Tag Archives: life

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Resolution

Categories: Journal, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Resolution

I’m going to be a bitch. Serious. I’m done with sensitivity. Open arms. Helping others when I sit here broken and sick. I’m going to be a selfish speck. A cheerleader for my own opinions and needs. I’m not going to ask people how they are, unless they ask first. And then whatever they say I’ll respond with “it could be worse” (because that’s an ignorant and insensitive thing to say).

I’m going to take a lover and require his total devotion (at least sexually). I’m going to be reckless but not in a violent or conspicuous way. I’m going to fucking smile even though my teeth are imperfect. I’m going to go out dancing again when my back allows and I’ll dance all fucking night- even on tables and I may even flash my scarred little breasts. Suck this, Motherfuckers.

I’m going to call people out on their bullshit, rather than hold it in and let it produce another panic attack. I’m going to say outright: “You know what? You’re really an obvious asshole! You should wear your underwear on your head, because all that comes out of it is SHIT and offensive noise!” Then an argument will ensue probably but that’s okay because I’m going to get someone to build me a Waldenish portable cabin that I can take anywhere when it gets so thick you need to wear boots.

And music! Man, I’m going to play it often and LOUD. From Sinatra to Eminem to Pavarotti, motherfuckers! And I’ll even spit out some Waylon Jennings in the inner city! Hah!

I give myself full permission this year to go crazy and be somewhat satisfied. No more moving along the edges of MY OWN LIFE! You got that? It’s MY life! So go suck an egg or if you’re nice (like truly nice, not the fake nice) fill out an application to be my lover or just buy me a double-shot mocha.

Happy Damn New Year

-Heather Lenz

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Rain & Hail

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

 

Unsplash / Pixabay

 

Rain & Hail

It’s pelting against my window- I can’t sleep.
The birds left scars of beauty in sunlight-
I watched them feed & thought of you- your
final flight or descent. And, I know where that
place is- that which holds so much terror you
dare not breathe. Where you are afraid of your
own reflection & the expectations of a world that
knows so little of your soul. The seeds you planted.

The costume you wore for days on end. The way you
smiled while hugging a tree & from what I was told
you’d never raise your voice. You didn’t know your
rarity or heroism. Somewhere down the line after

you tried to settle back in, it all got so clouded &
I did not know you so I could not reach you. But, I
know your kind, am your kind, would have loved you
frequently & with assurance. And my heart collapses

to see your eyes in your father’s eyes & the heart
in him torn asunder, that I can do little about.

I wrote a poem that was inspired by your father’s
love, you know. Just as I am writing this while I hurt
in ways that not be named or openly
discussed. This is what makes me wish you alive

even more- to know that you felt that bad & I,
by some miracle of a god I’m very pissed off at,
might have found you & helped you make the
shadows, moonbeams, birds or
whatever was your favorite country song to sing…
rise up & call us in-  then dance the pain away.

I am sorry for our kind-  for various warriors.

Every great heart that turns inward. Every
thought or tear that rises within the morning
of rain and hail, is filled with you & your father

as he slowly gets out of bed & sees your eyes in his-

then echoes his cries in the shock of you gone.

& the blue skies of
seldom summers, that you

fought so hard to defend.

~Heather Lenz
Dec. 2015

in loving memory and respect for E.D.

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You Love It

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , ,

 

yell

How words chosen precisely to wreak maximum damage ticked like a bomb in your head, but exploded in your heart hours later, leaving you scarred and changed.”

~ Justina Chen, from North of Beautiful

You Love It

When I’m down &
can’t seem to find
my way around,

When I lean on you
for who else is there,
& you laugh & entangle
your will through my hair

& it’s no crown of daisies
but it’s a really good lie,
To cover up the reasons
I break down & cry

With this weight like a chain
pulling me tight,
& I lose my ground
& I give up the fight

So long ago you claimed
no one really cared,
That they’d all turn away
so I could leave if I dared.

In prayer I sought help
& called out in the night,
But no one responded
so I guess you were right.

& I know how you love
to see my world broken,
& the way that I bleed
from things that were spoken

Now quiet I walk
down the hall & shut the door…
I never bother to call
or search any more.

-Heather Lenz

2015

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in the pink

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

Starring PINK

 

in the pink

flesh in a plastic cup. let pink petals fall forever.
the machines tick & click like wayward clocks-
every woman
reeks of fear.

here in a flowery robe, i gaze at magazine covers-
the women with full breasts smile in their youth.
others dress casually, assured in their poses

that all the recipes in the pages
will fill up your every desire & win over
lover & guest.

they don’t know who is looking at them.
who envies them enough to want to spit
at the calm fake candles glowing with
spa-like radiance.

glow. images on the machine glow.
i watch the blacks & whites move
as the magic wand
presses against me.

they are like ghosts & phantoms
dancing together. laughing crazily
from too much excitement.

now at home it’s raining. past 2 a.m.
i am tender & obscure.

i wish there were a friend to call.
i wish my family knew me well.

i wish i could feel the hard weight
of a good man linger

in all this tenderness.

-Heather Lenz

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Eclipse

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

 

Untitled“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”
-Frederick Douglass

Eclipse

His bruised eye
like the moon gone dark
on a night when nothing
sees the truth except the
heart inside of him, like a
cobwebbed corner of secrets.

During an eclipse, the light
slowly returns. But not for him,
nor his eye that will yellow like
the sun & fade back into an
apparently normal day.

When I saw him near the
railroad track, so small & fragile,
standing in the grass, his lower
lip hanging down like a cloud
somewhere near oblivious adults,
I drew in a breath of shock,
touched his cheek & asked what
happened.

He looked up at me with big round
eyes that cried out: The moonlight
is never returning.

-Heather Lenz

October 2015

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABS INC.

 

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