One day we will recall
how we contributed to our own enslavement
Or we can forget
like we always have
And lay the blame
on someone else
Categories
Tag: Poetry
Categories
Locked Out
So much for lock downs
Gone are the days when
Doing your part
Was staying at h♡me
Now to do your part
Is to submit your autonomy
To rulers intent on
Achieving numbers
Improving economy dependent on
Temporary numbers
To secure an insecure future
What will come next?
I cannot say
But someone should
Depose to dissent
If only to capture
At least one other perspective
Though there should be
Perhaps millions expressed
Hegemony or survival?
Categories
My Grandpa Taught Me to Play Tetris
I say “yes” to each
Tetris block that falls
I say “I left space for you”
there is no good or bad
everything fits or doesn’t
I do my best.
How could I do more?
Your Playlist:
A Poem in 80 Songs
Runtime: 5 hr 10 min
Do you think about me often?
Like I’m a
Hex Girl?
Lucky You
because I
Diga, Diga, Doo
too
How I’d like to do
The Jitterbug Waltz
with you
Unchain My Heart
Spellbinder
I find your voice
Super Good
Tonight in the Moonlight
I Hope You Dance
Dog Trot
Dip It Low
and even
Lose Control
with me
we’re
Very Busy People
part of this
Nowhere Generation
Cherry Picking
On The Banks Of The Owichita
In Another Life
I think we were
Up and Rolling
I think we enjoyed
A Quiet Life
by the
Riverside
maybe on
Such a Night
I was your
Gypsy Queen
you, a
Wayfaring Stranger
melting my
Stonecold
heart
are you the
House of My Soul?
because
The Truth
is that your
Spring Fashion
is in
Perfect Harmony
with my
Taste
I felt I could be
The Yellow Rose of Texas
but then the mournful soul that sang
Tennessee Waltz
(It was Patti Page)
because you already had
Too Many Friends
Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm of The War Drums
while I was
Running Up That Hill
yearning for a
Higher Devotion
thinking
How Do I Get There
thinking I’m a
Bad Liar
thinking I can’t
Stop Thinking About You
even
Dreaming of You
nothing
Quite Like
anything I’ve felt before
at
Bedtime
with a
Mind on Fire
thoughts of you
Tearing Me Up
making me want to
Ruin Your Night
too, for making me
Think It Over
think that it was
Signals
for me, but it was just
Scotch and Soda
for you
I was a
Girl from the North Country
wandering, wondering
Where Have All the Average People Gone
not the one with
Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes
so when I feel this
Ghost Pressure
I call you
Troubleman
wondering
What Else Is There?
wondering is this the
Wrong Vibration
I
Got It Bad
and you’re
Making Me Nervous
because
I Got it Bad And That Ain’t Good
so I picture you saying
None Shall Pass
and the beg my
Fatal Fantasies
of you
Fade Away
knowing just the same
I’ll See You in My Dreams
In the Early Morning Rain
with your
Slow Hand
and I
Dream in the Dark
that I’m
Chainsmoking
Your Love
as if it’s the only way to
Stay Alive
and I’m
Beggin
Think About Me
Turn Your Love
to me
in
The Land of the Silver Birch
we’ll
Moondance
Tonight
Wasted
until I
Fade Into You
until the
Evening Star
is
Fallin’
For You
too
and I know I’m
Falling for U
too, thinking
I Fall in Love too Easily
Categories
The Clouds Have Come
I thought I was the sun
And I helped your garden grow
But without the rain, without reprieve
I scorched it to dust
And nothing more could thrive
Because I was relentless
We are lunatics
begging for rebirth
without wanting to experience death
What is a renaissance
when we can’t stop taste-testing
the poisons in our world
If we should relinquish
our attachment to destruction
and in turn accept death…
what then?
Categories
Inconclusive
So funny now
After a year of blaming one thing
We should now so easily
Find a cause of death
Inconclusive
Won’t it be wonderful
when we finally understand
cause and effect
Suddenly blame will not be
so effortless
by K. Samways
Categories
Lost Cleaning Practice
By K. Samways, 2021
Things that were difficult to clean
used to be household staples
Now they are replaced
by smooth and glossy electronics
attracting dust within a square metre radius
making for more efficient chore sessions
We are like quick machines
switching from one task to another
only able to keep an instruction in our mind
for a very brief time
because we must keep
switching
switching
switching
on and off
to this and that
repeat, correct mistakes
respond, complete task
submit
submit
submit
Our sleep is restless
and we no longer question our dreams
or if we do
It is in private, a shy task abandoned
before a journal entry is made on a public platform
until a journal entry is censored on a public platform
and we cry when no one reads our diaries
how unfair
how unjust
how unliked
We are like quick machines
lacking responsibility for our actions
for we were merely programmed by our society
conditioned by the ones we loved
so we are okay with it
because we call it
normal
normal
normal
and if we are not normal, what will others label us?
what would I label myself?
Would I call myself
nice
kind
patient
Do you wonder what was in a woman’s mind
as she dusted her house each day
undistracted by Spotify or cell phone cry
surely not everyone was seduced by day-drinking
and of course they had
morals
morals
morals
What was contemplated? Was it the same as
our current curse?
relentless, mean and negative
thoughts
thoughts
thoughts
If I am like a quick machine
conditioned by culture
groomed by carrot and stick seduction
a good girl’s malediction
only one thing would be
worse
worse
worse
And that would be to waste this opportunity
to instead program my minds to be
peace
peace
peace
love
love
love
joy
joy
joy
So I have filled my house
with objects that I need to
detail and clean with a fine tooth brush
so that I might learn to
focus
focus
focus
And to fill my heart
With precious living beings
I need to cherish and
love
love
love
To begin to set things straight, I clean my house
and my mind simultaneously
no status update needed
Categories
Snowflake Project
12.11.20 – Conception Statement
I have an idea for a new poetry collection: The Special Snowflake Project
It’s kind of supposed to sound stupid. That’s the trickery of millennialism. How can you value anything the same when you’re about to die? Though so are we – we have not the same awareness of death nor the self-grasping. Although we’ll get there without help.
Really, I see this project as an illustration of dependent relationships. That’s why I’ll describe how the project came to be.
Nothing exists from it’s own side.
I’ll drop you in the middle then.
Language was created, and we desired communication. We desired written communication. Written word was developed. It evolved. We moved from letters to books. Oral tales no longer enough. Writers inspired authors. Authors inspired Marian Keyes. She was moved to write a specific book that caught my specific eye when I was browsing in Chapters (Coles?) at the Conestoga Mall, a little heart broken, healing, day-dreaming, therapy-shopping, and I purchased The Brightest Star in the Sky. This book sat on several different shelves over 10 years, as I moved from place to place. Finally I put it up for yard sale, and it was still left untouched.
So I decided to carve it into pieces. Festive 2020 decorations made of the books I’ll never read, I think. Yet, after I punch the pages into new shapes (snowflakes), a strange desire to read them does arise in me. I use a sharpie (which also has a long history tied to communication we won’t go into now…) to block out words I don’t need, and I recycle inspired work into inspired work. Creative writing dependent on a long chain of personal and worldly apparently material but in fact entirely mind-made events.
This project is designed specifically to engage an awakening audience.
Glad you could join me.
Final Note: There is nothing wrong with recognizing yourself as a special snowflake. What could be more true? In this form, you are completely individual (with your own karmic path), yet eventually you will melt and return once more to ethereal connectedness with all other water droplets. Your true nature. Separateness was always an illusion. But you’re special nonetheless.
The Halfwit Writer 