POEM 12

Amalgam by Garrett Redding

---

I hope it’s going to be over, but not

in a kind of suicidal way. It’s a fatigue

of the soul, sighing like a first-time parent

at the dirty diaper that is my body.

I remember when there was this kid

as young as me at camp, he was a comic

and I was the straightman. I’d carry him

around piggy-back and one time we fell

and hurt ourselves. He’d pick himself

up with a smile, where I’d gauge just

exactly how much blood was coming

out of my nose. When I was a child

I grew so fast that stretch marks lined

all along my back and sides. I’d find

out that I’d need glasses halfway through

elementary school, never seeing clearly

unless I kept this cage of metal and plastic

upon my skull. My sinuses still beguile my

airways, maintaining their diktat sanctioned

against my war-weary cardiovascular.

All of that, and I still used to think sickness

was a holiday as a child. I used to think if I had

any superpower, flight was better than regeneration.

My current conditions beg to differ. I want to fly

and soar, I want to sightsee at parks with binoculars,

I want to fall and wipe off my pants and move forward.

All in favor? The flesh does not acquiesce.

It bleeds, it hulks, it wallows, it dies. It dies.

I Don’t Do Manifestation (Spud)

 

I am an expert at creative visualization.

It comes second nature to me.

Unwilling, I can feel it or them—

the blade through my calf

the barrel to my temple

my body chemically eroding

from the inside out...

My therapist says I made her

a specialist in my disorder.

I guess I’m glad

it does something for someone.

I wake up in the night

(my medication causes sleep disruptions)

sick to my bones, tossed in sweated sheets.

I corral the sounds of crashing cars.

My loved one's screams—

a funerary music.

I can cover my ears

But I just turn the whispers into shouts. 

FAMILY VALUES (Haley)

I wish I could just blame my parents for my anger
And be done with it.
They did, in fact, shape who I am.
My therapist tells me that I can only accept that
They were doing the best they could.
Are you fucking kidding me?
That was their best?
Their best wasn’t enough
And I can accept that I guess, but I wonder
If they offered younger me the same grace
I wonder what went through their heads as they fostered
This complex that I have about myself
Did they ask themselves if I was just “doing my best”?
They barely even acknowledged 
I was just a child
It turned out they weren’t thinking of me at all.
They were in their twenties once, and had to deal with their own parents
And their problems all while having three children
Who were screaming in their faces
I wonder if that’s what they wanted life to be

Once upon a time

They must’ve been dreamers like me

Even so, I just can’t get over

Why I had to be the punching bag

It was all so unrelated to me

I was just a side effect

A piece of shrapnel in a war I wasn't even quite aware of

Placeholder Title  (Ezra)

I used to want to be an inventor
I'd dream about making something
Maybe make a mark on this world 
So that I would know there was a purpose inside me
From a young age I would take electronics 
And disassemble them, try to reassemble them, give up
I'd try to Frankenstein the two green circuits
Into a medley of my own fuckery
The bottom drawer of my dresser
Filled to the brim with my possible adventures with wires
From every generation of phone coming before me

I made a computer mouse out of a PlayStation controller once.
Then came math. 
You know, the universe is made of math,
Math that I loathe

Math, whose club full of haters I could be President of.

The thing I desire seems to be sit behind that locked shitstick of a cage...
Electronics? Electrical resistance?  Audio technology? Engineering? Robotics?
All visible before me, until I they force me into the facemask of math.

Little Man Syndrome (Cesar)

 
I guess you could say I’m short
I’d say average. I’m confident in myself
until I’m reminded of my height.
I don’t get angry, just annoyed, often
leading to conflicts. Walking through
the grocery store, just to go on my tip toes
to reach a box on the top shelf. Damn, I feel like
a petite female but I am a man!
Does my lover stare at other men who
are taller than I am? (Sometimes.)
Of course it infuriates me.
Getting ridiculed in my own home.
What I call home at least. It’s little more 
than a worthless dungeon.
So, yes, I get mad easily.
I get irritated at everything that hints towards me.
Why should I care about anyone's feelings
if they do not care about my own?

