Poetry

I Surrender

Funny thing about those words.
Those words that I wrote years ago.
Those words that are still true.
Those hurts that still continue.
Those words that became lies.
The love I thought would never go away.
Blame me. Blame yourself.
It’s always the same thing over again.
It’s old. I’m tired of crying.
I cried then in my pillow night after night
When you didn’t notice.
Now I cry just sometimes.
Just when you wear me down to not mattering anymore.
I’m some shadow in your world. Some face. Some representation of your anger.
I don’t know who she is. But she is not me.
You have won.
I give in and surrender. I no longer fight. I no longer wish for what I wished for.
The fight is over and one day I will be completely free.
For now, it is enough that it is over.
And, as she said, “I am done.”

 

The Bird and the Whale

A bird fell in love with a whale.
The bird sang her songs, loud and true.
The whale was the only one who would listen to her songs.
And the whale sang low and strong in the deep.
The bird understood his songs. The whale understood hers.
They spoke the same language. They both lived free.
The whale loved the bird. So he learned how to fly.
And the bird learned how to swim.
But where could they live? The bird almost drowned and the whale couldn’t stay in the air for more than minutes at a time.
So they stayed apart, searching for a bird or a whale that could hear them and understand.
But the bird could not find another bird.
The whale could not find another whale.
So they sang on, always searching for another
To hear.

I Don't Want to Know (Song Lyrics)

A song that's going to be on my new album:

I don't wanna know what you're dreaming.
Cause dreams so rarely come true
And if you're dreaming about me and you
Then I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know.

I don't wanna know what you're thinking.
And I don't wanna know what you're feeling.
Cause if you're hurting like I am tonight
Then I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know.

Cause you've locked all the doors and you've shut me out
There's no way I can reach you
And just knowing you feel something (or nothing)
Only makes me need you

I don't wanna know that you're trying
Cause hope only causes love to grow
And I can't grow something that you can't show
So I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know.

I don't want to know how much I still love you.
No I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know.

I don't want to know     

Alone

Alone with you.
Alone without you.
Alone in this room full of people.
Alone looking at the stars, a little girl singing to the lights in the dark.
Alone with those songs – those melodies, those words.Alone at the laptop, writing for no reason except to express.
Hoping that you will listen.
Hoping that you will understand.
And I can’t stop expressing. I’ve tried.
I keep publishing. Keep saying. Keep texting. Keep talking. Keep emailing.
Sometimes expecting nothing in return.
Because I am alone.
I wish for that moment when you touch - when you cross over the line of one and reach two.
I want for that knowing of someone so deeply that there’s no fear anymore. Only connection.
Giving up means dying and I’m not ready to die. I’ve always loved to live.
Except that one time.
So here I am talking to you again, writing little words from my soul.
Hoping that you will listen.
Hoping that you will understand.
Then maybe I have a chance of not being
Alone.

 

The Wall

It’s just a wall.  It has perimeters and strength.
I can feel it – usually just when we are together.
I built it slowly over time.  At first, it was just small protection – just for those stings of hurt I felt with words.
And one day I realized how high it had become. It was unscalable.
And I saw how strong it was. Almost impenetrable.
Almost.
I could tear it down brick by brick and stone by stone. But it is much easier to build than to tear down defenses.
I would have to trust to pull it apart. I would have to be ready to be open to leave a way to enter
The wall around my heart.

If I Could Only Forget

Unknown? Unloved?
Impossible.
Strangers? Separated?
Unbelievable.
Unsung? Unheard?
Never.
Forever ended. We are 2 mortals that tried to be gods.
We flew close to the sun and our wings melted.
And now we are on the ground – shattered in pieces.
If I could only forget that we flew. . . .

 

Wandering

I don’t think I can go where you are again.
I envy you and your openness.
You can breathe. I can’t take in the air.
I don’t want to. I want what you have but how do I get there from here?
I don’t even know where I am.
Lost. Still.
Wandering to forget. Still remembering.
So I stay lost. Still wandering.
And I can’t go back. Not to where you are.
Back to openness and joy without judgement.
Back to happiness without question.
I can’t go back. I can’t go where you are.
So I wander. Lost. Still.

 

I Run

I’m not sure what it is.
Maybe you’re my obsession.
That part of my inner drive and determination that still reveals itself.
I’m not chasing you anymore. But still it is there – the running.
Maybe not running – maybe just searching. Or longing. Or reaching.
I don’t know. I don’t understand it.
Maybe I never will.
Maybe I keep the distance so that I can run and reach and search.
But the longing is what kills.
One day at a time, my friend said. Then she said, “One minute.”
Yes one minute at a time.
I long. I reach. I search.
I run.

 

In My Head

I write all the time. In my head.
Maybe I’m crazy. I don’t know. I forgot the definition.
Is it crazy to write poetry, songs and prose in your head every minute of the day
Well in between the forced labor.
I try to focus. It’s the most difficult thing I do. Distract myself from the words that come.
And the melodies. God the melodies. You should hear them. Beautiful. Rockin.
They just come. I wish I could wear ear muffs to muffle the sound. . . . but it comes from within.
Maybe I should see a doctor. Maybe he or she could design a muffler to stop the sounds from my brain to my ears.
If they could do that, I would go lay on the beach for 4 days. I would listen to the ocean and think of nothing.
But I go back to my computer and type in the spreadsheets. And hear the melodies pushing through and the words banging on my eardrum.
And I wish for the beach.

 

My Little Poems

I like my little poems.
They are small.
They tell me things.
Things you don’t see.
They are like my songs.
I write them fast with little editing. I let the words flow from the deep and onto the white expanse.
They come or they don’t come.
I don’t question them. I don’t schedule appointments to write them.
I don’t need anyone else.
They are my own. They mean something to me.
It doesn’t matter if you like them.
I do.