Poetry: The Princess and The Queen

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

The princess and the queen live within me
And they each serve a purpose
the princess cares about the men in her life
She’s soft and submissive, kind and generous
She’ll do anything for love, she’s loyal
But sometimes the princess get taken advantage of
And the queen steps in
The queen is determined, she is strong and opinionated
And ambitchous and bossy
She’ll do anything to protect herself and her kids
and gives zero fucks about anyone else
And lately I’m trying to find a perfect balance
of embracing these two beings who live within me

Poetry: Some Days

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

Some days I can’t deal with the boredom and restless
It all leads to chronic feelings of emptiness
And I asked myself
Is it time for another depression spell?
And I’m annoyed by me, by everything
I attend to whatever I think my brain and my soul needs
Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s sunshine
Sometimes it’s writing
Sometimes nothing appeases the Gods of BPD
And I just to deal with my emotional instability
I wish for at least a week of tranquility within
Instead of a pendulum of ever changing mood swings
When will I finally get calm and peace?

Poetry: Faith

I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

I find hope in nature

Faith found me one day
and told me to keep going when I didn’t want to
Faith made me believe in GOD when I wanted to fall
into the abyss of depression
Faith held me as I cried endless tears of my about
my latest life’s catastrophe
Faith loved me when I couldn’t love myself
Faith brought me people who believed in me
When I couldn’t believe in myself
Faith decided to one day bring it’s accomplice
HOPE

Poetry: Morning 2021

I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

When I open my eyes,I whine and grunt
Another day where I whine,whine, whine
Working to live? Or living to work?
I can’t remember which is better
Living is really just guesswork
Maybe today I won’t feel so much anger
Perhaps I should find hope in this new day
Instead of living in doom and gloom
Maybe the darkness will stay away
Or I’ll cry at work in the bathroom again

Poetry Review: Blood, Booze, and Other Things in Nature

C.E Hoffman’s chapbook collection Blood, Booze and Other Things in Nature is definitely a must read if you like your poetry vulnerable and thought provoking . This collection is raw and in your face and doesn’t shy away from telling you the harsh truth about the world but the poet does in a way that’s witty and full of  dark humor. The poet addresses complex issues of mental health, love, sex, parenthood, and poverty. They address the inequalities that hit you in the gut and make you question the status quo.. I’ve never read a poetry collection like this before. I’ll talk about 4 poems from the book that I really liked. Their poetry feels like thoughts I’ve had that I have been too afraid to write down; much less share with the world.

The first poem is “Bloom (Blow Job) “and I really liked how this poem transitioned from giving a blowjob to other things in the poet’s life.  I interpreted as things to talk about or are talked about after a blowjob. The line in this poem that really resonated with me was  “you wipe spit from your cheek when/your lover says it was the hardest they came in their life, and/you believe them “(Hoffman). I’ve had this said to me quite a few times and my friend has as well. It’s a common line that men say to their partners/flings. Yes, MEN, we do talk about these things.

Another poem that resonated with me was “Magnificent Shits” in which the poet talks about how they imagine their unborn child to be like  and how much they already love them . I resonated with this poem because as a parent myself, I’ve had similar thoughts. I resonated with the lines, “But no matter where you go/forever drives your soul/YOU ARE A MASTERPIECE that shits and smiles and needs and creates and kisses/explores and speeds “(Hoffman). These capture that feeling of loving your child and acknowledging their humanness. 

Another poem I really liked from this collection is “Prenatal Yoga aka Relearning Breath”. It deals with complex issues of “passing” and even deals with the poet dealing with privilege. The line that I really liked from this poem was,And I know it’s strange to find peace in a space of appropriation/’cause 8 outta 9 of our faces are white/ so when it comes to “passing”/ I really can’t talk, can I? “(Hoffman) As a woman of color who’s spent most of her time in predominantly white spaces, I understand this sentiment of feeling like an “other” or “out of place”. Often at times, I try to blend in and 9 out of 10 times, I am able to without incident. However, there is that 10 % where I feel uncomfortable because something unintentionally prejudiced is said or a wrong assumption is made about me. 

New Moon in Cancer (Radical Honesty 101) was my favorite poem in this book. I interpreted this poem as the anxiety of the poet written in verse. I loved how honest Hoffman is in addressing everything that goes through their mind openly talking about their mental health, relationships, and what it’s like to be a writer in today’s environment of instagram, twitter, etc. One of my favorite lines from this poem was, “I don’t believe in The One./I’ve initiated most of my break-ups, cheated on basically/even in open relationships-/Shit. Maybe I just suck at this.” )Hoffman. I feel like Hoffman basically describes almost all of my romantic relationships and the thoughts I have about that part of my life. Examining and deconstructing my relationships this past year, I’ve often thought, “man, maybe I just suck at this, let me quit while I haven’t slashed anyone’s tires yet”(haha). The other line that I really liked from this poem was “Honestly I’m sick of wanting to get better, dying to be better, trying to do better than whatever I am or can” (Hoffman). Being in this recovery journey from my BPD feels like that sometimes. I have a strict routine I adhere to, read so many books about BPD, monitor my moods and honestly, it gets tiresome at times. Like Hoffman, I get sick of trying to “be better” and I often wonder when I can stop being so vigilant and rigid in everything I do. When can I say I’m finally better and can stop doing so much?

