Submissions by MgAl
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Am I poet? I don't know. I am an extremely loose definition of the word, at best. I just write when my heart tells me to. Or when the liquor runs out.
RGSA
I think of you, a lot
It’s difficult to separate
when you’re in everything I do,
everything I speak,
everything I hear,
everything I feel,
everything I believe.
I don’t want to separate
I don’t want to forget
the feelings of you,
of joy,
of pain,
of the earliest memories,
of the very last memory,
of all that we shared
and all that we could have shared.
I reach out,
wishing I could reach you
I pick your favorite things,
hoping to share with you.
I take pause unexpectedly ...
It’s difficult to separate
when you’re in everything I do,
everything I speak,
everything I hear,
everything I feel,
everything I believe.
I don’t want to separate
I don’t want to forget
the feelings of you,
of joy,
of pain,
of the earliest memories,
of the very last memory,
of all that we shared
and all that we could have shared.
I reach out,
wishing I could reach you
I pick your favorite things,
hoping to share with you.
I take pause unexpectedly ...
#grief
#mother
#death #memories
#death #memories
53 reads
0 Comments
Voicebreak
Sorry, my voice broke again
I didn't mean to trip over my own words
I guess I let it get out of hand
it happens when I get a little excited
I know when left to its own devices
my voice goes a little wild,
punches a wall and causes shockwaves
because of the passionate verbal tempest
thrashing inside,
with the urge to electrify
But they say the mind can be a prison
and mine is padded with reinforced rubber
built by anxiety patrol and the tone police,
thus when I try to speak,
my thoughts are cut in half,...
I didn't mean to trip over my own words
I guess I let it get out of hand
it happens when I get a little excited
I know when left to its own devices
my voice goes a little wild,
punches a wall and causes shockwaves
because of the passionate verbal tempest
thrashing inside,
with the urge to electrify
But they say the mind can be a prison
and mine is padded with reinforced rubber
built by anxiety patrol and the tone police,
thus when I try to speak,
my thoughts are cut in half,...
#anger
#anxiety
#FreeVerse #frustration
#FreeVerse #frustration
345 reads
1 Comment
snap
Hello, Self
socially distanced,
long before it was a sticker
on the supermarket floor.
Your eyes do not find me,
yet they burn holes into
a non-existent atmosphere,
devoid of
sensation,
breath,
and emotion.
In a snap, we disconnect.
Fingers are white-knuckled and numb,
clinging to a sense of self
you've fashioned du jour,
clenching and wrenching,
as if suffocating this counterfeit You in your palms
will absorb,
and become a You...
socially distanced,
long before it was a sticker
on the supermarket floor.
Your eyes do not find me,
yet they burn holes into
a non-existent atmosphere,
devoid of
sensation,
breath,
and emotion.
In a snap, we disconnect.
Fingers are white-knuckled and numb,
clinging to a sense of self
you've fashioned du jour,
clenching and wrenching,
as if suffocating this counterfeit You in your palms
will absorb,
and become a You...
#depression
#MentalHealth
220 reads
0 Comments
And that's okay
We could float for hours
without ever seeing the sky
and that's okay
We could eat all of the same foods
and tell all of the same stories
and that's okay
We could fly between antique stores,
caressing wooden shelves of "what we'll get next time"
and that's okay
We could actively participate in the pulse of life
or sit, observant and sentinel as steel
and that's okay
We could sit in comfortable...
without ever seeing the sky
and that's okay
We could eat all of the same foods
and tell all of the same stories
and that's okay
We could fly between antique stores,
caressing wooden shelves of "what we'll get next time"
and that's okay
We could actively participate in the pulse of life
or sit, observant and sentinel as steel
and that's okay
We could sit in comfortable...
#BestFriend
#friendship
#humankind #gratitude
#humankind #gratitude
306 reads
3 Comments
Dare to exist
A hush
upon entrance.
A chill
creeps at a prickly crawl.
Stares and murmurs,
chuckles and slurs,
bated breaths swiping
the surface of my caramel skin,
seeping from scowling maws
like predatory vipers,
hissing,
hissing,
hissing,
thirsting to draw blood,
hoping for a taste
of copper fear.
I face forward.
I smirk knowingly
at ghosts of Others past.
I breathe,
with the audacity to believe
your air is also mine.
