With my tattered zombie hands
I force my redundant to chase
a cursor that doesn’t care I’ve
complained my way through
another white page.
The fruit of most days isn’t
plucked from a tree of success,
but the callous repetition
of what I won’t release.
Honesty is a bitch.
She doesn’t baby my feelings.
There’s no sugar in my ear,
or honey on the bread of
my confessions.
In the rawness of an untouched Monday
I look into a mirror I can’t manipulate,
or fool with a rose-colored tactic my bitterness
can be erased with a gentle air brush,
and wonder if I have enough
lipstick to paint a smile.
©Susie Clevenger 2025
Sometimes you just
have to work on yourself.
Welcome to my therapy.
Such vivid, visceral and lasting images and feelings. I love the allusion of the freedom of writing- a place where you don’t have to put on a face - Jae
ReplyDeleteHow I resonate with that first stanza. Smiles. Perfect! Wonderfully real and wise. Love the closing stanza too. The cursor on the blank screen, the mirror we cant manipulate. So good.
ReplyDeleteThat is the truth. The alternative is to become one of those jackwagons who thinks they don't NEED to work on themselves, and who wants that? It's tough sledding, though, and writing it out is a good way to barf those hairballs. I do it all the time. (Barf out the bad stuff through writing, not hairballs. *fiddles nervously*)
ReplyDeleteEvery. Word. Of. This.
ReplyDeleteAs always, Susie, your poetry does not mess around, but goes straight to the heart of us. So much of our core selves is a work in progress, a search to find the grace to deal with the slaps and blows handed us, and limited too often by "..the callous repetition/of what I won’t release." You don't know how much I relate to this.
ReplyDelete"I look into a mirror I can’t manipulate" -- The entire poem is a masterpiece, Susie, and the last two lines especially in its heartbreaking intensity.
ReplyDeleteFour fascinating poems for the price of one ticket! HOT DAMN. Great writing, Susie. If you insisted I choose a favorite, it would be #3.
ReplyDeleteThe third stanza is my favorite truth nugget!
ReplyDelete“ The fruit of most days isn't
ReplyDeleteplucked from a tree of success,
but the callous repetition
of what I won't release.” - Wow.