A Present

If we let our mistakes define us, if we can’t let our past go, we would still be apologizing for the vase we broke when we were four years old.

I can’t live like that! I make mistakes all the time.  I say sorry to others, to myself.  I get over it.  I move on with my life.

I’ve learnt a couple valuable lessons: it doesn’t kill you to make mistakes; likewise, it doesn’t kill you to say, “I’m sorry.” If you try and learn from your experiences, see what you could have done better/worse, then let it go, you become a better person.  You learn a lot about life.

But don’t ever feel too badly about it.  Once you’ve said you’re sorry (and meant it), once you’ve done the best you can, there is nothing left for you to do but let it go.

I’m not about to hang onto to a millisecond of my life because I made a mistake.

I have a million more moments to live, and I want them to be lived in the moment.

Live not for the past or the future, but for the present.

Masquerade

Lying beside my friend
I glanced sideways at her
and I said,
“I want to kill myself,”
the first time I said it out loud.

Her cheeks flushed,
embarrassed that I had uttered
the unutterable phrase and
determined that she
should not agree
with what I had to say.

“Everyone wears a mask,
I’m tired of them hiding,
I’m tired of hiding,
and I’m taking mine off
now.”

Her mouth opened to reply
to my bizarre, out of the blue
statement; her parted lips
spoke softly, soothingly,
devilishly calm:

“I guess I should also remove
the mask I have been wearing.
I don’t know how I’ve tolerated
your antics and dramatics
for this long.

“You telling me this, comes as
no surprise.
The look in your eyes
says you were not expecting
me also to have a disguise.
But do you see my face now?”

I did see it, but I made no sound,
rather, I began looking all around
searching for her discarded disguise
looking for the place
from which she drew her lies.

How long had we held this façade?
I wanted more than ever
to drain my own life flow
for this madness to be over
and never again to know
how it feels to be led astray.

While my lips frowned, hers smiled
with a kind of indescribable glee.
“I see I’ve caused you pain,
you silly selfish girl – for all
along you’ve seen yourself
but have you ever looked for me?

“You assumed I’d never wear a mask –
you assumed the best.
Your assumption, should it waver,
You still held in trust.
Do you not wonder if I am hurt
by your dishonesty also?”

I hadn’t.

“Warning: this may sound Condescending” A poetry analysis and encouraging of Awareness

Some people will shy away from this post because it is rather long, and it does not make them the centre of the universe – and a lot of people will be disappointed when they learn they are not at the centre of the universe.  But I believe it is important to be aware of different perspectives, and I encourage you to read on, learn something, and teach something in return.  Always pay it forward.

I preach a lot about awareness in my waking life, but I realized maybe I need to help people out with that one.  A lot of people have trouble opening their eyes to realize that there is more than one view in every situation, every circumstance, every second of your life.  There is more than one message being presented to you at all times. There is more than one motive in media.  And so on.

Because my specialty is English, I’m going to help by expanding views on simple words.  One of my favourite things about reading is the language itself.  The way writers put words together, the way they sound, the multiple meanings every word contains – some being as old as the English Language itself.  We forget that the way things are now, are not the way they always were.

In the “about” section of my blog, I state that not everyone has an English degree in reading poetry – following that I did not provide instruction because I assumed that warning would be fair enough.  Now, assumptions are dangerous things.  Not only does to assume make an ass of “u” and “me,” but it also means I’m not being aware of all the outcomes of the situation.  Here I will provide a short “English Lesson” on reading one of my poems.

I’m going to study it as though I did not write it – because when you read something, you can never know exactly what a writer is thinking.  You can only try and make meaning with the words that you are given.  I also want to state here that my blog is not only poetry – sometimes it’s random thoughts or statements I wish to make.  I believe in freedom of thought and speech, listening to the opinions of others, and acting spontaneously on whatever emotion I feel at any given moment.  It makes life a more beautiful thing.

“3 Parts”: an Analysis

When you begin to study poetry, one of the first things you learn is to differentiate between “the author” and “the speaker.”  The author of the poem (me, in this case), is the person who actually, physically, and literally composed and wrote the poem which you are presented with.  The speaker of the poem is the voice within the poem, the character speaking to you, as it were.  Not every poem is autobiographical in nature.  For more information, click here.  Otherwise, since we have established that the speaker of the poems are not the same as the writers, don’t have to share the same views and perspectives on life, and can differ vastly, we’ll move on.

For time, and personal energy’s sake, I will only analyse Part II of “3 Parts” (which you can click here to read).

