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Category: Bad Poetry
There’s no help for it
I could write about unrequited loveOr barely suppressed hateFor I have both in spadesThis unseasonable November dayBut maybe I won’t write about either- Since it’s expectedAnd will purge insteadOf the act of cleaning my teethMeticulously Or how about How badly I desire Oreo cookiesPerhaps I should be the one to sayThat really the leaves weren’t that striking this yearAt leastNot where I stoodBut you are still waiting aren’t youFor me to fulfill the emotionHeld in checkShould I tell-Neither are a secretNot in the traditional sense But noIt’s like how I have been wanting to watch a movieBut I won’t Because then you wouldn’t have your poemAnd have your poem you shallI don’t remember what I set out to doBecause it is now January All the color faded from the worldAll the glitter and sparkles packed awayFor another yearAnd where will it find meI sat out On my birthdayThe halfway point almostAnd gathered my courageAnd walked to the edge of the yielding limbAnd JUMPEDI couldn’t bring my words backI didn’t want to anywayAnd even though they weren’t repeatedI still know the truthEven though you pretend you don’t And yesterday Proved something else I thought I knewBut it turned my stomach unexpectedly More words that have been spokenAnd won’t go backYears of loaded looks Harmless flirtingBut is it harmless, really?So here I am Writing more wordsConvincing myself it’s all realThat love still existsBut it rarely comes…
I wish I could hate himThat’s what the poems would sayIf the poets were honestBecause it’s too hardI don’t have the energyTo be ScarlettNor do I haveThe sensibility I can’t help my heartAnd it rarely helps meBut the poets will gather their willAnd their quillsAnd find a quiet cornerOr perhaps a bench under a willow treeTo bleed their soulAnd maybeIf they really meant itThey’d put rocks in their pocketsAnd walk steadilyTill they were over their headsDying beautifully And tragically Just like their poem said they wouldProbably the daffodilIn their lapel Wouldn’t even lose a petalAs they flung themselves off a cliffBut me?In a rageMy hair wild and unbound and unbrushedFlinging crockeryAnd maybe a high heeled shoeSpitting venomSo harshlyMy throat would be sore for daysHaving a plan that involvesKerosene and a matchbookFrom a bar calledThe Wayward ThistleAnd a knife clenched between my teethAnd yetI remember to be a ladyAnd so I sit placidly With my sonnetsWriting about unrequited loveAnd bourbon cherriesBecause peaches are overdoneJust like roses…
I have satAnd I have lainAnd I have wallowedAnd I have stretched Upon this couchOn this porchWhere I have heard children shriek on the other side of the fenceAnd sprinklers hiss and spit like snakesAnd trains clatter and roar to their next destination And watched From this perch a few feet above earthwormsTornadoes rip apart livesLess than three miles awayAnd bugs fry on the blue light Just thereAnd I have sweated directly underneath this fanGuzzling beerBut it was worth it Just to sit and be at peaceBut this weekend I have been wadded in a blanket In the early hoursAnd it was perfectionWith my red wine and book As the night got deeperAnd nowOn my last nightI write this poemAnd wonder why people need TVs…
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I don’t want To straighten my hair To trade my glasses for contacts To lose weight To wear trendy clothes So you can say I’m pretty I also don’t need your acceptance I just want to be left alone To drink my coffee in peace And enjoy the wind on my face Because I don’t care enough About my appearance To leave the windows up Have you realized how deprived You are And how limited to liking certain things Just to fit in When you tell yourself You’re standing out I wish you would sing Like nobody’s listening (Because they’re not) And if they are They just wish they had the courage to sing Like you’re doing And have fun In that abandoned fashion I wish you would dance Even though you wore the wrong shoes And it’s so hot And you don’t know these people All the more reason The blisters will heal The sweat will dry And the people will forget If they remember at all Eat the cheese The doughnuts The cake The steak Drink the liquor The cheap wine The mountain dew that’s no good for you Hold the hand Make the call Because you get one trip It’s not easy to be a nerd In a party crowd To be a gardener In a city To embrace your contentedness In a room full Of money hungry Power tripping Hustlers If only You could…
I sit hereOn my ugly porch(it has multiple cracks)(and needs pressure washed)(and painted)In the duskTrying to readBut my book is dullAnd my across-the-street neighbor Is walking Up and down his driveway I have observed five tripsSo farBut I am also watching my dogWho has made four rounds of the perimeter While I have eaten OreosSo many I lost count…
His looks could be cruelThe snarl his lips makeThe cutting eyesAlways smirking And he thinks That I belong to himAs if I ever did!That he can summon me With no more than a promiseAnd I will gleefully scamperTo please him But noHe never realizedI only entertained himWhen I was boredAnd I don’t think I’ll be bored againFor I don’t believe That he could be botheredTo attend my funeral If I were to pass And even soHe will be secretly pleasedThat I wrote of him first He was a crushWe both wishedI had the loose moralsTo be so much moreAnd seal the wistful looksThat meant if only~But I couldn’t Even if he would’ve And he would’ve But then He’d just be like all the restYou were supposed to be my friendBut you could never leave well enough aloneAnd you never stopped callingAnd texting And messaging And stopping byUntil I wanted to pull my hair outAnd I let your lips say the lie That your mind had builtTo save you from yourself A pityThis oneI never thought I’d rebukeI thought it was loveFor decadesBut really you’re a cadA disappointment I held you to a higher standardWe still laughAnd remember But I don’t want to talk About the past anymore When we’re not together In the futureAnd I don’t want you anyway Because I see what you are nowAnd what you aren’t And youA tentacleYou let me goHow…
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You ask me what I’m doingBut if you’d think you’d already knowI’m watching the world wake upFrom my porchI’m admiring the sparkle of the dew in the grass like forgotten jewelsAnd counting birdsAnd listening to water dripThe locusts are gearing upAs I sip my coffeeWhile Chester makes his roundsThe tiny lizard darts among my flowerpotsOld Glory At half staffIs still proudNot beatenJust a little brokenFor a little whileNo breeze stirs her this morningA few bees out already Seek nectar from my petuniasI watch the chickens compete for bugsJerking their heads, their keen eyes zero in on their next victimAnother leaf drops from my redbudsTraffic is increasingAs the sun gets brighterAnd I suppose I should get upBut I’ll miss all thisSo instead I write a poemThat doesn’t rhymeThat most people won’t understandAnd I tell you simply, “Sittin’ on my porch…
