If I said this is me trying,
If I told you that
Isolation was becoming
More of a destination than an action,
Would it be enough for you?
I know I’m too much,
Not enough to fit the mold that I once laid
Perfectly in,
I know I failed to flourish,
I know I faltered.
I’m sorry.
I learned to swim before I could run,
Because when you spend your whole life drowning,
Floating becomes survival.
The pavement hurt to fall on,
But at least I could patch myself up, heal.
The water takes everything.
It’s surround sound,
Sensory deprivation,
My lungs fill with the density,
And I sink deeper and deeper,
And I finally understand that it’s got me,
The darkness that doesn’t quite dissolve.
A lingering,
A taint.
I’ve learned to live with it,
I can’t remember a time it wasn’t in me,
But I can feel the level rising,
It’s consuming my entirety.
Each and every time I think it’s getting lighter,
The pressure doubles
And I feel myself condensing into nothingness.
I thought I could leave this all behind,
Until I finally understood,
This depth,
This ocean,
There will be no escape.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A stranger buys coffee for the man
whose hands tremble counting pennies~
the warmth lingers past the last sip,
carrying him to the bus stop,
where he lifts a suitcase
for the woman balancing an infant.
She smiles all the way home,
slices extra sandwiches
for the neighbor’s kids
whose mother works doubles.
The neighbor, grateful,
mends the fence
for the old widow next door,
who now tends her garden
with less ache in her knees.
Months later,
the same stranger
finds his tire changed
in the rain
by hands he doesn’t recognize—
but the rhythm of kindness
is familiar.
Accompanying memoir vignettes can be found at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/an_angel_in_blue_scrubs_13589
or
poetrysoup.com/short_stories/the_poor_little_matchstick_girl_13580
So do we scoff or doff our hats
To those fat cats with the bats
If they're playing on flat mats
Cult pacts ignore facts & stats
Those bros who chose phat tatts
Bazball scribes with cool vibes scat
Imbibe tribes habit rabbit out of hats
Enjoying or cloying annoying as gnats
Media rats jibes in tit for tat spats
Drat all Bazball brats bribes just tatt
Chit chat that they're just lazy prats
Tw*ts that go bust as crazy as bats
Clowns meltdown or doubles down pat
Unjust if lust thrust through hazy slats
Rat tat & rat a tat tat must be all that!
When pain is mirrored, it does not disappear—
it doubles, refracted through the wounded self.
The mind, once fortress, becomes the new frontier,
its soldiers turning inward to protect itself.
An insult flung, narcissistic manipulation—
the body answers, trembling, in kind.
Defense mistaken for provocation,
and guilt begins to colonize the mind.
The abuser smiles—order is restored,
the victim wears the shame like a second skin.
Yet in the dreamwork, symbols twist and strain,
the truth insists on this hammer within.
For rage, when born of terror, is not a crime —
it is the psyche screaming to let me out.
A violent vortex of velocity
A vacuum of voracious vices
Such feral ferocious ferocity
Driven by devilish devices
Troubles double when it doubles its haste
Caught up in currents of circumstance
Rumbling rabble through the rubble and waste
Dancing its devil's dark dervish dance
I forgot what I forgotten
and I knew what I know
Life is always choices
so I am told.
If empty calories don't fill you up
why do I have a wide butt?
Your belly swells jolly
chin doubles up
and disposition is sweet
loving peanut butter cups.
Sodas are fountain
of sparkling fizzy joy
candies gorge a mountain
fantasy of every girl and boy.
All sweets any flavor
never get enough
Taste of sugar goodness
now that is the stuff
Juices overflow
into my giant mug
honey is a miracle
made by flying bugs.
Get a sugar high
jittery running around
Than fast asleep you crashed
lying on the ground.
Happy Halloween of long ago
when receiving free candies overflowed
Say Trick or Treat in scary costumes or cute
mountain of candy you earn childhood loot.
(a throwback poem from High school)
I'm the most popular girl in my homeroom.
Of course, that's my own bedroom -
cause we're on COVID lockdown, zoom.
My bedroom is the math class, which doubles as the gym,
it triples as the theater - you should see the shows I'm in.
They're only in my mirror, so my cats get free admission.
My sudden popularity's due, to a matter of attrition.
If I play my cards right, I can probably be prom queen
I'll hold the ceremony in the garden, so the travesty goes unseen.
Why did they name it a freeway to begin with
Honestly it doubles your chances of getting hit
Drunk drivers and those with road rage throwing fits
Constantly driving defensively to avoid a near miss
Are the ramp meter lights really controlling the traffic
It causes more confusion when an idiot drives past it
It's on this road that the impatient show themselves
Another reason the insurance comanies are high in their sells
People changing lanes like they're under the influence
Tailgaters are annoying and also drivers with no insurance
If an accident happens anywhere on the freeway
Artificial traffic builds from the nosey looking that way
Then when lanes aren't moving but yours starts to
Someone always dares to dash right in front of you
You also have those who try to cheat the carpool
Even break through the solid lines just to roll through
That freeway business can be too much for me
To avoid that madnes I rather take the street
Cooled off to take a sip; two.
Greedily waking up; fading
of the whole cup - butterflies,
trees, flowers; drips touching
the final vestiges of Antigua.
Fear ascended into the canopy,
slid along the line; work gloves,
gripping. Incomplete instructions,
lack of common sense, slowed
me down, with my feet off
the ground. Grounds remind me,
in this creamy, courage cup
to not give up, keep going with
support. I had to leap, to land
but otherwise I had support.
