“I checked on my friends”

“I made sure they were OK”

“They were the first ones I found out on the field”


And then there was me.

Hiding under a desk.

Everyone else giggled, their last moments spent in the stolen safest corner surrounded by their friends.


“I checked on my friends.”


What about everyone else?

who in your popularity you’d forgotten about.


“I was the protector”

“I knew everyone”

but what about those who dealt instead with it by their selves?

who never asked?

I bet you never knew he who was bullied into silence.

I bet you never knew he who was to shy to speak out in class.


And I bet in your lockdown

you did check on your friends.

And I bet on your haste

you forgot about the quiet one alone under a desk.


And still you think yourself a hero

Breaking the rules by running room to room

and room to store and back again.

So cool you were,

and a hero among your friends.


And then there was me.

Who watched you come running in.

you checked on the girl you liked.

you checked on your buddy(s).

asked if they were okay.


And I bet in your haste

you forgot about he under the desk

following the rules,

when I’d refused to speak out. yet.




I’m not that one

I’m not the one.


The one that blows kisses

The one that dances out the night

I’m not the one smiling bright.


I’m not the one in pink,

I’m not the one in heels and dresses

with love finding many ways of expressions.


I’m not the girl you ordered,

I’m not the girlfriend of your dreams.

I’m not here to please you by all means.


I’m not the one that says all the right things,

I’m not the one that does all the right things.

And it’s a fear upon me that constantly springs.


I’m not the girlfriend you ordered.

I’m not the girlfriend you dreamt of.


I’m the one of real life,

The one that’ll wake you from that damned sleep

Because I’m so much fucking upkeep.


I’m the one from whom you’d better get the hint.

I’m the one that’ll make you work

With the texts and calls each day,

“The desire to see you isn’t too much to ask” I say.


When it is I’m the one that throws a cow

Because I’m the one with more than one emotion

And sometimes I’m the one that becomes a mess

When I’m the one looking over the edge.


I’m the one that wants space and quiet,

I’m the one that’s moody

All of the time.

I’m the one that’s high maintenance with double standards set in a line.


So when you get scared –

And I know you will –

You’ll back off and it won’t be a big deal.

Just like everyone else who couldn’t handle me for anything more than sex appeal.


Because I’m not like the girl you saw in the mall.

Shopping bags full of dresses, her never-ending smile topping painted nails and heels.


I’m not.

And I’m not.

I’m just not.


So here’s my fine print,

My warning if you will.


I’m not the stereotype you perceived me to be.

And I’m the one you won’t can’t foresee to keep.

Tradition: Thanksgiving

Tradition: Thanksgiving Dinners

Tradition is gathering around a turkey.

Tradition is a loud table with family to spare.

Tradition to send food around that table, casseroles to share.


Everyone brings at least one something or more,

Sisters and husbands throwing open the host’s front door.


Pies and cookies and brownies all brought for dessert,

But always first,


The corn and potatoes and turkey of course.

The young cousins upstairs sing until their voices go hoarse.

And later after dinner that’s been served at noon,


With all the men shouting at the football game soon,

We’re called downstairs to look through Black Friday magazines.

To circle and initial what it is we want for christmas.


Granna hands out to the cousins festive advent calendars,

While adults fill leftovers into take home canisters.


Football and talking.

Laughing while empty cider bottles are set aside.


Clean up starts, and we’re asked to pitch in.

The last of the food is pushed away,

“we have too many leftovers anyway.”


Tradition at this time keeps us there ’till six or eight.

And then everyone slowly filters out.

Goodbyes and hugs said at the door while reluctant cousins hide.


Tradition at this time brings a smile to even the oldest cousin’s face.

Some sit chatting in chairs while the littlest sit on the floor, legs folded in place.


Tradition pauses each year waiting for the next Thanksgiving.

This is our wonderful tradition, before the day with sales of no shipping.




