Latest Posts by somebodyssongbird - Page 2

We are so entwined I don't know which love is yours Or which kiss is mine

I write my own universe inside a snow globe Where fields of lilac and rows of holly Coexist without juxtaposition Where a mother is also a sister And a sister is someone I can trust Where truth and reality do not conflict With any of my own personal truths or realities

Shake me hard, turning me this way and that I am in flux, I am inside the water That from the outside looking in poses as air The winter birds and the summer birds Perch in the same trees, eat the same seeds I am dreaming here with eyes open Love does not perish here, not in my delicate orb

I am sitting at the window The sun is out but it's chilly It's a lazy golden afternoon The neighbor's chickens Have escaped their coop again They're wandering down the street Stopping at bird feeders And pecking at the ground

It occurs to me after minutes Of simply observing the Peculiar way they move their heads That I have no thoughts in my own That I am completely mesmerized By mindlessly fleeing fowl It is a good day for watching And doing nothing else at all

I don't like anything I wrote today It's all too depressing And I'm not depressed I don't think

It's just January dragging me down Down into the snow No one's dreaming of white anymore No one's dreaming of January

The grackles are sitting in limp trees Shifting around quietly, waiting For the ground to thaw But it will be several months still

Owl music is playing on low tonight Predators, I think, are soft spoken I whistle back, it's not the right tone Owls don't whistle and I don't hoot They don't pay me any mind Don't acknowledge failed harmony Who are you speaking to? I am asking them via my chirping No fluttering, no rustling The owl music sounds further away Don't stop completely, don't stop Who is out there tonight? Who is calling me? I want to be called Like an owl, quietly and discreetly Invisible yet something to be feared

Come to me asking for love And I will lay you down in the Forest clearing Sun through the branches Slivers of gold, tiny trickling rivers Like goddesses over your skin. Here it is, I will tell you Here in the damp grass, on top Of the mossy rocks, softness I can't offer that anymore Though I want to Gaia, please take it from here

I would live here in my mind if I could If the earthly world did not always snatch me away With its incessant needing and needing Earth, why are you so attached to me?

I am in my mind today, like most days Don't say it is not a place because you can't walk there When your thoughts wander Is it through a desert? A forest? Do you swim?

Everything that has died is alive here Here is my dead friend that I used to kiss, looking well Here is the art I gave up on in frustration Here are the words you said to me in anger The dreams we dreamed together, still breathing

I walk up creaking steps from my stomach to my head The body is such a desperate thing sometimes Always needing validation and hand holding So I would live up here tucked away in the ethereal

I cut off my hair And the great weight of my life Fell away with it

I will be whatever you need to see in me today, My body a canvas open to interpretation. Here I am soft, delicate as silk; There I am sharp, rugged as stone. I am shifting, gliding, reshaping myself, I am swimming through the waters of my gender, Moving from room to room In this house I am calling my body.

But I am twisting in the hallway, Arms and legs spilling through every door; I am too much at once and so never quite enough. Tell me what you want, I will shape myself to fit. Make me compatible with your desire Until I forget the shape of myself entirely.

(In your rejection I’ve flooded our home, Drowning in the rooms where you once wanted me.)

A girl I am dating is reading my palm Tracing her finger Over my life line She furrows her brow

"Do you like evergreen trees?" she asks She doesn't look up and I nod "But you are deciduous," she meets my eyes

I shrug, pulling my hand back But she holds my wrist Firmly and keeps tracing I'm staring at her curiously

"You are nineteen?" it's currently January I nod again, February on the horizon "You will be nineteen for a very long time"

I don't like her reading I don't like her mysticism I break up with her later Then I meet you And I am nineteen for the rest of my life

An artist can insert light into the world Reach into their own acid stomach Pulling out their intestines Shining, glowing, posing as hope Let me make it so Let me take my own guts in my hands Twist them and turn them Into a blue and red balloon animal Give it to our tired country The rotten thing does not fester Inside me today. Can I do it? I want to take pieces of myself That have atrophied and heal them Turn them into something resembling art

Quiet. There is only quiet. I speak without moving my lips, Without clearing my throat. This voice belongs only to my mind now. It is soft and tender. Words are harsh.

My voice does not criticize me anymore, I have tamed it from the feral creature It once was. Down now, down. My voice wears a collar Though I do not keep it on a leash.

Silent. I am a silent person now. Yes, I speak with lips moving, I converse when I have to.

Is this living? Being a worldly mute? Yes, my voice and I are surviving. Survival is all we can tolerate.

An ember in my hand Is a small and safe delight It burns of course Palm scarred for life Leave your imprint on me, fire

But place it in the earth And it will tear its way through Scorch the ground and then The trees until there's nothing Left but a smoldering oblivion

As a lover of fire As someone made of flames For this destruction I have only this tearful apology Lost in the blackest smoke

Does anyone else Count syllables on fingers While writing haiku?

