poetry

I really am a Cliché

Well I entered my second poetry contest….the first one was entered minus my consent or knowledge by my fifth grade teacher. I won third place.

I did not win third place this time. I didn’t even make the short-listed poems.

So now I guess I am free to publish the poem on my blog. Which is great, because I have had all of these ideas for articles or posts or poems or what-have-you teasing me from my brain lately, and this saves me the trouble of solidifying them.

       CLICHÉ

 You are a cliché.

Overused and trivial.

The low-hanging fruit.

 

Follow the leader

A legend in your own mind.

Hang on every word.

 

Take the world by storm

Or keep up with the Joneses?

Happy as a clam?

 

Too rich for my blood,

The land of milk and honey.

It’s all smoke and mirrors.

 

Nothing up your sleeve.

Money makes the world go ‘round.

Get with the program.

 

Pissing in the wind.

The ends justify the means.

Wham, bam, thank-you ma’am.

 

You’re a Trojan horse.

I wasn’t born yesterday!

Hang me out to dry…

 

The third time’s a charm

Open up Pandora’s Box.

Baptism by fire

 

It’s now or never

Life’s a bitch and then you die.

The clock is ticking.

 

Nice guys finish last?

It’s sink or swim, fight or flight.

Ashes to ashes.

Footsteps

Cleaning out my filing cabinet last night, I stumbled upon yet ANOTHER half-filled journal. Man, people…STOP LETTING ME NEAR THE STATIONERY UNSUPERVISED!

Anyways, this one has another poem! I wrote it when I was nineteen years old, sitting in the kitchen of the very first apartment that I lived in alone. I actually remember writing it. No, that’s a lie, but I do remember writing other things in the book. Here it is. 

Footsteps

Trace the footsteps up the wall

Barely even heard them fall

But I still could smell them there

The scent of evil in the air.

Breathe it in, it tastes like hate

Murder lingers in this place.

Someone died here long ago.

Did I just see….yes, the room has grown!

The ceiling’s dripping blood on me

The walls are leaking, this can’t be!

I cannot die here, not tonight

I cannot die, this can’t be right!

And as the blood is choking me

As my final breath I breathe

One can hear my gurgled plea

“I cannot die here…Please help me!”

Everytime

Don’t look at me

With that lust in your eyes

With the head between your thighs

I can read between

Your rehearsed lines.

 

Stay away from me. I don’t want to deal with your kind

I know what’s on your mind

So you can stop

Anytime.

 

Don’t think of me

I’ve let this go on too long.

Because I didn’t feel strong

Enough

To tell you this is all wrong.  —2010

Spying

Spying.

A fly on the wall of her room.

Crying, 

it will all be over soon.

Slicing,

she doesn’t feel the blade.

Bleeding,

she doesn’t miss the vein.

Humming, 

the room starts to spin.

Falling,

her body giving in.

Dying,

she sees the light.

Flying,

into the eternal night.   -May 2004

Little Miss Depression

Little Miss Depression

with a tear in her eye,

Pushed the blade in deeper

and prepared herself to die.

Little Miss Depression

with her face to the sky

Popped another sleeping pill,

and washed it down with rye.

Little Miss Depression

does not believe in pain.

She pulls the knife out of her heart

and stabs it in again.

Little Miss Depression

tightens up the knot.

Puts her head into the noose,

and jumps off the table top.

Little Miss Depression.

Her body dangles in the air.

She finally got what she wanted

But now she doesn’t care.   -May 2004

What Am I?

I am a dangerous creature,

Lurking in the most surprising places.

I stalk the innocent

And hurt millions of people.

Nobody knows where I came from

And nobody can get rid of me.

I will wreck your life

And the lives of those you care about.

I don’t know who you really are

And I don’t want to learn.

I choose my victims based on their

Appearance

So you cannot escape me.

I have many friends

And enemies as well.

My name is Prejudice.

We may have already met.    -Apr 27/2000

Aside

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Today I found some old poems while digging through boxes in the garage. When I say old I mean, like, from decades ago. I will dispense some of these poems…now…

Two Faced 

Smiles in the sun

Frowns in the darkness of rain

I embrace it all.     -May 2/1998

Clock 

Clock.

Tick-tock.

Time flies by.

When you’re having fun.

Watch.   –Apr 27/2000

untitled

The past is haunting

Taunting

Whispering sweet nostalgia

And

Desires in my ear.

Bribing my mind

Heart

Soul

With empty promises.

The present is unwinding

Binding

Robbing me slowly of

Everything

I’ve come to know.

Killing my mind

Heart

Soul

With reality overload.

The future is lurking

Smirking

Waiting around each corner

Patiently

For my next arrival.

Writing my mind.

My heart.

My soul.