I've officially become a neglectful and sporadic blogger, but hey, life happens. At any rate, I was randomly looking for a notebook the other day because I'm studying to be a bartender and needed something to write on. I have this massive collection of notebooks just because I have a mild OCD about writing on clean, crisp paper. This meaning that if I ever spill something on one notebook, or it gets wrinkled, ripped, etc, I have to get a new one. Don't judge me! So anyway, I came across this pile of old ones from around 2005-2006, back when I just graduated from college, before I fully became the cynical bundle of sarcasm that I am now. This was back when I called myself a poet and wanted to perform spoken word. I used to write down and date my thoughts all the time, even if I took up an entire page with just one sentence or phrase, like "I'm trapped in my own life," or "Carpe Omnious." Some of the writing was great, and other parts I couldn't even recognize as coming from myself, all full of faux-romanticism and idealism. Which was a blessing and a curse, because it was a great reminder of the fact that no matter what life gives you, you can't lose your passion. Hard years, hard hearts and hard times shouldn't take away the focus from what you set out to do in the first place; from who you are. So anyway, for anyone that cares, this is me, circa May 2006:
"The sun shines in short gasps of air,
And before the stars appeared I left you there
In the shadows,
Below clouds with ambitious desires,
Fires of a mind aflame, with a heart extinguishing love,
I have become the woman who I always believed I was
Before the mirror leaked the truth.
I bleed reality in choppy sentences and unfinished thoughts,
You recognize my face despite the cost
And the soft spoken, often overanalyzed prose
From a heart never broken, and never disturbed
Those, who have lived this, can only attempt to believe
How you tried to recover the un-shattered pieces.
Pick up those jagged shards, when no help is in need,
This misleading parallel of what was and will never again be;
Incognito in spirit and undercover within words
But, you see me,
You feel the hope beneath your ribcage,
Saved by the harvest of tomorrow, when everything is barren today.
This life is flourishing beneath ground,
Left with the question of who found whom in this tangled web of current infatuations,
All of the promising obsessions in the night,
But passionate whispers across phone lines don’t define facts,
Or make anything that’s wrong, right.
It doesn’t indicate romance
Unless you breathe me,
Speak me,
Love me,
Or leave me.
Have me for the person that you thought I was,
Because,
Just because.
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1 comment:
I stumbled across your poem today and was thinking: "Do you still write, even if from time to time?" - and if yes, would it be possible for you to post something else, more poetry, maybe random thoughts, maybe a short story on how one upsets a cup of coffee on a newly-acquired notebook?
Regards
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