What are the laws of nature? Can you tell me? I can only think of one That energy cannot be created Or destroyed That it can only reconstruct One form into another

So what makes a flower bloom? Did I give the blossom My energy? I assume it comes from somewhere Within the soil, the stem But let me believe I can transform Into a beautiful thing too

Maybe you're wearing that winter coat Because you're not used to Places that snow Or places that make other people feel cold

And when you exhale all that smoke I can see your breath Air out your mouth Air coming out that makes no words

Maybe you're wearing that winter coat Like downy armor Standing so close and still so far from me In a jacket so lovely

Let me revel in these Small doses of sadness In their warmth, In that quick, biting Shot before blurriness

I find myself a sponge In a hot bath, soaking, Letting sadness fill me Until I become heavy

But in the small doses Measured in spoonfuls, In small bites, I cozy up with sadness Carrying it in my body

Touch may not be necessary for me That warm, skin to skin connection Has never felt as vital as an emotional one

Until I find myself clawing at a stranger Until I am turning my head to the side Avoiding kisses, because that's too intimate And my body wasn't asking for intimacy

In all honesty, I don't even like being touched I avoid situations that involve closeness No need to hug anyone just for the hell of it

Until I wrap my arms around a lover Who's name I've mixed up with the last one's I never picture the ones I really crave Who's touches I am actually yearning for

Certainly I can live my life without touch I don't need it like I do good food or drink It does not sustain my soul like poetry does

Until I remember all the ways I've burned The way you struck your fingers like matches On my hands, on my lips, the entirety of me Inside our fire I have wanted and wanted

But that's really all distant memory now I think I'll slide touch up high on my bookshelf Somewhere between fantasy and memoir

Why does our perception Of gender Change the tone In which we read someone's work?

My woman is stoic My man is soft spoken Anywhere I fall on the spectrum is loud Or terribly quiet

They crystallize in untroubled silence In this early pause, it's a quiet science When you look up Standing so perfectly still No movement but your Breath billowing up towards the sky One catches your eye Before weaving slowly to the ground Before joining the others in the frost You don't make a sound As its perfect, individual shape is lost

The light and dark Tides of my life Swelled simultaneously

Waves that lifted me Battered me In their shore break

In my euphoria I waded Through so much pain

And the two have never Separated In their continuum

A drop of vanilla escapes The glass vial; It lingers, it lingers, It lingers on the table Before it breaks.

It seeps slowly, then Suddenly into the grooves, Spreading vanilla into The pores of the wood.

Vanilla infuses with The table, into a tiny Stain, into a small Splotch of warmth And subtle hospitality.

A small zen garden Sits on the therapist's desk To calm both of us

This is not poetry It's just me Adding line breaks To a thought

Please, do not be intimidated I am not really that cold

Or rather, I am that cold But we acclimate, Cheeks rosy with life

I grab your lip with my thumb, Nothing between us can numb

Without reading any of my written words Is it possible to truly know me? Mind musings, soul serenades This feels like the only accurate, undiluted Version of my being

If you've never met my body Maybe you know me better than most Or maybe to know me is reading both Poetry being the translation of my body language Into my mother tongue

So I'll lay my words down delicately, intentionally Hoping you see them A dialect spoken just between us Yes, you would know me I think you could know me entirely this way

Ocean, I have a confession to make. I am just a small bird, a very small bird, You are endless and vast, How can I tell you I love you?

I have fallen in love with you deeply, As deep as your floors, your trenches; But you are so grand and I, Well I am just a bird, would you wave me off?

I have this fragile, mortal body And I am jealous of your infinite waters. How could you ever love me back When I exist for just one of your moments?

I am standing, twig legged, at your shore, I am watching the clouds kiss your horizon And I have never felt smaller, yet I am drowning in my adoration of you.

Since we are being vulnerable, And my feelings are likely unrequited, May I ask, Ocean, who is it you love? For whom does your body ebb and flow?

I'm Unable To say what I mean because The words are all Lodged in my throat But whoa! So suddenly They're spilling out wildly In a long, incoherent ramble

Sometimes I ruin what I'm trying to say by Making use of Too many Words

Do actions really speak louder than words? If so, my actions are to Put pen to paper, to share, to express What I otherwise could not unscramble in my mind.

The action of showing you my heart, A glimpse into my private sanctuary; That is a commitment I could not Match with gestures or tangible doings.

With each letter I unfurl What I've hidden deep within my proverbial soil, Unraveling all my coiled roots and Rebuilding myself piece by fragile piece.

Maybe from words we can take away this: I am crafting, I am weaving, I am building a solid foundation upon Which all my intentions have the space flourish.