Details |
Jack Cristine Poem
Grass cut, mulched beds,
Spring is here
Awfully early this year.
Anyone else feeling dread
About what changes are ahead?
Copyright © Jack Cristine | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Jack Cristine Poem
The room is cold
and I am shivering again.
I finished, worked
too efficiently
for this bureaucracy.
So, I pretend to work,
typing endlessly.
The clicking of the keys
is close enough to productivity
to satisfy the passerby.
Here I am, waiting
for it to be near enough
to 4 pm
to slip out,
unnoticed.
Copyright © Jack Cristine | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Jack Cristine Poem
Look, I know I’m not perfect.
I’ll tell you that again if it helps.
While my emotional wounds are healed
They’ve left scars and welts
And those don’t just go away.
You don’t understand what I’ve felt.
How could you? That’s silly of me
To expect that of you.
As anyone can see
Your life’s been pretty easy.
Except you can’t see your inherent advantages
From the fact that you’re lacking all of the damage.
It’s something you just take for granted.
I would love to just not feel this way.
I would love for my brain to behave.
I could do it but I need help to do it.
If you can’t help me, I’m better off going it alone.
It’s been long enough, and my cover is blown,
My happy charade, I’ve lost it.
And with it, I know, maybe you too.
I just wish I knew
Why you refuse to accept
That though I could change, it’s true,
It’s not going to happen right on cue.
Ignoring my calls doesn’t help at all.
I know that you’re putting up a wall
Because you don’t want to deal with the fall
That will happen if you don’t call.
You’re trapped also in a circle, we have that in common.
I just wish for a second you would be honest
With yourself and realize
That the world is not simply truth and lies.
Even with success there are degrees you can achieve.
There are different markers for hitting your dreams.
Why does mine have to be inferior?
Copyright © Jack Cristine | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Jack Cristine Poem
He looks at me with those perfect eyes,
Blue one day and green the next,
Crowned by his perfect hair
That he says needs cut again.
The first time I saw him ever so casually
Remove his shirt, smiling at me
With those perfect teeth
In his perfect mouth
On his handsome face
I had no idea anyone could be
So unaware of how beautiful
They are. But again
He’s on a diet today.
He plays the piano as if his feelings
Simply flow through his fingertips,
His perfectly manicured fingernails,
Hands rough from lifting,
And into the keys to make the most
Gorgeous music. And yet,
He hasn’t practiced
Enough,
Lately.
I listen to him, and tell him to
Follow all his dreams, because
He can do it, and
He looks at me as if
He must think I am perfect.
But I am not. For now,
I am just lucky.
Copyright © Jack Cristine | Year Posted 2017
|