writings by soul.in.my.fist

Her

soul.in.my.fist — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 22:43:10 +0000

You, my love,
have the face of an angel,
the body of a goddess,
and the heart of a poet.

And to spend this lifetime
with you
would be like nothing
for only eternity would suffice.

For you,
there is no quintessential love poem
as it could never be written –
language is too limited
in light
of your essence.

The sky weeps
at your beauty and
the earth grovels
at your feet
out of admiration
for your truth.

The stories that escape
your lips
keep this world turning.

Existence
is a figment of one’s imagination
without your divine presence.

Life
is but a nightmarish dream
lest you are not in it.

I would ask for your hand but
I know
I am not worthy
of such brilliance.

All I ask for is
a single kiss
so that I may taste
the sweetness of heaven
whilst my heart still beats.

Tell Me How You Really Feel

soul.in.my.fist — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 08:59:16 +0000

I love you. And you already know this.

But I refuse to beg you
to love me
for I do not need nor do I want that.

You feel guilty because I am so loving towards you,
because I treat you so well,
and you want to be able to reciprocate
by giving me what you think I want.

Yes, you can give me what you think I want,
but I don’t think you can give me what I know I want
(though part of me longs to believe you can).

What I don’t want is a half assed commitment
from someone who is not fully invested.

What I don’t want is your resentment months from now
blaming me for indirectly forcing you
into something you didn’t want in the first place.

I just want to love and be loved in return.
Plain. Simple. Pure. Genuine.
Understanding. Respect. Honesty. Loyalty. Trust. Compassion.

So please,
if loving me is going to be a burden, a chore,
something else on your to do list
between downloading software and buying protein shake powder,
then leave me be.

Because there are plenty of assholes out there
who want to fuck me
without toying with my heart.

typical

soul.in.my.fist — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 01:32:43 +0000

It’s that typical story of girl meets boy, girls falls for boy, and boy leaves girl with her heart no longer intact. But perhaps girl’s heart was never intact. Perhaps girl’s heart was already shattered into thousands of pieces from those who came before and girl never found the adequate adhesive to put the pieces back together. Perhaps girl never dealt with the ache and girl is so obsessive she just continues to ache and obsess over her ache and ache is just the norm. Perhaps girl has been looking for someone to save her soul when in actuality all she needs to do is look into the mirror and see her own strength. Perhaps girl needs to believe in herself, to trust and love herself, and not look to others to validate her existence. And maybe that is the real story at hand.

your blood is red like mine.

soul.in.my.fist — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 11:22:15 +0000

The lies you spread are more viscous than honey, but the difference between you and honey is that honey is sweet and made from bees while you and your lies are made from toxic mental masturbation and delusional egotism.

The wounds you left may have healed but the scars remain permanently etched upon my heart and my soul like the flag on my back. I take moments of each day to meditate and chant in attempt to silence that ever present voice of yours that tells me I am worthless, that my existence is an affront to positive social change, that my truth doesn’t matter.

But it does. It does fucking matter. And after all this time, I try to push forward, I try to let go of my suffering and be a good Buddhist, but somehow your disease creeps in and I fear abandonment. I fear loneliness. I fear me. You taught me to not trust myself. You taught me to not love myself. You taught me that my needs didn’t matter. And I guess I can’t just blame you because I had a part in it too… but you know what? That is not what a good partner does and that is not what a healthy loving mutual relationship looks like and that is why your revolution will never manifest because you just continue this despicable cycle of exploitation and oppression and you are no better than those who hold us down.

I pity you. And I pity your friends. And I pity your so-called movement. And I just hope that one day you wake the fuck up and realize that having the “correct line” is not enough to build a new world.

inevitable

soul.in.my.fist — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 16:38:18 +0000

smoke your cigarettes
and drink your coffee
and let your tears flow
as you try and accept
what you already knew

a heart like mine

soul.in.my.fist — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 07:05:05 +0000

I want you
to fuck me
til I’m numb

Because to not feel
anything
seems like such
a splendid state

And you
with your lack
of reciprocation
you
with your dangling
of me
on a string
is too much
for a heart
as big and
as open and
as loving and
as giving
as mine
to handle

I know
that letting you
fuck me
won’t bring you
closer
to loving me

So
it’s the least
you can do
since you
have given me
nothing

jigsaw life

soul.in.my.fist — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 07:09:10 +0000

we are just
broken
people
trying to
fit
the pieces
together
hoping
to make
sense of this
nonsensical
miserable
existence
in which
we find
ourselves

You

soul.in.my.fist — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 07:33:28 +0000

I stared at the clump of seaweed in my hands and heard these words:

“You need to let the universe guide you like the ocean guides me.”

So I let go and I listened.
And along came you…

Love this because Steve Abee inspired you to.

soul.in.my.fist — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 17:58:31 +0000

Love your quiet date that became a night of drunkenness and too much honesty.
Love that he doesn’t feel the same way you feel about him.
Love that sometimes you just want to be lied to.

