Tag: poetryisnotdead

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Where Do I Belong?

All my life I straight tripped on who I was Was I Filipino, was I American? For twenty-eight years, I could not assume either role, I was never pigeonholed, but I never belonged. My accent is Nor Cal born & bred My height is so misled I eat rice with my hands I nosh hamburgers for breakfast I sing God Bless America with the firefighters I sing Dahil sa iyo like the Divas I drive like a maniac on the freeway But that’s a given, whether I’m brown or pink Doing our research made us children of the world: Filipino,…

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Everyone is Equal, But Some Are More Equal Than Others

In death, we treat everyone the same Undeserved of the textbook definition of respect, in life. The ones we slurred for political opinions, judged harshly for the dead bedrooms, pitied the victims you stomped as you walked your Yellow Brick Road. Conversations drop an octave when the obituary is published. Truth benders erupt from the woodwork Praising the specters of a life well lived. Truly a life lived unwell, full stop. Death does not pass go. Make the scars they left remind you, Every day you live your life.

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Up to Eleven

I haven't a song in my heart All I hear is the dull roar of broken dreams Pounding in my head, steam train It's a wonderful world of color Everything is in black & white Under-determined to keep moving forward Sailing off a cliff into oblivion I want freedom from the old ways Before the end days Splayed out, a corpse from fantasy Mercy, mercy me

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Kiss of Def

Forever the sickest This is how I see myself A little bit cynical, always a miracle I learned early on, Depend on no one but yourself Call it a front, call it a shield Ain't no one but me stepping out on the field Life is but a dream, but loneliness is my reality Solitude / platitudes / gratitudes are such unreality Melodies and songs plow through my mind These are the things that are one of a kind They're not my own but they're on my breath Like the salty, sweet taste of my kiss of def

nils peterson, willow glen library, december 2016

Nils Peterson at the Willow Glen Library, December 2016

I had the pleasure of seeing former Santa Clara County poet laureate Nils Peterson at the Willow Glen library in December 2016. I enjoyed his overall style, compared to other poetry readings I’ve been to because he repeated himself. He would recite a poem or a thought and repeat it if we didn’t hear him for the first time. Then, after he would do that, he would take it one step further and comment on it as a dialogue between speaker and attendee. It helped the audience comprehend what he was saying. To me, that was a fun and engaging…

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always at war with myself

a constant battle to march to the beat of their drum. fighting a noble war, the away team don't even know i am here. things got to get better fall in line, march, 2, 3, 4, don't cry your own tears at night. tried to play the game. lost the plot. got up. lost the plot. tried to make my world in my image. lower the defense stat, for i am defeated. take my pound of flesh, ain't got no fight left. these war games, forgot me how to dream.

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The Transitory Nature of Self

It seems as though I am in a constant state of transition.People come, people go, but nothing ever really changes.Perpetual motion until a greater force propels me in another direction.I ache to find stability in earthquake friendly regions.Why do I open myself to such heartache?I must've been a masochist in another time, another placeDoomed to repeat the biological imperative of limboMy karmic punishment for some unknown wrongSo I'll continue to feel hopeful for something else.

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Pomegranate Juice

Sweet and sour, puckered tongues, and stained fingertipsI had a great line here, but I deleted it in revisionI tend to ramble and I drop in images from the things I've learnedAnd I've learned a lot.So much crime in the world today, makes me wanna hide under the coversBut you can't stay there because you have shit to doYou brutalized the umami on my taste budsI'm sucking down hydrogen monoxide to restore my sanityTurned out, dropped in, this state I'm in (California)He sighs loudly from his lips and the halitosis is intenseI'm glad this doesn't apply to me because I'd…

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The Precarious Position

Walk a perfect circle around me, Quietly observe my happily married peers, some with kids, some not, but never alone. I don't see the start of that world for me ever, and I feel strangely fine. Liberation opened doors for my gender, to choose or not to choose, but sometimes, perhaps only when I breathe, my Catholic guilt suggests I should crash into a twist of fate. I wasn't supposed to end up like Mme. Bovary, her concepts of life guided by books, the trajectory of her existence based on the romance, never living life, merely thrust into it, like…

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I'm trying to recall How it felt to have A country home in your arms The scent of your cologne Blinds the fiber of my being A party as the world ends The beat of your heart Unsweetened lemonade On the tongue of my skin I used to excite your molecules False oxygen in your brain Fired by the microwaves of touch Is there a space for me at your table for two I make coffee for you in the A.M. Like you were real Like you're not in my bones Wear not my crown, the one I bought you…

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