Anger (Lilly)

I like to think of myself as kind,

 maybe even approachable.

 But am I really? If I were so 

kind, why is it that I am alone? 

Maybe it’s my resting bitch face, 

or the way people believe I am 

angry but really I am just quiet.

 I don’t believe that I am angry, but

if you ask me if I am then it will 

turn out that way. I really try my best,

 yet the smallest things make me feel 

enraged. Is it really all on me or 

should others stop being so annoying? 

Or maybe I really am a carbon copy

 of my mother. What was it that she was 

upset about this morning? I can’t seem

 to remember, but she’s always mad

 about something. Maybe it's the 

attitude that I apparently had. I say

it’s not that important to me but I don’t want 

to be perceived as an angry woman. Kind 

and angry? Well that just doesn’t work. 

Court Jester (Francine Coffer)
 
I view myself as someone deserving of respect.
I know that I don’t talk often, I know I can be
unapproachable due to my voice, or my outfit.
Or maybe it's my face, or at least to me it is.
The sliding mirror with a crack that used to hold
the nob to slide it highlights that fact.
 
I believe respect is such a simple thing
to give someone, especially if you call yourself my friend.
But that’s not what we were, were we?
No, instead I was just your jester,
someone you kept around
because I would sing your praise,
because I made you laugh at my expense,
because I was scared to lose the one person who
I thought was nice in the suffocating room full of eyes.
 
But I was a pushover, naive and too trusting,
I should have taken the rose-tinted glasses off sooner.
If I did maybe the pain wouldn’t have scarred me so deeply,
And I would be more trusting of people.
Maybe I wouldn’t be so quick to believe the worst
in others. I wouldn’t treat everyone like a tree,
where I’m willing to cut them down the minute
I fear they might hurt me.
 
Maybe I wouldn’t be so angry when someone shows
me kindness, 'cause how can someone be nice
to me when you weren’t. But I forgot a simple fact.
Why would a queen be nice to the court jester?

Just Leave me here, I’m fine, I promise (Vinny W)

I, for the life of me, cannot remember the last time I was happy.
I mean, I’ve been “happy”, but I haven’t experienced anything
So consuming I could actually say, “I’m so happy right now.”
Same shit different toilet?
Same toilet different shit?
I’m not sure how it matters anymore at this point.

Why break free from what's familiar?
Am I ever going to be satisfied?
Do I even want to be?
All these people, these places, their endless problems.
Is it a collective experience?
Or am I a victim to my own mental illness?

Am I all alone in this hellscape we call life?
Do I even want to know what it’s like to not be alone?
If I’m alone, there’s no one to disappoint.
No one to answer to or worry about letting down.
Leave me here by myself,
I want to be secluded from the monsters.

I hate being a pawn in a game I never agreed to play.
Nothing I do will ever be considered “enough”.
The world has no limit to how high you can soar,
Or how deep you can dig yourself under.
What if I just don’t have it in me anymore?
I’d love to just give up and go away.

Turn a blind eye to all the bullshit that surrounds me.
Maybe I’ll figure it all out, maybe I won’t.
But that doesn’t stop me from asking questions,
And I have a lot of fucking questions.
What am I supposed to learn from any of this?
This seemingly endless nightmare I’ve forever been trying to wake up from.

The two sides of my brain are constantly at war with each other.
Happiness seems like such a distant and lost idea.
Life wants too much from me,
And lately, I haven’t had enough to give.
The struggle of getting out of bed every day,
Just to continue the repetitions I’ve become accustomed to.

I want out, but no one wants to hear that.
People want to say they care,
But they don’t really want to hear what is wrong with you.
You have to pay for that luxury in most cases.
But is a transactional relationship going to fill that void?
That inevitable loneliness that comes with the part?

