Jun
06
2012
--

I stopped calling.

 

It hurt to hear your voice, but to not really hear you speak. That you never returned your calls. I keep placing all my money on you to go against the odds, but I guess I should learn, the odds are never in my favor. It’s not a fifty/fifty chance when you’re guaranteed to lose every time.  Things rile and surge inside me. Another crack in a facade. it’s ok.

 

I finally made a decision.

 
The whole “it’s not you it’s me” bs that people pass around. Some of it must be true. I know it’s me. I suppose it always has been. Now it’s highlighted. Glaring at me. Obvious and exposed. It’s harder to ignore then. The small irritating niggling things about people you don’t see until someone points them out. I see them all in me. Polished and shining. Blinding. Until you can see nothing else, the image burned into your eyes. Like an old broken monitor, an old outdated image burned into it’s screen.

 

Don’t worry.

 

I thought things were good. They played at being well. I was just a place holder and you were my chance to pretend things were different. You moved on, happier now, and I remain. How it always seems to be. That I remain. People walk on, move on, excel, fail. I’m still here. Right where I’ll always be. Stagnating. Which sounds filthy, to be frank. Like a dirty word your mother washed your mouth out for. I miss your mother. She was kind, and warm. Feels like a place that is cold and slate grey in my memory now. The place where you were.

 

I’ll be better.

 

I stay home now. I play at being normal. Still. Healthy even. Drowning and bobbing in the flood of my days. Too much to do, but no will to do it. In an effort to stop hurting myself. I stopped calling. I don’t think about the fun things we used to do. I just get by. I want to miss you less, so I think of you less. I reach out to you less. stay inside my head more.

 

It’ll be better this way.

Written by admin in: poetry | Tags: , ,
Mar
16
2010
3

Not as Dark as it seems

I wrote a poem. Trust me, It’s not about suicide. 😉

Standing on a cliff
Looking down
I wonder how wonderful
the fall will feel so good

Looking down
leaning back, arms outstretched
The fall will feel so good
I cannot leap

Leaning back arms outstretched
longing for the freedom
I cannot leap
the sudden stop would kill me

longing for the freedom
looking down
the sudden stop would kill me
Standing on a cliff

I need to toy with it a bit… what do you think? It’s a type of poem where you re-use the lines.

Derringer Meryl [The fall] Out

Written by admin in: poetry | Tags: , , ,
Jan
30
2004
--

Not really

Have I mentioned yet how i hate this? How i hate Iambic Pentameter,a nd I hope it goes to the depths of Hell when school is done and over with. When am I ever going to need Iambic pentameter? WHEN?

*pulls her hair out* I’m horrid at it. Simply horrid. I can’t get the syllables right, and I just don’t feel very poetic right now.

So I’m listening to Eminem, and hoping i’m inspired.

Derringer Meryl [It feels so empty without Iambic Pentameter] out

Written by admin in: poetry | Tags: , ,
Nov
28
2003
--

Not about me for once

I just had to update with this poem i just wrote while listening to the song “I’m Still here” By someone, not Vertical Horizon…. I know that song, and this one is the same title, but different song *shrugs*

Isn’t it funny
how my hand
always finds yours
isn’t it funny
how we yell
at each other
till our throats are sore
but it’s just because
there’s so much more
that could be
between us
and it’s so odd
how we ignore
how perfect we are
Yeah, I guess it’s pretty funny

All my life
I’ve always wanted
someone like you
to wrap my arms around at night
and isn’t it funny
how the words just
won’t come when
you need to say things
the very most
And isn’t it funny
how i cry when
you insult me so
still
i know deep down
you’ll love me back
someday….
Yeah I guess
my love for you
can be pretty funny

isn’t it interesting
how you follow me
around all the time
and you say you hate me so
cursing me till the tears won’t come
anymore
and it’s funny
when you’re the most vulerable
sometimes in your sleep
i hear you whisper my name
and i know
that you love me
just as much as I do, you.

but isn’t it funny
how the words won’t come
just when you need them the most
and we’ll stay
in our own little way
until the slow realization
that the opportunity’s gone
hurts us
deep inside
until we can’t ignore
our feelings anymore.

And isn’t it funny
how your hand fits so well
in mine
and how my laugh
makes you smile
and you get panicked
when i’m gone
But someday
i’ll say
i feel the same way.

Derringer Meryl [Inu and Kagome all the way!] Out

Written by admin in: poetry | Tags:
Oct
26
2003
--

I like using words in proper context, but in an odd manner

Me? Cynical and unable to stand the company of others for an extended period of time? NEVER!

I’ve been looking over the school books, figuring out what classes i need to take, what i’m going to be doing for the rest of my life. I”ve pretty much rested on …….

LEGAL SECRETARY!

I know, it’s sort of, um, anti climatic. But the Certification is only four credit hours long. Basically, while i’m taking the first one, I can dick around and take whatever classes I want. Ten credit hours of WHATEVER I want! Isn’t that the awesomest? Sure, some of it is stuff that i’m going to need to be a good secretary (that is, filing and stuff like that… :) Sure, it’s not special stuff, but then i can take the psychology classes, and the Lit classes that i wanted to, but not be pressured into a major–

Give me some time, i can find the lazy way through anything. ANYTHING.

Sure, i may be selling myself short (Legal secretary? C’mon, you’re a genius writer Meryl, you could do so much more…) But I find myself sorta– dried up in the wya of poetry. All of it comes out in the way of …. really bad angsty teen poetry.

and I hate angsty teen poetry. So While I’m not going to toss any of it, I”m also not looking to be published either. Cause it sucks– and anyone who says otherwise, well– they’re trying to make me feel good…. so thanks, but I’d prefer the truth. :)

So on that note, i’d like to end with a poem. 😉 Oh, and this is total slam impormpty poetry…. so flame me, but once again, i’m not going to feel very badly since i know it sucks.

The icy touch
stinging
ripping
pulling my
mind apart
and it stays
buzzing
ringing
whispering
to my mind
unknown to my ears
impossible to know
what keeps it there
Insanity slowly grips my
body
as i come to realize
and loose this all
what was
never could be
facing backward
in an downward
movement elevator
and my brain
shudders
in an orgasm of thought
shaking me
violently
stopping all other action
and I SCREAM
Leaving the blood clots
on the dainty white doilies
and every time
my head fills to the brim
stretching
reaching out to you
to why
it ended
i’m back
where i ended
not knowing
but i keep reaching
touching the blood stained
walls
hoping to remember
what never was
and could only be
some deluded fantasy
my over ridden mind
produced

Derringer Meryl [The orgasm of thought] Out

Written by admin in: poetry | Tags: , ,

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