Figures like Us
We are pretenders
We forget our bodies as we worship them
The disconnect
between brain and spinal cord
I am another
woman with slender legs
plain meadowlike stomach
void of hills or mountains
no domes above flat land
He is a man
a face of stubble
an untouched lateral frame
chest carved out of solid rock
yet memberless despite
Every encounter is an out-of-body experience
For the aftermath does not, will not, compute
Figures like us do not deserve to have good sex
That is a job for our alter egos
Monday, December 26, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Scalpel
Fresh off the press...
Scalpel
I don't know why I picture it
every time I feel too stuck to be human
or too human to be anything else.
Is it the clean incision
I feel dragging down my body
splitting me perfectly in two?
My cavity is open.
The blood gushes, sticky
and internal organs, soft
It's cold here on the metal table.
Everyone is watching
the distribution of me
piece by piece--allocated
careful funds among beggar nations.
Scalpel
I don't know why I picture it
every time I feel too stuck to be human
or too human to be anything else.
Is it the clean incision
I feel dragging down my body
splitting me perfectly in two?
My cavity is open.
The blood gushes, sticky
and internal organs, soft
It's cold here on the metal table.
Everyone is watching
the distribution of me
piece by piece--allocated
careful funds among beggar nations.
Monday, September 12, 2011
The Crazies (do you hear me?)
Written August 24, 2011
The Crazies (do you hear me?)
Close your eyes,
you can't watch,
you're tumbling down as they rip you apart.
Love what you've got
hate what you don't
shut the world out, there's no time,
there's no time at all.
Float,
into a deep slumber,
Leave,
all your thoughts and loved ones behind,
crawl under a rock,
plug your ears.
I can't stand it
do you hear me?!
When the people you wanted to be, become all that you least expected, where do you run?
When he joins them,
who do you cry to?
Why must the first piece always be like this,
not about love,
but about the CRAZIES!
I've got the Crazies, do you hear me?
I'M A FREAK!
I'm the different that different left behind when it went mainstream.
I am the original copy!
I am the truth to your lie.
The rule to your pleasure.
I am she who grew because of you, in spite of you.
It's my words of praise you display in your doorway
with your self-righteousness
and if I could I would tear it down,
because they all know you're a fake,
they smell it
they taste it
they hear it coming,
from around the corner.
HIDE, do you hear me?
They will come for you,
take away your life and leave you,
with nothing but scraps of ideas you put back together on your own.
Close your eyes,
do you hear me?
The Crazies (do you hear me?)
Close your eyes,
you can't watch,
you're tumbling down as they rip you apart.
Love what you've got
hate what you don't
shut the world out, there's no time,
there's no time at all.
Float,
into a deep slumber,
Leave,
all your thoughts and loved ones behind,
crawl under a rock,
plug your ears.
I can't stand it
do you hear me?!
When the people you wanted to be, become all that you least expected, where do you run?
When he joins them,
who do you cry to?
Why must the first piece always be like this,
not about love,
but about the CRAZIES!
I've got the Crazies, do you hear me?
I'M A FREAK!
I'm the different that different left behind when it went mainstream.
I am the original copy!
I am the truth to your lie.
The rule to your pleasure.
I am she who grew because of you, in spite of you.
It's my words of praise you display in your doorway
with your self-righteousness
and if I could I would tear it down,
because they all know you're a fake,
they smell it
they taste it
they hear it coming,
from around the corner.
HIDE, do you hear me?
They will come for you,
take away your life and leave you,
with nothing but scraps of ideas you put back together on your own.
Close your eyes,
do you hear me?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Beyond the Reflection
This is the first semi-poetic piece I had put on paper since my creative writing class ended last December. It was written on June 25, 2011.
Beyond the Reflection
The full-length mirror
in the bedroom that isn't mine
sings me songs of progress
that I have not yet made
The marks on my body are invisible
but they are there
On my thighs, my arms, my wrists, my ankles
signs of hurt and indulgence
conceal themselves directly beneath the surface of my flesh.
I have not visited the same place twice
and lived to tell about it
but the poorly lit trail I chose to follow
whispers promises to me
between the forest trees
"Abandon-not the traces of dignity embossed in the depths of your soul,
for true light shines
beyond the reflection"
Beyond the Reflection
The full-length mirror
in the bedroom that isn't mine
sings me songs of progress
that I have not yet made
The marks on my body are invisible
but they are there
On my thighs, my arms, my wrists, my ankles
signs of hurt and indulgence
conceal themselves directly beneath the surface of my flesh.
I have not visited the same place twice
and lived to tell about it
but the poorly lit trail I chose to follow
whispers promises to me
between the forest trees
"Abandon-not the traces of dignity embossed in the depths of your soul,
for true light shines
beyond the reflection"
The Revival
Hello All (or well, just me at least),
I write this letter to you fully knowing that I may be the only one left still following me, that's okay, for I am here for me too. It's been a long year. You may have thought that I had abandoned writing after reading my last post, and for a while I may have thought that too, even though truthfully every time I've thought about how long it has been since I last updated here, my insides hurt a little more and I felt that I couldn't come back. But when it comes down to it I could never abandon writing, it runs through my veins.
