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Tag Archives: poems

Can’t swim
but love to study the waves

My favourite part of the day
is when it’s raining
Ah, blue o’clock
I take my time coming home

Trouble
you’re in trouble…

I sing to myself when I catch him
in my breath

His eyes:
two liquid capsules full of transparent blur
red-rimmed and open ocean blue
He
was barely there

When asked what’s up
his head hangs like a crooked frame on a wall
and the little yellow and red Lego pieces of me
instantly connect
to the ton of bricks on his shoulders
I know, I know
You shouldn’t play with road kill.
But it’s like holding a camera in your hands with no flash
and you must make light of the situation
I guess the best way to explain it
is that
wherever he is, I’ve been there

I get it

Despite surviving a semi-detached house full of split personality
part of me believes
I deserve to be forgotten, left alone unwanted
Sometimes I feel like a rescue dog, you know?
Scared
and hungry
for something other than what could be held in my mouth
or sometimes I feel like an ex-jock
who can’t help but be loud and drag around a stupid Letterman jacket
I might run ahead a few blocks
but I always look back
and it’s complicated to fall
for someone who doesn’t want to be who they are
It’s counterproductive to react (it doesn’t do any good to feel bad)
The hardest part of being there is knowing when to step back

I step back, out of the way

His eyes, two tidal waves
of Come At Me
or Get Out of My Face

I can tell he’s been chasing shadows and leaving dead people
all over town
Not that he’s in any danger per se
but he’s desperate to escape from living out the corner of his eye
so I make him a bed he can’t refuse
circle around it a few times
before laying down
and joining in

We reach for our slingshots and fold into each other’s laughter
pointing at those who scurry by with their newspapers and umbrellas
because we love the rain
we love the water and
would kill to have something we’re made of
destroy us
Using my arms for scaffolding, I build myself up into a seated position and…
He’s a copycat!
Mocks the way I study the waves
and I’m… flattered

Because it doesn’t matter
if you’re looking through trash or looking through
glass,
you always find what you’re looking for

Britta B.

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With my impatience
I can build a Ruin in a day
and let it ruin my whole week

Britta B.

Ever since I was born I can remember
I both hated myself and wanted
to make people’s lives better.
I learned very slowly
that these two energies don’t
work together, they work against each other.

Sometimes, I still hate myself
but I know this is a passing feeling or thought
that I am stronger than. That I am loved despite this.

But what will always be a part of me is my
undying urge to make a difference.
                                              To change somebody.
                                              To inspire and encourage.

Britta B.

It’s not true, you’re just crazy
’bout

lips and tips,
                      garment rips
hot tea sips and flips a table
turn tables; Gladys Knight and the Pips
under a lunar eclipse
saw a rock climber with identity grips
paper clips
you, me and all these ex relationships
first class trips into
                         vanilla
                                 dips
Bloods & Crypts
Goons, tunes and hips
swinging half moons and heavenly
hash chocolate chips
rocky
mountains
and smooth sailing ships
you, me and all these Jump Rope for Heart beat skips…

You wanted a little more, didn’t you?

Britta B.

Standing
Posing
Looking out, perched on the corner
of Shuter and Parliament… above Queen Street
looking for somewhere to go

I’m on a quest for
something
but I can’t tell you what I’m looking for

***

Sometimes big puffs of black smoke will
come along,
I always think my first heartache is the driver;
it takes me a sea of molten lava constructed in under 36 seconds by the
holding of my breath to not run
out into the street, bang on the hood of that car
screaming, “It’s me!! I found you!”

Britta B.

Ever had a thousand words to describe a picture
only you can see?
in a language only you can speak?

I think we all have our privileges
I think we all got our struggles
we just gotta find that speck of light sometimes, for me
it’s the moon 
it reminds me there’s a light at the end of the tunnel
it just means we’re all going through something

we are all going through it
respect the pace

It took my whole life to get here
and I still got a long way to go
places to see
people to meet
a better me to be
                                and

I give myself permission
to be whole
despite my holes, I am whole
despite my brokenness,
                                I am whole
I’ve fallen apart before, haven’t you?
when we fall apart, we fall together
“sometimes when we breakdown it is really a breakthrough”

Imagine a jar,
a beautiful Alabaster jar decorated with delightful designs and colours
the only way to know what’s inside is to break open this jar
Now, imagine yourself as this jar
decorated with delightful designs and colours

In life, sometimes we have to be broken to be opened
we have to be broken to be open
we can keep it all in
or we can choose to let it go
Give yourself permission to go somewhere unknown

we are neither created nor destroyed
but when we are broken, we transform

This feeling’s a little scary (okay, it’s really scary)
but haven’t you already survived a time you once believed
was the scariest part of your life?

maybe you have scars to show
but here you are today –
look how far you’ve come!
look how much you’ve grown
we are all going through something 

Trust your struggle and you will grow
you will grow

It won’t be easy, it will take a lot of work (and at times, you’ll feel alone)
trust your struggle anyway
it’s messy and
beautiful

Britta B.

Fine, I’ll admit it. I have trouble with
biting my nails

I constantly do it
and the dirt sticks to my gums
giving me reason to spend Sunday mornings in bed
on Google, Wiki-doctoring this weird *sucks teeth*
itch in my mouth

it’s Gingivitis. Totally Gingivitis.

I end up at the drug mart self-prescribing Gingivitis fighting
Colgate Total, $3.99 (WTFraggle Rock, man? #pennypincher)

On the way to the check-out counter I can’t help but get stuck
in the magazine section flipping through the latest Rihanna scandal 
and her most recent break-up with you know who
biting my nails all over again…

I guess we all have our habits to break

Britta B.

I don’t care ’bout the same things no more
I’m screaming in sign language
behind a brick wall
reaching into a kitchen cupboard with the
blender turned on, high-powered: 
Give me something new!

Britta B.

I hate the word “speechless”
but the English language is what I speak most
yet, amongst all of the letters and the sounds and the meanings it consists of
I have nothing to say
nothing true enough in its form to describe the immense amount of
appreciation I have for you

Lil’ buddy, you make me embarrassingly proud

I can react to disappointment like an animal
use my outdoor voice to spill my best kept secrets
slam a door in your face
act a fool
cry, pig out, cry, leave the country, cry,
not talk to you for days (because that’s all we can ever really last)
go out and make friends with strange and unusual people
use words I don’t know the meanings of and cry
let myself think for a moment that it’s possible to lose you then cry some more
and there you’ll be – right beside me on a stoop
somewhere, anywhere because this city is ours
no matter how many names deface it with graffiti we can’t read

The other day, you tried reading my palm with a stack of cards you found in a house
you keep coming back to despite your plans and executions  
and I wondered –
what are you really trying to tell me that
I don’t already know?

And now I remember
how you’ve always been a reminder
a red tie around my finger
a badge of honour, a souvenir
you are the acceptance speech I wrote when I was 6 years old
after throwing crying fit in my closet
because you get me when words fail me

There is no sound for this

It’s not like me to be the unlikely me so upfront, so close and personal
but you welcome me
and there is no sound for this
there is no sound in welcoming the unsound
it is merely a silent
ovation
  

Britta B.

*LOVE YOU, LIL BUDDY!! HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY
MAY ALL YOUR HAKIM “THE DREAM”‘s COME TRUE!!!* 

What do you not want me
to see?
Stop distracting me
from how quickly you
lose interest in
things, come
sit with me in the
quiet place where you
think no one can hear
you and tell me what
you’ve been telling yourself
not to say…

Britta B.