IncensedI don't know how not to be angry.
it's the safest thing to be
when you don't know
and when you feel a friend leaves you, deceives you
and everyone tells you this is so
I don't know
so I get angry
For a few moments, I do want to die
because I've not felt this way in such a long time
never the rage
never the hatred
I always feel that I must go on the offensive
that words and silence aren't enough
I want to squeeze that white white neck
or break those wiry arms...
But I am taught to be civilized now.
To be patient and wait
while my family
and my heart screams for blood
so I can't talk.
I can't even be around- I make mistakes
and stumble over myself.
I can't be eloquent
in this situation.
I don't know how to not be angry.
Shouldn't've kissed youI should never have kissed you,Shouldn't've kissed you6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
should not have given life
to the near-dead feelings I harbored
deep in a secret place
within my heart
I should not have asked you for a ride.
I should have know what it would come to,
should have known you would want me to fuck you,
should have known that I would.
I knew that I still loved you
but I never realized how much.
I should have been less reckless.
Now, I'm confused
and I keep trying to contact you
even though it's fruitless
like a cat,
you'll come back to me when you feel like it
you'll come back to be petted
and taken care of
I should have used my head this time
instead of thinking with my heart.
I should have been less caring
but I can't leave you alone;
I can't leave you.
I indulge you too much.
It's as if I'm in possession of your most favorite
and as soon as you pin me with that
wide-eyed and innocent
How could I deny you?
it'd be too cruel.
Poetry is lameI've come to realizePoetry is lame5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that poetry is lame.
Poets are pompous braggadocios
with only a knack for pretentious word-play.
They only ever speak words
with eighty-thousand meanings
that you have to struggle to find
while wading through the prickly diction
and viscous sludge they call imagery
(the stuff that clogs the senses
and the optical illusion that confuses the eyes).
I mean, seriously.
Do they write paintings
or carve memories into print?
Who the hell do they think they are?
With their bombastic proclamations
on the meditations
of the metaphysical
and their fatiguing dissertations
on their sad, pathetic little lives
filled with misery and woe....
How old are you people?
What, are you guys, like, three?
Crying and wailing and moaning and keening and screaming...
those are just different ways of saying bitching "whining".
Oh, and already you are so wise and learned in the ways of the world.
The obnoxious lot of you,
loquacious and verbose,
spouting by the ass-load
My daughter hates meMy daughter hates meMy daughter hates me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and it kills me to know this
she denies being raised by me
denies being mine
as soon as I open my eyes to the world
as soon as I wake
I am aware of this knowledge
and it eats at me
it kills me inside
My daughter has threatened to kill me
because she's disgusted
with who I am
she's hit me and kicked me and belittled me
and made me feel small
and I don't know why
because I won't understand
what I'm doing wrong
My daughter is a beautiful girl
talented - strong - smart
in every way
she is all that her mother is not
the English language is merely a tool for her craft
she is an intellectual
reads tons of books by the day
and ingests knowledge
because she's so convinced
that she can always learn something
and I believe it as well
My daughter is a poet
she can make others feel her joy
and bring tears to people's eyes
she can turn sorrow into hope
and bring inspiration
into her peers hearts
she hones her skills
every second o
to the edgeShe brought me to the edgeto the edge5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I could never fathom the force -
the drive behind her actions
a strength like the tide
and a walk of the sinuous river
her voice crashing against me
flooding my ears-
her laughter is rough and warm as the sands
her voice hushed winds over water
and black-waved hair that lay heavy down her back
she had shifts in her moods
had a tumult in her thoughts
torrents of words spilled from her tongue
and with her smooth, smooth hands she would take me
and push me under
and into her
and it was there
I would drown
Washing AwayWashing awayWashing Away6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
the rain falls sharp and
slicing through the sky
burn into my eyes as they seep out into the open
I wish that they would fall
but they won't
they never do
they water fall, cascading down and
rapids and white foamed blurs
passing me and I try to reach
but nothing is reachable
for these thin, thin hands
fingers so skeletalwanly,
my arms reach for you,
wanlythey are about to break
like the branches of a tree, iced over
water hanging beautifully from
I am cold right now
can you hold me close?
