is selfish
is arrogant
is judgmental
is critical
is insecure
had low self-esteem
loves to gossip
loves attention
likes to talk about herself
desires approval
likes to write
may cut people out
doesn't like confrontation
puts no one before herself
likes control
likes to hug
may play around
is secretive
is sneaky
likes somebody else to do it
doesn't trust herself on occasion
is obsessive compulsive
gets easily frustrated
can be flippant
can be very callous
likes to dominate
loves being held
is frivolous sometimes
rushes to conclusions
thinks in stereotypes
is very generous
doesn't like to share
is oddly jealous
wears a shield
would love to fight
gets distracted
takes
likes to steal
hates/obsesses over her body
wishes she were ...................
(something else?)
appropriates things
loves to buy
has lots of remorse, especially after drinking
blacks out
can't remember things
is impulsive
hates the mess
struggles with depression
(sometimes)
has a morose side (and loves Morose)
wants to be the people she admires
wishes she were cooler,
more elusive somehow
wants to fuck
hates to blow (not really,
but loathes to gag)
thinks she smells
wants long legs, or,
wants to be small
wishes she were one of
"those"
wants (to be) a muse
Loves fashion (buy! buy!
buy!)
wants a different nose
different cheekbones, maybe
is very critical of others (mostly
strangers, sometimes
acquaintances, occasionally
friends)
scrutinizes bodies
likes to watch
enjoys being catered to
hates shop ladies
likes dressing up
enjoys walking like a bitch
with things to do
hates tardiness
has recently become less punctual
likes getting away with things
masturbates.
takes what people say to, or about her,
to heart
is sensitive?
wants to live lavishly
wishes all her friends were okay
wants the fucking house
to be finished
wants her room back
is good at bullshitting
can make a pretty lie
loves to be alone
wants people to adore
her
likes being "the kid"
and being called "mature"
(what used to be "mature for her age")
is attracted to older men
doesn't find their wrinkles sexy
is drawn to blondes
like bees to honey
can talk a good one
often fails to act
is complacent
wishes she were better
is human.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
A Fable Is A Lie
Tell me something truthful
Something that will really make me smile
Teach me some Italian
So I can say, Reconta mi
una storia a cena
I don't mind a fable with a moral,
or an emotion
that presides in context
I just can't take another
conversation
with so much unsaid subtext
The conversation we never had
is even plaguing me today
I am wondering whether it was
worth it to have my friend say
"You know,
He didn't put it that way
In fact, he said something very different,"
which makes me think
that you're weak
or maybe just oblivious
Is this the one card that you hold
to pull out of your back pocket
To say, here, look at this one,
ain't she a beauty to break up
with?
Were your lies pure boasting?
Immature fodder?
Something to hold on to?
To cross your t's and dot your i's
with?
Yes, our relationship changed
And in a matter of days
We went from a swing set
to a dance floor
to a South African trumpeter
I found you dependable then, and
even more, exciting.
Yet, even then, I never once let go
of the ways we were divided
But we had potential
And that's what matters
No wringing hands or nervous glances
Your job, your family, music, was
enough to keep you steady
And me, too, I decided.
I had my own priorities.
And still, I relished finally having someone
to lavish with my romances
You were a worthy one, and a good fit.
Bright, delivering quips.
Corny, but not enough so
that I couldn't appreciate your shtick.
So why did you have to lie
in light of everything that's good?
You know and I know what we had
and what we could...
We grew close, I left for school,
we tried our best,
but grew apart.
You visited me, and I came home,
but by the time I returned,
we were set adrift.
Recreating magic in the company
of your kin, I grew to love them more
because of the mood they put
me in.
We were good, great even, but our sex
was off...
and you knew it.
So I abstained one night
and that's when you lost it.
Do you remember this?
And do you remember what happened
after?
We parted amicably after 2 days
of each other's absence.
I was sad, and so were you, but
in no great deal of pain.