Am I playing a character in my own story,
Or is this all one big joke being played on me?
The combination of events that had to occur for me to be here,
Are just as unbelievable as me making it this long.
A ticking time bomb is still a bomb.
But I welcome the explosion.

Take me out already, I want to be done with all this.
Is it just loneliness, or did I do this to myself?
I thought I saw you today, but it was just a mannequin
But honestly, it’s practically the same thing.
This placeholder for what could be
While I stay obsessed with what was, instead of what is.

UNTITLED (Ava)

I've always been independent

Never relying on anyone else but myself.

Everyone else leaves, so what's the point?

My dog never leaves me though

She's always happy to see me, always at my side.

I cry to her when I'm sad,

And she kisses my damp cheeks,

No one else has ever been there for me.

I've been disappointed by my family again and again.

Its a never-ending cycle

But my dog never leaves my side

And never disappoints me

Unlike everyone else

Why can't humans act like dogs?

Always happy to see each other

Content with what they have.

Dogs take the blame for all our missing things

But they not once complain

But what do we do?

We yell, fight, and scream.

We're always wanting more

Never content with what we have.

I'm sick of the greed we have

Didn't your mother ever teach you better?

You get what you get and don't throw a fit.

Dogs never throw a fit

Why can't we do the same?

Fool Resigning (Maggie D.)

I, in my angriest moments, imagine you 

chained down with the silver blade 

of the guillotine kissing 

the back of your neck. It feels like retribution

to have you kneel at my feet

after so many years I had wasted

kneeling at yours. 

Finally, I can question you: 

did you at all grieve for the bloated 

corpse of our friendship?

Did you dedicate even one willowy tear

to me after I removed myself

with a wrung-out anger 

from your unappreciative court?

Was it your personal joy and pleasure

to have me ousted from my, perhaps,

selfishly self-proclaimed title

of your best friend? 

Those years I spent kneeling 

at the foot of your throne before faced

with the inevitability of my usurpation-- 

did they mean nothing? Was I a fool 

to treasure you, so lopsidedly?

I should, perhaps, be less hung up on this.

I know you’ve long abandoned me.

Have fun playing with your new 

court jester, may they be even jauntier than me. 

My Opinion (Megan)

I hate how often I stand for nothing,

how no opinion slips through my mouth

as the people around me talk about everything.

Politics, the news, celebrities, coworkers.

Anything within the world around us.

I listen in and I talk too. But my opinion

doesn't seem to matter. Why would it matter

when it flips so often that I get dizzy from it?

A couple of words is enough to make

my opinion sway like a love-sick fool,

believing every word that they hear

spill from their supposed lover's mouth.

Is it worth it to even speak anymore?

The kitchen table, work, my bed

No matter where, my naivety will always infect...

I try to hide but it still lingers in my soul.

I always wish that one day I can 

wake up and finally stand for something. 

When It’s My Turn (Mar'te)

 
I know life is supposed to be hard, I was
told that before I understood what “difficult” truly
meant. I never imagined waking up wondering how
anyone is supposed to find happiness and success in
the world now. My parents were able to make things
work when they were my age, am I not trying hard
enough? Why has the world gotten so much harder to
live now that it’s my turn to be an adult? My younger
self looked to the future, so bright that even thinking
about what could be in store could blind you. I catch myself
now, not knowing what to expect. Life feels like
an opponent in a boxing ring, ready to hit me with another
unexpected sucker punch. The pain feels all the same each time.
I am not the only one experiencing the sense that our race
is already over before it even started. Maybe this is all
by design. Maybe all of this was “supposed” to
happen eventually. If people weren’t struggling, then the
“winners” wouldn’t get to keep winning and benefitting
from those trying to make it. The world is a difficult place
to live in and I hate that it’s even harder, now that it’s my turn.

TO BE GIFTED (Zoie)

I have always been told that I’m intelligent

by my parents. They were entranced by the

falling A’s that kept a steady flow through

the semesters. I wonder when it was that I

started to despise math. Sitting at the wooden

table with my mother while she looked at my report

card. I could feel the nerves in my body thrumming,

almost bursting when she sighed due to a B+

in math. She said, “I know you can do better than this.”

