I Think I Might Want More

Way back then, I asked you to stay.

Just know that I am sorry, okay.
I think that perhaps I want more.
It was just days ago I asked you to stay.
Way back then, I desired that most.

The rain didn’t lightly sprinkle; it poured.
And I realized umbrellas just aren’t enough
as the winds all around me snarled and roared.
I wanted a shelter, I wanted a host.

Continue reading “I Think I Might Want More”

And If The World Held Still

And if the world went silent

And if the world held still,
would I hold still, too,
or keep on searching to find
something out there left to do?

And if the world went silent,
would I be quiet as well,
or would I make cacophonous music
with a piano to forte swell?

And if the world was all over,
would I at last find some peace
or would I worry about forever
even after my release?

Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay

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Every Poet Writes About Skies of Marmalade

On beauty and banality

Every poet seems to write on skies of marmalade,
about waters of azure and the texture of suede,
but I so rarely see these things in my day-to-day.



My life consists of grit and grime
of cheap laminate floors and of vinyl countertops.


Of cracked laptop screens
And weather-worn shoes


An aesthetic with lightbulbs burnt out
and muddy puddles and unfolded laundry,
pots of dirt that once held plants,
cacti that just refuse to die,
windowless rooms,
bruises on skin that has not been licked by the sun in far too long.

There’s paint stains on the dining room table.

There’s patina on the silverware.

There’s faulty memories and mismatched meter and tongues that confuse themselves
and meanings that should never be spoken aloud.

Wounded egos.

Filth.

Muck.

Phlegm.

Imperfect families.

Half smiles.

Accidental laughter at problematic jokes.

Heads brimming full
of ideas that will never come to fruition,
poetic lines completely unnecessary to the meaning,
and chipped teeth repaired temporarily decades ago.




But there’s a beauty in banality, a hope in the mundane,
an elegance in all the things that we hold in disdain,
so excuse me if I speak of the ugly in a gilded frame.

Photo by Abdullah Ghatasheh from Pexels

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ghost

A wispy, ghoulish, haunting thing

I’ll reemerge in fits and starts,
convey the message of my heart,
and disappear again just like a ghost.

A wispy, ghoulish, haunting thing
that even now just deigns to bring
a short, sarcastic, base, belated post.


Photo by Marcelo Jaboo from Pexels


Long time, no poem. Sorry.

I have been writing little bits here and there, but I simply have not had the energy to sit down and edit or complete them. Even worse, I have been struggling to find the energy to read other people’s work or reply to messages.

I can’t guarantee that I’m back to reading and writing consistently, but I can guarantee that I’m slowly working through reading various blogs and that I am trying to get back into the groove of creation.

Thank you to everyone who is bearing with me. I have missed you all.

Peace out,
Joy

Fake Tomorrows

This cycle is too persuasive
and this cycle calls my name.

I long for words I’ve never written
and for songs I’ve never sung.
I long for feelings I’ve never felt
and for bells I’ve never rung.

I’ve imagined these possibilities–
my mind does this when I’m down–
It makes problems out of naught
just like a dust mote on a crown.

Though reminiscing about nothing
and self-berating causes shame,
this cycle is too persuasive
and this cycle calls my name.

Now, my blue skies all have faded
to shades both gray and dark
with no more hope of sunshine
to light the outlines oh, so stark.

I cannot fight or face it–
I’ve already gone too deep
I can’t climb from this chasm
Nor call for help nor leap.

So, please come Serotonin,
please come Dopamine,
please come Vigor for Life,
please come Fresh, and please come Green.

Take me back to my home–
I have somehow lost my way.
I became trapped by fake tomorrows
and by pretend yesterdays.

I’ve tried to end this poem
on a nice, uplifting note,
but today, I just can’t make it happen.


Photo by Aakash Sethi from Pexels

Today’s resource for knowledge and compassion is the International Association for Suicide Prevention (IASP), which lists suicide prevention helplines throughout the world and in various languages. Just use the helpful map on their homepage to select your continent, and you’ll be redirected to a list of hotlines and websites that might be pertinent to you.

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I Want to Write a Love Song

Writing to write

I want to write a love song
but I cannot find the notes,
so I cut all the guitar strings
and trap the lyrics in my throat.

I want to write a speech,
but I cannot find a cause,
so I shut down my computer
and wire shut my jaws.

I want to write a novel,
but I cannot find the plot,
so I crumple up my paper
and leave it all to be forgot.

I want to write a poem,
but I cannot find a message,
so I scribble all these words down
and hope there’s still value in this passage.


Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels

I’ve been working on this poem for about a month. I’ve recently been prioritizing some newer posts because I thought their messages were more pressing. In the time between when this poem was written and now that it is being published, I read this poem by My Lucid Sonder that shares some similarities with mine. If you like my poem’s theme, check out theirs as well!

Also, even though this poem is not themed around social justice issues, it is important that we utilize the momentum that we have right now instead of letting our outrage die down. As such, I am going to be including a link to a cause or a resource related to justice at the end of my posts for the foreseeable future. Today’s is a carrd of ways to support and stay informed about the Black Lives Matter Movement.