don’t know

there is a point in the night
when it feels like everything has finally stopped
and it’s just the right time for my thoughts to trace their progression,
create a map of the turns that made me feel this way
because i don’t know
when i arrived at this out of character,
quiet, contemplative, passive state of mine

and it’s taken me over a week to recognize that
i don’t remember the last time i really looked at the sky
and i am starting to realize that i have gone my entire life
without knowing what lust feels like
and i can see beauty
i can find it in the most unusual places
and yet, i can not seem to feel it
or let it invade my mind-
take over every ounce of my rationality.
and i don’t know if it’s because of sensibility, fear,
or God forbid- inability
there is so much that i still don’t know.

i feel like an impressionist painting
zoomed in too close
i know the lines are deliberate,
i just can’t seem to understand where they fit in
and i would take a step back
but my shoulders are already up against a wall
so all i can do is stare and decipher
and peel the paint that is in front of me,
try to reveal the bare canvas underneath it all
in order to see what all of this is for
because i really don’t know

but i will never know
all that i don’t know
despite my every effort
and sometimes that makes it hard
to learn something new-
especially when it comes to matters of the heart

and the truth is that i’ve never enjoyed the beginning
because i don’t know where to start
i never ask the right questions
and i’m too quick to tell my stories.

i’d much prefer the middle
where there’s comfort and certain hearts-
a choir of skin cells and each others smells wrapped up in the sheets
of a jackson pollock love.

give me goose bumps,
i like the chill
give me music,
i like the sounds
give me poetry
i like the honesty

but give me what i know
because i am scared of everything else.

philadelphia

this is the city that has brought us together
but there is no direction
only up
and there is no ladder
only us
so i’ll get on your shoulders and you get on mine
together we will take over this city with the strength of three thousand minds
the poets are a dying bread
trying to breathe life into each other
and all the other artists are hiding
behind the canvas of a black and white masterpiece

what the fuck has happened to color?

dull and boring has become the accepted norm
and the sleeper curve is forging intelligence
as if drunk were the new sober
and violence were the modern way of showing affection

and why the fuck do i have to curse just to be heard?!

is it because i’m a 4″10 and a half little girl
who’s not what you expected?

HEAR THIS:
I WILL NEVER RAISE MY HAND IN ANGST AGAINST ANOTHER PERSON BUT I WILL BE FIGHTING ALL MY LIFE. IT’S JUST THE WORLD IN WHICH WE LIVE.

BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I HAVE TO LIKE IT. AND IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT JUST BECAUSE I KNOW THE RULES, I HAVE TO PLAY THE GAME. IT DOES NOT MAKE ME ANY LESS OF A MOTHAFUCKIN’ ARTIST.
let me set the record straight
i am not here to edify or educate
i am not here to celebrate life.

i am here to reject conformity and reclaim my individuality.
i am a philanthropist
who is being forced to vie my way to the top.
forced to fight for the rights of my own destiny!
forced to exploit everything that is good in this world!
just so people remember to have hope!
just so people remember.

but as i sat in the hall waiting for class to begin
my hands were red and cold
and inspiration was frozen
felt like i had lost everything, well,
at least my will to win.

philadelphia, city of brotherly love and sisterly affection
be my spine, my thrill my protector

point me in the direction of pure disconcertion,
just so i have some encouragement
to pursue the definitions of peace and intuition

philadelphia, city of brotherly love and sisterly affection
be my night light, my chill, my cup of warm inspiration

for you are the home of my education
and i am standing on the welcome mat
fumbling for my key.

product of insomnia

the sun is coming up!
the sun is coming up!
and i’m still wide awake
laying in my bed.

lullabies fail to bring me peace
so i just pray that i catch some z’s before the completion of the sunrise
but i no longer sleep to dream,
it’s simply for the sake of closing my eyes.

lately i find that sleep breaks the progression of my dreams
i need to be awake for them to come alive.

i have a cherub on my shoulder,
whispering quiet songs of hope and comfort that say
i will come across my biggest dreams of all
on the corner of a philadelphia street in the middle of the night
but there is something in my cherub’s voice
that says sometimes the morning sneaks in a bit too soon

my body is shaking cold
through my room is warm as a summer morning
the orange sun skyline is reflected in my nocturnal eyes
and i think my sleeplessness is directly connected to my lack of scholastic action
my attempts of finding satisfaction through mental masturbation
have left me lusting for results more tangible.

i feel vulgar.
i feel like i’m standing on a fucking six inch landing
over looking the vicious ocean of all i fear.
it’s inconsistent currents thrash the pillar on which i stand
and i’m losing my fucking balance.

i feel like an asshole
who can’t keep track of everyone.
i find myself weaving between conversations
choosing the unfamiliar faces over the ones which are recognizable.

it’s 3 am and my doors still open
inviting anybody to just come on in
i’m holding onto the last crumbs of the night
which fall from the rising sun.

i feel like it’s the middle of the afternoon
my eyes are wide and my body is begging to explore it’s new home
there is not a single part of me that wants to be in bed
so i type out these verse
yet even poetry is tired in this early hour

and i’m trying to reach the pinnacle of my anti-cynical state of mind
because i know for sure that words and music are the essence of the air in this dorm room
and philadelphia, i want nothing more than to grow up with ya
all i really need is a couple of good friends, an eager crowd and poem
to make me feel at home

see, i am a literary lush.
drunk with anticipation of what’s to come.
my rhymes are fleeting
though i can’t seem to shut the fuck up.

i think i should to rub the eyes of inspiration
to remove the stain of subconscious movie frames
and replace them with vivid images of my waking aspiration
and the cherub on my shoulder will hail them a cab so they can drive the coils of my mind
and invade my old vocabulary with a new sense of pride,
leave behind a trail of possible routes
all of which are leading to the resting place of my muse
who is waiting for the ink of my pen to kiss her awake

parenthetical parts

i have big ideas
and great big meaningful intentions.
i have little plenty of through
and souls on the bottom of my shoes.

