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poetry: words

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

I’m armed with my notebooks and journals full of poems and stories

what cannot be said aloud will be written in a poem
for better or worse
I have a tendency to process my emotions
in metaphors and verse
and while many wouldn’t call what I write poetry
because I lack technique or an MFA
or whatever else I’m missing
I’m going to keep writing my raw emotions
Down and sharing them
My words hold value,
My words have power
And it has helped and a few other souls
when our feelings lack logical explanations
and reasons
For better or worse I’m going to continue
to tell my story in poetry

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Poetry: Mama Killa’s Message

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

me on my last day of therapy

In humility I ask mama Killa for guidance
To send me a sign of some kind
as I start to unravel and lose myself in my anxiety
and insecurities
As I start to question if I’m on the right path
and throw myself a pity party and cry
because no one is coming to save me
And how despite all the empowerment
I feel with my autonomy
I still miss being in a relationship
and cover myself up in defeat
Thinking I’ll always be this lonely
But mama Killa sends me a reminder of the love
of sisterhood in my dreams
to remind me I’m on the right path
Mama Killa, in her own way, reassures me that staying
true to myself and continuing what sometimes feels like
a challenging and cringy journey of self-discovery
Is the right thing for me to do in order to heal, to grow, to evolve
and to remember everything will fall into place
as long as I keep going and never give up

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poetry: NSA Telepathic Sex

I wrote this poem in August 2023.

maybe my alien will bring this kind of romantic energy

I’m curious about the aliens on earth
and if they’re into NSA, telepathic sex
the kind where I get to lie down
and sleep, and they come into my dreams
and make me have multiple orgasms
Over and over again
perhaps these are crazy thoughts
from a middle-aged woman
who’s been celibate for more than a year
And is oh so thirsty for intimacy
but can’t stand the thought of a man
getting near me
it makes me want to vomit
at this point I’d take some extra terrestrial
Out of the universe sex without any feelings involved
the kind that fixes my craving for connection
and intimacy
the kind that doesn’t bring me another episode
of psychosis

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poetry: anything

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

guy holding the fish in his profile pic, come find me

anything resembling love threatens the home I’ve built
over the past two years
and yet the romantic threads in me won’t disappear
they want to weave another love story
they want to be pulled into the magic to getting know
someone new
and having arms to call home

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poetry: could we have done more?

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

ai generated art

could we have done more?
could his story have had a different ending?
could we have all been more compassionate-
more open instead of entrenched and absorbed in our own worlds?
all of these questions are asked, days or week or even months
later, wondering-if we carry any blame or responsibility
when someone ends their life with their own two hands

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poetry: dumpster fires

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

best advice ever

all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it doesn’t matter who you are
man, woman or non binary
white, black or brown
with or without a mental health diagnosis
working class or upper class
at one point or another we’ll all be toxic to another person
or to ourselves
some of us admit it and cringe
some of us will ignore it or blame someone else
all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it’s a rite of passage

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poetry: paper flowers

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

not bad for it being AI generated

she makes paper flowers in reverence for a love that died-
for a love that never deserved her goddess energy
it’s grieving a past, present, and a future
with a lover
who brought toxicity and comfort
and it’s almost indescribable how she feels
it’s mourning a love story she was never ready to end

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poetry: outline

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

image generated from WordPress AI -I guess this was the best they could do..lol

the outline of her body in the middle of the road-
told the most tragic of stories
she wasn’t looking when she crossed the street
she was lost in her thoughts
and the driver speeding didn’t see her
and splat went her body
death came quickly to her
her last thought was mission accomplished
but the world thought
another victim of an unexpected and tragic circumstance

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poetry: reaching out

I wrote the poem in August of 2023.

so in love with myself

I reach out to my unhealed parts when they show up
they’re the messy and crazy parts I hide
the parts that still long to be codependent on others
and are terrified of my new autonomy
the parts that try to bleed into my present
and prevent me from reaching my fullest potential
I reach out, embrace them and whisper
“Our story will be better than okay,
we just need to trust the process”