You were always sweet with me,
and we parted without blame.
So why must you breathe life
into a stale story that never was?
Was it my devotion in the beginning
that I chose to call love?
I didn't plague you with this admission
I offered it up as a gift
My heart, a piece of it, take it if
you wish
Take it or leave it
is my motto for the soul
To protect me from those
who might misread
what I consider bold.
I'm yours for the taking,
if I offer and you accept.
But I am not here
to be called
a desperate puppy
out of fear and neglect.
I loved you, for what it's worth,
for that moment in time.
All I ask is that you relish it.
Instead of making up
our story, why not just try
telling it in rhyme?
Something that will really make me smile
Teach me some Italian
So I can say, Reconta mi
una storia a cena
I don't mind a fable with a moral,
or an emotion
that presides in context
I just can't take another
conversation
with so much unsaid subtext
The conversation we never had
is even plaguing me today
I am wondering whether it was
worth it to have my friend say
"You know,
He didn't put it that way
In fact, he said something very different,"
which makes me think
that you're weak
or maybe just oblivious
Is this the one card that you hold
to pull out of your back pocket
To say, here, look at this one,
ain't she a beauty to break up
with?
Were your lies pure boasting?
Immature fodder?
Something to hold on to?
To cross your t's and dot your i's
with?
Yes, our relationship changed
And in a matter of days
We went from a swing set
to a dance floor
to a South African trumpeter
I found you dependable then, and
even more, exciting.
Yet, even then, I never once let go
of the ways we were divided
But we had potential
And that's what matters
No wringing hands or nervous glances
Your job, your family, music, was
enough to keep you steady
And me, too, I decided.
I had my own priorities.
And still, I relished finally having someone
to lavish with my romances
You were a worthy one, and a good fit.
Bright, delivering quips.
Corny, but not enough so
that I couldn't appreciate your shtick.
So why did you have to lie
in light of everything that's good?
You know and I know what we had
and what we could...
We grew close, I left for school,
we tried our best,
but grew apart.
You visited me, and I came home,
but by the time I returned,
we were set adrift.
Recreating magic in the company
of your kin, I grew to love them more
because of the mood they put
me in.
We were good, great even, but our sex
was off...
and you knew it.
So I abstained one night
and that's when you lost it.
Do you remember this?
And do you remember what happened
after?
We parted amicably after 2 days
of each other's absence.
I was sad, and so were you, but
in no great deal of pain.
You were always sweet with me,
and we parted without blame.
So why must you breathe life
into a stale story that never was?
Was it my devotion in the beginning
that I chose to call love?
I didn't plague you with this admission
I offered it up as a gift
My heart, a piece of it, take it if
you wish
Take it or leave it
is my motto for the soul
To protect me from those
who might misread
what I consider bold.
I'm yours for the taking,
if I offer and you accept.
But I am not here
to be called
a desperate puppy
out of fear and neglect.
I loved you, for what it's worth,
for that moment in time.
All I ask is that you relish it.
Instead of making up
our story, why not just try
telling it in rhyme?
