Anytime i begin to love in he popd into my life again

Conversations in the mirror

Haunted

First date memories

Trapped

Happy

todays tea: overly sweet mixed berry black tea
Date with yourself
Approach the counter
 Ask for a table for one,  but not a small one you deserve the biggest one in the restaurant
You deserve a large place setting
Your plate should be filled 
You should eat all you need
Your silverware finally touched
This is a meal for you and only you, 
sitting in the chair just you at the long table no other chairs needed
 the meal is what you deserve the love you've starve yourself of
 so be greedy and enjoy every bite
 no longer waste your time on the self hatred and the mirror gazing at yourself sulking at your form,
 the beauty that is you has been lost for so long,
It's time to appreciate yourself and all you do
 do you see the light emitting from your house, calling you,
you belong here 
you are loved, 
You are needed
Take a moment to look at the sky above
the moon is out, the stars are shining 
Let yourself be at peace
Do not fight yourself
why don't you take yourself out on a date, 
 you and only you
Why not fill your stomach with a meal of self love
You and only you
 Why not cherrish the person at the table who decided to take you out?
You and only you
Why not love the body instead of the looking glass you stare into?
You and only you
Why not treat yourself to the love notes better than the ones you sent but went unnoticed?
You and only you
To love yourself
for you at the end of life will be here at the table alone with yourself, shouldn't you want to spend the end with someone you love?
Take the pen
Write a poem under candle light and frame it, a love poem to you, to read at every meal, to read on your last date, tell yourself to have an open mind and loving heart, to dig in and enjoy the life you were born worthy of.
 
Bad times
Sometimes I have to remind myself that there will be bad weeks, 
not just bad days, 
but a series of days lumped together that over all are awful,
 and a few times there will be bad months, 
made up of a series of angonizing weeks, 
and rarely will there be bad years, 
where months on end come together and just were something I could not stand as a whole, 
but I have to remember there are good hours in the bad days,
 alright days in the bad weeks,
 livable moderate weeks in the awful months,
 okay months in the angonizing years, 
and its going to get better I tell myself even in darkness.
You are allowed to be human
You are allowed to express those emotions
You are allowed to cry
You are allowed to breathe
You are allowed to stop 
You are allowed to say no
You are allowed to feel human
You're okay
What you are feeling is okay
Please stay.


In case you're feeling extra lonely today
Know that when I look into your eyes I see the whole night sky, twinkling so bright, baby it's alright
Know that when your hair is a mess, I never see you as any less than beautiful, darling you make my life wonderfully unusual
Know that when you're crying I will do everything I can, I won't stop trying, to make you see the color you give to life, sweetheart you have so much strife.
Know that when you smile it's like a thousand sunflowers are blooming for miles and miles, honey you don't know the sunshine you bring to my day, and I only wish I could take your pain away
Know that when I'm standing next to you in the cold, holding your hand is the only thing that warms my bones, you're so lovely
Everyday I fall for you so abruptly
Know that when you're apologizing for being yourself, I am still in love with every part of you, not wishing you were someone else, 
My dear on the days when you feel exceptionally lonely when I am not around 
Know that I am missing the sound of your love, the beat of your heart, and the way you make the world into the prettiest piece of art.

Thank you all for listening and  if you would like to support this podcast or buy me a cup of tea
You can at ko-fi.com/unwrittennat

Thanks again and Have a happy healthy new year

poetry podcast

Warm Mug of phantom Poetry episode 2: self care and the new year

Where he slept:
picture love stapled to the walls of your bedroom,
Above your pillow are memories shaped like photographs,
Under the bed is a tool box of Secrets. 
The lamp illuminates intimate touching ruminates our connection,
We wipe off the make up, lipstick made of wine, eye shadow made of ciggerette ash,
The record player plays laughter and tears,
We are filled with noise.
Drinking books and getting high off our conversations, Hands interlaced like fabric, freshly washed, not yet worn. 
Being held. 
Holding each other. 
Taking up space with our physical forms.
Blankets made up of old journals, 
The warmth of words in mugs with Lemon on the side,
Would you like some honey in yours, 
I don't need any in mine
I have your sweetness, 
Eyes glistening, shining, lighting up the dimness, 
It's night time now and we are turning out the stars, we are tucking in the moon beneath a cloud, 
Wrapping the trees in snow,
The river is filling its mouth with rain. 
To be alone, home, in this place .
The doors of our eyes closing slowly.
Blinking  to somewhere else,
Blink, 
Slumber to another life,
Blink, 
Another world. 
Blink
Does it spin the same way?
Does it feel the same?
How does it cycle?
We cast our shadows against  the ally way, as the sun begins to open it's light to us, 
We wake up the sun kissing our skin.
"Good morning" says the Sun.
Quiet voices are switched on the radio when we turn the dial.
We slip on a new day.
Our breakfast is the somberness of this silence.
We are drinking the calm of being awake in glasses over ice cubes, 
Shades on the lamps stay dark, our souls are the windows letting the sky in, the light hits the walls of the room, 
Can you see it? 
Can you feel it? 
Do you know what I am talking about? 
The love changes the color of the space, 
We decorate the the bed post with streamers and balloons filled with expierences
The dust floats and carries our thoughts in the air,
Hand me a thumbtack I want to stick it to the wall with this feeling right here. 
The laughing,
The crying,
The caring, 
The sleeping, 
The arguing, 
The falling in love,
I want to go to sleep with it,
I wanna live with you there, In a room no one else can know.