She, too, had courage, sans
my tears, my heart-pounding,
insane fear of flying; her words fly;
she’s shorter than I. She lands
on her feet. I’m behind. My friend -
a curious word; we shared a towel,
kissed dolphins; I hit her in the head
with a pingpong paddle (playing
doubles). Too close, these icons
of finance (we sailed upon a -ship
with). Friendship ebbs and flows.
You sea, you don’t need to pay.
Breach causes a realization. Suck-
cession of time and space, happy
place, but I soak in the memories
of once upon a time. Sipping,
sliding, incomplete instructions,
gliding, gladdened by adventure;
and even the brevity of affection.
Love begins as a whisper, soft and light,
A single spark in the endless night.
But flames don't linger—they rise and soar,
A force unfurling forevermore.
It doubles, it triples, it knows no end,
Beyond all measure it dares transcend.
No wall too high, no chain too tight,
Love breaks the dark, it births the light.
Without its touch, we bend, we break,
A brittle shell that time might take.
But love—love holds, love lifts, love stays,
It builds the soul, it fuels our days.
Not just a feeling, not just a vow,
It multiplies—it bends the now.
Exponential, infinite, wide,
The pulse of the stars, the ocean’s tide.
Let love grow past all confines still,
For love is boundless, love is will.
He was going to choose coffee.
But this matcha drink intrigued him.
Made him buy it on a lark.
Monday coffee?
Monday Matcha sounds better!
He wanted to share matcha with his coworkers.
But then they would hate him.
Glaring at him as if his clothes were melting away.
And also his hair is dripping with some goo.
They’ve always hated him.
He keeps the matcha a secret.
He hands everyone their coffee drinks.
The lattes, the doubles, even the triples.
He takes a sip of this green drink.
The taste is odd.
Like drinking footprints.
He takes another sip.
The taste is like some person handed him this green drink.
Except it doesn't taste green, or gray, or even orange.
Or floral, or bright, or happy.
He had been drinking coffee since college.
Terrible times.
Do people like matcha?
Do people hate matcha?
They sure hate him.
Yet, somehow the rest of the week was…
Like matcha.
You can’t spit it out.
You can’t undo it.
Everyone hates you.
Matcha Monday…
The coffeeshop asked what he wanted.
And he really didn’t know.
Holy Slime of Spring™
Seasonal Epic -- Limited Drop
A divine ooze imbued with chaotic Easter energy.
Hand-delivered by a suspiciously muscular bunny and sealed in a glitter egg forged from cosmic sugar.
Properties:
Sparkles under moonlight
Smells faintly of jellybeans, peeps, and ambition
Doubles as a universal key for Easter Basket Portals™
Hums quietly when near chocolate
Effects (Passive):
+2 Egg Luck
+1 Bunny Evasion
+3 Glitter-Based Charisma
Immune to Monday blues for 24 hours after contact
Warning:
Do not feed after midnight.
Do not combine with cursed grass.
Do not let it judge you (it already has).
MysticMisfits Product Line™
Coming soon to a dimension near you… or in that locked drawer you forgot existed.
Slime Label Edition
Jelly-glow divine,
bunny whispers through the mist--
greed’s celebration.
Jellybean Blessing
May your slime stay squishy,
your portals stay open,
and your enemies
step in glitter barefoot.
May every egg you touch
hatch delight or mild chaos,
and may you always
taste the rainbow
before it melts.
Try to find good in each day
It helps me along my way
I look around
Trying to see where I'm bound
Hope one day I'll be found
Sometimes not so sure
Life's a blur
Anger in my heart
Won't let it tear me apart
I have to be better than that
Pulling a smile out of my hat
Concentrating not on what's bad
That makes me sad
Sometimes it is hard
Especially if my soul feels jarred
Lost in a world full of hate
Looking for a clean slate
When I'm down
I refuse to drown
Stuck in a thought
Hard fought
Your mind
I find
Is a rough place to get lost
Pain is usually the cost
Hard to separate
Love and hate
Fate
Fear leaves you stuck on the same page
Rage
Leads down an empty road
Doubles your load
Step away
Open the door to a new day
Try to smile
It will help after awhile
Make it your style.
I was listening to roller skating tunes.
Yes, I am shallow, sir.
And though thou may say villainess or mistress,
I am content to be who I am.
One noon, we were over dull
and our hearts we serviced
like two thieves there
in the kissing place
where breaths are both as one
and the first of many kisses doubles.
He made vows in mine ear.
He has such hands and lips
and his fortunate nature fed mine eyes
oh, nothing was scarce.
Our horns locked together
with the intensest chutzpah
and we well-made our match.
We sparked feelings we all ascribe to heaven.
I would not tell you
I can serve a man
that by slow designs
men can melt.
He swore oaths
and dropped
half won.
Later he paid
the sweetest
after-debts
—he did owe it.
.
.
songs for this:
Find Me the Pulse of the Universe by Laetitia Sadier
Stormy (Bossa Mix) by S-Tone Inc
Dancing lesson number one:
don't step on her foot or shoe
when you're out having fun
in a sport that's best for two.
When two and two double up,
I think you should have four.
and that's the time, I tell you, yup,
square dance, you must explore.
When four doubles into eight,
and the music speeds up faster,
do the tarantella with your date,
winding up in a big-a disaster.
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