Category Archives: poetry

Entitled: Millennials Anonymous

Bottoms up. 

~*~

Tilt the hour glass 

of the World Wide Web back 

and watch your time 

slip right through the cracks. 

~*~

It’s a 

socially 

acceptable 

addiction. 

~*~

It’s like bringing a 

bottle of whiskey 

to the office or the bedroom. 

~*~

Do they like my status? 

Did they love my photo? 

Would you swipe right?

~*~

Right?

~*~

It’s like write or die. 

But I don’t mean novels. 

~*~

I mean catchy 

155 character phrases 

that will get you 

retweeted. 

~*~

It’s repeated:

“Entitled.”

The most connected 

disconnection.

“Millennials.”

The lost generation. 

~*~

Instafamous. 

Instaconnection. 

Instagratification. 

~*~

Instadepressed. 

Instasuicide-rates-on-the-rise. 

But it’s all lies. 

~*~

There is so much 

pain and loneliness inside. 

And social media 

is the disguise 

~*~

Why didn’t you snap me back?

I saw you read my chat. 

It really isn’t all that. 

~*~

Well now that you’re trending…

Trendy. 

Why didn’t you friend me?

~*~

Dogsnaps. 

Dadsnaps. 

Naked girl snaps. 

~*~

Screen shot. 

Unwanted eyes. 

Did you see that snap she sent last night?

Privacy has no where to hide. 

~*~

Hello @username. 

Hashtag-bff. 

Hashtag-when-was-the-last-time-we-actually-hung-out. 

Hashtag-k-thanks-bye. 

~*~

The most followers is linked 

to the least amount of friends. 

~*~

Don’t pretend. 

~*~

That S.M.S. is really an S.O.S.

And when is the last time you really 

L.O.L’d?

~*~

Time to update your 

calling card

And your tag line. 

Put up a really sexy pout. 

Tinder out. 

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A hundred times I (didn’t) miss you. 

I miss you. 
Oh, how I miss you. 

Your coffee is getting cold

Being lonely is getting old. 

I miss the way you said my name

Silently on hold. 
I miss waking up next to you

Only you were never there

So I guess all of this really isn’t fair. 
I longed for that kiss goodbye 

As I walk down the stairs 

I must have just missed you. 

You don’t really care. 
I missed you in the audience of my show

Because you know, you never go 

But let’s just go with the flow. 

I miss you. 
Oh, how I miss you. 

I miss that time you kissed me on the beach. 

That kiss was just out of reach. 

Sorry, this has become quite the speech.

I really did miss you. 
I miss you because you’re familiar, not because you’re safe. 

I mostly miss you when you’re late. 
I miss you when you’re sober. 

I missed you before you said it’s over. 
Remember that big trip?

Yeah i missed you. 
Oh, how I miss you. 

I miss the way you taste

Like a spoiled wine you drank too late. 
A hundred times I miss you. 

But not the way you think. 
And every night I go to sleep

I miss you. 

The story you don’t tell 

 
I never wanted to tell my story

I never wanted anyone to hear it 

Because then they might tell me I was to blame
But here I am anyway 

Hoping, maybe someone will feel the same
The truth is – it has nothing to do with anyone else. 

This story is about me

I own every ounce of it
I was neither innocent 

nor a victim.

I was simply human, 

in all of my sin and glory
I was lonely and loyal, 

and I was neither
I was scared and having fun, 

and yet higher
It was not black or white, 

or shades of gray

It was splashes of violet 

and violence

all the same
It has a name.
Before you tell me “I told you so”

I’ve already gone down that road

Of blaming myself

for no self-control.
I know you may want to say you’re sorry this happened to me

but before you do, know

I shouldn’t have drank as much as I had.
I had choices. 

I should have taken a taxi home

I shouldn’t have gone out alone.
Trust me, I’ve been told them all.

Yet, like some, I was in the moment.
I wanted to feel accepted 

and so I felt expected to put on a show.

I laughed with the best of them. 
Left my drink unattended

You can guess how this ended.

Have you ever been fully cognizant, 

yet unable to control your own body?
My “friend” promised he would keep me safe. 

I guess I got that promise too late. 
Blacking in and out of what looked a lot like rape.

But not to him.
And he told my husband I let him in.
Before you feel sad, know that I’ve already felt bad. 

I’ve dealt with that.
I’m not sharing this story for you. 
It’s for her

It’s for the girl who feels guilty for something that happened TO her.
So that maybe she will know 

You’re not to blame.
And maybe not today

But someday
It won’t be the same,

But it will be okay.

The Hero Complex

A poem I read at the spoken word poetry event:

He has an infinity for the broken. 

The Dramatic. 

Anything or anyone who needs him. He will come swooping in like a knight in shining armor on the day of battle. 

On the eve of battle he will be no where to be found. 

He will profess that he loves you, but what he loves is the broken pieces of you that reflect him. 

Look how good he is to you. That is the lie you will tell yourself. 

Look. 

How. 

Good. 

shines each broken piece. 

Yet, you throw a blind eye to who threw the rock at the mirror. 

Are you afraid of the dark?

Getting ready for Oct. 24th spoken word poetry event. Here is another new poem;

When we were young,
How many of us cried out,
“Just wait until I’m older!”

Look, as the adults around nervously fidget in their seats as their minds raced to –
“Don’t wish this hell on yourself.”

Remember when Hide and Go seek was a game you played with friends?
Well now that I am older it has become a game I play with love.

Love doesn’t play fair. It’s like Red Rover, Red Rover
Except love clotheslines you.
Every. Single. Time.

Mom kissing my skinned knees when I fell
Became Mom trying to get me to stop hyperventilating
long enough for me to tell her
he doesn’t love me anymore.

When I was young,
it was the monsters under the bed that scared me.
No one warned me to be afraid of the monsters in my bed.
I didn’t realize monsters could look so much like men that I loved,
so much so that I started questioning love and not men.

We learned to grieve when our pets passed away,
but how little opportunity we had to learn to grieve when the love of our life chose to walk away.
“Hey, I can still see you over there.
Happy.
Without me.”

How we are so affected by the choices we make
and don’t make,
and how they control our lives.

Love scares me
You scare me
He scares me
She scares me

I guess you could really say
I scare me.

What a beautiful world we live in,
where we can face that fear head on
and come out a little bit more alive.

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