He liked to set fires
So it's no wonder he lit the match inside my body
forced me to burn alive 
So he could keep his cold unbeating chest warm, 
He didn't care about the homes he destroyed, 
he just wanted to watch everything go up in flames
Every time he turned on the stove, I watched his eyes dance like tinder, 
his fingers melted my skin, like wax, my words became a puddle of oil,
 He turned my "no" to anything to just keep me from the 3rd degree, 
Anything to turn my not-yes in to “well, maybe,”
To keep me from giving him
The cold shoulder. It doesn’t take long
Before these lungs begin to
Smoulder 
I feel numb, as the Sparks still hit the rocks with a gentle hum
I am filled with the memory of his smoke
How my ears miss the sounds i made when i choked,
I've began to romanticize his arsen like tendencies,  no longer something to fantasize, there were no remedies
I think I craved being the charcoal, his fuel, I was his tool
Now there is ice in the spots he used to be and I still can't get my voice out my throat
I remember how
In his presence it didn't even feel like 5 degrees needed a coat
There are icecles hanging on my spine, the smog he left will always be apart of this body i call mine 
I don't think I miss the burning, I just think i miss the warmth of someone who never loved me.
 
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warm cup of phantom poetry

Warm mug of Phantom Poetry Episode 1

today's tea Lavender Earl Gray
After Low

What happens next is an after low
Some people get an after glow
A sort of high a renewed will to stay alive, or to survive
After the energy has left
I lose my pep
I fall down
My depression sea drowns
My heart
Pulls me apart
like a drug I'm addicted to the moment before
Keep running back for more
Then I'll run away
Because I got problems I put off for another day
That sensation of its over and ending
Wishing I could just break and not keep bending
The world moves slow
And I'm trapped in a feeling of low
There is no escape or exit
The lights of my mind are dim lit
Everything is hollow and lonely
There is nothing left of me
What's going on in my head
I feel like I'm suffocating in blankets of my bed
I didn't leave it it just ended its over
Because I crave the past moments of joy I can never be sober
I don't need to drink or smoke
When I'm on the stage I don't feel nervous or like I might choke
Its just what happens after
I'm put in such a damper
Floating in the ocean on a raft
Is that depression or just a draft
In the air
I don't think I even care
It's a low
No one knows
I mask it with a smile and a pleasant attitude
So people don't know my saddening mood
Its an after low, you say no
Don't feel the way you do
If only you knew
I cant control the way I feel
I keep replaying the happy moments trying to make them real
But its gone
Like a band with a one hit wonder song
I wish I could prove myself wrong
And pick myself up and let the sadness go but I cant
What a stupid rant
Once everything is done
Others will be filled with satisfaction like a contest they have won
But me
I watch that energy
As it leaves every part of my soul
Suddenly I'm dull void and null
The moment of okay has taken its toll
Some people get an after high
While I just want to die
I'm in an after low
And you you look so good in your after glow.

The actor a poem for naomi

The actor is not faint of heart
Not a wanderer or a drifter
They come on with purpose
Moving forward knowing exactly where they are going
The actor draws you in effortlessly
The actor captures your eyes, leaving you utterly mesmerized
Stealing your breathe for a moment
The actor commands the stage for it's an arena
The actor presents the arts we humans need to survive
Take me on a journey dear actor
Tell me a story only you know the words to
I don't see you my dear actor
I see this new person
A stranger
But suddenly I've come to love them
This beautiful character
They have charms and quarks,
They are real
A breathe
You breathe passion and life
A physical being has come to life
Actors, they souls of fire that demand things of our mind
As audience it is our job to listen
So open your ears my fellow audience members
Dance with the actor's tale


