Monday, February 23, 2015

Game over (poetry workshop)

Mom and dad

No.   Sorry.

Now it's

My mom and my dad

No sorry that's not right either

My mom


And


My dad

But that may not be entirely accurate anymore 

Because not even 100 breaths between words 

Sums up the distance between you

And it's been that way
ever since that 
innocent.
cool.
summers day

Because no one celebrates divorce anniversaries 

And now it seems like I am the only one who wishes people did

Because I know I've accepted the way our lives are now

But that won't stop me from wishing it didn't change

Because even though there is no constant war 
over who's family we are spend thanksgivings day with

And no more threatenings of finding coal in our stockings on Christmas Day

Nothing could replace those cool summers days

And the last one ended at 12 in the afternoon 

And even now I can feel the breeze 
and the sun in my heart 
like our lives were merely paused 

But there is no resume button 
and I'm starting to realize 
maybe we just reached 

a game over

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

perfect and things that aren't synonymous with it

It seems like people throw around the word perfect like its some brand of yogurt.

But something inside of me dies each time they use it to describe me.

Because I never was nor will I ever be perfect
And lying was never me

And sometimes I'm afraid to live in a world where what I am is perfect

So what is perfect
And what caused you to think we were synonymous 

And you must have fallen into some haze to think I could even shine a light on the word perfect.

Because I wasn't really your perfect daughter 
I was your only daughter

Because perfect is the monster under my bed
And perfect is scary
And perfect is pressing 
And perfect demands attention

And I've never met perfect
And I'm pretty sure perfect never wanted to meet me

If by some chance someday we meet it will be because someone gave perfect the wrong directions 

and perfect will be able to tell the difference from a mere glance

And then perfect will turn around and just keep on walking

Because Perfect has never even spoken my name 

Because perfect was never a synonym for
Broken
Worried
Forgotten 

Because perfect never told a lie
Or made a mistake

And perfect never scribbled in my handwriting
Perfect may have used a pen
But perfect did not use and abandoned pen found on the floor

Perfect never wore bulky sweaters or baggy shirts

And perfect never shared a name with someone more talented than them

And I'm pretty sure perfect wears brand name clothing and makeup
And I'm pretty sure perfect has clear skin

Maybe perfect isn't beautiful
But I'm pretty sure perfect is kind
And perfect is smart
And full of compliments to give
Perfect is probably clever and funny

And maybe perfect is you

But trust me perfect is not me

So go pick up a thesaurus before you start to write poetry

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Im failing

I'm sorry i'm failing your class

I'm sorry I have a job 
and a family that's split in two

I'm sorry I'd rather write this poem
Than work on homework 

I'm sorry I stayed after school to work on this poem
Instead of get help on homework

I'm sorry
That I ache to write
To feel
To believe

Ad I'm sorry I don't believe
Y=mx+b will solve all my problems
And soh cah toa 
Will fulfill my dreams

I'm sorry that you know I need to know this stuff
And I'm failing

Because pi was never as cool as you made it out to be

And math never taught me how to mend a broken heart

And math never hid my tears

And math never set me free

So I'm sorry but 

I think I'll stick to writing