Spoken Word

“Everyday” by Mike McGee.

Everyday I rewrite her name across my ribcage
so that those who wish to break my heart
will know who to answer to later
She has no idea that I’ve taught my tongue to make pennies,
and every time our mouths are to meet
I will slip coins to the back of her throat and make wishes

I wish
that someday
my head on her belly might be like home
like doubt to doubt resuscitation
because time is supposed to mean more than skin
She doesn’t know that I have taught my arms to close around her clocks
so they can withstand the fallout from her Autumn

She is so explosive,
volcanoes watch her and learn
terrorists want to strap her to their chests
because she is a cause worth dying for
Maybe someday
time will teach me to pick up her pieces
put her back together
and remind her to click her heels
but she doesn’t need a wizard to tell her that I was here all along

Lady
let us catch the next tornado home
let us plant cantaloupe trees in our backyard
then maybe together we will realize that we don’t like cantaloupe
and they don’t grow on trees
we can laugh about it
then we can plant things we’ve never heard of

I’ve never heard of a woman
who can make flawed look so beautiful
the way you do

The word smitten is to how I feel about you
what a kiss is to romance
so maybe my lips to yours could be the penance to this confession
because I am the only one preaching your defunct religion
sitting alone at your altar, praising you out of faith

I cannot do this hard-knock life alone
You are all the softness a rock dreams of being
the mistakes the rain makes at picnics
when Mother Nature bears witness in much better places

So yes
I will gladly take on your ocean
just to swim beneath you
so I can kiss the bends of your knees
in appreciation for the work they do
keeping your head above water

Spoken Word

“How to Be Alone” by Tanya Davis.

If you are at first lonely, be patient. If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.

We could start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library. Where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books. You’re not supposed to talk much anyway so it’s safe there.

There’s also the gym. If you’re shy you could hang out with yourself in mirrors, you could put headphones in (guitar stroke).

And there’s public transportation, because we all gotta go places.

And there’s prayer and meditation. No one will think less if you’re hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.

Start simple. Things you may have previously (electric guitar plucking) based on your avoid being alone principals.

The lunch counter. Where you will be surrounded by chow-downers. Employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town and so they — like you — will be alone.

Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.

When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner. A restaurant with linen and silverware. You’re no less intriguing a person when you’re eating solo dessert to cleaning the whipped cream from the dish with your finger. In fact some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.

Go to the movies. Where it is dark and soothing. Alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.

And then, take yourself out dancing to a club where no one knows you. Stand on the outside of the floor till the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching…because, they’re probably not. And, if they are, assume it is with best of human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats is, after all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating, and beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things, down your back like a brook of blessings.

Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you.

Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, there’re always statues to talk to and benches made for sitting give strangers a shared existence if only for a minute and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversations you get in by sitting alone on benches might’ve never happened had you not been there by yourself

Society is afraid of alonedom, like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements, like people must have problems if, after a while, nobody is dating them. but lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless and lonely is healing if you make it.

You could stand, swathed by groups and mobs or hold hands with your partner, look both further and farther for the endless quest for company. But no one’s in your head and by the time you translate your thoughts, some essence of them may be lost or perhaps it is just kept.

Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those sappy slogans from preschool over to high school’s groaning were tokens for holding the lonely at bay. Cuz if you’re happy in your head than solitude is blessed and alone is okay.

It’s okay if no one believes like you. All experience is unique, no one has the same synapses, can’t think like you, for this be releived, keeps things interesting lifes magic things in reach.

And it doesn’t mean you’re not connected, that communitie’s not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it. take silence and respect it. if you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it. if your family doesn’t get you, or religious sect is not meant for you, don’t obsess about it.

you could be in an instant surrounded if you needed it
If your heart is bleeding make the best of it
There is heat in freezing, be a testament.

Spoken Word

“Love Poem” by Mary Fons.

This poem is for the pillow clutchers, for those looking into the imaginary eyes of the person who fills their mind with sugarplum smiles, for those who have a cannon of dreams ready and waiting to blossom, for the men and the women who want to be understood in that way that only someone who kisses you can understand you – this poem is for you.

This poem is not for the desperate; the pathetic; the lame; the loser; not for the one who hasn’t gotten laid in awhile. Not for the one who says they’re “choosing not to date” for awhile, there is no such thing. This poem is for the people who cannot bring themselves to admit that they would give their right leg for any length of time with the person on their mind.

Forgive me. I am not a brave woman. I do not know what lurks in the hearts of humans and I don’t really want to know if what’s there mirrors memories I show in my face on bad days it holds kisses that are long gone, people who have disappeared, and passions that have faded into the ether of the past. Nothing lasts, that is the one lesson this coward can say she is able to teach.

This poem is for all those who wish to say “I’m sorry”. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you, you deserve love. I’m sorry I couldn’t give something to you, something you deserve to be given. I’m sorry that for every person that loves somebody, another person just doesn’t want to. And sometimes we’re the lucky ones, right, we get to feel sweet truth in the night. The bodies we reach out to are miraculously there, but I know the despair that comes when they are not. I know the long nights and the doubt and the fear and that crawling back to a womb that just isn’t there. I know intensity’s address and the letdown that rents there. I’m sorry for it/it takes years off your life and it cannot be avoided.

And sometimes these little words are crutches for the crush that we feel, so this poem is a pathetic vehicle for me to tell you, each one of you, that I love you. In so many ways, in the same ways that stay up nights and days, dreaming up the perfect way to be there for someone, meals you would cook for them, poems you would write for them and the things you plan to say when they say no. Well I love you, and you will never know how in the slight of a magician’s hand we could’ve been lovers and grandly in love. Could’ve changed the whole game, written words on the horizon, changed the compromise, but you will know something else instead, bitter as bitter ever gets, more bitter than a rotten peach pit, more bitter than a child’s most terrifying nightmare at night. You will know that I don’t reflect what I see in your eyes, will share some banal recognition, some cordial understanding but have I mentioned that I love you for not lying. So many people lying all the time, I hate them, so I love you. And you will still go home alone, and that is very hard to do.

For all the humans with love for those who aren’t their lovers. I love you.

And so the poem ends because we know that it will, but before it slips away like everything else, I will attempt the only words I can think of that are a fraction as good as a kiss: When you reach out at night and find not someone, but the cold grey light of day that wakes you up like a slap, like a curse, like an insult – I love you. When you stay at home thinking of those who are long gone or those who are getting kisses from someone that is not you, I love you. For those who want what they probably need and whose bodies are starving not for food, for me and for you and for all the people who never knew or understood what you would do for them – I love you. I love you. I love you.