When did getting praise turn into my body feeling 

like lead? Sometimes I feel that I'm a failure, a fraud.

Maybe I am. Disappointment is my biggest fear, perhaps

that is why I never went through a rebellious phase.

My mom no longer looks obsessively at my grades

yet I cannot help but strive for perfection.

Anxiously sitting with an exam at the desk, calculating how

high I have to score to pass. Now I go running, telling my mom

how high my grades are, looking for that praise–

“Wow sunshine, you are really gifted”. But deep down I know

just how dumb I am.

*Language Barrier (Pancho)

 
I've got fervent thoughts about my Spanish class.
My hatred for the class and the teacher boils over
with each action she decides to take:
Showing off a video of another kid
who can speak a list of languages,

& who is continuously learning more. 

Saying that it is possible

to learn. The video did not inspire

me or others to learn the language.

I only boiled with disdain towards

the ‘inspiring’ video and her.

It was as if showing a drowning child

a video of an Olympic athlete swimming.

Showing what is possible for the few who can.

To say: “See it’s possible to swim so do it.”

To say: “See this kid could do it why can’t ALL YOU.”

Hate I began to hate and hate, the core

foundations she had built for everything

she was connected to. Hate is not enough,

with all the languages that exist and existed

were to pile in their words for HATE.

It would not be enough to satisfy

my hatred for the pretentiousness she had.

My displeasure for her added rules,

her assumptions and carelessness.

I look back at the cause for such

incredulous feeling, perhaps causa sui.

Where Do I Go (Canye)

 

 I've been working really hard.

 for a future I can’t even picture

stacking hours like they mean something

like they’re building toward a life I understand

but every path I look at splits into ten more

maybe its because im the who’s lost

But then who is there to blame?

Myself? the world?,or its people?

Or is it the one who made it this way?

They tell me to just pick something

Like time isn’t moving while i stand

Like choosing wrong wont follow me

Maybe i think to much

Maybe im waiting for answers that will never come

Or maybe I'm waiting for something to come & grab me with certainty.

But truthfully I know nothing will.

What really am I so afraid of?

That I will pick wrong?

Im a hardworker,

 so i should know that i will prevail

I have God with me,

so I know I have angles stopping me from falling.

But it's still not a guarantee I won't.

The more steps i take,

the more show up in my vision

One day my legs will get tired

But i have my hands

One day my mind will rust with exhaustion

But I have my heart.

Maybe that's enough to keep going.

Even though I don't know where I'm going.

 

 

Silly little job (Marisol)

I never know what to say when people ask 

how my current job is helping me with my future career

I work in retail but I want to become an ultrasound tech

or a nurse. Idk anymore. At least I kind of enjoy my job. 

I made friends with the girls that work there

so I'm basically getting paid to hang with friends--

a real a win win. I guess you can say

I’m pretty good at my job too,

considering I was made a manager in less than a year. 

Or maybe they were desperate. The thing is,

I don’t really like it anymore. 

I trip over the lifted up floorboards.

I slip on kids' nasty spilled drinks,

endure all the ruckus going on at the trending kiosks. 

And my bosses take advantage of me

leaving us understaffed on a busy Saturday night. 

But a 15-hour work week? Over the span of 2 weeks?

Seriously what is that going to pay off?

I say that as I spend my whole paycheck

On all the cute clothes we get.

I complain about wanting more hours 

but dread working anytime I’m scheduled.

I wonder what they think since

In the beginning I would always pick up shifts.

I go above and beyond for a RETAIL store mind you

Now, I switch shifts a lot, cuz, I don’t want to work 

But do they even understand that that's the case?

All signs point to me putting my 2 weeks notice. 

Why be miserable and work somewhere

I don’t enjoy anymore.

I's rather work in a hospital, a job that with real benefits.

