They sit in the filing cabinets of our brain. Alone until wanted.
These are perfect examples but too mundane. Sometimes I feel
Hated for not doing enough differently. Im invisible but I think
I’m ok with that. Books are the treasured wealth of the world and
The fit inheritance of generations and nations. My notebook is pretentious.
My issue is I don’t have aspirations; I don’t know where I’m going.
Her mother is protecting her from the old world ideals. This is
How to charm your way out of anything. I became a shell through my
Writing. How did you make it this far without learning how to
Read? The moms are just moms. I can feel myself oozing a
Negative aura. She is a bright idea, a blinding idea. She pours
Energy into me, but yet I’m still not enough. Her breath smells
Of mint and satisfaction.Why has she forsaken me?
Jurassic park is a great name for a poem. Not this poem. A better
Poem. One that screams intelligence, with some
Stupid metaphor about our ideas being dinosaurs
And our negative views of them being the meteor that
Killed the dinos. I hate this poem. Its not polished or anything.
A girl in overalls with perfect eyebrows. I’m tired of getting
Played but it’s not my fault. Or is it? I’m smelly and need to
Shower. I’m a fucking literature snob. They yielded to, molded by,
Foxes on the floor. In the morning, she is born again. I am not
Me without her. Isn’t it already covered, already sheltered,
From my knowledge? In 50 tiny beds lay my desires, my vulnerability. An
Ode to fucking with socks on. An ode to my insecurity. In the parking lot,
I move a leisurely pace. The smell of chain-smoked cigarettes.
Always to Wellsville, to where they started. The sewer system isn’t a
Release, darling. The seas don't part for everyone. Even as I write this I know its
Cringe-worthy. The restrictions are the same but have different
Meanings. She was pounded with a furious waterfall
Of sticks and stones. Im scared it’ll be good but no
One will read it.
Goober, August, 3, 2018
Here's a little bit about this poem- If it seems all over the place and out of order, it's supposed to. I got the inspiration for this poem from a poem that had a similar structure. This poem is constructed out of parts of other pieces, quick thoughts, and snippets of whats in my notebook.
You can watch me read it at on my youtube channel. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lu1pheIr8q8 (I can't figure out how to make that a link so just copy and paste it or my channel name is "gabrielle toussaint")