Gone are the Days

Gone are the days of anger and rage,

Only for a new song to play,

One wrought with defiance and righteousness.

 

Gone are the days of racism and hate,

Only for new prejudice to raise,

But we must prove there is still fight in us.

 

Gone are the days of sexism and rape,

But still self-entitled men decide our fate,

No more do we pretend to exist for a good fuck.

 

GONE ARE THE DAYS we must say,

GONE ARE THE DAYS they must sway,

GONE ARE THE DAYS where we must wish for luck.

 

GONE ARE THE DAYS are the words we’ve sung.

Loathing Simplified

Sketching on my danger days is very charming,

and it covers up that fact that I’m self-harming.

It personifies that Pain I feel in a way they can see.

Of course, the black and white doodles don’t help me.

Especially when there are secrets beneath my sleeves,

especially when there are lies between each heave –

of sorrow, of cheer, of exhaustion, and of fear –

hidden in those lost breaths are scars unhealed.

I do all I can to keep your stories straight,

so that you only see the self-love costuming my self-hate.

Celebrate Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day to all you tired moms, energetic moms, and the moms somewhere in between the two;
To the sad moms, happy moms, and moms who-can’t-decide-exactly-what-they-are-today;
To new moms, old moms, and would-be moms;
To the rich moms, poor moms, and moms who don’t know what they are because they spend all their money on their kids;
To the modern mom, traditional moms, and making-it-up-as-you go moms;
To moms of all colors, religions, and sexualities;
You are the best moms you can be and that’s good enough.

The Hate Within

I like the way I can’t breathe when I wake up;

I like the way I can’t see when I fuck up.

I love the way I can’t speak when you make me mad,

And I love more than anything…

The way I can’t find the strength to live when I feel sad.

 

I hate my rhymes and stories and songs,

I hate everything that ever happens so I just play along.

I hate when I smile and I hate when I laugh.

I hate thinking that you might judge me so fast.

I hate that I hate everything.

I literally hate everything.

 

I even hate the way I like the terrible things that make me feel like death.

And the worst part is – I haven’t figured out what to do about it yet.

I supposed I could drown in medication so that I could function.

I could take a pill every day so that I could live without disruption.

But those are I coulds – not I wills.

I have no desire to replace my meltdowns with pills.

The only thing I want to depend on is me, myself, and I; and what I know to be true.

And this is what I know today – I hate myself, but tomorrow I’ll hate you.

Une Nuit

You’ll never love as hard as me,

But I’ll never see what you see,

And neither of us will ever agree.

There was nothing here for us to believe.

So what’s the difference if I stay or leave?

Wasn’t this just time we spent leisurely;

Or pleasurably; enjoying one another’s company?

I don’t think we ever agreed to live together happily.

We just wanted a quick release.

All the fun we had – those were wants, not needs.

Dakota Grace Randall

Author’s Notes: It’s fascinating how someone else’s loss can remind you of your own. We’re very self-absorbed creatures, really. The recent loss of a loved one by someone I know brought back strong emotions from a loss I suffered myself – when I was only eleven years old. I remember it so clearly because it happened in the summer between elementary school and junior high. Dakota Grace Randall wasn’t just a cousin but a best friend. The best friend. So this is just my way of getting some of the pent up sadness that sneaks into my life and maybe a way to reach out to anyone hurting from the death of a love one these days. It hurts but it must always be felt so that we never forget.

 

DAKOTA

D – D is for the darkness I feel when I think of you on those days when I’m too lost to think straight.

A – And A is for everything that I used love and now hate because you’re gone away, supposedly in a better place.

K – K could be a variety of things but for me it’s just another letter in your beautiful name that I never get to say because I’m always crying instead.

O – Obviously this is for the orphaned feeling I get when I wake up every morning knowing that you are dead and all I have left of you is in my head.

T – T is for Time, but no such thing could ever possibly fix my shattered heart.

A – Again, and again, and again – because I keep waking up and you’re still not here and I’m still falling apart…

GRACE

Grace – there’s no accurate way to describe you.

Gracefully finding a quiet way into everything that I do.

Grace – something that I’ll never have.

