O.K. So I think I've pretty much downplayed the value of my work as much as I can. In case you didn't realize, I was being sarcastic. I grew up too fast in a small town just outside of Los Angeles; this poetry is a direct result of those drunken escapades and short-lived affairs. And now, I've brought the sordid little details of my pubescent nightmares out into the open, to share them with whoever happens to drop in. Well, here they are...for you to love or hate.
The first few are more recent, and reflect my less obnoxious writing phase. The latter
selections...well, we were all young and self-absorbed once upon a time.
We have "Give Me My Tiara, Bitch", an honest look at the "beauty is on the inside" myth. This poem was published in the one year anniversary issue of (Sic)Vice and Verse.
Next up is "No Rules", the naive wish we make when we've found someone so fabulous that
paradise becomes anyplace they happen to be.
"Strong Woman" was written on the day I decided to stop whining and victimizing myself,
and actually take part in fulfilling my destiny. O.K., so I'm still whining...but I am actively
involved in my own life now.
Old Poems
There's "Tony", which is about that point in time
where you think you really, really love someone...and the next day it just
turns out it was just too much beer.
Then there's
"Pan", which I wrote sometime in the ninth grade, when I
was completely obsessed with an 18 year-old who crushed my poor little
freshman heart. It's amusing.
Next on the list is
"Peekaboo". I think everyone can relate to the
absolute desperation I express here. At times it seems like just when you're
about to reach some sort of truce with love, she gives you the finger.
"Brian" was a guy I knew in high school.
There was a lot of sexual tension between us, because he was a conservative
bastard. It didn't work out, but he still has Rush :).
When I wrote
#15, it was after I had just gotten home from my first
poetry slam. The poet who was the 15th reader became the object of my
affection for a full hour or so. I sighed longingly, thinking of him,
on the drive home...but, alas, he was, the next morning, forgotten.
There is a little heroin reference in "Spoons"
because of the way it was the perfect analogy for a bad man. Although you
know it's unhealthy, you can't keep away...and nothing seems quite as good.
"Matt" was "the love of my life" type of guy.
I spent a few months falling for him, one night breaking his heart, and the
rest of my life trying to repair the damage to his pride and trust.
Matt was the inspiration for "I am the Whore".
As selfish as it was, I wanted to be a part of his life, even if I was just
a photo in a shoe box, or a book. I can't stand the idea of slowly fading
from existence in someone's mind, even if those memories are bittersweet
(o.k., a little more bitter than sweet).
If you enjoy my little
ditties, drop me a line (my address is at the bottom of the page).
If not, well, screw you.
"Give Me My Tiara, Bitch"
There isn't a knife
that can cut as deeply
as you've wounded me
Each time you come into my life
I have less
you have more
You love like a chameleon
changing your heart
each time it suits you
I forgive and forgive and forgive
but you do all the forgetting
I am unbeautiful near you
Adonis:
Unable to wear a bikini well
my membership to the exclusive
country club of your admiration
was revoked
You could not love me
so I changed
You still can not love me
and now I am a stranger
to myself
Unloved
Ame
Amo
Amare
I have loved I love I will love I will live
through 1,000 days without you
but that's not the part that bothers me
The part that bothers me is how we say
"Beauty is on the inside"
and you nod even now, yes,
"Beauty is on the inside"
we tell freckle-faced, wire-rimmed, roly-poly, crooked-nosed, lazy-eyed children
to give them comfort and hope
but I don't think
when I go to a party
in a low-cut shirt
that my sparkling wit
and kind spirit
is what keeps them
cumming
"Beauty is on the inside"
my ugly wonderful baby
and if they don't love you the way you are
they don't deserve you
Well, that's another story entirely
because no one loves you the way you are
that's another happy lie we tell ourselves
so we can feel better about love handles
and bad hair
it's only a matter of time until you find these things out
and then you think
well wasn't that the truth?
Isn't "Beauty is on the inside"?