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
An Open Letter
If you would apologize, just say you're sorry for not calling me yesterday, then maybe I would be OK. Your word is bond, right? Only problem is, I don't think you know that. Only issue is, your non-communicative ways tell me more than anything you could say now. I know you had a birthday party to plan, maybe even a birthday pie to bake, but your actions, like you say, speak louder than words. (So Cliché.) Your inaction, I should say. Don't tell me you want to take me somewhere and then just leave me hanging (how's that for cliché?). I invite you to do something; hell, I invite you to be a part of my life, but you choose not to respond, you chose to abstain. People will forget what you did, they'll forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel. Thank you Ms. Angelou
You make me feel agitated, constantly. For wanting substantial, equal, and fair communication from you, which you consistently fail to give. You make me feel powerless, weak, as if my words and my desires lack merit. You don't privilege my internal being, the wealth I have to give, as I do for you, or would do if you gave me the opportunity, the day, the time. I wasn't lying when I said I'd be there for you. It took a lot out of me, to make that ongoing commitment to you. I said it because I wanted to do it, to be this person for you--accountable. But with you, any promise you give me makes it seem as if you feel obligated. You say you don't know what's good for you, or it's an idea as yet unformed, so therefore you have no idea what you want from me. You give (or you gave) yourself to me because you thought that's what I wanted (which I did), but the taking, the receiving, isn't what makes the exchange sweet. The gift, free of obligation, is, will always be, the most satisfying form of exchange. I just don't know if you and I are capable of such an exchange. I saw it at Burning Man, I've seen it in me brewing inside. With a gift, the only reward is the selfish pleasure you get from making someone else happy. That's powerful. However, your compulsion, your automatic instinct to please achieves no greater happiness for you, I think. You do it because you think you should. Because it's right, for you. Because you feel the need. But do you ever feel pleased afterward, or do you just feel relieved?
That's my deepest fear. The one that staked this relationship from the beginning. Impaled my love and buried it under a the sad déchets of insecurity. Organic matter not close to the heart, superficial worries, the concern that you don't really care for me, but are acting out this charade for fear of my reactions, and pity for my dreams. How many times can you assure me that this is true before I let it go, exhale hope into the air, enliven my senses, begin contributing something back to our union.
I would love to be strong in this with you. But your non-commitment, your inconsistency, robbed me of that core. Feeling like I'm spinning yarn around an empty spool, one half of a whole. Or a quarter, even. I would love to love you. Because I want you to want me. But if you don't know what you want, what does that leave me with? A lot of wishes, unfulfilled. I might as well be crazy (trying the same thing twice and expecting a different outcome).
You make me feel agitated, constantly. For wanting substantial, equal, and fair communication from you, which you consistently fail to give. You make me feel powerless, weak, as if my words and my desires lack merit. You don't privilege my internal being, the wealth I have to give, as I do for you, or would do if you gave me the opportunity, the day, the time. I wasn't lying when I said I'd be there for you. It took a lot out of me, to make that ongoing commitment to you. I said it because I wanted to do it, to be this person for you--accountable. But with you, any promise you give me makes it seem as if you feel obligated. You say you don't know what's good for you, or it's an idea as yet unformed, so therefore you have no idea what you want from me. You give (or you gave) yourself to me because you thought that's what I wanted (which I did), but the taking, the receiving, isn't what makes the exchange sweet. The gift, free of obligation, is, will always be, the most satisfying form of exchange. I just don't know if you and I are capable of such an exchange. I saw it at Burning Man, I've seen it in me brewing inside. With a gift, the only reward is the selfish pleasure you get from making someone else happy. That's powerful. However, your compulsion, your automatic instinct to please achieves no greater happiness for you, I think. You do it because you think you should. Because it's right, for you. Because you feel the need. But do you ever feel pleased afterward, or do you just feel relieved?
That's my deepest fear. The one that staked this relationship from the beginning. Impaled my love and buried it under a the sad déchets of insecurity. Organic matter not close to the heart, superficial worries, the concern that you don't really care for me, but are acting out this charade for fear of my reactions, and pity for my dreams. How many times can you assure me that this is true before I let it go, exhale hope into the air, enliven my senses, begin contributing something back to our union.
I would love to be strong in this with you. But your non-commitment, your inconsistency, robbed me of that core. Feeling like I'm spinning yarn around an empty spool, one half of a whole. Or a quarter, even. I would love to love you. Because I want you to want me. But if you don't know what you want, what does that leave me with? A lot of wishes, unfulfilled. I might as well be crazy (trying the same thing twice and expecting a different outcome).
Monday, September 28, 2009
I Just Might
Yes, I am attracted to you
And your thin upper lip
A crescent that I wish to hold
on the sickle of my kiss.
