Seasons of a Writer
The winter of my inner being,
A white out in my glacial brain.
Another season of bitter cold,
A wasteland.
I define, rewind, realign…
Each moment I’m a different person,
Screaming “This is what I am today!”
I’m playing, praying, disobeying…

It’s hunting season, a violent place and time,
Guns and ammo ready for action inside.
I lay on my rocky chaise,
Foaming at the mouth.
I’m mapping, slapping, overlapping…
I vomit chunks of psychoanalysis
And fit them together to discover who I am.
I search, urge, purge…

It’s spring in my astral meadow,
Here my crumbling castle sits askew.
The jester, I add spice and magic
To dusty rooms.
I’m misplaced, disgraced, interlaced…
Like a recipe I bake myself a life of muffiny bliss
And pull butterflies from rotting drapery
I’m storming, performing, transforming…

Autumn’s tornadoes bring confusion,
A torrent of fallen facts, raked up
And burned.
Finding comfort in my smoke signal context,
I theorize, analyze, familiarize…
Burying my face in the ashes is understanding life,
I’m one stitch in the cloak of reality that keeps us warm.
I ask, I mask, I bask…

Blistering summer sun beats down,
Rays of cancer on my reddened flesh
Cracking under the pressure, I shatter
From skin to soul.
I resist, retaliate and photosynthesize…
Manipulate the painful into pleasure,
Dragon fire won’t burn but reinforce my blackened shell.
I shed chains, stains, pains…

Plucked from a field of blossoming ideas,
They scatter as the rain pours down,
My every word a river of bliss and torment,
Tormented bliss.
I’m sowing, growing, mowing…
I reap, nay rape my resources to exercise my craft,
Picking the brightest cherry from a mountain of pulp.
I’ve seeded, weeded, kneaded…

The transition to summer is bleak,
A stew of sunrises and sunsets.
Deserted and uneventful, the hours march on,
Indistinguishable.
I get lazy, hazy, crazy…
I pour the liquid of dreams into concrete foundations,
I lose myself brick by narcissistic brick,
I’m cruising, choosing, abusing…

Back to school inside a locked treasure chest,
Beaten by routine, a fumbled assembly line,
I bitch in vain until I’m breathless
With disgust.
I’m exasperated, underrated, emancipated…
I slam my broken heart shut to fill a pathogenic mind,
My revenge is public humiliation by superiority.
I respire, inspire, expire…

Welcome to the Birthday Channel,
I’ll be your omnipotent host,
Live in Technicolor, my ticker is mundane,
Flickering by.
I’m flaunted, wanted, undaunted…
Fans and unbiased judges cut my cake and taste,
I’m sharing pretty boxes and paper bags, acknowledgements and hate.
Still consorting, reporting, distorting…

A Looseleaf State of Mind
I have a face.
I have a voice and a style.
I have a name.
I like my name, but I don’t like to use it.

I don’t like labels.
I’ve been taught that labels are necessary,
But I refuse to write about what I am
Or am not.
This time, I’ll tell you what I like and dislike.
What I do or do not.
What I feel.

I do not feel ashamed of who or what I am,
I am not afraid to give facts and figures,
But I feel that labels are trivial and counterproductive.

I’ve been taught that identity is a crucial factor in life.
I don’t believe that, but the truth is,
I’m scared to death of losing my identity.
I’m also afraid of falling.
I’m afraid of losing my mind.

I lose myself when I listen to Danny Elfman,
But that isn’t scary.
I’m comfortable losing myself in art,
Because I always know the way back.
I’ve been lost in all of Anne Rice’s novels,
Except the newest one.
I wish I could find her other books,
(The ones written under pseudonyms).
My favourite was Memnoch the Devil,
The Vampire Lestat visited Heaven and Hell.

I believe in Heaven, but I don’t believe in Hell.
My Heaven is probably different from yours.
I also believe in reincarnation.
I want to study world religions,
But I know there aren’t many jobs in that field.

I hate money, materialism, and all it entails,
But I still don’t want to be poor when I grow up.
I will never support capitalism,
And I think socialism should be allowed in moderation.
I am opposed to conformity.
But I think that without it, life would get crazy.
Our society would be thrown off balance.
I’m a big fan of balance, but not because of astrology.

I have come to understand that
You don’t always like what’s good for you.
I’m rather terrible at math,
But took senior math classes anyway.
I want to help my mom with math,
I want her to go back to school.
I hope I can help my kids with math,
Even though I hope they’ll be smarter than I am.

I don’t want to get married,
I don’t want to own someone
Or be owned in return.
I don’t want to feel claustrophobic.
I don’t want a divorce.
Instead, I’m having a fake wedding.
I hope the groom doesn’t mind.