So here's a little rundown of what I've been up to this past year. I grew as a person quite a lot. I entered and completed my sophomore year of college. I took a creative writing class last fall, it helped my fiction a bit but didn't do much for my poetry (except for one poem I was able to spit out at the very end, which I believe is my very best thus far -- more on that at a later date). I gained a lover, who, interestingly enough, identifies as male, which just goes to show that you can spend your life preparing for one thing and the Universe hands you another. I stood my ground on the topic of my lesbian identity several times and I continue to do so. I became President of a club on my campus called Social Justice Coalition. I went to an amazing sexuality conference in DC called Momentum. I began embracing my kinky side and my passion for "alternative" sexuality. I fell in love with American Sign Language and Deaf culture and have now worked it into my life plan to become an ASL interpreter. I helped my mom move to her first solo apartment over the summer. I had my first sexual experience, and loved it! I passed organic chemistry, just barely. I was rejected for the same job a second time (a dream college job of mine since I set foot on campus freshman year), and learned to appreciate the job I had. I went through a semester in hell with horrible roommates. I saw Wicked on Broadway, finally! I began truly accepting that God/the Universe (depending on what you believe in) will work hard to give me what I need and what's best and meant to be for me. I gained a ton of self worth, that I didn't know was left to gain. I began listening to podcasts, which turned out to be pretty life enriching. I survived a 3 month long distance relationship (out of a new 4 month relationship) with flying colors. I learned so much about the kind of person I am. I frequented a Lit club on campus, read my poetry aloud and learned that people love the way I read poetry and how my poems sound. I joined a pre-med honor society. I've made new friendships and strengthened existing ones and may have lost a few in between. And all in all I had a rather inspiring year! I'm ready and invigorated to begin this new one.
If you are still with me after my year long hiatus and after this lengthy, very un-poetic post, I commend and appreciate your loyalty. If you have gone your own way in the meantime and have yet to return, I wish you nothing but the best. And for those who have discovered my work while I was out discovering myself, thank you, I hope to continue to provide you with... well, with a sense of what you're looking for, I suppose. And to myself, past, present, or future, as it may be, I'm still here and I'm still kicking, I haven't yet given up.
Robin
I write this letter to you fully knowing that I may be the only one left still following me, that's okay, for I am here for me too. It's been a long year. You may have thought that I had abandoned writing after reading my last post, and for a while I may have thought that too, even though truthfully every time I've thought about how long it has been since I last updated here, my insides hurt a little more and I felt that I couldn't come back. But when it comes down to it I could never abandon writing, it runs through my veins.
So here's a little rundown of what I've been up to this past year. I grew as a person quite a lot. I entered and completed my sophomore year of college. I took a creative writing class last fall, it helped my fiction a bit but didn't do much for my poetry (except for one poem I was able to spit out at the very end, which I believe is my very best thus far -- more on that at a later date). I gained a lover, who, interestingly enough, identifies as male, which just goes to show that you can spend your life preparing for one thing and the Universe hands you another. I stood my ground on the topic of my lesbian identity several times and I continue to do so. I became President of a club on my campus called Social Justice Coalition. I went to an amazing sexuality conference in DC called Momentum. I began embracing my kinky side and my passion for "alternative" sexuality. I fell in love with American Sign Language and Deaf culture and have now worked it into my life plan to become an ASL interpreter. I helped my mom move to her first solo apartment over the summer. I had my first sexual experience, and loved it! I passed organic chemistry, just barely. I was rejected for the same job a second time (a dream college job of mine since I set foot on campus freshman year), and learned to appreciate the job I had. I went through a semester in hell with horrible roommates. I saw Wicked on Broadway, finally! I began truly accepting that God/the Universe (depending on what you believe in) will work hard to give me what I need and what's best and meant to be for me. I gained a ton of self worth, that I didn't know was left to gain. I began listening to podcasts, which turned out to be pretty life enriching. I survived a 3 month long distance relationship (out of a new 4 month relationship) with flying colors. I learned so much about the kind of person I am. I frequented a Lit club on campus, read my poetry aloud and learned that people love the way I read poetry and how my poems sound. I joined a pre-med honor society. I've made new friendships and strengthened existing ones and may have lost a few in between. And all in all I had a rather inspiring year! I'm ready and invigorated to begin this new one.
If you are still with me after my year long hiatus and after this lengthy, very un-poetic post, I commend and appreciate your loyalty. If you have gone your own way in the meantime and have yet to return, I wish you nothing but the best. And for those who have discovered my work while I was out discovering myself, thank you, I hope to continue to provide you with... well, with a sense of what you're looking for, I suppose. And to myself, past, present, or future, as it may be, I'm still here and I'm still kicking, I haven't yet given up.
