Thursday, April 13, 2006

Come on out

It's official
I told my mom
she thinks I'm going through a phase
thinks I'm just doing this because it's easy
it is so not easy
one foot in and one foot out
easy
in some ways I can see that
I don't feel stressed
don't feel obligated and for a change I am happy
I haven't been happy in years
the only problem is my writing is changing
I have turned squishy and it's unfucking acceptable!
and it flip flops between lovey dovey
to oh, my god I've shown you my heart and now
you're going to either
fold it like an origami crane and pull a Dick Cheney
or... You're going to place it in the street(my heart) and run over it repeatedly with your car
or..You are just going to fucking crush me when this ends...
that's the problemI think of relationships as thing that end.
two marriages down, i was unhappy in both are my foundation.
you either settle and are miserable
or you are miserable so you settle
here I am not miserable actually quite the contrary
not settling,
hell I wasn't even looking
so now you can see and understand why I am so fucked up
I have never been happy
so trying this happy on and checking out how wide it makes my ass look in the mirror
and if I can properly accessorize happy
is going to take a minute.
but I gotta stop writing this squishy poetry
I was in this totally racist situation yesterday and normally
I would have lost my shit right then and there
then eviscerated her ass poetically
and all I could think was
she needs a hug
I have turned into
a pussy
a wimp
a softy
the Pillsbury dough boy
and every other pansy ass thing.....ahhhhh
It's fucked up really
not a phase
not miserable
I am happy
and the squishy poetry is not bad
it is however confusing the hell out of people
you know you've pulled a mind scramble when you do a love poem and the audience looks horrified
the pause delay in reaction is enough to give you a fucking complex and the only comment you get is a disappointing....You didn't curse once.
very funny
i guess I've gotta watch more news
someone is bound to do something to piss me of nicely and then I can rediscover my pissed off inner poet
okay
that didn't take long,
how the fuck and why would you try a scam in which the end result is six babies
how do you pull that off?
do stupid people just grow here ?
is there a farm?
that is the most insane thing I have ever heard of
see better and all because
I live in America the land of the depraved and home of the fucked up a lot
maybe the pretendo pregnant stupid woman needs a hug..
doh!

3 comments:

Collin said...

The main thing is, mom is support you...right? She might think it's a phase (most parents do...my mom did...but she was supportive nontheless), but as long as she's still got your back, don't worry.

I think you're finding your balance as a poet. Every poem cannot be political and angry...you have to let some of the personal slide in.

Just look at Alice...she's been writing those brilliant political pieces for years, but her more personal poetry is staggering, like "For Frederick."

You'll get the balance right. Now go write some hot, steamy sex poems. That's what I want to hear next. Find your blue shag carpet moment. :)

nolapoet said...

Baby, you got a great mama.

Whatever it is, y'all will get through.

As for squishy poetry, which is never any fun, why don't you apply to one of the summer workshops? You deserve a break. Maybe Grandma will watch your kids for a couple of weeks.

Saren Suture said...

Feeling the slow drip of homesickness..so I looked up Atlanta Slam poets to check on the scene there and happened across your work. Brilliant! Poetry that creeps into the veins..lights a cigar. Do you ever tour? If so, think of Seattle. If not, well..I'll hope to catch you perform if I ever make it back to my hometown.