loud girl, a slam poem

loud girl isn’t allowed to be quiet

loud girl has to shout things in her loudest decibels

loud girl can’t be quiet

loud girl is expected to be noisy

loud girl shouldn’t be quiet

but loud girl is quiet.

loud girl is quiet when she comes home every day

because loud girl can’t be a loud girl

when her parent’s voices make enough noise

to shred the atoms in the air.

and loud girl is most quiet in the bathroom

with the steady drip drip of the broken faucet

and a razor cupped in her palm.

but loud girl isn’t allowed to be quiet

loud girl must be a loud girl

because she can’t be anything else

when people expect her to be just a loud girl

that is all she will become.

 

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at this age i find myself full of polluted ideas

and watered down philosphy from my favorite poets

but this is the contentment stage because before all of this

i found mysef at age thirteen listening to bands no one has ever heard of

typing the lyrics out and printing them on pristine paper which i folded neatly

tucking into the pocket of my now too small jeans.

before all of this i found myself at age fourteen sucking in breaths

because the world had seen fit to deprive me of oxyegn

and i found myself using all the right sources

to get all the wrong answers

as i tried to untangle what was happening to me.

but even before my anger was furnace

and before i learned not to trust boys with sharp smiles

i first learned that i was a girl

and by being a girl i was suddenly reduced to a low status

with my body no longer becoming my own with each stroke of a mascara wand

that i believed held the magic to make me beautiful.

and at this moment in time i understand

how our bodies can contain so much water

and how some of the prettiest things in the universe

can never orbit too close

and most importantly i know that out of all the events that have happened to me

all of the scars and dictionary words i know

my most treasured possession is the letter ‘i’

because that is what has stayed for the entirety of my life

when people changed and left me

when did your hands turn into tools used to light cigarettes

instead of cavities carved to fit mine?

when did you become so enslaved that you smell like desperation

instead of sunshine?

when did you become so lost that even my compass

couldn’t find you?

when did you stop becoming the boy i grew up with

and turn into the man you are now?

when did you change so much that your own sister can’t recognize

you?

when did you stop being you

and become him?

Posted in mw

you grew up so fast.

i wish you would change \ from this how-much-can-we-do \ how many people can we hurt \ how much damage can we do \ all with lighting the match \ for your flavored cigarettes \ man \ back into the boy who \ took things slow \ because he knew that he had time \ used a soft voice \ because when he talked \ people listened \ but instead \ i find a closed door \ what are you even afraid of anymore ? \ because you are treating your body like a cage \ beating again sinews \ and fighting against muscles \ acting as if \ this youth \ is an immortal thing \ but it is not \ and one day \ life is going to catch up \ and you will find yourself \ wondering where things went wrong \ what you did so bad \ to turn up \ in such a place \ as where you are

bookstores used to be our home

i wish us back to//when we used to//hunt for clothes//at the mall//counting our pennies//down to the cent//guessing on the tax cost//before coming up short//laughing at full pockets//at ragged old jeans//we’d spend hours//in the bookstore//thumbing through//e.e. cummings//and edgar allen poe//like they were//the very oxygen//that was keeping us//alive.

fluer

if i was not born a woman \ i would have been a seed \ and instead of learning \ how to be a perfectionist early \ i would have learned how to grow when buried \ and accept that having thick stalks \ was not a downfall \ but instead a gift \ beause if i was a flower \ instead of a woman \ i would not have lived \ over half of my life \ thinking i was less than \ because no one looked like me \ and if i had been a seed \ my differences would have helped me flourish \ instead of making me want for \ different features \ and by saying this \ does not mean \ i regret what i am \ because i do not \ by saying this \ i am telling \ that young girls should not be raised \ to be perfectionists \ just like flowers \ shouldn’t be picked \ when they have yet to bloom \ because if i was raised \ the way a flower grows \ i would have been a sunflower \ but i was raised \ the way a woman is raised \ and a woman is raised \ to forever be a rose / so that a man might take away her throns / for sport / and be called the one / who tamed her wildness / and prunned it to perfection / so for all who taught me  / how  to be a woman  in the worst way /  because i was taught / that i could be a flower / as long as it was a rose / and i think my biggest regret is / i could have been a sunflower