Friday, January 31, 2014

ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇs ωᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴜs,
ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ωᴏʟғ’s ᴇʏᴇs 
sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ. 
ᴛʜᴇʏ ωᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇʟʟᴏω 
ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇᴅᴀᴛᴏʀʏ 
ωɪᴛʜ sʟɪᴘs ᴏғ ᴏʀᴀɴɢᴇ  
ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ғᴇʀᴀʟ ɢʀᴏωʟ ʟɪғᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ,
ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴅɪsɢᴜsᴛ─ 
ɴᴏ, 
ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇs ωᴇʀᴇ ɪᴄᴇ ʙʟᴜᴇ,
ωɪᴛʜ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀ sʟɪᴘ ᴏғ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ─ 
ᴀ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ sᴜʀғᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ɪᴄᴇ. 
ᴛʜᴇ sʟɪᴘs ᴏғ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴘᴜᴘɪʟ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴀʏ ғᴏᴄᴜsᴇᴅ,
ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴʟᴇss,
ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ, 
ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ, 
ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ωᴀs sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏω ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴀᴄɪɴɢ, 
ʟɪᴋᴇ sʜᴇ ωᴇʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ sᴄᴀʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴏғғ, 
sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʀɢᴇʀ 
ᴍᴏʀᴇ ғᴇʀᴀʟ. 
ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ωᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴜʀʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴀᴛᴇ, 
ɴᴏ,
ɪᴛ ωᴀs sᴇᴛ, 
ʟɪᴋᴇ sʜᴇ ωᴀs ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏ. 
ʜᴇʀ ғᴜʀ ωᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ɢʀᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇᴅ ωɪᴛʜ ᴅᴀʀᴋ sᴛᴀɪɴs, 
ɪᴛ ωᴀs sɪʟᴠᴇʀ 
ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ωɪᴛʜ sɪʟᴋʏ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ. 
sʜᴇ ωᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴀʀɢᴇ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ɢʀɪᴢᴢʟʏ ʙᴇᴀʀ. 
sʜᴇ ωᴀs sʟᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, 
ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ϙᴜɪᴄᴋsɪʟᴠᴇʀ, 
ωɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜɪɴʏ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ. 
sʜᴇ ωᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ─ 
ɪ ғᴇʟᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ sʟɪᴘ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs
ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜɴ ᴏғғ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ. 
sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏω ɪ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ, 
ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪᴛ ωᴀs ʜᴇʀ ωʜᴏ ʟᴇɴᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ.
sʜᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ,
ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʀᴜsᴛʟɪɴɢ ᴘɪɴᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇs. 
ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ,
sʟᴏωʟʏ, 
sʜᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏωᴀʀᴅs ᴍᴇ, 
ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇʟᴛ sᴘᴀʀᴋʟɪɴɢ ωɪᴛʜ ωᴀᴛᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀʟɪɢʜᴛ ωᴏʟғ sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ, 
ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ-
ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀʟɪᴇɴ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏn
ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ wαѕ oғғ,
ʟᴏᴘɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ,
ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ ᴛωɪɴᴋʟᴇd ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴋy,
ᴀ ɴᴇωʙᴏʀɴ sᴛᴀʀ, 
ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss-
ᴛᴏ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ.



Thursday, January 30, 2014

LILT
a manifesto of a person who needs to let the words out because they were building up, so here they are, ta-da. 
Mel 
(amelia, meena, mellie, maybelline, rae, melly-bear, milly, mills, mel g, missy, reckless mel, melia)


