I’m the one of those who thinks that when you name an artwork, you’re limiting the others to interpret it at it own way. I like to think about freedom, changes, human evolving, emotions, energy, melting pot … What do you think?
They ask, “How do you feel?”
You struggle for a word, locked behind doors, behind walls, behind ego
One syllable words flow with passive aggression and you’ve learned that “okay” is your favorite answer
You say that they do not need to know
But emotion is asking for the permission to be voiced
Permission to rebound from closed off vocal chords but you have not given the say so
You are shut off, numbed off from the reality that you have not told the truth for a long time
You have gone through the motions and now you are stagnant waters
A pool of water stuck under night and sun, rain and light, dirt and grime, anger and joy, testing and time Continue reading HOW DO YOU FEEL
We walk on eggshells
Tiptoeing through bars
Pronouncing each and every vowel
Dotting our I’s and crossing those T’s
Otherwise someone might become accusatory
Continue reading Cracked Emotions
Jealousy runs through my veins.
My mind turns against me with thoughts I can’t contain.
There’s no positive side to feeling this way.
It’s hard to hold back the snap,
things I never meant to say.
No, I know they’re not true.
It’s just that jealousy clouds me and I feel confused.
I am aware it’s not the best part of me
and it comes from all my hidden insecurities.
And the thought that maybe I am not enough…
Jealousy haunts me like a ghost.
But I am conscious of its presence
and I pray to God I will detain it.
Before, blind, I wreck havoc.
And hurt all the people I love.
© Máh Lima
Lying on the carpet
the color deep sea
As my tears fall down my face
I don’t know if it’s from Adele’s angelic voice
or the fact that you’re not here anymore.
So I lie there, and I listen to Adele singing about
my broken heart
and I want to call you,
I want to tell you to come back,
even though I know you’ll hang up on me,
and tell me to move on.
So I listen to Adele
and I cry.
Photo Credit: Jon Bright, Jr.
Void of emotion,
I can’t recall the last time I held one in my hand,
Without the help of a No. 2 or a Papermate.
It takes a sort of emptying of words:
Dripping from my eyes,
Crawling down my arms,
Sliding across my fingernails.
A glorified liberation
Until feeling returns.
There! I recognize it once again.
When I am finally immersed, standing knee deep in the poem,
No longer idly detached, more like my cat mid-air,
Full of hope. Sure. Alive. Aware.
I guess what I need to say is that I need this.
I said need.
Don’t confuse this for a hobby,
Or a misguided phase, like that time I antiqued.
It’s not even fair to say it’s an amusement,
Because sometimes, writing is whatever the opposite of amusing is.
I need it regardless,
Because after I walk through many of my poems,
If I make it to the other end,
I find more emotions than I can describe: