INTRODUCTION TO ME

INTRODUCTION TO ME – Stepping Outside That Box

Perform, perform poetry, I have written, HERE in front of all you?
I am that girl, the one that was sick on oral book report days,
I would proudly take a zero claiming not completed,
when in reality, I had memorized every point I wanted to make.
In front of classmates I’d known for years but unable to utter a word,

 

introduction to me, converse, dirt road, poetryNOW I have this bright idea,
I could stand up here and speak the FEAR that lives inside me,

Trying my best to focus and not hear my gel nails shaking loose from their nail beds.
Me, who avoided classes, left careers for fear
I may have to stand here looking out at all you, critiquing me, my voice,
my slang, my style, too quiet, too loud, enunciate better, slow down,

I can’t, I may lose momentum, freeze until the heat of humiliation melts my face.

 

What I see is you in the back row correcting the “AT”
I leave on the end of a sentence followed by a period.
What I see is my mom cheering me on but saying, you used an “I” instead of “me”
What I see is you on the front row whisper,
wonder if she wrote Y-O-U apostrophe R-E or Y-O-U-R.

What i see is you in the black shirt draw up in your seat as if
I was about to start a meditation with my OHMs.

What I see is my best friend shaking her head as she repeats again and again,
you are your own worst enemy.

 

Hands over my eyes, squinting through tremoring fingers, anxiety kicking in
as I wait patiently on my Grammarly report, praying to see red and green only
because that damn yellow means, advanced issues, UPGRADE needed.

What I see, double digit numbers in Hemingway beside
“sentences are very hard to read”

and who gives a crap, really, about “too many passive voices” pun intended!
What I see is the clock strike 3 a.m. as I complete the next edit and wait, wait, wait.
What I feel, tears streaming down my cheeks, my readability is now a grade 6,
too hard, too simple,overwhelmed in self-sabotage, what does this mean?
THROW IT AWAY, give it up or start again!.

 

What I hear is my daughter saying, mom you need a PROFESSIONAL live editor.Karl Augustus Menninger, fears, educated, itsmyjourney
(Grunting!!!!) I am no longer a financial advisor with a
QUOTE normal adult career UNQUOTE.

I am but a temporary struggling writer, no upgrades, no additional fees,
FOR NOW, I barely keep afloat the necessities.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep, I have too many stories inside me.
A need to bleed but year after year I write silently, never editing, never sharing.

 

One time, I stepped outside that thing you call a box,
trying to understand my need for Y—O—U—R approval.

Advised to journal, meditate, chakra balancing,
surround myself in crystals, and essential oils.

Before long, in the middle of being outside that box,
my throat chakra would scream the stories that had been eating holes inside my soul…

Sorry to say but WHAT I hear is my insides rattling words through my throat
that mean a lot to me and nothing to all you.

What I feel is sweaty palms, moist underarms and a hot flash coming on
with this too simple of an introduction to me!

Current Update

I am writing spoken word to complete my Chapbook for The Button Poetry / Exploding Pinecone Press 2017 Chapbook Contest.  Not putting down the Screenplays, only stepping outside my box a little!

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Thank you Lisa Runnel for the photography.



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