Beauty is never on the inside
I know this:
that I can buy
whichever body I choose
that I can and should have my breasts amputated
and reattached to my forehead
for greater visibility
Beauty is an augmented breast
a collagen injected lip
a muscular calf
a dimple-free thigh
buns of steel
abs of steel
cunts and cocks and eyes of steel
Beauty is never on the inside
I know this
and I can prove it
because if beauty were on the inside
I'd be Miss Fucking America
"No Rules"
Running around where no one can see us
we circle each other and cry
because it doesn’t get any better than
two rag dolls in the wind
beaten by time and the persistence of memory
We can hide or sit together
in the grass
And no one will say I have a sordid past
And no one will say you are wrong
And no one will patronize us
because no one here is righteous and self-proclaimed
darling
Here no one will eavesdrop and tell all what I say
because there is no one to eavesdrop
And we can be alone in this place
And get drunk in this place
And pass out in each other’s arms in this place
And not be hungover in the morning
Because I am magician
and you are the magic
and without one another
we are nothing
And we can stay up all night
and make the sun rise turquoise if we want
and we can perch in the trees like squirrels
we’ll lie in the shadows
and break all of the rules
they taught us
(and some of the ones they didn’t)
"Strong Woman"
I want to be self sufficient
I want to walk on a Wall Street street
and the pounce in my stride
the angle of my breast
to tell everyone
just how permanent I am
I want to forget lovers
dead and gone
I want to make new memories
and not use them
like insulation
for the walls around my brain
What it is
that makes me moan
that makes me lame
deaf, dumb and blind
to a future that blatantly reeks of my name;
begs me to take it
by the neck
from behind
and pummel it
Though I cower
though I shuffle along
Dwelling Weights at my ankles
though I whine
and whine
and whine
though I drive my car
to the homes of men
who will never love me again
though I sit and cry in their driveways
though my musty hands spell nothing
but fear
The Hope, she is unabiding
wells up in my words
when I speak of understanding
when spiritual growth oozes
out of my lips, ears, eyes and nose,
exuding unwillingly war cries
of one million women passed,
forcing me into this fabulous existence
Birthing a full grown woman
optimism shouts ecstatically
and though I kick and scream
she knows that I will grow
I know that I will grow
"Tony"
This limp in my heart
this bruise in my head
all make me reminiscent
of how we swam
in the middle of the night
how the smarmy moon
made my chest cave in
and there she nestled
content
It makes me wish
I hadn’t given
your letters back
in a fit of indignation
It makes me regret
not kissing you tonight
It makes me hate
loving you
and you not loving me
How do you make
someone believe
that you are not whole
without them
and how do you
convince them
that they should make you so
How do you tell
this deaf man
“You are everything!”
How can I trap
this butterfly
without crushing
it wings
So I hold his hands
and cry
wishing I could hold them there forever
wishing we could fall asleep in a park
knowing neither will happen
So my heart limps home
and I cry
(even harder)
"Pan"
Crazy rain
straight down
the face of you
gets caught
in the crease
of a word
sneaks into my eye
and stays for a while
your hand kissing mine
briefly
As you trickle down
my back
your acknowledgment
of my existence
splashes in the puddles
I don’t own
any pedestals
but if I did
you would not occupy one
On a pedestal
there is the danger
that you might
tumble and shatter
to wash away
in all that
crazy rain
straight
down the face of you
gets caught in
the crease of a word
sneaks
into my
eye and stays
for a while
your hand
kissing mine briefly
"Peekaboo"
Dizzy with explosive thought
the crazy notion of love
constantly escapes me
into some dark alley
where I dare not follow
only watch
in bereft silence
as her milky hands
wave distressedly
for me to come
find her
In this round
of Hide and Seek
we both are out of breath
and become lonely
waiting for one
to find the other
We grow impatient
worrisome
and just as I think
I am sure
she will never catch me
out pops her blurry head
and she giggles
tags me it
while running into the distance
"Brian"
Flowers filling the air around you
once I could have said
“It means something”
I asked you
You came
and ran away in fear
Who can blame you
But many times
I have thought of you
the soft lit innocent one
Your curls in my fingers
Your lips on my brow
Some dream in the distance
Your weird crystalline eyes looking into me
you asked
“What do you want me to do?