Robin
Friday, August 20, 2010
How I Started to Cry
How I Started to Cry: a Somewhat Poetic Rant
I am not special. I am not beautiful. I am not happy, and I may never be. In fact there’s a great chance that I wont be. I won’t be where I want to be, ever. I will never leave an impact on this world. I am not driven. I am not talented. I don’t want to try. to be useful. or productive. I want to abandon every project or endeavor I had ever begun or planned out. I am no writer. Everyone is a writer, no one is discovered. I may never love the way I dream to. I may never love at all. I dream too big, yes there is such a thing. The floorplan of my life is imaginary, it’s based on other people’s fiction and realities. I am not a good human being. I am a lie. I am the façade. I do well to rack up karma points that I hope will one day buy me the life I’ve spent too much time fantasizing about. I’m beginning to doubt my potential. I have not yet succeeded at anything. I am not noteworthy. I am not memorable and no one will remember me. I am nothing BUT a memory. A face in the crowd of someone’s life. The girl I knew in 6th grade. I haven’t cried like this in a while. I have not sobbed. I have not curled up in a ball, kneeling into the floor attempting to degenerate myself into matter. It’s been some time now. The things I worry about are absurd. Will I have money to buy toothpaste, or shampoo, in the next week before college starts? Will I be able to afford getting my sheets laundered and my jeans altered? I am not noble, and I have no story to tell. I suck at fiction. I do not want to try so hard, work my life away to be a writer, or a doctor, to revolutionize fertility, or be an activist, I don’t want to bring a voice to anyone… I barely have my own. I can’t live with myself as being the person who sits on the couch marathoning decade old television episodes. being a spud. I am inconsolable most of the time. I have used up my free sympathy passes and never truly have anyone to turn to, that I will not regret the next morning. I am not great. or good. I can’t breathe through my nose. It is stuffed. I have been alone for too long. I have nothing of my own. I have not been inspired. and I am not inspiring. I am selfishly kind, if at all. I am prettiest after I spend my time crying. I am trying to ignore the fact that I have not and will not shower today, lie it away, believe my own lie and make it disappear, not because I am depressed but because I am lazy. I am running out of words, my attempts are getting shoty and way too calculated but I can’t stop typing because the lifeless, worthless, not empty per se, more like decrepit, feeling is still there. I firmly believe that I am too difficult to love and that those who may begin to explore feelings for me will find that I have standards that they shouldn’t try to live up to. Yes, I too have standards, while I don’t have the right to. I expect to meet my ideal and for that I may be foolish, no, I most definitely am. I am tired to of being relied on but I am good at nothing more. I spend my time proving myself to someone who isn’t there. And what for? To be remembered by few, and famous to virtually no one. To leave nothing behind. Living life as merely going through a series of motions. a procedure with no wealth. I saw the sparkle in her words as they surely were in her eyes when she wrote them and realized that to some she was an idol, while others had never heard of her and that’s how I started to cry. I would never meet her or get to love her. I would never be her. Her optimism soars and she believes in the best in people and in art. She herself is an artist. She has the luxury of being herself and loving it, even when she doesn’t know it. And I fear I will have none of that.
I have a hard time believing that you can mean everything to some people and still mean nothing to others. What does it take to live happily and what can we teach the world?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Community College Cafeteria
Written in response to ABC Wednesday's C prompt:
Community College Cafeteria
clears out at about three or four in the afternoon
reminding me somewhat of an airport gate
people wait
for something to arrive
or depart
Vending machines dispense cheap overpriced candy
to students eager for a sugar fix
to make it through the day
And I can't concentrate on anything
two papers due
not a single one started
Whose brilliant idea was it to take summer classes anyway?!
The cold air conditioning torments
but refuses to awaken me from my daze
another force of destruction working against me
I stare out the window
and the trees outside are waving their limbs
inviting me to join them
but I am stuck here
between table, chair, turkey and cheese sandwiches, my computer, old episodes of Smallvile, and a
Literature textbook with tomorrow's assigned reading still unread
And it will all remain as such
until eight o clock p.m.
when I am forced to go to History.
 |
| Photo by 76spread on Flickr |
Community College Cafeteria
clears out at about three or four in the afternoon
reminding me somewhat of an airport gate
people wait
for something to arrive
or depart
Vending machines dispense cheap overpriced candy
to students eager for a sugar fix
to make it through the day
And I can't concentrate on anything
two papers due
not a single one started
Whose brilliant idea was it to take summer classes anyway?!
The cold air conditioning torments
but refuses to awaken me from my daze
another force of destruction working against me
I stare out the window
and the trees outside are waving their limbs
inviting me to join them
but I am stuck here
between table, chair, turkey and cheese sandwiches, my computer, old episodes of Smallvile, and a
Literature textbook with tomorrow's assigned reading still unread
And it will all remain as such
until eight o clock p.m.
when I am forced to go to History.
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