With a Silent, Threatening Sound

The title and first line of this poem were taken from the last line of a poem by Atila Jozef.


With a silent, threatening sound I bid farewell to the me of early this year
No more squabbling with myself over the happiness I deny me
No more living for the "good" or the "right", but living for the better.
I turn my face from the wall and walk outside
To see Plato's sunshine welcome me harshly to the reality of the rest of the day

Pretension

I am better than you
My diction is better than yours
My style is better than yours
My hat is better
My music is more ironic
My glassses are thicker
My movies are more whimsical
My books are more significant
My mediums are more obscure
My politics are more shocking
My aspirations are harder to achieve
My love is more tragic
My family is stranger
My food is more foreign
My passion is deeper
My outlook is more cynical
My guitar is older
My coffee is blacker
My shoes are more colorful
My jeans are more worn
I am better than you

How Many Others

I wrote this after learning that my rapist had also raped a good friend of mine.


How many others have there been?
Could I have saved any of them?
I never cried out for fear no one would listen?
Am I a coward?
Have I finally moved on?
What fights are worth picking?
Who is worth saving?

Alternate ending to the Cinderella Story

I knew I had seen that face before.  She was sweet and beautiful.  There was no mistake, she was the girl from the ball.  I knew the show would fit, but I almost breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't.

It was, without a doubt, her shoe.  It just never made it to her foot.  Despite being a grossly impractical shoe, it was bound to fit any number of girls in the kingdom.  I tried to tell his grace that, but he didn't seem overly concerned who the shoe fit so long as he could cease his prolonged search for a bride.  Perhaps it was something about royalty, or perhaps the prince didn't care so much for women in general, but after years of putting off his nuptials he had finally appeared to have given up on the whole love/marriage concept.

The delighted girl in from of me gave an ecstatic shriek and kicked her heals in excitement.

"I'm gonna marry the prince!" She squealed, her beady eyes a-flutter and her puggy nose turned toward the gracious heavens above.  The room erupted into excited chatter.  I stole a glance at the shy little beauty in the corner who was nervously hiding her feet.  She kissed her elated sister with a timid "congratulations" before fleeing the room. 

The room buzzed with an unprecedented cacophony. I ordered the butlers and footmen to begin packing the young lady's belongings.  Suddenly I felt a bit overwhelmed with the need to escape the boisterous gaiety.  I excused myself and followed the timid girl outside.

She was sitting with her bare feet dangling into a small pond.  She held a shoe in her hand and looked at it forlornly.  I could see her hopes and dreams as if they had been spread across her face and were falling out of the corners of her eyes in tears, though she didn't cry. 

"I know it was your shoe." I said to her.  She looked at me like a little girl, pleading for me to fix the whole mistake. "You don't want it.  You don't want that life."  She looked away.

"You don't know what it's like.  To wait on people, day in and day out, to suffer their cruelty only to have them take away the only good thing that ever happened to you."  She spoke with little inflection, as if she had said the words to herself over and over.  I sat myself next to her.

"You had a lovely evening in a palace, dancing, eating sweets, flirting with a prince.  How can they have taken that from you?"

She turned away and tears finally came.  Softly.

"He said he loved me." she whispered.  I felt my face grow hot with indignation.  I pulled her face to look at mine.

"And you believed him?" I couldn't keep the shock from my voice.  She looked away, betraying her incredulity.

"What does a girl like me have to believe in besides empty promises?"

"That's a load of horse shit and you know it!"  I told her frankly.  She looked me in the eye and burst out laughing.  A smile replaced my indignation.  "What's so funny?"

"The whole thing." She sputtered.  "The prince whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and the next day marrying my sister just because she has the same shoe size as me.  You're right.  It is horse shit.  And when I look at it... it's absolutely absurd."  She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at me frankly.  "Thank you for being so direct."  She reached down and squeezed my hand.  Warmth shot through my body. 

"For what it's worth, I think the prince is a fool.  You can do much better."

She smiled at me.  "Maybe I will."

Requiem for a Friend

I wrote this poem about a friend of mine who died in 2010 of cycstic fibrosis.  She was 22 when she died.  She lived next door to me.  We were very close during our junior high years and we went to church together in high school. 


She was the right one
The bright one
the happy one
She was beautiful and silly
No one ever believed in a world without her
Wearing every costume in the trunk
Applying outlandish makeup
She was our star
Her laugh, her words
She was never afraid of her own voice
She was a diva
A superhero
a sex kitten
Unassuming, yet unforgettable
She made you smile
Her memory brings a smile to our hopeless faces
We were all better for having you.