to accomplish the day
but is it even day if the sky is so grey
and the haze of the rain pounds the panes in sheets
and this playlist slaps but sometimes too much too deep
and i’ve probably lost the rhyme scheme somewhere in this mush of words
but i push and i pull and i try to open new doors
but they scare me so much
i’m paralyzed
to the floor
so i guess i’ll write
and write some more
until i can pull up my feet
and walk outside
once
more.
January 30, 2022
not knowing what to write
from day
to day
makes the flow of
‘i don’t know what to write
day to day’
both overdone
and
sparklingly new
like, if one looks at the
subject matter,
the themes between the lines,
it all kind of
muddles together,
but the ways i go about
expressing
these same subjects
can sometimes have
lives
within the poems themselves.
like the tempo of
‘it’s been days since i knew what to write’
is much slower than the pacing of
‘i’m itching for something to write about
and i feel on a precipice
about to find
it’
and the stuttering step of
‘who am i and what do i write’
clashes at its core with
‘i’m figuring out
that it’s ok
if i don’t know what to write
from day
to day
to day,
i’ll just write
and write
and see what happens
and what writings
may sling
from my head
to my fingertips
to this [formerly] blank document page
before my bespectacled eyes’
and that,
i find,
is the difference.
January 29, 2022
morning
morning pages
morning page poetry
speak to me
help me think of
newfound rhymes
and syncopated time
and of times gone by
and please try
to make it sound
interesting
and captivating
and mind-blowing
and not too
dumb.
January 20, 2022
what would make this morning
a real one
one where i achieve a
peaceful/excitable
writing
poetry
flow?
January 18, 2022
as i do more things
i feel like my mainstays
stay in the background
(so far back
that i forget if i did them
or not)
but they are habits/rituals/consistencies
for a reason
(and it is not the worst thing
in the world
to miss a day
or two)
so
stop
worrying
about it,
and stop
worrying
like there’ll be punishment
if some other thing takes a day
away
just because
physical exercise
has been added
and social classes
have continued
doesn’t mean
the morning poems will cease
or the language learning
will falter
there used to be
dozens
of things
in your day,
you enjoyed
filling
the day-lit hours…
don’t force it,
just
remember.
January 12, 2022
{unknown}
what i want to write
{unknown}
what i want with my life
{unknown}
what decision to make from
a life
rife
with greatness
and gloom,
elation
and existential dread…
speak what my mind
wanders to wonder
about day to day,
week to week,
(second to second,
why am i always second in my actions
but the only thing on my mind?)
{experiment
unknown
until
something makes sense}
January 8, 2022
too tired to write anything
of substance
too word-play-y
to not,
stuck in a limbo
of will i won’t i
(a new take on ‘will they won’t they’)
(get it, cuz i’m nonbinary and use they/them pronouns)
listening to music from the
‘Roaring 20’s’
so what are we?
‘The Coughing 20’s’?
‘The Dying 20’s’?
‘The Denying and Closing our Eyes and Covering our Ears and Screaming “[B]LA[B]LA[B]LA”
Over All the Signs
and Words of Learned Folks
and Science
20’s’?
i wish i had the compassion of
Amanda Gorman
the faith in people of
Anne Frank
the calmness and knowledge and belief
of so many
but i am caught between
i want to see the good
and
i can only see the bad
played
over
and
over
and
over
again
behind my eyelids
every time they close
(and most of the time while they’re open,
too)
i know i’m doing little
to halt/hold/stop the division
of one side
‘gainst the other,
but it’s hard to listen to folks
who’d never listen to me
were i to show them my true self,
who argue that folks like me
are a disease unto society
and deserve the worst of death.
if you can’t look at me like a human
then why should i listen to you
like your opinions have any say
in my living my own life
in my own honest way
(maybe this is why
it’s so important
to look inwards
for spirituality
as opposed to outwards)
but this poem
is kind of a mess,
but it is morning
so i can mull through
my thoughts of the day approaching
and get them all out of my fingertips
and onto this blank page/document/screen
for all to see
(or at least the six of you who usually read)
(hi, by the way)
and the poem doesn’t ~need~ to mean anything
it can just be,
a product of my brain,
my overthinking-
obsessive compulsive tendency-
pessimist in the body of an optimist-
-brain,
and leave it
for whomever may need it
(which might just be me
needing to get it out
in order to write
other things)
December 15, 2021
what to write about
what to ponder about
what to mull and meander in the mind?
~~~
[but] do i have a poem
to put
on my site
of poetries?
one from the beginning of todays’ mullings?
one from a day gone by?
no ideea…
what poems are
‘meant’
to come up
to blossom out
to emerge into fruition
full, tangible, edible fruit
of the creatively-writing tree
round your lips around them
digest them
feel them in your heart
but which
ones?
~~~
three short poems?
is that enough to quiet my inner capitalist
constantly telling me i’m not enough
unless i
produce
produce
produce?
rest is a thing
it’s a damn revelation
in a society that only supports
working oneself to the bone
burning the candle at both ends
living fast and
whooshing out
(and/but why the sudden need
desire
pull
to consume as well?
why do i just want to be looking at
vintage trousers
on etsy
and buying more gifts
for my spouse?
…’tis the season?)
November 29, 2021
i’m feeling
settled
[not settling]
comfortable
in my own skin
in my place in life
content.
this is not an emotion i am familiar with
at all
but it’s nice to know it can come to me
every once in a while
(and maybe, just maybe,
this settled/comfort/contentment,
can propel me towards my next
endeavor.)
~~~
i feel like
i don’t do
Morning Pages/
Morning Poetry
the same as i used to,
but that could be ok.
maybe there are days when i need
to write/poem it out,
and those are the days when my word count
lands solidly into the mid-three digits,
and there are a few days when i know what i need to say
and one short poem
is all i need for the morning,
and then there are days like today
when i don’t need to write to figure things out,
but i’d like to write to
have something written
(and also because i’m figuring out how to be awake)
so i suppose
it’s all
alright.
~~~
someday
i’ll count all the hobbies
i’ve acquired
over the years
(and those with supplies
but no real forward movement)
but for today
i’ll say
i’m happy i have a spouse
who keys into my ever shifting hobbies
(and also flits in and out of their own)
so soon, this house will be filled with
wood whittling projects
and perhaps even a soldering pencil!
kipventures 