I Am That I Am
The architecture of the flesh
may fail,
The skin unstitched, a frayed
and fragile veil,
Where silver staples close the
crimson seam,
And hold the borders of a
fractured dream.
We sit within the sterile, quiet
room,
Where shadows stretch and
heavy doubts loom,
Measuring life in sips of clear-lit
glass,
Waiting for the wilderness to
pass.
Yet in this crucible of ache and
bone,
A sovereign sanctuary is made
known.
I am the anchor in the shifting
deep,
The vigil kept while weary
angels sleep.
I am the breath that steadies
through the dark,
The sudden, iridescent, blinding
spark,
That turns a ruin to a holy space,
And paints a window on a
broken face.
No longer tethered to the grief
we hold,
Nor to the phantom weight of
old despair,
I am the vastness where the
storm dissolves,
The axis where the wheeling
world revolves.
Unmade by time, untouched by
mortal scar,
I am the light, the lantern, and
the star-
The timeless current flowing
deep within,
Where endings fade, and all true
things begin.
The scalpel left a jagged split,
And heavy silver staples but
To bind the edges of the skin,
And lock the sudden ache
within.
Yet through that raw and ruined
seam,
The scar became a pane of
glass,
A rusted lantern in the dark,
The wound took fire from the
spark,
Transforming what was torn and
blind,
Into lens to look behind.
is littered with garnets and blackberries
It hasn’t rained enough in weeks
The ground is hard, hot, and unyielding
The bass and bluegill in smaller ponds
float to the surface
The water is rank with the smell of fish
I was never privileged
to experience the stages of mourning
when the staples of my sea
floated up
I’m grateful for the toughness
Clean water is inaccessible
to most,
the rest take water
for granted
Everything is borrowed time
“I’ve been passing time
watching trains go by,
all of my life”
You are still the rails,
the unflinching direction
of my life
Stitching Strength
[Verse 1]
In the depths of my mind, I feel the sting,
A staple in my heart, a haunting cling.
Torn apart, the edges frayed,
Searching for solace in the shadows played.
But I stand up strong, won’t let it break me,
The pain’s a part of the fire that shapes me.
[Chorus]
A staple in my heart, still I rise and fight,
Every scar a reminder, my path in the night.
Being torn apart, but the light shines through,
I’ll stitch my own story and start anew.
[Verse 2]
Moving closer to the dreams that I chase,
With every heartbeat, I carve out my space.
Threads of hope weave through my art,
Resilient spirit, I won’t fall apart.
So I rise again, feel the weight lift,
In this twisted fate, I find my gift.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
This journey’s mine, forever I’ll roam,
From staples to strength, I’ve found my home.
When the air has a chill,
There are sweatshirts and fleece,
Shawls and sweaters and scarves
To help shivers decrease.
But we shouldn’t forget,
As I’m here to inform,
That a flannel shirt’s best
To keep cozy and warm.
With an endless assortment
Of patterns and plaids,
These are tried-and-true staples,
Not fly-by-night fads.
Now with two new additions
To flannels I own,
I will conquer the shivers
To which I am prone.
Depression. it cuts so deep it's like open heart surgery. like the surgeon took your heart and sliced it in half and now it's broken. broken beyond repair nothing can fix it not drugs, not stitches, not staples nothing. that's depression but instead the wound has been tore open, the drugs never stop the pain, and the doctors... well they're doctors so they never listen.
With depression it's all in your head, no one can see the invisible pain, the pain you never speak of. there is no placard that says "hey look at me I'm disabled" for the depressed or mentally ill. it's always, smile more it beautiful or why are you sad with the condescending attitude as if you never experienced pain as if there has to be a sob story for you to feel sad, or as if my pain is somehow less. like my pain will somehow simply fade into the abyss.
