growth

dearest little sapling,
you spud of the spring,
can i share a secret with you?

you arise with the sun
as it shines, beaming its love
you wake up with the birds

tales of gumdrops and unicorns
are spun before your awaiting eyes
the paint is thick and made of lead.

i fear for you my dearest dear,
i fear you have been told silver lies.
that rest in the web of what we believe.

but this world is colder
and bolder than the pleasant
sunbeams that dance and build you up.

society is a frost that killed off your sisters
snuffed out, the oysters have all
been eaten up-- mr. walrus is not kind.

my fears mount as i see you grow up
and follow that same course i took
the petals fall softly to the ground.

and yet

the leaf was turned.
as i walked outside through the other door.
and smelled the smells of spring
on the cleaner breeze.

what was biting hurt
is healing now.
what made me cry
is only a shimmer of a memory.

my warning stands, if perhaps a bit predetermined.
i love you, my dear,
forget not my love.

to you

dear person who happens to read this blog,
I am sincerely sorry that all of my poems have been so awfully stupid lately. It pains me to read them, and have to admit that i wrote them. sorry for whining and writing c rap. I hope to start fresh soon--to write things that are more meaningful than what i've been doing lately. I can't necessarily promise they won't be completely stupid though--stupidity has become my motif, it would seem. okay. that's all.
love,
hannah

Done

old habits
difficult to break.
i fall right back into
what feels good.

eyes closed
ears wide open
i listen and yearn
for a sound
from you
your voice was
lost on the wind
or never found
among the wolves.

all in all
this bad habit
this old habit
is something i cant live without
my addiction my curse
my life.
you are my oxygen
you are my lifeline
without you
i flounder on the open sea.

i stand in the middle
of a rickety old bridge
you call me from a side
and he calls me from the other
i do not turn to glance
to the right or left
my empty eyes
contemplate
the empty space
between the bridge and
the water and rocks below.
the empty space
that i fill
as i plummet to
the bottom.

the wind tears my skin
whistling through my hair
and roaring in my ears
the water grabs at my limbs
and the rocks split my head.

i have become dismembered
lying among the surf..
you gaze at me from above--
atop the bridge--
and all i can do is sigh
and close my eyes
inviting rest to seep
into my dying pores.

i had a choice to make
i had a cop out to take
i gave up, i
gave in to the whims
of the restless
the heartbroken..
me.

this again my friends this again [lo siento]

i review the damage
and cannot change the channel.
on a loop, i see
all of my mistakes of late.
all of them, in their entirety.
everything i assumed and
everything i falsely hoped for
everything i believed
that were simply lies
i review the damage
i survey the carnage
and cannot
i cannot
i never will
i just cannot
i
i
i
cant
what is time? it heals nothing
the damage is still there
for me to review
over and over again
i am to r tured
what is this?
an old record stuck
to repeat the same silly tune
over and over and over
again. [i lay my head back down]
[i lift my hands and pray]
[to be only yours]
my fault my creed
i cannot tear my eyes away
from the lifeless bodies
the wreckage my heart among the detritus.
seared into my brain
are images of you
and a collection of
flowery words, their thorns thick with my
believing b lood.
i am in agony
of my own volition [or if i'm just missing the sun]
replay replay replay
repeat.
what is
what could this
what is this today and yesterday and tomorrow
will my soul never grow
out of this despondency?
the lamentation that i cannot shake
cause the bemoanings of an entire month.
i review the damage.
yet the taste of b lood in my mouth
is not enough to deter
foolish child, insanity runs in the family
[yet that is not known]
bruised, my heart expands
explodes out of my chest
for what you considered
nothing of consequence
the transplant comes at an
inconvenience. i supposed.

how could i possibly get some rest
when there is absolute v iolence
to fill up my chest?
why must i simply move on
when i prefer the dark of night
to the lighter dawn?
i cannot deal in the same way (if at all)
that everyone seems to be able to.

[that boy is a monster... he ate my heart]

find the mind

i ran from the moth in my room.

i opened the microwave door, expecting the answer, and instead found emptiness.

obsessively i wonder where you are and if you could ever have loved me.

obsessively. i do not tell a lie.

ransom notes drip from my mouth.

i knock on the wood and wish that luck were in my tea leaves.

i give you the finger, before i remind you of my love,

oh my hypocrisy, how it engulfs me!

yet needy i have always been beneath the surface.

the placid waves cannot describe

the twists and turns of the current--it pulls me into the deep.

i ran from the moth in my room.

i closed the door and sobbed into my hands.

for this little creature, so plain and i n n o c e n t, i knew i could not stand.

my solitude, unexplainable, though perfectly rational in the eyes of the crazed.

crazed am i? speak in riddles and forget your name

label the crazed and label the sane---what would we be

without electric bulbs and wooden tinker toys?

blind am i, though the colors i feel; well i've convinced myself that they are real.

fog on the window, crust on the cake

i ran from the moth in my room.

describe your tears and unleash your fears

before the 7 o'clock news.

the body lies beneath the floor, and the b l o o d stains your shirt.

but i still believe you are bereft of blame.

shades of brain

it is the egg sizzling on the griddle
burning burning burning
and becoming something else
frazzled and maniacal
divested of sagacity

it is the fawn feeding in the forest
frolic free and yet feral
hiding in the safe thicket
innocent---vernal
divested of sophistication

it is the bird buried above
permanently caught in the blanket-sky
squawking, screaming, crying out
to be let down from its e c s tasy
always neglected. forgotten.

it is the tender drop of rain
prepared to dissolve on the wind
holding a world inside itself
keening sobbing weeping
and asking why it is crying.

it is the listless eye of a star
existence becomes the struggle
living for dying at the very least
longuor, lassitude, lethargy
on the verge of sleep

addiction---what i shouldnt be saying

I lay me down to sleep
And in my t ortured sleep,,
I truly weep

no hope left, i sigh my sighs

i am found expressionless.

my face is white.

my hands are cold.

i have no story that has not been told.

my purpose spent

the fountain is closed

and dreams are surely d e ath.

what news of kent?

you may inquire

but the news was stopped

at the d e ath of the squire.

what purpose have i left?

to speak idle words

until my de ath?

they don't even rhyme.

too afraid to speak or call:

not happy am i, not happy at all.

the life i lead

is void of meaning

void of love and void of hurt

numb i have become

numb to your stinging words.

i cannot feel your acid touch

and i just don't miss you much.
(perhaps a lie)
the birds in the trees

that sing morning melodies

have all come down with this disease

on the forest floor they writhe in pain

with an upturned nose you show disdain

my cold lifeless body lies in the deep

blankets of sea wash over me

that sing me into eternal sleep

they sing me songs i cannot read

that shelter me from



the lifeless life i lead.

new

in need of redirection

the clicking of my heels
as i march away

you were good for a few words
but now you are useless

the shift of my hair
as i shiver in this lonely cold

i remember golden days
when i thought much less

the heavy air we swam through
on days when the sun stayed in bed

i cautioned the wind to be wary
and wondered what it could mean

hearing and missing what was said
and closing my eyes on the very last note

everything exists in your head
yet nothing is in there at all

the words that never made sense
but were screamed at banquets nonetheless

i crawled inside an empty tire
and waited to be reorganized

the sun and the sparkling moon
and wondering who i might be

i touched the delicate lace
yet recoiled in surprise

always reminded of the arsenic
of the little old ladies

even roosevelt never knew
though you never cared to ask