I’ve never had a girlfriend,
But I think women are beautiful.
I still think guys are better companions.
I’ve had two boyfriends so far,
But not at the same time.
Even though I could have.

I will live in a castle one day,
Even if it’s just a glorified tree-house in my back yard.
I’ll never forget my address or phone number,
From when I started school:
3 Syla Ave.
Scarborough, Ont.
M1R 4W7
(416) 391-2712

I have a mother who worries too much,
Sometimes it gets annoying
But I love her for it.
If I was bad, she’d probably have an ulcer.

I gave my mom the finger when I was nine.
I still feel bad about it.

I like to bend rules, but not break them.
I like to have irrational fun.
Sometimes I do stupid or outrageous things,
Mostly to entertain people, or impress them.
I never feel dumb for acting silly,
Even when I probably should.

I like to be belligerent.
I’ve been told that I’m stubborn and indecisive.
I have hypocritical tendencies.

I get annoyed when people do redundant things,
And often realize that I do them too.
I don’t like to listen when people repeat themselves.
I don’t like people who have too much confidence,
Mostly because it’s misplaced half the time.
I hate arguing with people when they’re wrong,
And sometimes I let them think they’re right
If it doesn’t matter much.
I think everyone is allowed to have an opinion,
But if they don’t, that’s okay too.

I respect activists, even when I disagree with their cause.
I think reverse discrimination is worse than the regular type
Because we can deal with negativity,
But we hate being patronized.
I think it’s useless to be politically correct.
It just causes more fear and anger,
I don’t think ignoring a problem will make it go away.

I laugh when I feel silly,
Sometimes I laugh when a joke is politically incorrect,
Especially when it shouldn’t be funny.
I love to laugh until it hurts.
I like to laugh out loud, but not too loud.
I like to laugh until someone else laughs with me,
Even if they don’t think it’s funny.

I don’t cry often, I write poetry instead.
Otherwise I keep emotions bottled up inside.
I cry when I remember to be sad.

I’ve been an only child for eighteen years.
I’ve always had at least one dog until now,
I really miss my pets.
I might have a cat when I grow up,
But it will be black to go with my clothes.
(Cat hair sticks to everything.)

I like to walk outside in the rain
Until my clothes are soaking wet,
Sometimes I lay on the grass instead.
I love to go swimming in a thunderstorm,
I’d do it more often if it wasn’t dangerous.
I especially like to swim at night.
I tried to be a lifeguard, but I have terrible luck.

I don’t really believe in luck,
Or at least, I wish I didn’t.
I don’t understand the connections in life,
I don’t like it when everything seems to fit together,
And I don’t believe in destiny or fate.

I don’t get sick very often,
But when I do, it’s pretty bad.
I have never broken any bones,
Except maybe my toe.
It hurt for a month when I stubbed it.

I don’t know why bad things happen to good people,
But I want to write a theory on it one day.
I love philosophy.
I think too much.
I overanalyze.

I understand a lot about people,
But let them figure it out on their own.
They wouldn’t believe me anyway.
Or if they did, they’d be mad that I saw it first.

I wish someone would tell me they trust me,
I always wanted to be someone’s confidante.

School isn’t the same without all of my friends.
But I’m glad that I know people I don’t like,
Because they bring my friends into context.
I have to look up to see most of my friends,
But if I grow taller I’ll have back problems.
I don’t need to get taller, psychologically,
I’m bold enough as it is.

I like to be the center of attention.
I like to play dress up.
I like to be treated like a girl,
But I’ll never act like one.
I like to wear skirts, if they aren’t pretty.
I like the smell of teen magazines.
I like to be held when I feel needy and alone,
But that’s a weakness I don’t want people to notice.

I used to have a weakness for daydreaming,
But I don’t live in a fantasy world anymore,
Though I still visit there a lot.
I don’t think kids should get in trouble for daydreaming,
Where would we be without creative ideas?
Besides, dreams feed the soul.

My only childhood dream never faltered,
I would be the first female Prime Minister of Canada.
But someone beat me to it.
It hurt, even though she wasn’t elected.
Now I want to work for the U.N. as an ambassador.
But I have to find something else in the meantime.
I’ve had one job, and I want another.
I graduated high school but never left.
I’m going to university this fall.

I know pi to the 43rd decimal,
But that’s something I learned on my own.
I like to learn new things, especially words.
I am in love with my thesaurus.
Words make my stories more vivid,
They make my poetry more meaningful.
I love to write.

I might write a novel one day, if I have a chance.
I plan to stay busy, but it’s something I’d like to do.
I procrastinate all the time,
Even when I realize I’m doing it.
I like to run from responsibility,
And I feel important when I don’t.
I don’t need to feel important,
But I want to be remembered.