Category: who i have been

Tribute to Him

Tribute to Him

by missmackpoetry ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I could never forget

            The little things

Like my cereal in the cupboard

            Purchases made for me

Censoring for a child

            Teddy bears collected to provide comfort

Cd-roms with stereos attached

            Globes and books for education

There was no moth ball-dust collected childhood

            This was new

A fresh perspective on how it could be

            How it should be

His presence was neither fear or loathsome

            But warm and kind

I did not feel judged

            Nor criticised, persecuted or tried

                        Just loved

There was no expectation on who I should grow to be

            No hurtful assumption

I am in debt for him

            He was neither father nor friend

But ally

            A friend

                        Someone I will love for the rest of my life

This is,

            My tribute to him.

I remember

I remember

by missmackpoetry ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I remember my mother’s soft hand in mine

My father’s adult-star authoritarian moustache

I remember the Zebra couch

Baptised in coffee stains

I remember musky moth-balls

And second hand warehouses with glass stacked high

I remember pain crippling

Sirens whirring

I remember water splashing in green-river lakes

Seaweed slapping my face

I remember my third-grade teacher

With Italian heritage; making pasta for ungrateful youths

I remember dusky dawns training

And dances til dark

I remember all this

And yet,

                        I don’t remember yesterday

Not Close Enough

Not Close Enough

by missmackpoetry ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I am a muddled mess of imperfection

            A hazy husk of a woman

With small dreams unachievable

            I lay awake at night

In pleasant slumber do I find my only solace

            Waiting for it to appear

Here it comes,

            Bared teeth

                        Ruthless to it’s impervious soul

It bites down hard

            Reality has once again hit me

It whispers of longing death

            A dark foul creature

You know nothing,

            It whispers

You are nothing

            It reminds

I am alone

            And yet, immersed in dread

                        Filled with fear

                                    From the demons in my head

Why So Serious?

Why So Serious?

by missmackpoetry ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

 It comes in many forms

            A malignant shadow hiding away from light

It comes in the shudder at sound

            In the jump-scare of fireworks

It is the sweating fear of a café or shop

            It is the trembling hands that just can’t stop

It is the freezing

            The leg-locking sensation of nightly terrors

                        Of sweats drenching

It comes in the smell of cologne

            Musky and lingering

                        It has lived within memory for many years

It is unshakable

            Unmovable

                        It is stubborn and persistent

It is the “why can’t you?” or the “still?”

            It is the “I can’t.” and the “please understand”

It is the potency of a smell, so strong

            No matter how hard you scrub,

                        It never comes off

It is the avoidance of crowds

            Traffic

                        Airports

                                    Stations

                                                Shows

                                                            Loud music venues

It is the pestilence agonising over forgotten numbers

            Or the constant worry of saying the wrong thing

It is the explaining to children why you have those scars

            Or to future employers who ask you “do you own a cat?”

                        Or the strangers that grab you without personal boundaries

It is the pain of sitting out on fun singing and dancing

            It is the musk of dank dark rooms

Filled with a potent stench of sadness

It is called many things

            Friend, it is not

Rather, a foe;

            A feisty being

                        A rabid dog

It snarls, gnashing its teeth

            It is seen by some

                        Empathised by even fewer

It is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

            In all his glory

It is depression

            It is feeling so desperate to smile,

                        Its suicide.

I am. I have been. I will be.

I am. I have been. I will be.

by missmackpoetry ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I am an ocean with no sea-life

                No fish nor aqua living creature

I am a boat empty with no crew aboard

                No one manning the sails, nor tending the amidship

I am a home with no tenant

                No living on grounds

I am a wandering stranger

                Held by painful ambition

                                I join a league of nations,

                                                Silent and still

                Drowning in a sea of school debt

I join the faceless, numberless horde

                Swamped with desire

Now,

                I am a woman

                                With tremendous soul

Flawed and faulty,

                I have been naïve and too trusting

I have loved many and been loved by less

                I am my own sword, sharp and fierce

I am new;

                With dents and cracks aglow

I am prisoner to fantasies of greatness

                Lashed amongst painful despair

I am a soldier with wounded ambition

                I am a woman, strong and willing

I am a survivor

                With matching scars

I am a daughter to many

                A friend to some

I am an outcast, a pariah:

                A loner, a misfit

                                With no true tribe

I may be all these

                But there is no doubt that I am also

My Dad’s daughter with shared hazel eye,

                Or my mother’s friend with black fading hair

I am true to my clan,

                With Gaelic beginning,

                                Te Deum laudamus!

I am a scholarly student

                An academic hungry to learn

It is neither here nor there what I have been

                Or what I have done

                                And what I presently feel

But rather,

I am eager to begin a brand new something

                With opportunities plenty!

I think I’ll start tomorrow!