quick break from poetry. more like a diary entry. hey you. stay strong. i can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful this world can be. i’ve been told that everyone’s job is to be impressive. and i think that’s right. be as damn impressive as you can be, because there are people out there waiting to be floored by your talent. breathe. you are a gift. a beautiful, divine gift. dream on.
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Dig, brother, dig, it’s just desert soil, dig holes for graves and holes for oil
Phil Kaye performing at the Providence Poetry Slam Finals
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"If you fall off your horse, get back on. If your horse falls, keep going on foot. If the very ground you’re walking on crumbles, good thinking buying that fucking awesome jetpack."George Watsky
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puppy love *
prompt: confess someone’s secret.
(i kissed my best friend at a shooting range.)i kissed you because of the way
the autumn day stood
wrapping her chill around me,
pricking goosebumps in to my skin.
because each gold leaf falling to the ground
was punctuated by the sharp gunshot of a perfect bullseye.
because the way the dust settles on your shoulders
is mesmerizing,
because you
are mesmerizing.i kissed you because of the stardust in your eyes
and the sunlight in your hair,
because of the way your two left feet
can’t seem to stop you.
because of your confidence and your balloon-inflated ego—
because just maybe
i’d like to breathe in part of your ego
and fill myself with your helium
and teach my body
how to fly.i kissed you because there’s just something about you
that screams art,
and it’s the kind of art
that begs
to be recognized
even if only
in the flicker
of a moment. -
holden caulfield with a side of faith *
inspired by a conversation i had with the slam poet carlos andres gomez.
this is my angst poem about the rich, self-absorbed people in my high school.
i’m not necessarily much better.
i’m sitting in a room
with carlos andres gomez
and he says
it’s like we’re in a treehouse,
saving the world.now forgetting the fact
that i’ve never actually been in a treehouse,
i know i’m not superman
but i’ve always felt compelled
to do the saving, the changing,
some kind of rearranging
of certain private school souls
in need of saving.dear private school souls,
there are your words
as heard by a wallflower:“your girlfriend
is going to be gone by the summer.”
“why can’t a financial aid kid afford this?”
“deal with it yourself,
i’m not your damn therapist.”
“does she even have friends?”
“why is he with her?”
“you’re such a faggot.”you trade boyfriends so often
that it’s like you’ve taken love
out of the equation
just because you’re afraid
of being alone.
you celebrate your hookups
like birthdays,
making each candle on your cake
another successful tongue down your throat.
that’s
how mono gets passed around.you hide behind excuses
and break hearts without a second glance.
you ask for my opinion
when all you really want
is an empty justification
to help you fall asleep
at night.you spit words like the only worth they have
is to fill an uncomfortable silence.
it’s never enough,
and i have to ask,
do you ever feel as lost as i do
when i witness this from the outside?this
is what i have to say to you.one.
get over yourselves,
and get real.
get out of your mind
and plaster your words on the walls.
stain your skin
with the pigment of your meaning
instead of trembling behind your insecurities.two.
the way you deliver criticism
but refuse to swallow it
is devastating.three.
trying to find the easy way out
makes you look lost,
and is not as funny
as you may think.four.
you are not god,
and i promise you,
the idea
that the last judgment
should fall from your lips
will come back and bite you
in the ass.five.
i believe that you can be better than this,
that you have something more within you,
some gift of genius
you’ve been waiting to receive.if i could,
i would dust the negative impulses
from your mind,
i would cut open your chest
in search of the beauty
i know you possess.
i swear some days i can see it,
nestled in your diaphragm,
filling your lungs
with a music i could listen to
all night long.i would rearrange your words
so that your syllables no longer reflect
your self-entitlement in the form of hatred,
so that you learn to speak
not out of spite
but out of the urgency you feel
to change the world.realize
that there is a life
outside of high school.
and it consists of poverty and rape,
of suicide and bloodshed,
the world is uglier
than that shirt you criticized the other day—
but it can also be far more beautiful
than you could ever imagine.open your eyes
and take a breath.
that’s a blessing.
the way you blush when the wind kisses your face,
and the way your smile lights up the room,
like a shard of sun
embedded in your body,
is a blessing.so don’t let this poem
go to waste.
don’t let your magic go unsung.
make my words worth it,
and don’t let these years
be your glory ones—because there’s still
a lot of living
left to do. -
Jade Cho, Youth Speaks Grand Slam Finals
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"When I dare to be powerful — to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid."Audre Lorde
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for those days when you just don’t love yourself.
you have permission to fight back. you have permission to love you first. -
first impressions *
dedicated to the boy i’ve talked to about three times.
there’s just something
about you
that makes me feel like christmas.
maybe it’s the way
your face lit up when you spoke to me,
as if i had known you all along.
maybe it’s the way
you did an impression
of a character from my book,
or the way you made me laugh
like summertime
within those first moments.
maybe it’s the way
you showed me that people like you
do exist,
as genuine as a december snowfall.
i don’t know
if i’ll ever mean the world
to you, but
there’s just something comforting
about the hummingbirds
in your ever-present smile
that leave me feeling slightly
dizzy. -
on broken hearts *
one.
i cherished everything
about you,
sung butterflies in to my stomach
when i saw you,
then carved them from myself
with my heart,
holding my existence out to you
like an offering.two.
i manufactured excuses for you
with these trembling hands,
glossed over your every fault,
feeding you an endless supply
of second chances.three.
i defined myself
with your laughter.four.
i gave you a halo,
mesmerized by your artificial light.five.
i coveted every kiss and kind word,
missed you every breath i took
when i was alone.six.
i sliced apart my self-esteem
so that you could savor
the feeling of being needed,
protected your confidence
so that you would never doubt yourself
again.seven.
i imagined more romance
in to your words
than you could have ever meant,
because i always craved
something more.eight.
i loved you like the last,
even though
you were
the first.nine.
i tried to let you go
under the pretense
that you deserved better.
when you wouldn’t leave
my mind,
i bit my lip
and tried again.ten.
i made lists
of your favorite things,
your dreams,
and reasons why you made me ache.dear, this
is a list of everything i did for you,
of the ways
i was good to you,
even if you couldn’t understand.this
is my retaliation
against your indifference,
against your audacity
to remain empty
when there is so much left to feel.every word i write about you
slowly loosens the chains
you’ve placed upon my memories.dear, this
is the return
and the redemption
and the reconstruction
of my smile,
one
delicate
stitch
at
a
time.