Don't ever let go
that you'll never let go
the rain falls sharp and
slicing through the sky
frozen into tears
that burn into my eyes as they seep out into the
I wish that they would fall
they never do
they never do
© 2010 Maria Daniels
NaPoWriMo: Day 10 Have you ever been so cold, Sweetheart,NaPoWriMo: Day 103 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your knees q u a k e d like that Jenga piece
that buckled just before your whole foundation
& no matter
how many times
I've restarted your heart,
one would think
I'd grow tired,
I'm still writing you in poetry
(in the most inappropriate of places.)
You forced yourself beneath my blades
& my fingertips,
Licking unstable knees,
you were death on my tongue:
angry apricot eyes, unforgivable sin
scaring my limbs &
haunting my dreams.
& I'd still try to save your fucking life.
I am instabilityWhen people see me,I am instability5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
see me walking by,
they see hatred,
they see rage,
but what they do not know
do not realize
is that these eyes
this world has been cruel to me.
I never asked to be this way,
where, every day
because of me
and my mood swings.
It's not me.
But it is a part of me.
I have succumbed to a
and I am playing a part
in a theater
where the script is garbled
and I have to follow a plot
which makes no sense
to the audience...
Because you see,
the real me
and it is forbidden
to gaze upon the face
behind the facade
I facilitate for you all.
Yes, it is unreasonable.
But, do you know why
When I look into a mirror, I see
a little girl like me
with dark skin
and a darkened glare
fixed beneath her brow
and then I wonder how
this little girl became me.
All I see is instability.
Smile"Smile, Love"Smile5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
help me to bring light into my eyes
and the laughter will tumble out of me
from within my chest
it is boiling in my blood
my world is not what it was
the monsters in the dark are still present
and the shadows in the day are long...
but when you speak to me
and tell me to face these terrors
with hope in my heart
and joy on my lips
I am made strong again.
Paper heartsToo many dreams,Paper hearts6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
trapped between the lines on faded paper;
together, they're thrown,
spent and wasted for, day and night
those hopes fall from your lips,
broken by this reality.
And this, this is how reality
treats you, devouring your dreams.
I'm wishing for a tender kiss from your lips
as I look at the sorrow-letter soaked into this paper
empty of my memories of you, of who you are. And each lonely night
is spent cursing you - you, on your dais atop your throne.
You had me thrown;
like a child you can't understand my reality,
where I was a damsel and you a knight:
a partnership, a joining of fantasy, a romance of dreams
kept only in tomes on aged parchment paper
with tales of sweet girls and their blood-red lips.
Girls so unlike me and my full pink lips -
lips that never speak but only throw
sorrows and desperate wishes and words down on lined paper
to keep close a fallacy, my precious reality.
But these wishes, these hopeless dreams,
they will fester today, tomorrow, tonight.
NaPoWriMo: Day 8I was toldNaPoWriMo: Day 83 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to slice through the thickest
of scar tissue this evening.
Let all my inner demons
fall to the floor
& write them out
in my own black blood.
It’s not red anymore,
even though needles
& the bruises
laid out like war-lands
on my arms
I don’t think it ever was,
My mind is a mess
of free versed insecurities,
cat’s eye marbles,
& untamed forest fires-
I still don’t have the nerve
to slice open my skin
& bleed for her.
NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,NaPoWriMo: Day 23 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have this
sudden urge to cut
most of the time,
i just wish I were anything
other than me.
a rocket ship, a bird-
the sweet flavored smoke
I promised my girlfriend
these briar patch lungs
would not in.hale.
i have fallen in love
with the strangest of things-
eyes that intimidate
the way my scars
play hide and seek
with her hands. -
the love letters
that start and end
pressed against limbs.
i make promises
i know i can not keep.
but if i were a liar
i would say i was tired
of writing to the stars.
Poetry of dress"I wear a literaturePoetry of dress5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as one would wear a gown;
apostrophe encircling my shoulders
slipping my hands into my silken symbolism
and stepping with achromatic onomatopoeia
binding my hair with invocation,
beads and little pearls
lacing up my analogy
with gossamer strings of metaphor and simile
the diction is thick yet delicate,
cultured but easily worn by all
not too colloquial
and elegant enough
that my voice is clear
in the ruffles of syntax
and that the colors don't affect the mood,
a soft mood worn about me like a cloak
woven with tone,
threaded by atmosphere
to dance a plot,
waltz a verse
wearing poetry of dress
My blood is inkMy blood is inkMy blood is ink5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it flows through my limbs
and lays dormant
and when I am ready
and with fingers like brushes
I am a tool
for my passion,
for my creation
A sculptor of thought...
