she
makes me wanna write so much
that i can't find a word to begin
so i just say
"she"
she
makes me wanna tear down my walls
to find the open fields
and run towards the
light
she
makes me wanna take my world
spin it upside down
shake it inside out
collect all the change
and buy her a
ring that completes itself on end
and say
"here is my beginning
here is our end"
she
makes me wanna breathe in
and
breathe out
not caring anymore if there's a ground and
say to her
"don't groundlessness just feel so flight?"
she
makes me wanna take all my woes
turn them into mustard seeds
plant them in the earth
and wait for spring to
take
full effect
and then take what's grown and tell her
"this is faith and this one's hope"
she
makes me wanna wrap my wrists in leather and cloth
put on my red hoodie
wear my striped black and white trousers
with my soviet era brass belt buckle
and tell her
"i say trousers
not
pants"
and then stand in front of a mic
and say all the things
that
she
makes me wanna
do
she
makes me wanna wait for perfection
that ive too long been sub-parring for
and then take that perfection
and label it
"her"
she
makes me wanna sit in my home
clean the dust off the floor of my
soul
do laundry
and
write
until the day that i can say
"ive prepared this for you"
and give her my soul
all cracked clean full of light
radiant like that moment that ive seen from the window of an airplane
just before the sun is seen by those below
but we see it up above the clouds
purple - orange - and pink
shooting out like we've all just seen the colors of
the
rapture
and i know
what a beautiful day we're gonna have when
my plane touches land
she
makes me wanna put down my ways
that weigh me
down
so that i can be
pure
poetry
for
this great immaculate
"she"
who is out there
waiting
for
me.
--- kim thompson. fri. 11 march 11. seoul. s. korea
Friday, March 11, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
heart shards
i wonder what its like for you
on the opposite end of the same
(pain) line
as
(me)
the leaver
and the left
a place for where there is no "right"
only
somewhere
in between
used to think that
mine
was worse
than yours
but being here
knowing (you)
i think now maybe
(yours) is worse
than
(mine)
we (both) live with loss so deep
but (yours) is also mixed with guilt
and (mine) with only lack of comprehension
i used to think
(fear)
that only i was wondering
now,
knowing (you)
i realize how deep wondering can go
to the point of
burying
denying
and running
(mine "towards"
and yours "away from")
i was both
your
redemption
and your
reminder
(i often wondered how much it hurt you
to know
just how flat your excuses sounded
when bounced off of one like me
who is a reminder of
a name like mine that my own blood did not speak for years
but kept deep inside her heart)
we are together
broken shards of hearts
only
ive found out
just how large my heart is
and what i can make with all those broken pieces
"stained glass windows"
is my new cliche
"stained glass window"
is my new constructionist's belief
of what i'll build from
broken bits of heart
to make a window for letting in
and not a wall for keeping out
and i wonder
what its like for you at night
when you feel the loss of what your arms once held
(youve) helped me to understand that
i cannot
blame
or
understand
(her)
that like you
she too
was once
young
and
scared
and in that one last act of
oddly labeled time of courage
lost everything
today
as the wind blows into my windows
i think
of you
opposite side of me
as i gather up my shards
and rebuild
and you and she
slice your hearts to pieces
- kim thompson 9 mar '11 wed. 18.02 -- seoul. s.korea
on the opposite end of the same
(pain) line
as
(me)
the leaver
and the left
a place for where there is no "right"
only
somewhere
in between
used to think that
mine
was worse
than yours
but being here
knowing (you)
i think now maybe
(yours) is worse
than
(mine)
we (both) live with loss so deep
but (yours) is also mixed with guilt
and (mine) with only lack of comprehension
i used to think
(fear)
that only i was wondering
now,
knowing (you)
i realize how deep wondering can go
to the point of
burying
denying
and running
(mine "towards"
and yours "away from")
i was both
your
redemption
and your
reminder
(i often wondered how much it hurt you
to know
just how flat your excuses sounded
when bounced off of one like me
who is a reminder of
a name like mine that my own blood did not speak for years
but kept deep inside her heart)
we are together
broken shards of hearts
only
ive found out
just how large my heart is
and what i can make with all those broken pieces
"stained glass windows"
is my new cliche
"stained glass window"
is my new constructionist's belief
of what i'll build from
broken bits of heart
to make a window for letting in
and not a wall for keeping out
and i wonder
what its like for you at night
when you feel the loss of what your arms once held
(youve) helped me to understand that
i cannot
blame
or
understand
(her)
that like you
she too
was once
young
and
scared
and in that one last act of
oddly labeled time of courage
lost everything
today
as the wind blows into my windows
i think
of you
opposite side of me
as i gather up my shards
and rebuild
and you and she
slice your hearts to pieces
- kim thompson 9 mar '11 wed. 18.02 -- seoul. s.korea
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
But, seriously, have you heard Monster?
I've been absent recently for primarily stupid reasons that should not have kept me from writing BUT I have recently begun work on a new project in conjunction with Trung. In short, it is going to be about superheroes and it will probably never move beyond being self-published.
2036 or The Day After The Tea Party is Defeated
There’ll be a day when we move beyond political statement--
in being, we’ll be less than a political statement.
We’ll wash the blood of a race war from our faces
just enough to see each other,
just enough to be embraced by being
nothing more than two
(or three--there’ll be a day for that)
and just our names will matter.
That day will be the day our names can swell,
take on the weight of history or personal baggage
but no one will think to ask if it means something exotic.
If my hands are shaking that day,
light my cigarette and smile as a gentle reminder
that it was us or them.
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