michael poem

she found comfort in their lyrics.
it was as if they were speaking directly to her.
it was as if they were looking her in the eyes, telling her it would be okay.
you may think she’s crazy for this “little obsession” and that she’ll get over this “phase”
but 20 years from now she’ll be watching TV or driving to work and she hears the words that make her stop what she’s doing.
 she’s going to stop and think back to the days when their posters were scattered around the walls of her room.
she’ll reminisce to the days when their lyrics were written in the margins of her notebook.
she’ll remember when she would sit at the back of the cafeteria and plug in her ear buds, listening to the words she could never seem to say.
she’ll remember and realize how much they did for her.
how they made her see the good in the world and in herself
she will realize how much they have impacted her life.
how she wouldn’t be stopping there at that very moment if it weren’t for them.
then she’d cry.
she’d cry because she never got to see them live.
because she never got to say thank you.
and when she thought she was done with this “phase”
all the memories of her in her teenage years come back to her.
and all of a sudden she feels like she’s sitting in her room again, watching their funny moments and music videos.
then she’ll look up to the sky and mutter a small thank you.
because they saved her life.
—  m.n.e

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.

John Coltrane watercolor by Maggie Umber, suggested by @bluemonkwrites and @ochregerde


dear john: we are trying
to hold a peace that crumbled
like dead leaves from months ago
i stare out windows
from my cliched cave
just so i can remember the direction
the sun once was
it’s cold in my office
and the energy it takes
to make another cup
sits in my pocket
in case i need to dodge a bullet

something tells me
that as it was for you
the early sleep is coming

until then
i run through the 12 keys
of the love supreme motif
trying despite this twisted spine
to stretch and flex against
the demons of dependence and noonday

meet me john
in the spaces between
confusion and resignation
and sing a psalm for us

–Michael Neal Morris @bluemonkwrites

There’s a demon inside all of us that tells us that we will fail. Our job is to tell it to fuck off.

Dear Woman:
You’ll just be too much woman.
Too smart, too beautiful, too strong.
Too much of something that makes a man feel like less of a man,
Which will start making you feel like you have to be less of a woman.

The biggest mistake you can make is removing jewels from your crown to make it easier for a man to carry.
When this happens, I need you to understand,
You do not need a smaller crown–
You need a man with bigger hands.

—  Michael E. Reid, “Dear Woman”