three o'clock soap
the edge of night
day off from school
partridge family
traveling band
a tv road show
televised
landing of the moon
reloading cheese plate
warm country feelings
littlest house
on the prairie
star trek
interstellar adventure
before homework
reciting lessons
during carol burnett show
queen of improv
sunday night
with ed sullivan
~ old flannel pj's
columbo
trench coat and cigar
adjusts rabbit ears
the birds vertigo
alfred hitchcock clocks in
creepy shadows
sonny and cher
sassy lip service
do not try at home
bedtime lights out
good night
waltons
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
2 men i called Grandpa acting like a Dad when a man walked away
Never batting an eye they'd be there for us everyday
One was out spoken and never left something unsaid
Other kept to himself so you find a way for your heart to mend
They always taught something new to me
Since I was just under Three
Just a girl that wanted her dad
Grandpas never let her stay mad
Sneaking extra Banana Popsicles when Grandma was napping
Getting into the sweet stash quietly so they didnt hear the wrapping
Grandpas had the joke and skits they played on us
Those new lighters and staples were always a lil sus
Whether it was one sneaking food off your plate
Or the making you open the pasture gate
Being told to not waste time or tears on a man who does show up
What he meant was brace yourself and keep your feet in the stirrup
People always had the chance to let me down
Grandpa showed me how to move on without a sound
Things they did shaped us into the parents we are
They've got the best seats since they became a star
Dedicated to Stuart A. Staples
I want to break someone's little finger
In three places
Give me strings on a hollow wooden body
Crumpled suits and apprehension
The warbler, the jongleur
The slur, the trill, the quaver
I can only serenade in that way
Without drop z tuning
Barmonies and mashed taters
Send in the French horn
Alone in the living room
The air conditioner remote
Engrossed and enthralled in the music
The dog watching me
Distance, even for a short while, still is
Whether it’s a river or a stream, you still need a bridge
But bridges burn
And even when they don’t
They weather
They rot
They fall apart so slowly
You don’t notice until the floorboards have collapsed beneath you
And you’re left with nothing
Just the remnants of the bond you thought would last forever
Clutched to your chest in agony as you desperately try to fit the pieces back together
Tape and glue and screws and staples won’t fix it
So you begin to fall apart, too
And those staples and screws and tape and glue
Are never enough
To get you through.
Yankee-two-kilo
Yankee-two-kilo
Can you read me?
Y2K
The year 2000's on the way
The new millennium's almost here
To write January 1, 2000 will be weird
Star Trek's beam me up Scottie was
A far out idea
But now the space shuttle goes up
Several times a year
The crew of seven went up that day
(don't look up to watch it burn)
they had no fear, now their view from heaven
Is crystal clear
When January 1 comes will
My computer freeze?
Will I get my money from the
ATM with the greatest of ease?
Did I store any staples and canned
Goods to keep my mind at ease?
Will I be able to trade in the
Stock market as I please?
Y2K
Yankee-two-kilo
Calling all earthlings!
Come aboard
The space center on the moon is
Ready (it has so much more
More than you'd ever imagined before)
Don't look back to watch it burn
My pencil isn’t really mine
Because it says, instead,
That it’s the “Property of
NYC Bd of Ed.”
I taught in New York City schools
And, once I had retired,
There were some school supplies that I
Had suddenly acquired:
Like pens and pencil, post-it-notes,
Some staples, chalk and paper.
It wasn’t quite enough to be
A teacher school-theft caper.
I’ve been retired fifteen years
And no one has come looking.
I suspect my current pencil
Won’t land me in Central Booking.
I don’t want to die,
the spring doves cried.
Down the streets and coffee shops
each step in the pavement whittles it down
bit by bit. I don’t want
to die, the flyers say,
through ten layers of
broken staples, of
missing pets. I don’t
want to die, says the cat
on the large wire fence, where someone
has woven it through with leaves.
It meows at me, and I
don’t want to die, the world
spins around with no thoughts
in mind, the people spin around
with their thousands of wishes,
planets of desires,
orbiting each other, and everyone keeps
crashing, the world caves in quietly,
silently so no one else can see
the sinkhole splitting open
I don’t want to die, I don’t want
to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die
Adhesives come in many forms –
There’s glue and tape and paste,
Including some that double-stick,
If you’ve no time to waste.
There also are some methods
Which will help things to adhere
In temporary fashion
So a page won’t disappear…
Such as paper clips and fasteners
And staples, tacks and pins,
Among the tools that many need
Before their work begins.
Still, unless you have an editor,
There is no easy trick
To remind a lazy writer
To his topic he should stick.
Sugar Frosted Flakes and Trix
Staples of healthy diets
Cocoa Puffs and Cap'n Krunch
My sister said to try it...
Now I'm round as a balloon
My arms and legs stick out
And when I try to take a breath
Sugar cubes come out
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