To the beautiful girl who doesn't think she's beautiful.
Last night we were eating dinner. gnocchi and you said the only thing beautiful about you was your eye lashes.
And I see what's between and around them
And I'm confused.
Because what I see,
When I see you
Is light
Is intensity
Is softness and a longing to be seen.
To be seen
Is that not
The only thing,
Sometimes.
You are seen my friend
You touch everyone you pass
Fingers outstretched, wingspan wide
Tendrils of green flower stems pouring from your finger tips.
And although you're so obviously
So clearly beautiful
What lives beneath your shell
Is much more profound.
Because the flora flourishing within you
Vibrant and hearty
Is growing you into a being
So complex
So multi dimensional
So staggeringly radiant
It blinds those who are too weak to hold such a strong thing in their hands.
Yes. You are a lesson personified.
With every lesson you help others learn at your own painful, and selfless expense
Your stems get taller.
Sturdier in your roots
Your petals more eye catching
The weak ones see your resolve
And they tremble
Your face absorbing the sunlight
Converting it into energy
Flares escaping your eyes
And they don't understand
Because they've never seen sunlight like yours.
Beautiful girl
Grow your roots downward into the water
Because it's impossible to grow upward until we go down
Down into the earth
Dark, damp and at times destitute
But the more difficult it gets
The deeper we grow down
The more steadfast we become
Less likely to be plucked by a shallow rooter
Who only sucks up our nutrients until we're dried out, crisp.
When our fractal feet weave deeper into the soil as a result of those who couldn't be bothered to water you, you then chose to water yourself.
You found your own source of refreshment no longer at the feet of weeds, which only constrict and consume
But in your sunlight eyes and fresh water veins.
Beautiful girl
You needn't prove your worth to anyone
Not with petals that yellow
And roots that expansive
Those who really live within, not on top of, your radiance won't try and pick you from the earth
Rather
They'll observe your light
And absorb it
Thank you beautiful girl
For allowing me to absorb your light.
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Monday, May 7, 2018
Kindness
It takes little thought to be angry
Only feverish feelings
A hot face
Scattered brain
To be kind means
Seeing from every perspective
Knowing that I don't know it all
Swallowing that I am wrong
Accepting the angles I've yet to observe
To be kind means
My hands are dirty
And I washed them in mud
I see the flaws and love more for them
Humanity is staggeringly beautiful
To be kind means
You're heavier
and I still pick you up
You're more anxious
So I become a decrescendo
To be kind means
I'll speak only of your light
Because I have dark too
And I know you already know your caves
Better than anyone ever could
To be kind means
Being proactively thoughtful
Brain cells vibrating with effort
Hospitality pouring from my fingers
An endless reserve
To be kind means
Not indulging your insecurities
Yet letting compassion flow
To blanket the pinpricks
And melt them away
To be kind means
You're much smarter than me
And I love you for it
Your talents illuminate me
Sunlight shining from your mouth
To be kind means
Being silent now
Because you need to heal
Extracting myself painfully
So you can focus on your growth
To be kind means
Letting go
Giving in
Stepping aside
And smiling anyway
To be kind means
Your roots are withering today
I fill the canister
And hydrate the parched parts
One leaf at a time
So tell which parts of you, you hate the most
So I know where to begin
Because it's inspiring to be able to lift yourself up
And even more so to ask for some help
Only feverish feelings
A hot face
Scattered brain
To be kind means
Seeing from every perspective
Knowing that I don't know it all
Swallowing that I am wrong
Accepting the angles I've yet to observe
To be kind means
My hands are dirty
And I washed them in mud
I see the flaws and love more for them
Humanity is staggeringly beautiful
To be kind means
You're heavier
and I still pick you up
You're more anxious
So I become a decrescendo
To be kind means
I'll speak only of your light
Because I have dark too
And I know you already know your caves
Better than anyone ever could
To be kind means
Being proactively thoughtful
Brain cells vibrating with effort
Hospitality pouring from my fingers
An endless reserve
To be kind means
Not indulging your insecurities
Yet letting compassion flow
To blanket the pinpricks
And melt them away
To be kind means
You're much smarter than me
And I love you for it
Your talents illuminate me
Sunlight shining from your mouth
To be kind means
Being silent now
Because you need to heal
Extracting myself painfully
So you can focus on your growth
To be kind means
Letting go
Giving in
Stepping aside
And smiling anyway
To be kind means
Your roots are withering today
I fill the canister
And hydrate the parched parts
One leaf at a time
So tell which parts of you, you hate the most
So I know where to begin
Because it's inspiring to be able to lift yourself up
And even more so to ask for some help
Friday, May 4, 2018
You're the reason I smoke two packs a day!
This is a poem about friendship
And how It came to find me.
It's silly and makes me reminisce
You'll probably agree.
(Clears throat)
Summertime on a hammock.
A conversation about family and religion.
Who would've thought
that's how this began.
A red haired lady
New to town
Who on her own
was learning to stand.