I carve an image into the minds
of my audience...
shape a story with my hands...
but in the end...
my blood is still ink,
dark and heavy
it carries words
yet to be written
not to be spoken
and flows through my veins
until I'm inspired again
SmallI rememberSmall5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I was eating ice-cream
it was summer
and I was standing in our backyard
the grasses were tall
and so were the trees
caught my attention
that lasted only an instant
an existence, strong
only as that of the petals of a flower
a myriad of colors
of each rue
never seen before
this little thing
I wanted to catch it
but I knew
that it was more beautiful
to live and die
within an instant
of my life.
'X' Marks The SpotI am a pirate,'X' Marks The Spot3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a ghost among the sunken ship
of your treasure trove heart.
Like the last bit of rum in the jug,
I enjoy the way 'fuck' rolls off your tongue,
as if you invented its meaning.
I try to articulate that one syllable,
match your way of speech-
You've never needed to dress your words-
dip them in ink or paint them in poetry
upon the exotic map of my sun-kissed curves.
I have drowned so many times
in the green sea of your eyes
that I am coughing up seaweed
& weak bones.
You tell me not to speak-
that such words sound dirty on my tongue
that my spine is made for beauty
and not for a bounty.
But you, you are a plague
light-years at sea
and I am finding the ocean
& salty siren lips.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,August Lover,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,NaPoWriMo: Day 43 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wildflowers growing on my knuckles,
& I might remind you of every nasty thing
you ever did,
but I don’t see you in my mirror.
I just have the right
to hate my own face.
I think this hitchhiker’s heart
is breaking &
I don’t have the medical skill-
or the time
to suture the pieces
back together again.
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,No wander about it, just lust.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the embodiment of poetry.
& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.
wishes are for the weak-
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.
I think I found God then,
Trying to reach youI have a heart, and with it, I feelTrying to reach you5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And I know
no other way
to express this than through my words
and my thoughts.
I wanted to let you know
that I love you all and, if you need me, I am here.
I wanted to show you
that I am not just a girl, but a person
who has a purpose,
by her own convictions.
I wanted to convey my desire to be strong
you learn how to grow
and live for yourself.
I wanted you
that he didn't hurt me so badly
that it defined me:
I am more than pain and regret,
more than fleeting happiness.
I am more than fatigue and unending endurance.
I am someone,
a singularity in a collective,
an individual in an amalgamation, coagulation
I am a young girl who loves words,
and I'm just trying to reach you.
I am only trying to reach you.
It's frustratingI just...It's frustrating6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I want to talk to you
a little conversation
like the time
I kept you up
and the afternoon
on the phone
we told each other everything
I still don't know how to handle liking someone
I haven't been this nervous since the boy that gave me peace
I have a feeling
that you will give me something different
than all the other ones
I just want to talk to you
He saidHe called meHe said5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and he said
he didn't regret talking to me
he's just been busy
and his voice
on the phone
my heart trembled
I told him
I was confused,
He knew why.
It was because
he and his girlfriend
were on the outs
and he and I were on the in
I was worried she would break up with him
but I wanted him to only be mine
He's not really mine
I can't let myself fall in love
but...what if I already have?
I want him so bad
that I ache.
And he know why.
Like A KissThe blood on the floor...Like A Kiss6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I smell the iron...
A flood. I wished that it was once. I wished it so hard that I fell to pieces. All away and all apart, into little tiny bits. But I never really went apart. Not since he put me together. He never realized that he did though. My back is against the wall. The cold, tiled, wall. The tiles are a soft blue. The color of a whisper. A sigh pushes itself out of my lungs and past my graying lips. I couldn't stand if I tried. So I don't. I don't try anymore.
It's too hard for me to stand on my own, alone when the one supporting me is too strong to grasp. I am too strong to hold onto. Trying to get close to me is like trying to grasp or hold onto an injured jaguar. The jaguar whips its tail, furiously, warily, ready to lash out at any sudden movements. It doesn't know that you think the animal is beautiful, exotic, precious to you. It doesn't know that you want to care for it and help it. It doesn't know because it is a jaguar, and jaguars do not unde