Perform
I'd rather become deformed
Than lose my ability to perform
I need to stop destroying my body through intricate forms,
I crave that stage, that anxiety filled haze
The glowing lights that move my shadow to beige
The after glow that puts me in a daze
My body comes alive
My spirit takes a dive
Its freedom,
I take control of my presence
Yet its so easy to forget my essence
The self loathing i have come to know well
Has covered me in thorns that do begin to swell
I was born to perform
And i will die, the stage will not mourn



Linda gray sexton book: Searching for Mercy Street: My Journey Back to My Mother Anne Sexton


Following artaud
Listening to artaud
At the scholars conference
They talk sanely
Of madness I pretend
To be sane
But I am demented
Like our hero

Following artaud
Into the forbidden
Where he lost himself
In madness
I strive for the infinite
Possibilities
Like the insane
 
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 ko-fi.com/unwrittennat

Warm mug of phantom poetry

Warm Mug of Phantom Poetry Episode 3: The Theatre

This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea and today's tea is constant comment also known as orange spiced black tea

Body check, intrusive thoughts, and my friend the mirror
If you lift up my shirt you’ll find a gut,
A month ago it was ribs
I zone out as the food enters my mouth but
I’m okay, I’m healthy now
My friend the mirror has never talked back
The scale just says a number
I liked it better when food was what I lacked
I still count all my calories
I track everything I do, eat and say
my appetite is gone
I force myself to eat anyway
I still feel I’m not enough
I still do body checks
It’s not as simple as waking up
My body I sometimes still see as a fat wreck
I’m still recovering
Sometimes I can’t handle it
The food on the plate is overwhelming
Sometimes I just wanna lay down or sit
On the bed and not eat a single thing
It’s not easy, but no one said it would be
It’s not fun but it is attainable
My goal is to walk by the mirror and not see
All my imperfections, i just want to see me
Sometimes the smell of food makes me nauseated
Sometimes I wish like an animal I was sedated
asleep that would be better than leaning over the toilet bowl
Knowing nothing will come out
‘What’s your goal’
They’d ask, ‘to be thin?’
I wanted to disappear and be forgotten
The thoughts cloud my mind some nights
I can’t do anything but hear them
I think of how it’s always gonna be a fight
Things like food constantly difficult
Suck it up they say it’s harder to be sober
to get off a alcohol or drugs
But what has the highest death rate? 
An eating disorder
Some days I love my body
Some days I don’t
Some days I eat all I need
Some days I can’t fight the voice that says skinny people won’t
Some days I get out of bed and go for a walk
Some days I don’t even have the urge to talk
Maybe I’m a shell of who I was
Living in ana’s buzz
I try again if I fail today
As the saying goes tomorrow’s a new day.
Body poetry-
Poetry on her thighs,
to stop the cuts 
to end the lies
Short stories on his arms
Its not all charm
it stops him from self harm
little notes on their chest
as they try to get some rest
the world's a little less of a mess
compliments on feet
to remind you to eat,
that depression, annerexia and social disorders can be beat
funny jokes on our fingers 
to stop the memories that linger
to end their hateful stingers
one line
more than a few times
a sweet rhyme
to the the marks that are not only mind
you are one of a kind.


Part 2
poetry on your left thigh, 
silly things you cant deny,
 youre through with trying not to cry, 
Poems on your right thigh
wanting to forget the lies,
 today you felt as worthless as a fly
Short stories on your right arm wanting to forget self harm, 
this odd old alarm, 
Essays on your left arm
 they only see your charm
See your body growing like a farm
little notes on your chest, 
maybe tonight youll finally get some rest, 
Your words come out as a shaky gumbled mess, 
as you try to not feel less, it's okay you're doing your best
compliment on your feet that remind you to eat,
talking of daily goals you can meet, 
that depression, anxiety, anorexia, and social disorders can be beat, 
funny jokes on our fingers, 
to avoid the memories that linger,
 they disapate their hateful stingers, 
messages on your back to stop
 yourself from a panic attack, focus on what you have not what you lack,
 quotes on your shoulders, 
to guide you as you get older, 
even when the days get colder, 
letters on your neck, 
some days youll be a wreck,
but its okay to fall from the card deck
Sentance on your tummy 
Don't hide your laughter when you hear something funny
never give up
trust your gut
one line
more than a few times
trying to read signs
understand sweet rhymes
to bring an end to the marks that are not only mine
We are one of a kind

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 4: body

Singer, poet, actor and playwright. Just here to create art and share it with the world

N. J. Saroff The Planetarium's Phantom Poet