Tight grip on my fingers
as we drove away from a party in the Fall
Pitied eyes and wet cheeks
Winter time panic attack
You come at midnight
With snacks, tea and comic relief
Sick as a dog
You're in my doorway
High quality tissues(with lotion!),
cookies, and conversations
about nothing.
You dance even though you don't dance
You do it, because you know I love it.
I once almost killed you
with expired salad dressing.
Sorry about that.
Human connection is the marrow of life.
Without it, the world feels more full of struggle and strife.
And you're a friendship that showed up
just in time to apply salve to wounds that would have resulted in monumental scars.
I try to repay your kindness
to make you laugh,
and calm your internal wars.
When on the tender one year mark
of me leaving my spouse
You show up
and take me out
When every Wednesday night at ten
I receive a text
where I feel whole again
When you send me a bouquet and tell me
"This is how a man should treat you.
Don't settle for less."
When you clean my toilet
Because I'm tired and mentioned
my bathroom was a mess.
Pink tie to match my dress.
Yelp review saying I'm the best.
Making me feel strong, even when you know I'm not.
Massive dark clouds hanging over my head, but I kind of forgot.
Deep interest in how I grew up.
Unedited talks when we want to give up.
Sitting on my bed watching baking shows and playing cards.
You can simply look at me now and know if my day was hard.
Showing up to watch as I read my poem.
Constantly reminding me, I'm not alone.
Long Island accents and walking for miles.
Supporting my work when I'm exhausted and feel like a good cry.
You're literally incapable of being mean
Rude, inconsiderate, aloof or obscene
Hands down the most thoughtful and organized human I know.
You want to make the world better
You don't just talk about it
You take steps to do so.
There's never been anyone who cared like you care
Where when I need a friend, you'll be right there.
I hope I do enough to reciprocate the love
And that I don't fall short in lifting you up
You deserve every good thing this world has to offer
Kindness, goodness, love and wonder.
I know this poem is cheesy
But I can't help but cry as I write it
You'll understand because you're soft like me.
You're soft, sensitive and quiet
Some people don't get it
they don't understand
That you can be gentle
Shed tears
And be a man.
The rhyming in this poem is awful
The timing is off too
But you'll probably say it's great
Because you're you
Thank you Connell
Or should I say, Tony
Sheila is grateful too
(But she also thinks you're good for nothing).
Our friendship is much better quality
than this poem,
Thank goodness for that
And it's humorous tone.
:)
The End.
And how It came to find me.
It's silly and makes me reminisce
You'll probably agree.
(Clears throat)
Summertime on a hammock.
A conversation about family and religion.
Who would've thought
that's how this began.
A red haired lady
New to town
Who on her own
was learning to stand.
Tight grip on my fingers
as we drove away from a party in the Fall
Pitied eyes and wet cheeks
Winter time panic attack
You come at midnight
With snacks, tea and comic relief
Sick as a dog
You're in my doorway
High quality tissues(with lotion!),
cookies, and conversations
about nothing.
You dance even though you don't dance
You do it, because you know I love it.
I once almost killed you
with expired salad dressing.
Sorry about that.
Human connection is the marrow of life.
Without it, the world feels more full of struggle and strife.
And you're a friendship that showed up
just in time to apply salve to wounds that would have resulted in monumental scars.
I try to repay your kindness
to make you laugh,
and calm your internal wars.
When on the tender one year mark
of me leaving my spouse
You show up
and take me out
When every Wednesday night at ten
I receive a text
where I feel whole again
When you send me a bouquet and tell me
"This is how a man should treat you.
Don't settle for less."
When you clean my toilet
Because I'm tired and mentioned
my bathroom was a mess.
Pink tie to match my dress.
Yelp review saying I'm the best.
Making me feel strong, even when you know I'm not.
Massive dark clouds hanging over my head, but I kind of forgot.
Deep interest in how I grew up.
Unedited talks when we want to give up.
Sitting on my bed watching baking shows and playing cards.
You can simply look at me now and know if my day was hard.
Showing up to watch as I read my poem.
Constantly reminding me, I'm not alone.
Long Island accents and walking for miles.
Supporting my work when I'm exhausted and feel like a good cry.
You're literally incapable of being mean
Rude, inconsiderate, aloof or obscene
Hands down the most thoughtful and organized human I know.
You want to make the world better
You don't just talk about it
You take steps to do so.
There's never been anyone who cared like you care
Where when I need a friend, you'll be right there.
I hope I do enough to reciprocate the love
And that I don't fall short in lifting you up
You deserve every good thing this world has to offer
Kindness, goodness, love and wonder.
I know this poem is cheesy
But I can't help but cry as I write it
You'll understand because you're soft like me.
You're soft, sensitive and quiet
Some people don't get it
they don't understand
That you can be gentle
Shed tears
And be a man.
