Passport

To heaven
Bypass Hell
I was told we are
Flawed but all is forgiven
(So, it’s ok to act shitty, I guess?)
Passport
To disbelief
And misunderstanding
Thrust forward
To want more
Ruthless in pursuit
Passport
To a better life
Where your stuff
Is even more meaningless
To the people
you want to impress
Passport
To a sweet vacation
Beaches and make believe
Pre-paid money
Ceases to exist
It’s worthless
In the land of
Happiness and laughter
So I’ll chose to stay where I am
For now
And stamp my
Passport
Happy which makes
The paper worthless
In the face of excess
And wanting more.

ninaoneill

My husband and I do 10 minute free-writes and take turns choosing a topic. He chose passport because he’s been trying to to get ours done for over a year! We lost birth certificates, then the papers, then we got busy as all families do. This is my 10 minutes.

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Dangerous Expectations

pictures from angeline's cell by text 020

Feminism has burned
While regal princesses
rise pristine out of the ashes
Blinded by the glitter
They tell her beautiful
looks the same as successful
they feed her glass candy
filling her body
with Dangerous Expectations
Before she could walk

There is
A flutter of doubt
but the machine is
ready for her
with magazines and reality TV
ready to Protect
future generations
ready to feed their next
Sparkeling glass bellies

ninaoneill

I wrote this when my daughter asked me when was her hair was going to be blond, and her eyes blue?
I was mad at myself for my consent, (that is my little girl in the picture) for my pleasure at the way other people looked at her with her super cute dress on. I was weak and in a time where feminism is a bad word, where the first thing on their bodies is a disney princess diaper, where girls are told every little girl loves barbies.  I have to remind myself to be strong and raise her to be a strong, confident, critical thinker, who knows she’s beautiful just the way she is. Good Luck, eh? Well all I can do is try.

I’ve Been Slacking

Yep, it’s true. Poetry is a cop-out, the easy way out. It’s a reason not to explain myself or why I hate the limits of using proper grammar. (it also hides my tendency for run-on sentences!)  The way I write is how I think. Poetry is how I see the world, as simple as that. What is waaaay harder is explaining why. SO I will be going back into my work to explain why and how I wrote what I did and will continue this practice into the future, in doing so my hope is to become a little more human. Poetry is supposed to be worn on your sleeve, not as a mask…I think

Coffee

Innocent coffee beans
peacefully grown in their
organic free-trade trees.
Cared for, coddled
They live in easy assurance
Safe, for all their known life.

They’ve grown now
in their prime!
Lucky for the last time,
organic free-trade people
sing to them as they
are plucked rudely
thrown soundly into
organic free-trade sacks.

Sadly, but not surprisingly
these beans are bitter.
Until you roast them
(poor dears)

Then! My friends. Then!
They become:

Kick-ass!
Buzz worthy!
Nectar!

grinding joyfully through
your guilt-free
organic free-trade blood.

You heart beats faster
Joyful for the workout
To feel Alive!
Your flushed skin
sends signals to the brain
shakes your tired bones.

So you can work harder
Think faster, win, succeed!!
……………………………
to pay for your next coffee.
Left with no time
to be coddled, cared for
to coddle and care for a known life
to feel safe.

2 Minutes

IMG_1941
Ice bubbles wretchedly
through the dark corners
of my secret pond
thunder echoes through
this dark December valley.
Meets with the sky as
fireworks explode in the distance
curiously small against rundle range
Darkness expelled for a moment
I can see the way the lights and colors
reflect through his frosty eyelashes
Darkness returns
mixed with whoops and hollers like aftershocks
echo hollow through this new January night
another bubble gurgles closer to the surface
but there is no thunder no cracks
it’s a new beginning
Two minutes between this year and last

Christmas Sparklebug

IMG_3045

Glitter, Sparkles, Santa
Flying reindeer, miracles
happen all the time
When it’s Christmas
at least
That’s what I seem to be feeding
my family
Christmas shot straight into
the bloodstream
through the TV
mounted on the wall, flat.
Then frown and scold
when they act like junkies
glazed over greedy eyes
hands full of plastic candy
ungratefully begging for another fix
When it’s all over
they ask me
where was the magic mom?