Tag: Liz’s Poems

I lost my shit tonight On the floor in the middle of the Pleasantville Inn I woke up in the hands of strangers Worried and concerned And they didn’t even know me. Compassion transcends this awkward Situation, I guess. Me, regaining consciousness, Cracking jokes flat on my back Amber, terrified, whiter than A bottle of…

By any other name, I’d still be a writer It’s in my heart, my blood, my fingers Nouns and adjectives, metaphors And similes pound through my veins. The way some kids get math, I get writing The way some cats can pick up a guitar And just know what to do, I can wield a…

You never learn to be a good person You either are or you aren’t Always born with an old soul, Recycled and wise, Able to detect the same in others, We are a rare breed Prone to mental, emotional strife Prone to feeling too deeply, Drowning in it You can’t let it overwhelm you, This…

In the thick of it, It’s too dense to make Out the mistakes before You commit to them But there’s always an out, A loophole you can slip Through when shit Gets rough. In the thick of it, The blur that is It happening Can be indistinguishable From the general static and Hum of the…

My father and i are close at arm’s length He tells me I embarrass him Because I wobbled off the Straight and narrow, Refused to bleat with the Rest of the white sheep, And became black. My mother and I have Always been too close Too close encouraging a bond That if broken, could kill…

This rabbit beating heart pupils so dilated they absorb the world around them so accurately, so acutely so much it hurts. My heart is so swollen with a passionate taste For love A thirst for companionship and lust and sex and philosophical, spiritual, emotional Fulfillment. This rabbit beating heart is strong like hawaiian waves comes…

 “May love always find you on your feet and when you walk alone may I always be a pesky moth batting around in the cage of your skull hurling myself at your light.”  posted may 29, 2007 on her myspace page

This is not what my mother had dreamed for me 9 to 5 in retail still living at home my fiance in jail but i’m happy and i think i’m okay in fact i know i am i am my mother’s worry as big dutch once drew a tattoo for mom “mother’s worry;” what i…

He spins poetry short fiction like a DJ spinning mixes Sampling from his memory single-note bassline looped in a continuous drone like a recurring theme In every cracked-spine novel tattered beat poem is a new blood drum thumping fingers clicking the alphabet keys deftly scratching the worn-out 33 Spinning lyrical melodies in run-ons and fragments…