The bristle of your mouth
plowed the hedges of my pout
And you left a freshly tilled
sensation that circled
in the round
I could not forget you.
I went home and laid down
Left my inhibitions with my
keys adjacent to my keys on the ground
A resounding wave
A repeating feeling
Something undefined
That you conjured
Left me reeling
I am convinced
that you are up to something
conniving or cunning
The willful way you let
me run the perimeter of
your mind
Personal indulgence be damned
"I didn't know if I wanted to
kiss you but that was very nice"
I wasn't fooling but I never
seem to know what's right
My inclination is to walk away
from an otherwise perfect night
I might
I might have known that
another one would come
bounding in from the throngs
With your pearls and your yarn
that you seem to string
along
I am wary of your wisdom
Your mischievous grin
Your conniving and your
cunning
The wiliness within
"But she's not garrulous," you
said.
And we cracked up with the knowing
We kept going
while I receded if only for
a moment
Do I surrender in defeat?
This never felt like a
battle
But I am hard-pressed to
find the calm that would
allow us to settle
Allow me
Let's enlighten ourselves
A million flashbulbs
just went off
We're dazzling ourselves
And the creases in your skin
never looked more
inviting
Than when I was certain
of what I was and
What I would be hiding.
Your mischief and your
cunning
Your prickly grin, half a laugh
and something shifting
on your lips
What looks to be a scar
What could have been a split
I want to tell you that
I know you and
That I know you're full of
it
But I lost it when I said "here"
and you took my hair and pulled it.
It isn't fair the way you
looked at me when the smoke
began to clear
Treading lightly around a burning perimeter fence
But my lips and your lips
just made so much sense.
And your thin upper lip
A crescent that I wish to hold
on the sickle of my kiss.
The bristle of your mouth
plowed the hedges of my pout
And you left a freshly tilled
sensation that circled
in the round
I could not forget you.
I went home and laid down
Left my inhibitions with my
keys adjacent to my keys on the ground
A resounding wave
A repeating feeling
Something undefined
That you conjured
Left me reeling
I am convinced
that you are up to something
conniving or cunning
The willful way you let
me run the perimeter of
your mind
Personal indulgence be damned
"I didn't know if I wanted to
kiss you but that was very nice"
I wasn't fooling but I never
seem to know what's right
My inclination is to walk away
from an otherwise perfect night
I might
I might have known that
another one would come
bounding in from the throngs
With your pearls and your yarn
that you seem to string
along
I am wary of your wisdom
Your mischievous grin
Your conniving and your
cunning
The wiliness within
"But she's not garrulous," you
said.
And we cracked up with the knowing
We kept going
while I receded if only for
a moment
Do I surrender in defeat?
This never felt like a
battle
But I am hard-pressed to
find the calm that would
allow us to settle
Allow me
Let's enlighten ourselves
A million flashbulbs
just went off
We're dazzling ourselves
And the creases in your skin
never looked more
inviting
Than when I was certain
of what I was and
What I would be hiding.
Your mischief and your
cunning
Your prickly grin, half a laugh
and something shifting
on your lips
What looks to be a scar
What could have been a split
I want to tell you that
I know you and
That I know you're full of
it
But I lost it when I said "here"
and you took my hair and pulled it.
It isn't fair the way you
looked at me when the smoke
began to clear
Treading lightly around a burning perimeter fence
But my lips and your lips
just made so much sense.
Aftermath
I can imagine us on your motorcycle
A thought I've never had before
A gidget and her rugged Ken
Beach blanket bingo gone before
Just the sun and the road
Highway #1
No more Lolita eyes
trapped inside the fantasy
All grown up, maybe 16
I've taken to you wanting me.
Stopped the act at 17
Grown past the angst of 18-19
The indifference of 20 and cautious power of 21
And promptly regressed into mature young lady-dom
Still coquette, with a bandanna
in my hair
But something like that '50s flair
I wonder whether refurbished
wreckage still rusts in salty air
9/26
A thought I've never had before
A gidget and her rugged Ken
Beach blanket bingo gone before
Just the sun and the road
Highway #1
No more Lolita eyes
trapped inside the fantasy
All grown up, maybe 16
I've taken to you wanting me.
