let it go

So what's it gonna be?
I really need to know;
will you soon
make up your mind?
or should we just
let it go?

Why continue to flirt and fight?
to never know
what's on the mind
to never know for sure...

You think that
to initiate is to lose
--and thus a waste of energy
but to turn away without risk
is to lose without dignity

But now we're playing games
this isn't duck duck goose!
If I'm not what you want
then let me go
turn me loose.

Tell me
what your plan is
and then I'll tell you mine
so then we're not just
pretending
that everything's fine
then we can
stop playing games
and stop wasting time
blowing around
in the wind
like a musical chime
with no goals or convictions
to speak from within
but singing the same
beautiful song
over and over
and over again...

screaming silence

your intentional silence
screams at me loud and clear
like a high pitched hum
im not supposed to hear

how can you ignore the secrets
that are whispered in your ear
when it gets louder and louder
whenever I am near?

you seek results
without knowing the facts
because you follow clues
over misguided tracks

you cant know what I need
if you dont know what I lack
or watch me fall on my face
with my pride in tact

so talk to me with words
intended to be heard
forget the names and the gossip
and the rumors slurred

dont wait for me to cower
at the issues stirred
to stumble and crash
like the albatross bird

Rush Hour

This is the first poem in a journal it started in 2004. I can't believe its been 4 years! Its interesting to see how my style has changed over the years...

"Rush Hour"

a girl can get carsick
traveling your twisting, turning,
bumpy roads
you approach me with the roar
of a monster truck - strong and powerful
promising to speed through
my construction zone
but slow down
youve exceeded my speed limit
take it slowly
someone else is already crossing my street
and so ive become confused
you see, all the signs
tell me to keep clear
but my peripheral vision
has been blocked
and i blindly creep up his
one way street
but your double yellow lines
have got me hypnotized
and slowly i merge
into oncoming traffic
destined to collide
into the barrier that divides
the true meanings
from your spoken lies
you offer me an expedition
which promises no dead ends
no road raging fits
no tailgating kids
but how do i know
that i wont get caught in the fog
how do i know
i'll never pay the fine?
you think a long country road
can be boring and lonely
but my life, my body, my love
is a closed course, i need a
professional driver only.

"Cheap Therapy"

The reason I call this blog "Cheap Therapy" is because Ive found that writing is a good way to express myself, to "let it out".

I may not have personally experienced everything that I write about, and not everything I write is serious. It may be something someone said, something I read about, an idea someone suggested I write about, or any other reason, that might inspire me to write a poem.

For people like me, who sometimes find it hard to be vocally expressive, poetry is just one way to be heard. Who needs to pay for therapy when you can do it yourself? Work it out - Write it down. That's therapy in itself, and its FREE!

gravedigger

they call it dirty laundry
our secrets revealed
here lies bare the skeletons
in their graves once concealed
youre a gravedigger
diggin up our past
youre a gravedigger, gravedigger
it wasnt s'posed to last.
deceased memories
resurrected in cold
and windy reminisces
the irony of the pain
of dead callouses
that the mind no longer dismisses
gradually swept away
with the ashes of time
only to return
at the first sight
of the moonrise.
youre a gravedigger
diggin up our past
youre a gravedigger, gravedigger
it wasnt s'posed to last.
so...
let it go
let it go
let it burn
let it die
let us bury it
once again
rest in peace
its the end
let it fly
with the wind
and consider it
a sin
to be waken up again
let it slide
let it pass
youre a gravedigger
diggin' up our past
youre a gravedigger, gravedigger
it was s'posed to last.

dismissed

you are dismissed
you will walk away from me
with your lips unkissed
and your name will be removed
from my attendance list
like it or not
youve been officially dissed.
this teacher has no time
to play with pets
youve failed the test
theres no second chance.
you talk too much
you never listen
always came late
didnt pay attention
youre way too messy
youre never neat
i give you an F
well, make that a D
cuz there was that one time...
but even that was incomplete.
maybe next year
when youve grown up a bit
but for now
class is over
and you are dismissed.

ceiling

when the ceiling parted
a chill passed over
as the snow began to fall inside
bodies huddled
bodies muddled
voices murmered
but never a tear in sight;
no tears found
amongst the silent commotion
but even silent tears should be recognized;
you said 'dont cry for me'
and so i simply
shuddered a chill
as my ceiling parted
and i watched the snow fall inside

unerasable

i describe my life in pencil so that the secret
nakedness of our past can be rewritten,
so that with newly attempted composition
i am made over;
your character i have written out of the story
erased along with the nakedness and
shameful embarrassments
of a painful beginning
but when i turn back the page
i find that its my character
that no longer exists
my pages are empty
and eraser dust silhouettes my past
as we are both left behind;
then i realize that the future
is simply a retake
a do-over
so whether or not you reside in my future
i now know
i would have ceased to exist
if you were not at least
a part of my past.

Touched

(this is a first draft i havent decided yet
how to end it.)

dont "what if" me
scratch and sniff me
to dust me off
first you gotta lift me
face value is only skin deep
to really know me
you gotta dig deep
we're all a bit touched
if you search deep enough
but perception is reality
i am who you see
whether or not i want to be...