What am I supposed to do?”
I had so many answers
so many cutting remarks
so many tears to shed
and when you saw them well up
You touched my arm...
For a long time
I waited for you
For a long time
I hid the flowers
I hid the passions
I hid the Black Widow in me--
something I would give up
entirely
for just one opportunity
to prove how decent I am
what a good lover and mother
I would make
And now
that I have found someone new
Now that someone else
rides in my car
Now that I have forgotten
what an excellent conversationalist
you are
Now that all these things
have come to pass
Now
you touch my arm
look into my eyes
and I am lost all over again
"#15"
I wanted to slip my number
into your pocket
I wanted to tell you
- how
you must be
the other half of my orange
- that when we drive on the highway
I’m sure we sing
the same lines
of the same songs
- and in identical dreams
we have searched
for each other
all along
So I wonder
- if you bite your fingernails
into stubs
like me
I wonder
- if you get drunk at parties
meander outside
and watch the fat
bulbous moon swing
destined to throw up
and scribble all of these etched moments
onto a napkin before dawn
like me
I wonder
- if you ever lay in bed
at 2:30 in the morning
convinced you have met
your soul mate
after hearing him read
three poems
and knowing only
that he
is number fifteen
like me
I wonder
- if you sleep in a fetal ball
during winter
and spread askew
a lazy feline
through the summer
thin top sheet
hardly concealing your nudity
like me
And if you do
may I join you?
"Spoons"
This is not where I want to be
you are not who I want to kiss
we are lost to the wind
from a desolate place
I can never make him undestand
that we are together unbreakable
So I may tell you
my secrets
tonight
My wish
unintelligible
is etched deep in this palm
so the crease of a knuckle
is pending and dangerous now
since my whims
are engraved
on the side
No
I will never ever get what I want
Never achieve who
I am
and
I am
after something
running twice as fast as me
You are becoming farther away
and harder to see
as the minutes stretch around me
down onto
the slippery ground
they're binding my ankles
filling my mouth
spiraling entwined with one another
and coating the world
weaving a blanket
to hold you
and hold me
They’ll love us in the way
that a fix loves the junkie
and baby you know I love you!
"Matt"
Just finished watching the Simpons
didn’t hear a word they said
I was thinking of you
the whole time
and wishing I’d had
one more night
one more day
or a moment
even
in which to express
- how the inner light
turns itself on and off
- how you look to me
from this angle
- what it meant
when we shook hands
and yours lingered
your eyes with mine
Somehow everything is brighter
in your presence
I would become for you
anything
possible impossible
outrageous
and meek simultaneous
if you would smile at me
sincerely
and let your hand linger
"I am the Whore"
Keep the picture of me please
I don’t care if you leave it
someplace you never go--
the farthest corner
of your
bottom bureau drawer
Keep the picture of me
please
because greedy and self-centered
and it would make me feel
so much better
about everything
I claim to not be
and had thought I wasn’t
Even if I make you sick
Even if looks are deceiving
Even if these words mean nothing
(which I’m sure they do)
Even though you don’t care anymore
I do and will and have
but I won’t try too hard
because then
I screw it up
all over again
Just keep the picture of me
please
so that when
you are alienated
you can pull it out
from
behind the TV
or underneath
the hotel bible
you used for rolling joints
and you can say “This is The Whore That Made Me Cookies”
So now you've seen into the ugly, viscious world of teen angst. How did you like it? Not too badly burned, I hope. You know more about me than either of us ever wanted you to know, and are you the better for it? I know I am, because I can sleep soundly with the knowledge that I've dragged each and every one of you headlong through the fiery pits of my consciousness, just to keep me company.