I cut through,
hot blade in a quiet duel
with your cold...
upon entrance.
A chill
creeps at a prickly crawl.
Stares and murmurs,
chuckles and slurs,
bated breaths swiping
the surface of my caramel skin,
seeping from scowling maws
like predatory vipers,
hissing,
hissing,
hissing,
thirsting to draw blood,
hoping for a taste
of copper fear.
I face forward.
I smirk knowingly
at ghosts of Others past.
I breathe,
with the audacity to believe
your air is also mine.
I cut through,
hot blade in a quiet duel
with your cold...
#identity
#LGBT
213 reads
1 Comment
I am of you
I am of you,
but I am not you.
For everything I am,
I have worked tirelessly,
through ache and wear,
scream and teardrop,
blood and salt,
conflict and consequence,
to be everything you are not.
I watch you as you are,
I witness Your Way,
and I desire not,
with burning ardor,
to be as what I see.
I am of you,
but I am not you.
- MgAl
but I am not you.
For everything I am,
I have worked tirelessly,
through ache and wear,
scream and teardrop,
blood and salt,
conflict and consequence,
to be everything you are not.
I watch you as you are,
I witness Your Way,
and I desire not,
with burning ardor,
to be as what I see.
I am of you,
but I am not you.
- MgAl
#mother
#father
#family
#identity
#confessional
257 reads
5 Comments
Hidden pools
My spirit falters at my lips,
for my voice is weakened by hesitance.
Yet I thrive in fountains of ink,
painting the abstract behind my teeth,
clenched to suppress,
to hide the shame of the quiver,
the stutter, the swallow, the break,
that might muddy intention and conviction.
Hidden pools lay dormant
within sinister thickets of reeds and thorns,
awaiting a plume of discovery
to flume them of their rich resources,
as fluid, formless ideas dream of legs,
aching to run and dance with abandon
upon a limitless canvas, ...
for my voice is weakened by hesitance.
Yet I thrive in fountains of ink,
painting the abstract behind my teeth,
clenched to suppress,
to hide the shame of the quiver,
the stutter, the swallow, the break,
that might muddy intention and conviction.
Hidden pools lay dormant
within sinister thickets of reeds and thorns,
awaiting a plume of discovery
to flume them of their rich resources,
as fluid, formless ideas dream of legs,
aching to run and dance with abandon
upon a limitless canvas, ...
#WritingPoetry
#PowerOfWords
350 reads
1 Comment
Quiet
Quiet is a scream heard only by you,
hoarse and unintelligible anguish,
impacting sound-proof self-protection,
thus no one reacts or responds,
for they hear nothing.
Quiet is words spoken by others,
dictated as truth to which you acquiesce,
written scripts pouring so-called heart,
when not a breath of these volumes
were a creation of your voice.
Quiet is an eternal mind-war,
your inner sanctum's walls clawed to pulp,
stinging...
hoarse and unintelligible anguish,
impacting sound-proof self-protection,
thus no one reacts or responds,
for they hear nothing.
Quiet is words spoken by others,
dictated as truth to which you acquiesce,
written scripts pouring so-called heart,
when not a breath of these volumes
were a creation of your voice.
Quiet is an eternal mind-war,
your inner sanctum's walls clawed to pulp,
stinging...
#anxiety
#silence
#frustration
394 reads
2 Comments
577 reads
6 Comments
453 reads
5 Comments
Vegas, baby
The scene is stale,
but the faces are fresh.
The lies are weak,
but the drinks are strong.
The stars are dim,
but the lights are bright.
The quiet is music,
but the music never quiets.
The locals are withered,
but the tourists are lush.
The money is lost,
but the gamblers are "winning."
The high is a lady,
but the hangover’s a bitch.
The guilt is a secret,
but the discretion is advertised.
The sin is real,
but the pleasure is fake.
...
but the faces are fresh.
The lies are weak,
but the drinks are strong.
The stars are dim,
but the lights are bright.
The quiet is music,
but the music never quiets.
The locals are withered,
but the tourists are lush.
The money is lost,
but the gamblers are "winning."
The high is a lady,
but the hangover’s a bitch.
The guilt is a secret,
but the discretion is advertised.
The sin is real,
but the pleasure is fake.
...
#home
#city
313 reads
2 Comments
664 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by MgAl