I am the flick of a hand
that initiates a card trick-
The lilt of the fingers.
I am not the fingers,
but I am the lilt.
I know who I am
but not who I want to be-
I am sometimes strong,
but sometimes soft,
like melting butter.
I am brave…
I strive to not only
speak boldly,
but act boldly to match.
A single page changed me-
I am a girl who plays war
at the lunch table, 
I am the girl
who bets on the 
stack of cards 
in her hand
because
I believe 
that I’ve got nothing 
to lose
I am a person
who will play harp for
six years
suddenly buy a guitar
drop the harp and play guitar instead…
I know who I am now…
and I want to be her
for the rest of my life.
I want people to respect her
learn from her,
and listen to her,
because she is all I have
and though she isn’t much,
I build on her
and I work with her-
we are the same,
we are different.
I want to restrain her,
she is so wildly free…
I am cautious, I am
often
an unwitting sidekick.
She is like a ride-
twisting,
turning,
jumping,
running across the tracks
click, click, click…
and I am growing into her,
because I was small,
I was quiet,
she is in charge of people
and has the ability to mean business.
She is the adrenaline
pumping through me-
she begins, now, to make my decisions.
She cut my hair,
she pierced my ear.
I am her,
and she is me.
I’m not even sure anymore.
Is she the track,
and I’m the train, loyally falling behind?
or is she the train, 
jumping ahead?
In the end, the tracks control the train
so she
must be
the track.
days float by
like dandelion seeds on a wisp of air
pausing by me
wondering if they should stop
and settle here
for a while,
grow into a flower, a special day.
they whisper to me-
about now,
then,
and the future,
what is to come
in a second
a day
a year 
sometimes
i try to
ignore them
sometimes i can’t help it
if i want life to be a surprise
it is sometimes
more rewarding that way.
time presses forward-
wasn’t yesterday monday?
wasn’t last year just
a moment ago

passing us on a breath of wind………
you can choose anything
you like
in your life,
but you can’t choose your past.
you can’t disturb your future,
but what your lies in your past,
present,
and future
are tiny matters
to what 
lies within you.

the shore
gleams white with creamy,
silky sand
the creaking deck of the ship under your feet
can hardly compare.
but if one thing is true, it’s that you’ll never cross the ocean
if you fear losing the sight of land.

there are two paths
in the road of life-
there is life,
and there is death.
but if you are swept onto life,
there is many obstacles that await.
there are phases
the most difficult-
not when others don’t understand you,
but when you don’t understand you…

sometimes
the bravest of the jungle is not the mighty lion,
not the strong tiger
or lithe cheetah.
sometimes, it is the timid mouse.
courage is a mask for those who abuse it.
courage doesn’t scream,
it whispers,
and sometimes it isn’t the great and powerful who hear it.


six truths of the world as we know it- the last of which being the truest of them all

truth is hard to tell
and commitment is hard to see,
but once you find yourself,
you’ll be who you want to be.

life is hard to live,
and time is hard to stop.
but once you’ve found the edge,
you know how to avoid the drop.

death is hard to know
and grief is even harder,
but if you know the way,
you’ll spend your life smarter.

forgiveness is to beg
and cruelty is a chain,
but if you don’t forget,
a grudge will leave a stain.

compassion isn’t easy
and anger isn’t hard
but if you can’t choose between them
it will leave you scarred.

time will move
and never pause
and if you try to stop it
don’t be surprised if your vision is hazy
your limbs become lazy,
because if you try to stop it,
you, my friend, are crazy. 

Monday, September 23, 2013


the light and the dark

the sky
it darkens-
and nothing is left
but twilight.
and the world
becomes shadow,
the only lights in the sky
the bright, eager stars.
and though
the stars
are beautiful-
fabulously, undeniably, beautiful...
the thing that lights them?
it
is still
the darkness.

she
was
had always been
a person,
who, no matter what, would find
her way 
around 
what’s written 
in stone
because 
she
was a 
cunning
conning
sort of girl-
she was brave,
she was much
that she did not look.
and that is what made her deception
so seamless,
so that when she left people with nothing, 
they never knew what hit them.
she
was like
a sort of tornado-
soft, and beautiful, surely-
innocent,
at first,
then 
when she made sure
you couldn’t
get away-
she wrapped you up,
tossed you around,
chewed you up,
and spit you out,
far from where you began-
with nothing,
no one-
and then,
she was gone,
and no one 
ever saw anything quite the same
as her
ever
again.
so you see
she
was a 
cunning, conning
sort of girl-
and she made sure
she stripped you
of all but
your life,
and she
was destructive-
devastating-
and,
most of all,
she
was merciless.