World War Rage
His tone is at once
With biting advance
Asking me to repeat
His previous words
I don’t understand the anger
I say this
If we could calmly speak
We could reach resolve
But he has this blind, raging anger
That will not be calmed
Or reasoned with
He wants to attack, to lash out
To blame someone- me, today
He asks my name so he can remember it
And spout it off to any who will hear
“It’s like you’re a bill collector,” he says, with disgust
“I am,” I state
He wants to go to the top and wage a war
And he wants to say I am the reason
I am not a reason- I am a message
And my message is simple and non-threatening
“This is the bill that is owed.”
My following questions is not asked in judgment,
Simply asked so I may note and move on- my job,
“When will payment be sent?”
For this I am branded the devil
The cause of world war rage.
Choices
I am sitting in my car
It is very cold outside
Earlier this morning
I was yelled at by a man on the phone
Afterwards, I shook
And my heart raced
I think of all of the responsibilities I have taken on-
I remind myself I could lay them down
At a moments notice and run
-disappear a while-
I remind myself that I am free
That I have choices
I start to feel better
I start to remember why I am doing these things
I squint towards the end
And allow a daydream
Of the life I long to live
The man on the phone from earlier fades further away
Other responsibilities become blessings
For the things they may turn out to be
I give my perspective a tug
I pat my soul and say,
“Head up. Carry on.”
Pictures of our Faces
Do you see my face?
This is a picture of my face.
I posted a picture of my face.
28 this month.
Do you see my face?
What do you think about my face?
Do you like its shape?
This one was really about the background.
This one was a witty remark I remembered.
This one was because I was feeling lonely.
This one was because I wanted you to say I was beautiful.
This one was because I wanted to show I don’t care if you don’t think I’m beautiful.
This one was because I was bored.
I’m not sure if this thing is working.
Can you see my face?
Do you see my face?
Am I here and real?
Do I have value?
Do you see me?
Do you care?
Here is another picture of my face.
Pink Puffy Coat
Pink, puffy coated lady
Walks with head down
Like it’s too heavy
Carries a bag in each arm, red
And a backpack over her shoulders, blue
Waits for the walk light to turn white
This merry, merry season gets to her
The lack and loss of loved ones dear
The loneliness and difficulty of
The daily chores
She cries sometimes, but no one hears
On Christmas day she’ll stay in and watch the tube
Years past she ventured out to churches
But too much sore stuff there for words
Pink, puffy coated lady is alone
And needs a friend
But where to get one- at this age-
And with such sadness suffocating her energies
She’d rather stay at home and pretend
The TV characters are real
His tone is at once
With biting advance
Asking me to repeat
His previous words
I don’t understand the anger
I say this
If we could calmly speak
We could reach resolve
But he has this blind, raging anger
That will not be calmed
Or reasoned with
He wants to attack, to lash out
To blame someone- me, today
He asks my name so he can remember it
And spout it off to any who will hear
“It’s like you’re a bill collector,” he says, with disgust
“I am,” I state
He wants to go to the top and wage a war
And he wants to say I am the reason
I am not a reason- I am a message
And my message is simple and non-threatening
“This is the bill that is owed.”
My following questions is not asked in judgment,
Simply asked so I may note and move on- my job,
“When will payment be sent?”
For this I am branded the devil
The cause of world war rage.
Choices
I am sitting in my car
It is very cold outside
Earlier this morning
I was yelled at by a man on the phone
Afterwards, I shook
And my heart raced
I think of all of the responsibilities I have taken on-
I remind myself I could lay them down
At a moments notice and run
-disappear a while-
I remind myself that I am free
That I have choices
I start to feel better
I start to remember why I am doing these things
I squint towards the end
And allow a daydream
Of the life I long to live
The man on the phone from earlier fades further away
Other responsibilities become blessings
For the things they may turn out to be
I give my perspective a tug
I pat my soul and say,
“Head up. Carry on.”
Pictures of our Faces
Do you see my face?
This is a picture of my face.
I posted a picture of my face.
28 this month.
Do you see my face?
What do you think about my face?
Do you like its shape?
This one was really about the background.
This one was a witty remark I remembered.
This one was because I was feeling lonely.
This one was because I wanted you to say I was beautiful.
This one was because I wanted to show I don’t care if you don’t think I’m beautiful.
This one was because I was bored.
I’m not sure if this thing is working.
Can you see my face?
Do you see my face?
Am I here and real?
Do I have value?
Do you see me?
Do you care?
Here is another picture of my face.
Pink Puffy Coat
Pink, puffy coated lady
Walks with head down
Like it’s too heavy
Carries a bag in each arm, red
And a backpack over her shoulders, blue
Waits for the walk light to turn white
This merry, merry season gets to her
The lack and loss of loved ones dear
The loneliness and difficulty of
The daily chores
She cries sometimes, but no one hears
On Christmas day she’ll stay in and watch the tube
Years past she ventured out to churches
But too much sore stuff there for words
Pink, puffy coated lady is alone
And needs a friend
But where to get one- at this age-
And with such sadness suffocating her energies
She’d rather stay at home and pretend
The TV characters are real
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