The problem is, I’m scared of a “big girl” job.

of taking on more responsibility and not being able to 

call in whevever I feel like it

because I really just don’t want to work.

At least I could stop complaining about 

not earning enough money (for a while).

Or maybe not, considering how taxes work.

Untitled (Olivia)

I always drown in all the work 

I get from stupid chem. 

It just piles up like dirty dishes  

in a house of seven after dinner 

on a Thursday night. The reports 

and CPAs and homeworks never 

get done early because they never 

get posted in a timely manner. 

Or maybe that's just not true, 

maybe it is the fact that I let myself 

procrastinate for hours on end 

until my eyes hurt from looking  

at a screen, or looking out the window 

at the sorry excuse of a pole that was 

holding up one end of the porch. 

I genuinely move like I am certain  

I have until I’m eighty to finish my degree, 

when I might not even have tomorrow.  

Throwing Plates (Autumn) (Not sure what happened with the formatting here)

 I have always felt like nobody understands my work that

Everyone has it harder than me and I live in some

easy fairytale world

But as I look at the slimy food encrusted plates my mom told me to load into the dishwasher after I work all day I begin to crack

Am I stupendously subsequently selfish and assume the weight of the world on my shoulders or are my problems real so the plates become my victim

I slam the plate into the pungent black dishwasher the bane of my existence and the peaceful serenity of my warm sun soaked kitchen become dark and malignant as if I killed someone like has no one ever seen a person throw plates before God I hate the look of shocked people

With their mouths wide open like a bass about to be hooked close your mouths you tontas...

 

Infidelity (Luis)

I have a confession to make

I am not the perfect person I make myself seem

Actually far from it

I didn’t want to follow in my father's footsteps

But here I find myself disrespecting my partner 

I wish I could have been better for her 

Yet my actions say otherwise 

I fail her every chance I get

And I plead and beg for forgiveness

All until I cross the line

And share a bed with someone else,

I can't come back from this and I don't expect to 

From this point on there's nothing I can do

To wipe the slate clean

This stain is going to follow me forever 

It's a burden that'll taint my reputation

I swore I would never do this to my partner 

Now I carry this guilty conscious, 

I don't know how to get rid of it.

It begs the question whether I was wrong for it.

Were my actions truly bad?

Or were they my scapegoat to leaving a relationship 

A relationship that was only hurting me.

You can only push someone so far 

Before they break.

I'm a coward.

Silent Alarm (Yesier)

I know that most of the time

I do not say what I mean

The sound of my voice

gets stuck somewhere

between my chest and mouth

It is just hovers there

A ghost i can't seem to catch

In the shower it plays 

looping and looping in my head

thinking about it like it matters anymore

Why am I like this? 

It annoys me because

I know the words I want

but when it counts

they run away scared

like they knows something

I don't

I hate that I can be so loud 

in my head 

like a marching band

That plays for only me

trapped between wanting to be heard

and knowing I can't handle

the flood of thought

that forcibly break through the dam

that is my brain

I hate how much effort I have to use each day

to free my voice

from the closed barrel of my chest

Human Greed (Ava)

I’ve always been independent 
Never relying on anyone but myself.
Everyone else leaves, so what’s the point?
My dog never leaves me though
She’s always happy to see me, always at my side.
I cry to her when I’m sad
She kisses my damp cheeks
And assures me there’s no reason to be sad
No one else has ever been there for me.
I’ve been disappointed by my family, again and again
It’s almost a never-ending cycle
My dog sits through it all, never leaving my side,
Never disappointing me. Unlike everyone else has
Why can’t humans act like dogs?
Always happy to see each other,
Always content with eating the same meal every day.
Dogs take the blame for lost shoes and missing socks
But not once do they ever complain
But what do we do?
We yell, fight, and scream. 
We’re never content with our dinner, always wanting more.
I’m sick of the greed us humans have
Didn’t your mother ever teach you better?
You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.
It’s as simple as that