Blood, Booze, and other things in Nature is definitely the poetry collection for you if you’ve ever felt like a pariah, like an outcast, like an outsider in this world that tries to tone you down for being too crazy, too loud, and  too bizarre for it. Reading this poetry collection is the medicine you need for that beautiful and chaotic soul of yours that refuses to conform to the norms and expectations of normalcy in this patriarchal society.

Below is a link to the book:

Don’t believe me? Here are other testimonials about the book and the author:

Praise for Blood, Booze, and Other Things in Nature: 

This book resonates with anyone who’s ever called a crisis line and had them respond, “Oh wow that’s a lot.” This chapbook isn’t a cocktail. It’s a shot. 

-Kit Stitches 

This is no nipple-slip, no wardrobe malfunction. This is deliberate, personal exposure, revealing heart, head, and the wounds of living. The battle songs, the laments, and the healing gather here. 

-Neil S Reddy 

This collection is a dirty meditation, a longing for escape, an ecstatic fuck you to the traps and ties of societal expectation. A delightful, messy romp through the entrails of the heart. 

-Nicole Morning 

This is the kind of writing that inspires fandom.

-Alexandine Ogundimu, Filth Magazine

Praise for C E Hoffman: 

C E Hoffman is a fearless writer.

-Jack Wang, author of We Two Alone and winner of the Danuta Gleed Literary Award 

The human spirit remains fresh-voiced, optimistic and youthful in Hoffman’s imaginative writing.

-Martin Millar, author of Lonely Werewolf Girl and winner of the World Fantasy Award 

Hoffman’s writing style reminds one of Burroughs at his most straightforward or Irvine Welsh at his strangest, but with a presentation dominated primarily by women and queer characters- a refreshing change in this particular milieu.…Hoffman is definitely a writer to watch for, and I look forward to what they give us next.

-Justin Bookworm, Razorcake Issue #123

Sex and the City meets Black Mirror.

-Alana M Kelley, Maudlin House Magazine 

Poetry: A Knock on My Door

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

this kid makes my dark days worth living

When darkness comes in and my sadness sets in
it covers me and I can’t see the point of it all
And then I hear a knock and it’s my son
And I remember, today he’s my life’s purpose
I need to get up and face another dreadful day
My child needs food and shelter
I can’t let my depression win
I’m a mother first
My darkness will have to be martyred
Remembering over and over again
on days like today my child’s presence
makes my bad days worth living

Poetry: Forgiving My Younger Self

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

I forgive myself at 15 for crying over an idiot
who was never worth my time and energy
but he did spark my poetic voice

I forgive myself at 20 for writing more than 50 poems
about a 6 week relationship in 2001
but it did make for some hilarious blog content in 2021

I forgive myself at 25 for not fighting harder for my dreams
and for swallowing my anger and angst for the comfort of others
but that year I became a playwright

I forgive myself at 30 for drowning the writer in me
as I lost myself in my roles as wife and mother
but that year I launched my blog

I forgive myself at 35 for swallowing a bottle of xanax
because I felt like a failure as wife, mother, and worker
but the dark poetry from that time is some of my best

I forgive myself at 40 for wanting to die for two weeks in July
after being discarded by the “supposed” love of my life
but that summer I found the confidence to call myself a writer

Play-Transition: Scene Two

Here is a link to the first scene:https://wp.me/p23LY2-1qp

Scene 2: 

SETTING: Landon’s apartment. The aesthetic in this apartment is minimalist There are no stray things around. There is a very expensive looking sculpture. Landon has a very simple geometric painting. There is a glass coffee table at the center and really sparse furniture. CHLOE is at the door ready to knock. LANDON is in an expensive jog suit and on his laptop writing a business negotiation. 

CHLOE knocks tentatively on LANDON’s door, Landon looks through his smallish peephole, sighs deeply, plasters a forced smile on his face and opens the door. 

LANDON: Chloe, hi! To what do I owe the pleasure of having my little sister come over here unannounced. Do you want a drink ?

CHLOE: (goes to sit down slowly on the expensive chair) No…uhh..I wouldn’t have come over if I didn’t think it was important. 

LANDON: Well, you know, you could always send me a text or call me.

