Recently, a friend of mine suggested I share more poetry and stories on my blogs.
Most of my weekly posts are centered around faith, but I figured it might be fun to mix it up a little bit! Below I’ve compiled a few poems that I’ve NEVER shared before. You can’t find these on my Instagram or Facebook. They’re completely exclusive:-)
Here we go! (Warning: my poetry is a lot darker than a lot of my other writing hahaha!)
“Am I the only one that goes inside of things?
Every time I blink, I go into myself and dissect what I’ve seen.
I feel the war veteran, the crying child, the nurse,
The murderer, the murdered, the mother,
And the curse
Like it grafted my soul and knit me together
And I can’t just walk away.
I remember all the little things
And how they felt
And I paint them onto my brain like graffiti.
Is it fair to feel so alive and yet so alone?
So scared and crying and jubilant and brave all at once?
All the stories inside me live there,
I mean, really live there
And they move around and I feel their footsteps in the kitchen.
I don’t belong here
That’s all I can think
And one day my brain will be full of brighter, beautiful stories
That which I can live
Instead of watch
Because then I will belong.”
“Who are you?
Blanched by the light of your cigarette
Whose eyes feel like sand every time you blink.
Who are you?
You place your identity in a screen
You filter time through the slots of device
Put buds in your ears and pretend
When you look up
You finally wake up
From the dream that is life.
Look at what really is.
The bright lights feel like sand and cheese and hot oil in your eyes.
It’s too raw, too fresh,
Who are you?
Tick with the rhythm of your clock
Blink with the rhythm of your feed
Laugh with the rhythm of your fingers
A rectangle controls your life—
Who are you?
Your fingers are snakes with heads and brains—
Don’t fall into his pixelated arms—
Whose are you?
Whose are you—”
Ode to Acne
“They are roses on your cheeks
Kisses on the contours and curves of your face
That we are so much more beautiful
The American Dream
“There’s a reason they call it
The American Dream–
You have to be asleep
To the ridiculous
That so many weeds grow
In the fallen garden
That was once
The home of the brave.”
“Why I love you:
You know about the weeds
That grow within you
But you let Jesus
Help you with
And that’s a wrap! Let me know whether you’d like to see more poetry or go back to the usual faith blog I usually have on Saturdays:-) Thanks for reading!