Creations of the Written Word

happy (to a friend)

he touched her hand
she smiled like the sun

he stroked her hair
she beamed like the moon

he caressed her body
and she fell into him.

trapped deep inside him
safe and warm
she peers out between the bars
of his ribcage

she doesn't sing anymore
or dress up the way she used to
she lives only in him and for him
never steps out with her friends

and sometimes I wonder,
is she really happy?
or just content?

and mostly,
I miss the wild times,
like when we went out
for a drive in the purple car
blaring disco
leaning out the window
to wave and whistle
at handsome young men

we whirled along
our crazy giddy existence
happy. just happy.

Culture

Often people stop and look
or glance,try to be subtle
"Pardon me"
they say
"But where are you from?"
the answer is always the same
after seventeen years,
it's like a bland recording
"I'm American, but..."
It's the but I hate.

Why should they care
if my father comes from
Pakistan
or Greece, or India,
or Timbuktu?
They say
"How wonderful for you!"

Why is it wonderful?
And how would they know?
They didn't spend
all their life under
a control freak father
who thinks women
must be hidden.

Fourteen years under a veil
and three since I broke out
the pain it cost me to let go
isn't somehting you want to know
forever torn between two worlds
and never really letting go.

FK~2/99

(Untitled)

I'm so tired of tears
Sick of the bitter sting
Love gone bad
Love gone fake
Don't want to hear
Your empty promises
And I don't want your pity
I don't want the words
"It will happen for you
If only you are patient."
Some might say
That I'm just another teenage girl
Too young to know what love is
Or what to do if I have it
But I say they're wrong.

I know what I want,
I know who I am,
And I've spent all my life
Breaking down your barriers
Reforming notions
Of what you think I can do
So hear me out
Just one more time
Don't tell me lies
Or hand me platitudes,
I love, will love, and have loved you.

Nightmares

Trapped,
forever lost within the maze
gray mist swirls around,
clouds my eyes,
I look up,
can't see
just gray, gray, gray.

Beyond the gray
lies the night
the long empty dark
the cold voices
screaming in the wind.

Voices, voices from the past
angry, hate-filled
longing to remove me
forever from this earth.
One clawed and
stretches our and makes a grab...

And then I wake
damp with my own tears
sobbing like a child
not ready
or willing
to greet the dawn of a new day.

Ode to Valentine's Day

Sinatra's on the stereo
and a cup of cocoa's by my side
but really
there's more Bailey's now
not that I care
it's the perfect companion
for a trite Hallmark (tm) holiday
that manages to catch me unaware

Sinatra croons about love,
and I drain the cup
hoping the bittersweet taste
will somehow erase my brain
or maybe my heart
I'm not sure which is what
after my 4th cup.

Stupid heart
never listens
stupid men that I date
men that I hate
What do I care?
not like this matters
but oh,
for a moment
I thought it would be nice,
to be held by you
today of all days
and shaking my head
I reach for the bottle.

I seek the warm caress
of my self-destruct lover
who's so polite
never gropes or gripes
or complains, he keeps me warm
and happy for a time,
leaving me with nothing worse
than a headache
which is kinder than the
heartache most lovers leave.

So I figure I must be okay,
because I've got you
and you don't need me
and we like it this way
so, who needs a real man anyway?
Just hand me a bottle,
and Frank's voice to croon to me,
To hold me, keep me warm,
on this long, cold night.

No Place

Bang! I close the door
walk out
get out before
the noose of walls
closes about my throat
out to the pavement
the cold wind
bites my cheek
paper swirls along
falls like a dying bird
green light changes to red
down the street
I think
It's a great night for psychos
Turn and stare blind
in glaring headlights
and all I see
before the fade to gray
is a man
walking
disappearing over a hill
toeing the twin yellow lines
right in the center
with no place else to go

Stairs

I remember being tiny
sliding down those
dirty orange carpeted stairs
pigtails bouncing
down to mummy
and daddy, newly home form work
smiling
running to hug my daddy's knee
"Not now dear,
your father's tired."
not knowing any better,
I babbled on
told of my adventure
with the bully of the street
how I got back the toys he stole.
At first he looked bored
then he yelled
every word resounded fury
I don't remember what,
but I slunk away, up the stairs,
counting slowly in my head
those ugly orange stairs
One...two...three...four...

I went to the house,
Daddy smiled,
said how happy he was to see me
I nodded, half-smiled
mumbled something appropriate
and looked just inside the door,
the stairs were still there.
Only now,
the ugly carpet is gone
and the woodens stairs are bare
stark and cold
I know exactly how many there are.
Thirteen.
Thirteen steps in all,
and I know
I know that my father
is just like those stairs.
Once ugly,
now he's just bare
living the stark old age
of a bitter young man.

Are You a Vampire Too?

Can you swim, can you drown?
Will you smile, or will you frown?
Why does a star fall from the sky?
Why do people live and die?
Do the dying live,
Or do the living die?
If the waters close above your head,
Will you find the strength to rise from bed?

These questions you ask of me
you ask the questions that burn
within my already damned soul
and I am powerless
Caught in your gaze
like prey.

You smile at me now,
You have much to learn young one
about the ways, the ins and outs
of this crazy mortal world
are sometimes a mystery even to us
Buy you, my child
you are ahead of them all.

Now I smile, bitter and sweet
and angry, furious at a god
and a world that pushed me ahead,
further than the rest.
They say innocence is bliss,
but I wouldn't know,
innocence was never my gift.

Now you place a hand upon my shoulder
a cold hand, strangely alive
and read my eyes
with a gaze hypnotic in
the power of it's knowledge.
I know you are angry
you hate who you are,
who they made you become,
but come, learn to rejoice.
Learn to love and laugh in the dark.

And as I begin my trek
travelling deep inside my own head,
I see a beam of silver light,
shine down, showing me my path of right.