brackets surround my heart
and there are some parts of me
which are parenthetical
and they help keep me from falling to pieces.

my torrid spirit is the very essence
of the sadie hawkins dance that has been my existence.

simply stated:
i am the repeat contender of my own life.

no one else fights all night for my dreams
or changes the light when i can no longer see.

even though my phases are fleeting
and my changes are frequent
not a single part of me is evanescent.

i’ve learned to alter perceptions,
and transform the way i see
without modifying the core of me.

i think it’s time to create my own manifesto.
the word has been following me
and i have reason to believe
that it has been trying to convince me
to create a personal law that is actually laudable
and that agrees with my theory
about being content and incomplete simultaneously.

i can play out my past
as if it happened yesterday
and plan out my future
as if it were all happening tomorrow
but i’d rather enjoy this moment,
not rush from the very minute i face
because truth be declared
i’ve broken records in the run from the past dash
yet i want to relinquish my ribbons and metals to someone else
put all my dramatized emotions into shadow boxes on my walls
and find beauty in it all.

i want to find beauty in love given but not received
i want to find beauty in the storm
i want to find beauty in everything we need
i want to find beauty in the halls of a dorm.

i want to find beauty in history
i want to find beauty in an empty bed
i want to find beauty in misery
i want to find beauty in things we dread.

i want to find beauty in a jail cell
i want to find beauty written on a bathroom stall
i want to find beauty on the face of someone as they yell
and i want to perpetuate it all.

i want to perpetuate it all.
i want to perpetuate it all.

i will promote the exploration of hell
just to see if it’s really anything to fear.

and i will make heaven attainable
while we can appreciate it’s harmony.

but i don’t understand
how peace can become a fashion trend
instead of a movement.

i don’t understand
how education can be considered a privilege
and not an inalienable right

i don’t understand
how the ones with all the capital
(or should i say the ones in the capital)
feel that they have the right to continue it all.

well i’m here to tell you
that i am done being the mouse in this chase
and if there is one thing i have leaned,
it’s that love, love is the only thing that is ever worth the wait.

words are all i have to give

tonight is turning cold
and the blues are in the air
but right now i don’t care about all things involving you
i just want to drive down 25A
until i hit a town i’ve never been to
then i’ll turn this car around
and find some familiar bench
to write down my latest insight
or try to describe tonight’s drive down clarity lane

and tonight a cool thing happened
i heard a fan perform one of my poems
as i sat in the small crowd
flattered and proud

and as of right now
i want to ditch my out-of-sight-out-of-mind mentality
it’s never helped me any
reading all my old poems helped me to realize
that i still have plenty of faults to iron out
and i’m thinking that by the time i’m through
i’ll stand a little taller
since none of my parts will be doubled over

and i truly believe that there are some more inches left under my small feet
and maybe all of this is just growing pains of the heart
and recovering from a mind stuck in one place
because there is another world entirely
locked up inside of me

and one day,
one day, i’ll turn inside out
just to prove it

and one day, i’ll rip this world from its orbit
i’ll make it spin in the opposite direction
i’ll send it back to the beginning
just to do it all over again

and i know this is just another revolution poem
and not the start of anything real
but i guess it’s just a place to colonize my ideas
because i’m shooting starts in the middle of the afternoon
and chasing sun light all through the midnight hour

i am not scared anymore
i’ve learned of things like love
and allowing myself to need somebody else
and even though i got shot down- hit from behind the knees
i learned that my legs are more than stable
and my body is made up from more than flesh and muscle
and i bleed more than mere blood
cause what’s inside of me is the stuff that saves
and i exhale my spirit into the open air
hoping that you breath it back in
and spread it wherever you go

because if there is one thing i know for sure
it’s that life is a virus
and we’re all looking to get sick
we stare towards knowledge
as if it were enough to make us intelligent
but we’re scared of silence
because we just might fall in love with it

i share that fear
because words are all i have to give
and i think that makes me sound a little weak
but i am almost certain it’s the truth

words are all i have to give
so tell all the old and tell all the kids
and everyone in between
because my silence seldom comes
but i give out words as if it is going to save my life
and maybe it will,
maybe it already has
only tomorrow knows if i’ll find something else to offer
yet for now i’m happy with my contribution
to this sunrise
we call the world

so what if i love you

one a.m. and it is only you who floats around my room
still is the night
quiet is the dark
and constant are my thoughts of you.

my eyes are tired and body aching for sleep
but i don’t want to close my eyes
for when i do my thoughts will cease
and i never can remember my dreams
even if they are of you.

i just want you to know
no matter how far i may seem
that the better part of my heart
is still in your driveway
during the toughest part of the storm.
and though i may find other company for my lips
it’s you they long to kiss.

i swore to myself i wouldn’t go back
but i want to drive to the lake
and sit at our spot
try to remember all that i can never get back.

every time i’m forced to drive away
the moment seems to go faster than i want
and i can never remember exactly what your face looks like
or how it feels when you hug me tight
but i can reminisce all night
about the way my heart picks up speed
whenever you’re near by
and how all my guards seem to disappear
the very second i look into your eyes
and i try hard not to remember that you are the one i can’t have
because you don’t feel the same.

isn’t it strange how only one heart can change
while the other it still heels over head?

i’d tell you exactly how i feel
but i know it won’t change our dynamic
and you’ll still tell me you don’t know what you want.

so what if i love you?
you’re already gone
and i’ll be moving to a new city, a new state
but i miss you as if were mine to miss
and i there isn’t anything i wouldn’t give
just to hear you say my name one more time.