Sam Alexandra Rose

Category: Poetry

  • midway

    as a human
    I think                 I’ve gotten both better and worse
    I have improved
                                      and fucked up
    my flaws have multiplied
                      and dissipated
    I don’t know anything anymore
    the size of my ego
    once huge
           is now   s k ew e d
    and I don’t know how to go
    one way or another.
    I don’t want to stay here
    midway between nothing
    and nothing else.

  • This is helping

    I didn’t die today.
    What, that’s my inspiration
    for writing poetry today?
    I’m starting to wonder if there’s
    something wrong with me,
    but there’s no gaping hole
    where my optimism should be.
    Everything is intact. 

    Sometimes the kindest thing I can do for myself
    is repeat over and over in my head
    “This is not helping this is not helping this is not helping this is not” 

    When does poetry turn into the demented ramblings of a mad person?

    But this is helping this is helping this is helping this is

    People say life’s too short
    to not have fun
    but it’s also too long
    to not have fun
    so maybe life is the perfect length. 

    When people say “are you okay?”
    what does okay mean anyway?
    Is there one definitive definition?
    Okay is defined as:
    “satisfactory but not especially good”.
    But what I would call satisfactory might
    not be satisfactory for someone else.
    Is my okay your okay?
    If you were me, would you be okay
    or would you be fading and waning
    under the bright light of day?
    Yes, I’m okay, but that doesn’t
    really mean anything, does it?
    Maybe instead we should ask
    “are you good?” because good is
    good, there is no doubt about it.
    And if you’re obviously lying,
    why does nobody ever say
    “I don’t believe you”?
    I might say I’m okay when I’m
    feeling barely satisfactory at all,
    but there is no confusion in good.
    Though I sometimes wonder
    If it sticks around like it used to.

    This is helping this is helping this is helping

  • I never collapsed on you.

    I never collapsed on you.
    I tried really hard not to, and
    I always found somewhere else
    to lean, or to just fall over sideways.
    I hate that I was the one to make
    you worry, and I never go on guilt trips
    so this is new to me, but I made sure
    to buy a return ticket. 

    I’ll still never collapse on you.
    I could lean on somebody new
    but I’d just feel bad for that too, 

    eventually. I feel better telling myself
    that I never collapsed on you
    but a suppressed memory is telling me
    that’s not really true.

    I rarely collapsed on you.

  • Make-believe

    I hope the roads are straight from here,
    I hope the next year brings no fear.
    I hope injustice will be wiped out,
    so we’ll have nothing to be outraged about.
    I hope for no blemishes on our landscape,
    no more capsizing and everything shipshape.
    I hope everything’s going to be right as rain,
    and there’ll be only sunshine – no more pain. 

    I hope things go better than we could perceive –
    but sometimes hope is just make-believe.

    Happy new year. I’m a very happy and optimistic person, really… promise! Poetry just digs out the darker parts. I like to think of this simply as a realistic start to 2015.

  • daydeath

    thin clouds streak through the air
    once white and untouched, now
    made beautiful by a hidden
    yellow benefactor
    who watches from a distance.
    feeling peachy, the pale blue
    winter sky
    blushes
    and the sun knows it has completed
    its best work of the day
    right before
    it dies.

  • Book Spine Poetry

    image

    How to practise
    man’s search for meaning?
    Join me –
    I’m doing my best.

    The limited amount of books i currently have here combined with my partner’s extensive collection of I.T. books meant that the only offering I thought I was going to have was my partner’s suggestion of the following:

    Stephen King [presents]
    OS X Support Essentials

  • Second String

    I’m stuck somewhere between
    an apology and a “fuck you,
    this is the way it is” because
    you are the way you are
    with each other; there is no
    look-in for me.
    So why be surprised if I
    don’t always turn up to play
    second-string to your special
    friendship? There is obviously
    nothing you need from me
    and that is nothing new.

  • semi-colon

    The two most enchanting things you can do for me
    are to use a semi-colon correctly
    and to understand mine.

    Written on Saturday 27th December, 2014 at 21:02

  • Silence

    Every silence is diagnosed,
    assessed for awkwardness.
    Why can’t quiet be peace?

  • Self-exploration

    I am walking by a dark building
    What’s inside is bad news.
    Why must I always go in?
    Self-exploration ensues. 

    What’s inside is bad news
    But I can never just walk past.
    Self-exploration ensues
    But I don’t have all the answers. 

    I can never just walk past.
    Why must I always go in?
    I don’t have all the answers.
    I am walking by a dark building.

     Written on Tuesday 23rd December, 2014 at 23:01

    OH MY GOD

    I started off this poem asking why I always go inside the metaphorical dark building even though I know it’s awful inside, and saying I don’t know why I do this and that I don’t have all the answers to my questions about myself… and I ended the poem by answering myself – why must I always go in? because I don’t have all the answers, so I keep going back in until I find them. Holy crap, I’ve just accidentally figured out something about myself by writing a poem. I love that. I adore trying to psychoanalyse myself!

    [This isn’t the best thing I’ve ever written, but I thought I’d have a go at writing a pantoum for a change, and I’m so happy with the result, not because it’s well-written, but because having some kind of revelation about myself through poetry is one of the best feelings ever!]