lighten up, loosen up
says somebody hammered in every way possible
get a grip, have a drink
who knew good cheer could be so forcible?
if i were to smile while walking around
someone would wonder what drug would be found
inside my system, running around
so let me scowl and snarl
as i walk along the streets of downtown
it holds the whistles at bay
when their flirtatious faces are met with a frown
Archive for April, 2017
Being young and having a baby puts me in an awkward place with my peers. Most women my age are only just getting engaged, or otherwise they are in school and working five days a week. This places me at the edge of circles, not yet old enough to be considered in the mom groups and in such a different place in life that I feel strangely mature in my usual group of friends.
I know I’m not the only mom to feel this way. My life doesn’t revolve fully around my child and husband. I don’t have dinner on the table every night. I just want to go on long runs in the forest and come home to a smiling baby, but that’s an impossible daydream.
I do like to work. I enjoy the feeling of earning my money and paying bills. I enjoy helping others.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that I feel too young, too old, too busy, too lazy, and nowhere near where I wish I were in life.
I’ve always dreamt of traveling the world and learning new languages, of meeting new people and living in both poverty and riches in order to fully understand the world. I wanted to be a police officer, unbiased toward even the most distinctly different person. I wanted to be a writer, able to carry emotions in my words and change people though them. I wanted to be a wanderer, untethered by family or feelings and able to explore the entire expanse of the earth by wit alone.
But I found myself married at twenty years old and it’s possible that none of those dreams will ever come into fruition. And perhaps that is all they ever were: dreams. They were ideas that I latched onto and ruminated over so often that I found no fault in them.
Now I do find fault in them. They are missing my husband and my son and my family and friends and perhaps I feel for them more than I let on. I can be stoic and tired and hard and untouchable but I don’t think I can live without the people that surround me.
I sympathize for moody teenagers because I was one, but I also understand the need for stability and nine to fives and those days that drag on because they mean you love and are loved. I love and am loved, and I could continue to pine away for my unfulfilled dreams but sometimes things come into your life that you never expect and you never knew you needed.
I never meant for this to become what it is, but I guess I needed to write some things out for them to make sense in my head. Thank you for listening.
Right here in Medford
There are two kinds of people
The East and the West
Forget South and North
That is where the middle lies
Rich, desolate mess
We live by homeless
They speak louder in the night
For we silence them
I am sorry the days
When I cannot look, for fear
Takes me by surprise
What is it I think?
That their woes are contagions?
I am not alone
Most do avoid them
Could take us all, and I’d say
Good riddance, blind eyes
I started running when I was 18, near 19
It felt nice to breathe in the fresh air
I kept running, it became a daily activity
And I know now I will never stop
Unless physically removed from the ground
This is the account of an unnamed man
Who lost his way in the ways of the land
Who never once thought to look down at his hands
And wonder where exactly to stand
Yesterday, a child died
A father, a sister, a mother cried
And despite a good name it was black and white
The white holding all of the right
Our unnamed man felt a twinge in his heart
Although he was fully engulfed in his part
A witness to tell the details, to chart
The steps of those only a hue apart
We hope he decides to see past the colours
Because life could be a bit easier for others
If lives were respected as though we were all brothers
And the loaded guns remained holstered