Playing Games – Poem

Amazing-
I consistently find myself in these awkward situations
amused by seemingly promising and provoking conversations
then left in a state of silent infatuation
degraded,
deflated.

I’ve opened Pandora’s box and find the lid too heavy to shut
second guessing,
ever questioning,
the mixed feelings and anxiety wrestling restlessly in my gut.

Stalking,
gawking,
looking for some glimmer of a response, a clue, to find
what’s going on to give a little ease to the thoughts in my mind
hoping to put these puzzle pieces in a straight line.

Confused,
at first amused, but now bemused
I refuse to be in this trapping contraption
attracted by attention and undone by dejection
waiting for the other shoe to drop – or should I say
flip-flop.

Phasing,
getting ready to start the process of fading,
putting memories into the furthest recesses for bating
as I can no longer provide energy to keep concentrating
on my infallible ability to attract derogating.

No more debating.
No more waiting,
tired of being the patient to this impatient torture of never knowing what lies beneath
just to learn there’s nothing below the surface that I seek.
Tired of being the mouse-turn-cat in this chase
just to end up losing the race.

This time I’m resigning from the game before the stakes get to high
no poker face
no saving grace
I fold and leave without the little tid-bits I’ve already sold.

Damaged Sticker – Poetry

Bullets are sprayed in the air
and I’m shot down
my smiles now are now replaced with frowns
my heart has been shot
feels like I’ve been stabbed in the back
a massive heart attack
has left me feeling like
one side of my body can’t sustain
as though I’m only half paralyzed with pain
because the other half has to maintain
that crippling facade that my
soldier soul can continue on
walking  strong
all the while my armor is ripped
from all the silent tears that drip
drop down onto the new badge
that replaced the one that use to flicker in the light
my new damaged sticker is in plain sight.

I’m the person that you put back on the shelf
the contorted version of yourself,
the one that no one else sees
the person with heavy insecurities
the one who can’t be found
the one chained and bound
to the sound of pure silence…

Didn’t Queen sing “another one bites the dust”
and yet, I feel like the one left in the dirt
with the blood of my mangled body on my shirt
the blood from cuts so deep
they won’t seem to heal,
body so cold, it can no longer feel
still crying even though I’m all cried out
trying to find a river to ease this drought
all the while you all see me and start to snicker
pointing and laughing at my damaged sticker.

Drinking More Sorrow Than Cola – Poetry (Performance)

 

 

 


One of my favorite original pieces that I’ve always wanted to perform, but never had the courage to. 

I recorded the audio (forgive me, it’s not the best audio ever)  and created a video with the words so that you may follow along. I hope that you’re able to hear everything and I guess, feel the embodiment of the time I was going through when I wrote this. 


 Hope you enjoy!