i secretly love
going back
and reading old poems
(even old poem-to-do-lists)
and seeing
who
and how
i was
back[not really that far]then
reading poetry
August 14, 2022
i did it
i performed my own poetry
i read it out loud
for people
and the people
felt
emotions
is this another aspect
of poetry as the opposing side
to prose’s analytic/logic basis?
is poetry’s purpose both
to come from a place of true emotionality
but also
to affect the reader/listener
empathetically?
and how do i come at this craft
from such a brainy/overthinking origin
just to affect those i’m reading to
so profoundly in the feels?
December 20, 2021
a few months ago
i was stricken
with the fact
that it was getting harder and harder for me
to read
detail.
as a person who thrives
on noticing the tiniest things
the fact that i’d started to skim
most posts/paragraphs/poems
alarmed me
greatly;
i thought it was my own fault,
that my brain was changing
with age,
or maybe writing my own poetry
meant i wasn’t paying attention to others’?
it felt wrong
and hypocritical
and about as un-hj as i could become
it wasn’t until
approximately
one month ago
when someone on
ye olde interwebs
(with a degree in psychology, mind you)
informed their viewers
that it’s ok if we’re all feeling
like it’s hard to concentrate
as of late,
as we are still going through
a global
pandemic/
panini/
patrick stewart/
panda express/
an entire global
trauma,
and we shouldn’t be too hard on ourselves.
so i’ll heed their advice,
and in those moments when i can find minute details,
i’ll treasure them with pride.
but until then,
i’ll try to skim twice
as to not miss anything important,
and not beat myself up about it
too too much.
August 24, 2021
went to sleep in a Mood™
woke up in a Whole Other Mood™
and i’m realizing how reliant i am on
the negative talk and self-sabotage and executive dysfunction
to truly be the blame for when things go wrong,
so when i am happy, when i do actually put forth the effort
to try to do things right,
and if circumstances just happen to breed the same outcome…
the low-key self-hatred,
the kind i can ignore away
because it’s always there
becomes loud
becomes bites with teeth
and those teeth are the “proof” from the external factors
which i know, logically, are circumstantial,
or i could have done something to change, but i literally didn’t know at the time
but damn if that bite isn’t sharp and deep
deep
deep down to my soul
till i start to believe the fanged monster
when they say
truly
no one loves you
and you are to blame
[look at all this proof]
~~~
and now we have the decision-making,
the ‘do i put this up on my site or not’-ing.
i’m truly fine;
i’m an adult, so i don’t have those crazy teen-hormones running around my brain and bloodstream
begging me to do something rash,
something stupid,
something irreversible.
and i am nothing if not an overthinker,
i can see the consequences of each and every action i might take
from here inside myself to externally to those i love
to forward moving in the future
and even back-ward looking to color the past
but that overthinking and knowing i’m too intellectual to actually do anything about anything
makes for even more frustration in the moment
there’s no outlet
no doing anything
just writing sad poetry
and waiting it all out…
so i guess
don’t take this as a plea for help
just take this in as my brain working some shit out.
~~~
just go read your own writing
maybe you’ll like yourself
one day
kipventures 