Saturday, April 21, 2012

19 june 2006

he loved me...
and i could never make myself feel
anything beyond platonic.
once i cleared the cobwebs
of an (adolescent?) (naive?) idealistic happy-ever-after
i could see that
he was not my prince charming
it was i who charmed him into thinking
that he could play that role
and it was i who opposed his valiant quest
and it was i who played the villain.

now that i've ended things
i feel like i'm inadequate
(and fear that i'll feel the same forever)
because i had this man
and instead of doing the honorable thing
and talking things out with him
and maybe working to fix things
i ran into the arms of another man

but i know deep down
that without this encounter,
i'd never have worked up the resolve
to go through with it.
i learned passion,
i learned...so much about myself already
and i think i've been changing everyday
even though i tried to hide it for years

i think the butterfly i thought
i was becoming a few years ago
was flying on borrowed wings.
but i'm okay -- more than okay --
with being a caterpillar again.

18 june 2006

some days i feel insecure
self-conscious
flawed
wrong somehow.
other days i get out of bed
and feel like i can do anything
(nothing can break my stride!)
...unless i break that stride myself --
with self criticism
self-doubt
by denying that i am good enough
strong enough
enough.

i am truly and always...
an artist
a writer
a musician
a dreamer...
a hard-worker
a person of integrity
(though -- like anyone --
i've had my stumbles along the way)
but i let others determine my path
all too often.
i let others' uninformed words
affect my outlook on the world
(and subsequent actions).
but time and again,
i reach a point
where i decide
to break off...

despite my failure to plan ahead
my lack of whistling ability
my stage fright (when singing, mind you)
my confusion...
i am optimistic
friendly
generous
honest
loving
understanding
and give of myself deeply
(oftentimes, too much ...
too soon...)
i am working on changing my tendency
to become a mat that's walked all over...
straining to improve myself
as i learn about myself and my inner workings
and the world

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Broken

i fear that while my acts are repressible
(reprehensible?)
my feelings cannot be forgotten
(nor forgiven?)
i've broken it.
(can it be fixed?)

Monday, April 2, 2012

grouse

do i grouse about work
because i hate it?
because i hate my coworkers?
because i hate my customers?
because i hate stagnation.
because i hate not living up to my potential
by accepting mediocrity.
i realize that most people are average
and to be a part of this crowd is no shame,
but i -- like the ginger mermaid --
want more for myself.
curiosity will not kill me
as it did the poor feline.
on the contrary, it keeps me alive.
keeps electricity surging through my nerves.
sameness and stability,
while good in ways,
are not satisfying.
i need to dare to risk failure
in order to truly succeed.
i must risk crashing to the ground
if i wish to soar.

grouse

grouse / grous \ verb:
To grumble; complain.

grouse / grous \ noun:
A complaint.

Stuck in rush-hour traffic with nothing on the airwaves but frustratingly perky talk radio hosts, Frank only alternative to shifting into Grand-Theft-Auto-mode was to grouse about his predicament.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Pyknic

i fear my inactivity will result in a pyknic future self
a self who would rather indulge in calories and sedentary life
does this path begin with mental atrophy?
after graduation, the grey matter is rarely challenged
we get into "habits" of doing things
and employment is never varied enough
to prevent atrophy of the body and mind
and once the limbs are devoid of muscle
and the mind free of stimulation
it all becomes automatic
and we eat whatever is placed before us
i fear my adulthood is that of a robot
whose abilities are stripped of meaning
because change has no place in a rigid box
no longer a maze, this life of mine

Pyknic

pyknic / PIK-nik \  adjective:
Having a rounded build or body structure.
 
pyknic / PIK-nik \  noun:
A person of the pyknic type.

Much as she tried, Sarah couldn't watch the pyknic man walk by without an oscillating tuba tune playing in her head.