Grace – something you took with you than I can never get back.

Grace – a name – a name that is just too painful to say.

RANDALL

 R – Really there’s no cure for a loss this big, this early, or this hard.

A – And I’ll never know whether I’ve finished my healing, or if I’m back at the start.

N – “Never say never,” but ‘never’ doesn’t describe – how hard I’m avoiding everything that I keep bottled inside.

D – Darkness that never fades; darkness that lasts for days upon days; darkness that has made a home in the middle of everything that I’ve used to build my life.

A – All I ever wanted was to pretend that I never knew you so that I could never hurt – but pretending you never existed only makes it worse.

L – Love is the only cure.

L – Love is something that I have for someone not of this Earth.

Hit & Miss

The best of friends they were, the best of friends they are;

But things are never are as they seem – and they often sit quietly in their cars…

Stealing glances across a parking lot.

Is tonight the night to steal a kiss?

Is tonight the night to reveal the truth?

Things with them are hit and miss,

But neither of them has a clue.

Pissed Off Poetry (Very Nonconforming, Very ‘Meh’)

“Hello,” she says.

“Hello,” he says.

And that’s all they say because the two assholes can’t figure their shit out.

 

“Good-bye,” she sighs.

“Good-bye,” he sighs.

Because they haven’t spoken for eight goddamn hours and they have no fucking clue what they are trying to accomplish together.

 

Two weeks later, it’s practically the same opener; “Hey,” she manages with downward cast eyes.

In a very similar fashion he smiles somewhat in her direction; “Hey,” continuing with the barely achieved verbal communication.

Although, how is that even communication because they literally say nothing to each other of substance.

 

Later that night, holy shit, he manages to say something!

“You got plans this weekend,” this man asks without any prompting.

And this woman is so caught off guard she fucking laughs in response.

“Of course not,” she says, because she has literally no flirting game whatsoever.

“Oh.”

Fucking, “oh,” he says!

Yes, because these two are making so much progress.

 

At the end of the night the usual farewell ensues,

He goes to the parking garage and she walks up the street to the outdoor parking lot.

Because she prefers the brisk walk each night, which is really fucking stupid – by the way.

The thing that makes this particular night different, though, is the fact that there are a bunch of guys harassing ladies on the street.

The guy notices this and doubles back before he hits the second floor; “Let me walk with you.”

She accepts lazily because – well – these two are just too awkward and their social interactions are excruciatingly painful.

 

Something like a month passes before she is able to talk to him again.

Another, “Hello,” in a somehow passively surprised voice because she’s literally forgotten that he exists.

In response, “Hello,” because this story couldn’t be any more boring than it already is.

But today, “Thanks,” she throws out – turning just enough for him to actually look her in the eye.

They don’t need to talk to know what for; they don’t need to recall the fact that there had been a rape on the street only hours after they left a few weeks ago on their brisk walk.

So he just shrugs his shoulders with a barely attentive grin; “You’re welcome.”

And that’s all they say until it is time to leave.

And, much to my surprise, he walks her to her car again.

 

This apparently becomes a bit of a routine.

Never really talking or even acknowledging each other…

Silently burning through the work activities for the day and then walking together…

To her car first, and then she drives him to his, and off they go.

Abso-fucking-lutely nothing else.

How is nobody getting pissed off about this odd companionship?

Am I the only one invested in the romance of others than myself?

 

Because it pisses me off and I really quite hate watching it happen.

 

But I watch it continue on for months.

Actual literal months, you know; like nine months.

As it turns out, they must have had something going on because those bastards got engaged out of the fucking blue.

He proposed one day after walking her to her car – in the middle of the night with this expensive ass ring that could have encouraged thieves to risk being caught.

He proposes and she accepts and these two know nothing about each other to my knowledge.

 

It’s fucking awesome,

But I am curious how these two managed that shit because – wow.

That is a tale for the Times…

Discretion is powerful – deceit and manipulation are truly amazing.

I want these two bozos to mentor me so that maybe I won’t be so fucking obvious about the shit that gets me – good or bad.

That would be nice.

 

Yeah, that would be pretty fucking nice.