The first sentence: “I hate it here” is very ambiguous.  Where is “here”?  The speaker of the poem has given readers no identifying characteristics.  It is the first line in the second part – does it even carry through from the first directly?  “Here” could be interpreted, therefore, in a number of ways.  It could be a specific, unidentified location in which the speaker is situated.  However, it could also reference the world as whole, “here” being the very earth itself.

The poem continues: “the place is filled with princesses.”  The “place” is equivalent to whatever “here” is.  If we continue with “here” being the world, then we can understand that the world is filled with princesses.  This makes sense given the time of writing by the author: the middle class is fading out of existence, the “One Percent” have control over much of the world, if you know her, you’d know she (the author) goes to a school where many people are over-privileged and don’t experience the same difficulties.  This could be inspiration to this line.  People, akin to princesses, would have values such as money, clothing, status – such as a princess.  It is a metaphor.  The place (the world) is filled with princesses (entitled people), then the metaphor becomes the world is filled with naïve, sheltered people who do not have the ability to see the issues affecting every day man.  The privileged few seem to be everywhere – and the speaker is an outcast.

The poem continues: “a sorrow blooms in my chest…heart is heavy.”  The next stanza is filled with a deep melancholy.  The speaker’s use of flowery personification for sorrow shows its expansion and has a quality of actually overtaking the speaker’s life.  It affects both the head and the heart.  It has the ability to grow and consume, being alive like a plant.

The speaker also starts talking about smoking (nicotine) cigarettes.  The cigarette is highly connected to a slow death in this section.  Depression is often likened to a painful, slow, life-taking disorder.  This resonates with the cigarette-smoking since cigarettes slowly kill over the years of smoking them, causing multiple problems from yellowed fingers (symbolizing old age before your time) and actually cancer taking over the body.  The abundance of sorrow and death imagery in this poem, including “a restriction in my chest,” meaning loss of breath, shows how the speaker is having such trouble coping in the world (“here”), that she is both “weighted” and “light” – disorientated and experiencing a slow death.

This has overwhelming effects on the speaker’s person – this slow death, this loss of breath, this sorrow – so that it is channelled into a confusion of emotions where she struggles between “murderous rage” and “not caring” at all.  She is clearly leaning towards rage since she expresses “to not care would be a wonderful blessing” – but then goes on to ponder if she really does.  So readers are constantly confused: is this a speaker who is about to break under the weight of her weary world?  Or is she just complaining and doesn’t really care at all?  Doesn’t want to care?

Her, potentially yellowed and withered fingers, are bunched into a fist.  She “imagine[s] smashing it into a face…or three.”  We see here that she does not plan to take any action in her emotions.  She internalizes her feelings to imagination.  The use of “a face” or “three” is also interesting.  If she said a face or two, then we could assume a couple of people could take away her rage.  But her use of an ellipsis followed by “and three” – a number of completeness – suggests a progressing action.  It could be a face, or three, or ten, or one hundred.  The number encapsulates unlimited possibilities.  She would have to imagine smashing everyone’s face who is contributed to the wrongs of the world to get out her “murderous rage.”  This leads into the turning point of the poem.  In the lines following she has an epiphany.

The speaker would not ever act her imaginings in life because she doesn’t want a world with violence.  It is the exact thing she is working against.  So, even though the wrongs of the world, the violence, the selfishness drive her to her own confused and violent thoughts, she concludes that violence is not the answer.  Externalizing her rage in a negative way is tantamount to her becoming one of the people she loathes.

In the next passage she states that she stays her hand so that it does not harm anyone – concluding that her revelation was to not harm anyone or anything.  She also bites her tongue – this silence causes “blood” to drip “over [her] lips and down [her] chin.”  This action of silence is also damaging, we see.  Silence is physically harming the speaker.

Her loneliness and oneness in this place of princesses is reaffirmed when she states “There is no one to kiss away this pain” and there is nothing to truly help her with “this thing / Held over me.”

It is a sad poem of hopelessness, of no action taken, of existing in a place where you are alone and the world is not an understanding or good place to be.

I hope this helps the few who care to read it. I could have gone into far more detail, I’m sure.  Or closer analysed some of the imagery: but I’ll leave it to you to investigate further if you are interested.  The purpose was to at least move away from an initial reading where everyone will interpret a poem based on their own understanding of life, and their own thoughts on how things revolve around themselves.

Let’s all move away from our initial reactions and look for something deeper. We may not always find it, but at least we can say we tried. At least we can say, “I did my best.”  Are you doing your best?