CHLOE: You never answer your phone or reply to my texts. Besides, this is really important. 

LANDON: Well, you know, I’m a busy guy. You could have a little more consider-

CHLOE gets frustrated and yells.

CHLOE: It’s about dad!

LANDON: Jesus! You’re on that business again. I thought I had already made it clear to you what needs to be done.

CHLOE: No,you didn’t. You’ve skirted around the issue without resolving anything.

LANDON: What is there to resolve? He seems okay living by himself. 

CHLOE: You only see him once a month at the most . He’s struggling and doesn’t want to admit it. He’s not only holding on to mom’s old stuff but is accumulating new stuff as a way to deal with his grief. And to make matters worse, the landlord is about to put him out. We need to reason with him. 

LANDON: How is the landlord going to put him out ? I give the old biddy a little something extra so she doesn’t bother him. 

CHLOE: You don’t understand.It’s not about money, they want him out because dad has basically made the place a hazard. We need to help dad. 

LANDON: And what is your suggestion. Einstein?

CHLOE: Well, you know, he could always move in with you.

LANDON: Like hell he can. Listen, I got a better suggestion. I put up the money, you make all the arrangements and we put him in one of those assisted living places. He’ll be surrounded by –

CHLOE: Are you nuts? A nursing home because you don’t want your life inconvenience

LANDON: I don’t see what’s so bad—

CHLOE: It will kill him! He will hate it. You can’t always just throw money at every fucking problem. You are such a selfish jerk. 

LANDON: And you are a mindless little idiot. Are you done now?

CHLOE: (feeling rather defeated and sighs) Will you at least come with me to reason with him. He won’t listen to me but at least he will listen to you, his favorite child.

LANDON: Sure. I need to see when I’m free. Maybe next week, I could pencil something—

CHLOE: God damnit! Don’t you understand that the situation is urgent? He could be out on the street by the end of the week.

LANDON: Must you always be such a drama queen?

CHLOE: Ugh..there no use talking to you (Chloe mutters under breath, you just don’t fucking care)

LANDON: What did you say?

CHLOE: Nothing.

LANDON: Fine, I’ll go with you this Wednesday afternoon.

CHLOE: Okay.

CHLOE  slams the door and sighs deeply.

Poesia: La Nostalgia de Ti

Here is the English Version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/18/poetry-without-a-goodbye/

cada cuarto está lleno con la nostalgia de ti
la sala donde miramos películas de Almodóvar
la cocina donde me hacías el cafe
pensé que siempre estarías aquí
peleando conmigo, criando nuestro hijos
nunca pensé que el universo tendría otros planes
y que el cielo necesitaría otro ángel

Poetry: Death

I wrote this in January of 2022 when I was depressed.

honestly

I welcome death to take me away tonight-
death must be better than the anger
that has made an eternal home in me
death must feel better than this emptiness
that lies in my heart
death has to be better than this sorrow
that floods my pillow with tears continuously
death would be better than my emotions
that threaten to consume me

Poetry: Decade of Lies

I wrote this poem in 2019 when I found out my friend Brad had lied to me for a decade about something pretty important.

I was the unknown sidepiece

17 years of friendship ruined

Because of one lie

One lie turned into a decade

Of lying to ME–

  His supposed close friend

ME

A girl he supposedly loved and cared for

ME

The one he claimed meant a  lot to him

But he couldn’t come clean

With his truth 

He couldn’t man up and be honest

Instead he lied and lied and lied

Until 

The lie came out 10 years too late

I’m overreacting, he says

But friendship like I know friendship 

Is not built on a foundation of 

Lies, betrayal, and mistrust

 Fuck off,

Glad you’re gone,

Good riddance,

Hope you remember the words of anger

I wrote to you 

And you keep your promise 

To never contact me again. 

Poetry: Forgotten Anniversary

I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. I guess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.

December 9, 2010

He forgot our 8 year anniversary
I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter.
Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced.
There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears
Over something that would end soon.
There was no use in feeling devastated over
Something that never should have happened.
Vows that should never have been taken.
Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning.
Empty words that were never believed in.
8 years of marriage; an institution we thought
would bind us for eternal life.
So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect
wouldn’t break us apart.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary

Just like he forgot all of his promises to
“Try harder” or “to change”
So I wouldn’t leave.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary.
And it’s fine.
You don’t celebrate something
That is already dead.

Poetry: My Book of Love and Lust

Para la version en Espanol, haga clic en este enlace:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/10/poesia-yo-pense/

I thought nothing could ruin our love

now everything we once were is lost

because once again I was wrong, wrong, wrong

I wasn’t aware of your secret lust filled missions

you’re another confused boy

and to you I was another toy

You were another tourist

in my book of love and lust