Love your stupidity. Love your feelings of stupidity. Love the maybes. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that beer that shot that other beer. Maybe you shouldn’t have dropped your beating bloody heart on his doorstep. Maybe you should have just left. Well, you did. Maybe you shouldn’t have come back.

Love that you drove 100 mph on the 2 the 134 the 5 the 60 to get to this place you don’t even call home.
Love that he drinks so much that he falls asleep while you give him head.
Love that you woke up the next morning and still feel drunk.
Love that all you can think about is Bukowski and whiskey.

Love that they all tell you the same thing. Love wondering if God is sending all the broken tragically flawed men to you to fall in love with. Love that you don’t believe in God anyway because you’re Buddhist. Love that maybe you should just stick to dating broken tragically flawed women.

Love that he loves you in your heels pushing your ass out in your little dress, who cares if you feel like an empty shell of a mixed race Barbie doll.
Love that you don’t really feel like an empty shell of a mixed race Barbie doll.
Love that you do in fact love the attention.
Love that you’re more in touch with your physicality and sexuality than ever.

Love that he’s numb and and still in love with her. Love that it’s not you, it’s him. Love that it’s not the first nor second time you’ve heard that.

Love that he sort of kind of, no he did, call you his girlfriend. Love wondering if he said it out of guilt, maybe pity. Love your insecurities.

Love that he wants you to give him time. Time is on my side yes it is. Time in a bottle. Time of your life. Time to pretend. Time after time. What time is it. Love the soundtrack of your life.

Love that you love him, the planets and stars and moons colliding together in some cosmic beautiful chaos type of love, the flowers two stepping in the breeze to the harmonic dissonance of the forest song kind of love.

Love that he called you gorgeous, a good catch. Love that he thinks you’re intelligent yet somewhat intimidating.

Love that he hates your disdain for cops and wants you to see humanity in every single person.
Love that you do see humanity in every single person and it took years of reflection and reading Thich Nhat Hanh and bell hooks and Erich Fromm and all those parenting books to get there and he wasn’t around then anyway, was he?

Love that you have no idea why you two met in the first place besides doing a play together.
Love how the universe works.

Love that you were willing to tolerate his country music and cowboy boots.
Love that you’ll never think of the Rocky movies in the same way.

Love your doubt he’ll ever call you again. Love your hurt. Love pretending you don’t care. Love that people will call you cold when really you ache.

Love your ache.
Love your doubt.
Love your need to be loved.
Love sucks.

Love that no one wants to love a single mother.
Love that you’re just pawn shop used goods and the select few who come will only browse.

Love waking up to the day to say goodbye.

Love that “it” is no longer complicated because “it” is now nonexistent.

Love how beautiful he looks when he sleeps. Love his closed eyelids and curly eyelashes. Love his intense storytelling eyebrows relaxed. Love his cute broad Filipino nose. Love his thick lips. Love his stubble. Love his big ears, the right one with the mole. Love his curly dark hair with a slight sprinkle of gray.

Love your compassion for emotionally unavailable people.

Love that you have to remind yourself what love is so you don’t confuse it with infatuation, obsession.

Love your codependent tendencies.
Love that popular culture feeds your codependent tendencies.

Love your capacity to change.
Love your hope.

Love your son.
Love your family, your friends.
Love your self.
Love your self more than him.

Love because it is the only light guiding you to self growth and transformation.

Love that you were late today because you just had to write this poem down,
And poetry is as ubiquitous as air and as love.

27 years

soul.in.my.fist — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 23:09:05 +0000

I’m a seed trying to sprout
finding a new route
so I can grow
Progress and change
Release and untame
My inner child fighting to get free
Why couldn’t I see
her all these years
Why are things never
as they appear
Why is the road to change
so unclear
I just want to be true to myself
move past my fears
For too long I’ve held myself back
Catered to others’ needs and expectations
Neglected myself — that’s a fact
Now I’m in need of an internal transformation
Getting too old to live a lie
Got too much soul to let life pass me by
Should be a crime to lock that bluebird in my heart singing and crying to get out
Shouldn’t have taken so much time to finally believe and let my true self come out
It’s taken 27 years and man
I still got issues
It’s taken 27 years
to throw out the old crumpled balls of tissue
Put the past behind, resign
from these chains of suffering
No longer hovering
For once I feel like I can breathe
without clenching my teeth
For once I feel
like I’m approaching peace
Taking the steps I need to live free
Taking the steps forward to be me
I me
I be
I see
I dream
I fly
to heights so high
Nothing to hold me down except
myself
Deliver daily reminders to nurture
my well being and health
From practicing compassion to love to spirituality
From soulful creations to building community
I finally have found the real me
Just a seed
starting to sprout
but one day
a tree