Like a robot you are! Oh how I love watching! That one emotion, that one high pitched sound -I could listen all day!

You all know who I’m talking about, that girl you see.

She comes up everywhere, no matter where you’d be.

Don’t know her you say?

You’d soon remember.

Meet her once and you’d never forget her.

I don’t care who you are you meet her every day.

That happy emotion and caring attitude.

She’ll never meet you without gratitude.

Oh she’s so nice, oh she’s so sweet, and all you boys follow like dogs gone astray.

“Let us all follow her!” I command!

It’s not like she’s the irritating thorn in my hand.

That cheer squad and white smile complimenting her peppy display.

More of us should have one emotion too.

Nothing would get us down in this world of hullabaloo.

Yes! That’s it; we’ll all turn to robots! Then I too can hook myself a sucker just for play.

The world will be much better off if we were just like you.

A stupid little girl smiling -believing she’s unequal to.

Being Serious

Being Serious

I don’t remember the point at which I stopped being serious.

But I know I did stop.

Wrapping my ideas for life around this one boy,

a boy who wasn’t even a man.

Getting high around the clock was his plan.


I debated and contemplated, depending on us,

but his plan was thus:

too different, too self-centered.

He was no longer taking part in the life we had entered.


I was lonely.

I was tired.

I was angry.

And I was defeated.

All my morals had been drained and cheated.


He was that guy in the halls,

listening and taking part in the lewd cat-calls.

Friends with everyone and strutting as if he were the priest,

High and Mighty, popularity consumed him while everything else had ceased.


“I can feel it, I’m going to be big this year.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you with me.”

I thought of him as if he were a living hyperbole.


I was left behind, outdated.

the one in the halls that felt understated.

Underfoot and overlooked in his shadow.

Writing escaping into Voyager was my loaded crossbow.


And in the end it was movies and movies and not much else.

I was barely in the mood to see him

when his demand for sex became a threat of its own.

His clouded mind truly was sitting upon a throne.


He called me scared, he called me a bitch.

He told me “I hope you suffer in your next relationship like I did!”

while I met with fury for not giving it up.

Then he asked for me to take him back like I might turn and say “yup”.


There were days of begging and days of serenades, one last chance with his love to “show”.

Yet I said no.

“You should have known the stakes,”

taking me for granted with broken promises is not what it takes.


And still I don’t remember the point at which I stopped being serious.

But I know I did stop.

All thanks to my morals being drained and cheated.

And now I’m done being the one who is mistreated.


img_9309The CAT

The cat will not harm you.

She’ll eat and sleep.

Barely making more than a peep.


She’ll follow you around and keep you safe,

in her own little way, here for your embrace.


She’ll never walk out,

She’ll never curse your name.

She’ll love you forever,

and sleep beside you who’s in pain.


Because you’re their human, and you mean just that much,

even if he didn’t make you feel anything such.


She’ll be there through it all,

after he’s watched you fall.

She’ll become your shadow to make sure you’re okay,

and sleep through it with you all of the day.


Because you’re their human and she’s here to protect you,

now that you other two have said adieu.


The cat won’t force you to stay behind,

give up your weekend for what they had in mind.

They won’t tell you to stop in the midst of grief,

they’ll curl up next you and fall back asleep.


The cat won’t walk out,

not because the door is closed,

but because you’re their human, and you mean just that much.

And they’ll let let you know this, when he didn’t do anything such.


The cat will need let out,

but she’ll come back at a moments call,

because she heard your sniffling out in the hall.


The cat might not be there the entire time,

but she’ll be there for the biggest part of your emotional climb.


While instead he walked out, intent to leave you there,

there on your knees with his threat now more than a scare.


The cat is going to be there to tell you you do mean the most,

when he couldn’t do it, despite being so close.


The cat will be there with comforts to spare,

to show you how very much they really do care.


Because you’re their human, and you mean just that much.

Even when he didn’t make you feel anything such.