The rhyming in this poem is awful
The timing is off too
But you'll probably say it's great
Because you're you
Thank you Connell
Or should I say, Tony
Sheila is grateful too
(But she also thinks you're good for nothing).
Our friendship is much better quality
than this poem,
Thank goodness for that
And it's humorous tone.
:)
The End.
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Bricks
Do you ever miss yourself?
The person you were before the puncture.
When it dawned on you.
The realization that life is going to, at times, beckon you with smooth hands and deliver a bucket of dirt.
Dark brown and full of worms.
There's that saying, "they tried to bury us, but they didn't know we were seeds." A picture painted of wild, blooming beings.
A lovely sentiment, but the earth is heavy. Crushing, at times.
Do you remember that feeling of the first?
The euphoria.
And now they ask me "who do you love?"
I pause.
The ability to differentiate my intuition guiding me and my past trauma misleading me is one I haven't yet mastered.
But I'm not here to prove myself to anyone.
Where I will say all the things that tickle your ears
And do what's pleasing in your eyes
As much as I desire to make all those I touch in my life happy, I find it's easier to carve a sculpture out of onyx.
It takes less effort to blow up a car tire with my breath.
The measurement of happiness is a spectrum too obtuse and disillusioned to make sense in reality.
It ebbs and flows from one person to the next, guided by a compass that's been crushed by the feet of those who cared too little to notice the damage in their wake.
That pill is still stuck in my throat.
On the other side of that, I'm learning not everyone has the best intentions for me.
Some call loneliness, love.
I exist to fill the gaps for them.
My softness molded into their needs.
My skin, a warm place to sleep
My hair, a bed of live tendrils to awaken their senses
But it only burns when sunblock isn't applied
No barrier between you and the intensity
It only wrecks you when you take off your protective gear.
The collision catapults you to the asphalt, scraping your softness
It only breaks the bone when you leap from that height.
So why do it?
You might call me jaded, but I call me a healthy skeptic.
I only have so many layers of skin
And so many bones in my body
They heal, but there's a scar.
shiny and textured.
And when the time and place and person is right, I'd like to present myself as a human, with some unflawed parts left.
Places where no whips have stung
And no burns have scalded.
Where they're not simply water falling through my broken fingers.
And so with every scale that falls from my eyes, a brick goes up.
Not in anger.
In acceptance.
A small smile on my lips as I construct my beautiful brick wall.
The mortar a dense mixture of lessons and resignation.
I plant lilies at the base.
And when you catch yourself smiling at a memory you've yet to make-
Then there's still hope.
Honor the space between "no more" and "not yet"
Remind yourself of the time it was easy to breathe.
You were the bearer of heartbreak
But look at what I've built because of you.
The person you were before the puncture.
When it dawned on you.
The realization that life is going to, at times, beckon you with smooth hands and deliver a bucket of dirt.
Dark brown and full of worms.
There's that saying, "they tried to bury us, but they didn't know we were seeds." A picture painted of wild, blooming beings.
A lovely sentiment, but the earth is heavy. Crushing, at times.
Do you remember that feeling of the first?
The euphoria.
And now they ask me "who do you love?"
I pause.
The ability to differentiate my intuition guiding me and my past trauma misleading me is one I haven't yet mastered.
But I'm not here to prove myself to anyone.
Where I will say all the things that tickle your ears
And do what's pleasing in your eyes
As much as I desire to make all those I touch in my life happy, I find it's easier to carve a sculpture out of onyx.
It takes less effort to blow up a car tire with my breath.
The measurement of happiness is a spectrum too obtuse and disillusioned to make sense in reality.
It ebbs and flows from one person to the next, guided by a compass that's been crushed by the feet of those who cared too little to notice the damage in their wake.
That pill is still stuck in my throat.
On the other side of that, I'm learning not everyone has the best intentions for me.
Some call loneliness, love.
I exist to fill the gaps for them.
My softness molded into their needs.
My skin, a warm place to sleep
My hair, a bed of live tendrils to awaken their senses
But it only burns when sunblock isn't applied
No barrier between you and the intensity
It only wrecks you when you take off your protective gear.
The collision catapults you to the asphalt, scraping your softness
It only breaks the bone when you leap from that height.
So why do it?
You might call me jaded, but I call me a healthy skeptic.
I only have so many layers of skin
And so many bones in my body
They heal, but there's a scar.
shiny and textured.
And when the time and place and person is right, I'd like to present myself as a human, with some unflawed parts left.
Places where no whips have stung
And no burns have scalded.
Where they're not simply water falling through my broken fingers.
And so with every scale that falls from my eyes, a brick goes up.
Not in anger.
In acceptance.
A small smile on my lips as I construct my beautiful brick wall.
The mortar a dense mixture of lessons and resignation.
I plant lilies at the base.
And when you catch yourself smiling at a memory you've yet to make-
Then there's still hope.
Honor the space between "no more" and "not yet"
Remind yourself of the time it was easy to breathe.
You were the bearer of heartbreak
But look at what I've built because of you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)