Stopped the act at 17
Grown past the angst of 18-19
The indifference of 20 and cautious power of 21
And promptly regressed into mature young lady-dom
Still coquette, with a bandanna
in my hair
But something like that '50s flair
I wonder whether refurbished
wreckage still rusts in salty air
9/26
Sunday, August 23, 2009
My first battle "rap"; Love vs. Love
Take It Or Leave It,
Call me arrogant
Because I felt like it.
I challenge you to love me with
the same kind of music.
You love me, you love me
And I'm devoted to the artform
More interested in praising
Than giving you the strong arm
I'm the hold steady
You're the rocking ship
I think the gods first named
you under the title:
Integrity is Bullshit
You're the wishy-washy
I'm the tub stopper
I've loved you more than
your poppy and your doting
grandmother
Test this devotion
Float some oil on this water
Check the temperature and
tell me if I'm ever tepid
fodder
I will provide you with none
Give you powdered flour for
your gun
Fill your bullets with sugar
And then you try to hurt someone
Try me, try to break down this
façade
The so-called wand that you
wield when you
called it a mirage
I know you fell for me,
And I know you remember
when you got up
Your knees were bruised from the impact
and your head was concussed
I couldn't have given you a
cushion if you'd stuffed me
with feathers
but I was gathering
affection
as you blew oxygen
on a fire that was a mere
apparition
I can't be blamed for a boat
when what you wanted was
a house
Mine was just as good
but you had to know I'd paddle
out
I loved you for the infinitesimal moment
that we had, but that passed
That doesn't mean it wasn't valid
Some things weren't meant to last
Call me arrogant
Because I felt like it.
I challenge you to love me with
the same kind of music.
You love me, you love me
And I'm devoted to the artform
More interested in praising
Than giving you the strong arm
I'm the hold steady
You're the rocking ship
I think the gods first named
you under the title:
Integrity is Bullshit
You're the wishy-washy
I'm the tub stopper
I've loved you more than
your poppy and your doting
grandmother
Test this devotion
Float some oil on this water
Check the temperature and
tell me if I'm ever tepid
fodder
I will provide you with none
Give you powdered flour for
your gun
Fill your bullets with sugar
And then you try to hurt someone
Try me, try to break down this
façade
The so-called wand that you
wield when you
called it a mirage
I know you fell for me,
And I know you remember
when you got up
Your knees were bruised from the impact
and your head was concussed
I couldn't have given you a
cushion if you'd stuffed me
with feathers
but I was gathering
affection
as you blew oxygen
on a fire that was a mere
apparition
I can't be blamed for a boat
when what you wanted was
a house
Mine was just as good
but you had to know I'd paddle
out
I loved you for the infinitesimal moment
that we had, but that passed
That doesn't mean it wasn't valid
Some things weren't meant to last
Friday, August 21, 2009
Explanation
When they ask, I will say "irreconcilable differences." The novelty of using the phrase appeals to me. I never knew what it meant until now. I'm fond of toying with my personal tragedies, making them all the more alluring. To the naked eye, it is just another sorrowful tale. For me it is drama. Theater of life. The tragicomic way that I draw out my grievances. Everybody is a writer. Everybody is an artist. What do the corporate blanks do in their free time? When the winding gears, the winding gears come slowly to a halt? This is when art beckons me. I want to do something creative. Make something colorful, weave something beautiful with my hands. Something light and iridescent like a bubble suspended on a spiderweb (something my dad just remarked about outside my window.) Art is beautiful, life is sadness, Art = Life (as Inside Out taught me) so sadness equates to beauty. I'm making my break-up beautiful by putting it into song. So this passage, this passage, this passage is my song. I'm making art out of life.
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