Circle

Colourful and bright,
Childhood and the sunshine, playing together.
Wash after wash, colours start to fade.
Children grow and the sun withers into night.
Toys abandonned in the yard.
Strangers walk past, no one wondering what happened.


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Something beautiful

Something beautiful.

A dog chasing it's tail
My mothers eyes
My father making up lyrics to songs
Dan's maniacal laugh
George
Alina's soul
Encouragement from friends
Anita's crazy (crazy being a noun)
Pictures of Alex and I in Phillie
Love so strong it makes you cry
Knowing nothing lasts forever, so it's all gonna be fine.


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men of my life

the men of my life

have torn me down, stomped on me, loved me, laughed with me, beraded me, controlled me, nurtured me, created me, caressed me, held me, astonished me, pained me, defiled me, respected me, taught me, stained me, blamed me, ignored me, devoured me, worshipped me, gifted me, confined me, punished me, tickled me, desired me, read me, hated me, inspired me, lost me, rejected me, upset me, lifted me, valued me, fucked me, kissed me, forgot me, twisted me, adored me, acknowledged me, thanked me, enraged me, blessed me, left me, breathed me, drank me, fought me, drained me, revived me.
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Words for thought. That's all.


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Contortion.

My body, disfigured and stuck.
I am afraid to collapse on health's doorstep in such a state. My fingers warped and my arms burned. Hip twisted, legs joyless rods, useless for walking.
A sculpture, a monument to lovelessness.
Too afraid to crawl to release, to affection.
A broken mirror, the bits jab into my eyes. I bled.
I am relieved.
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Gruesome and brutal. Too far.  I need sleep.


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Let it Out.

Fear of calamity, monstrosity of inner animosity,
Perplexed vision-don't hurt, don't hurt me no more,
I say to the strange woman in the mirror.
Music fading out, fading out, burnt out, keep me out, don't hurt me no more.
Fear of rejection, dejection in my finger nails, staining my food, swallowing my poison-let it out, let the words out.
Peace out, sweat out, freak out,


I don't remember how it feels to win!


The stains in my brain from failure, Rorschach, Rorschach, what'd ya see, what'd ya see?! 


I see... I see...


I'm burning in the brine of my salty tears,
Can't swim no more-he's shouting again-
Let me out. Let me be my own woman, eating the fruits of her labour,


I'm bored of myself, borne of myself: my actions, thoughts, deeds, greeds- let it out, let it out. 


Tired of fighting, tired of being brave, of having to work so hard to keep each day from fallin' apart, each love from fallin' apart,


pressure pressure cooking me in my salty brine, write me a song to sing for all my time, all my faded memories and crooked smiles, let it out, let it out.
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A very frantic, mostly unorganized, quasi-slam piece. Early in the works. Why only post things that are neat and tidy and finished? Here are my word-guts. They are smelly and a little unsanitary, but real.


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I Am From

I am from a edgy city with a bad rep: Surrey.

From angry teenagers with spikes in their faces and resilience in their tears.

I am from fire and ice, like my father’s temperament.

I am from the deep sorrow that narrates my mother’s journeys.

I am from the hearts and hands of the young men I loved,

From the laughter and dreams of the women I adore.

I am from the heat and blood of another oceans people;

From stories lost in translation and words I no longer understand.

I’m from places I’ve yearned to call home though the name never fit.

I am from breath,
            From the air that carries me through life, that gives me strength to laugh, to love, to weep for my aches.

From a grimy suburb with broken faces, where dreams were all I had,
To a big city with bountiful lights, where dreams are all I have.  

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First assignment at George Brown, for Debra Joy's voice class. Based off a template, I am from _______, and _________, etc.

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old woman

I am an old woman who has seen the sun set more times that she would wish.
Loves come and go, none keep the promise of the first kiss.
Friends venture off to journey through places I dare not see.
Family is a foreign word, a fractured house, a bad memory.

My breath is hot, my bones are firm,
My skin is supple and my body yearns.
But I am seated here, humming songs of resignation.
I am tired of this place.
I long for home.
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Sentimental and the rhyme scheme is very traditional. An acceptable first draft. I like the overall feel though.


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