Waste Not, Want Not (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Oct 12 2009

Sex
is so tricky;

It’s so easy
to get someone to love
how you look in their bed.

It’s so easy to
be wanted
and ride that high
unaware
there’s no where to land
unaware
what changed while you were up there.

It’s so hard to tell
when words are as real as they can be
and when they’re bargains for heavy breaths
(or the heavy breaths, bargains for words- we all know how that works).

It’s hard to tell
when everyone’s on the same page
and when
by some slight of hand
the page turns-
burns
love and lust
separate
instead of having them become one
movement
all in the same.

People lie and say
it doesn’t matter, no strings attached.
Never believe that.
Sex has never been
clean cut.
There has never been
“just a fuck”.

Bodies are driven, have motives, have spirits-
everything means something.
So
it should be a rule-
we have to love the ones we fuck,
no matter what.

And we have to trust the ones we love-
Isn’t that equation clear enough?
Take the guess work out of it.
Make it count.

We should demand to refuse
those
so bent on wreckage-
so concerned only with
their moment.

Sex should be fun
as much as is it should be love.

Make it matter (because it already does).

Waste no
body’s
offering.

Minimize nothing
with manipulation or make believe.
We owe our lovers all the honesty we’ve got
(and we should love the ones we fuck).

Waste no
heart’s efforts
with tricks and games
(where not everyone’s a player, but everyone gets played).

Waste not-
bodies or hearts
or want not-
right from the start.

5 Responses »

 

I hope this counts (by Rebecca Chasteen) Saturday, Oct 10 2009

I want to apologize
every time he touches me
because I’m so sorry
it’s not you.

You know I tried,
right?

Or doesn’t it count-
so long ago?
Or doesn’t it matter
at all?

I hold tight to hope
while shadows push their way
as far as they can go,
take everything they can…

They can’t
take this-
this part that’s been waiting.

You know
I always wanted YOU-
right?

2 Responses »

 

Hard to mend (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 15 2009

I told her to be careful of the dreams she weaves,
and all the things she makes herself believe

He said nothing when she said she felt
Nothing like this before with someone else
He let her spin and weave the fantasy
That made him more than he would ever be
Too many girls take love from a kiss
In which no trace of love exists

You should have seen the way she looked at him
But dreams come true less than they end

She wrote him letters
And she called his phone
He never answered and she felt alone
It really didn’t take that long to see
The guy she loved wasn’t reality
Too many girls lay down with men
To wake and find how quick dreams end

He let her cry, he let her curse his name
She let him know nothing would feel the same
Too many hearts aren’t broken by men themselves
But by girls who dreamed them into something else

I told her dreams unraveled can be used again
But it turns out that dreams are hard to mend.

2 Responses »

 

The “Hard” Collection (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Jul 28 2009

Hardest session (with reflection):

It’s hard to stop
seeing
a shattered person
it’s hard
to know
how to feel

I spent too long believing

everything came
too soon
or too late

I’m angry half the time I pray

these are deeper cuts
then I ever knew
and there’s no one to bear witness
as it all bleeds through

what was lost
wasn’t even real

the bitterness of disappointment
makes me purge
myself
of the like

only to realize
I am made of much less
than I imagined

but that does little
to surprise me now.

Hardest lesson:

Everything
is too much to entrust
(but it took being crushed)

I held on,
being pushed away
I was shut out,
and I just prayed
I was put down,
but just loved too much

I gave all there was
I gave myself up

And the shock
depleted my reserves,
tainted every place you were

I’d convinced myself if I gave it all,
I’d get everything in return
and so came the hardest lesson
I ever had to learn

Broke so much I got set free:

I cried
I prayed
I tried
I stayed

I’m done.

Words are never enough:

You say you love
But words are never enough
Especially after hurting so much

You say you feel
But you have yet to prove it
Hurry up
You’re going to lose it

I can only want for so long
And I’ve been wanting so long

I can’t function like this
I think, deep down,
You like you can wreck me

Whatever

Break my heart
Over and over
Break my spirit
Chip my shoulder

You don’t want me to hate you
But it’s getting to where
I wish we never met
I wish I couldn’t care

The part of the vows no one wants to talk about:

I can’t get your hands
To make me feel loved

We all know love’s not enough
But does it take so much
Of other things
To justify
these rings?

Why does it still hurt?

I’m so sick
of the play by play
who hurt who how
point is:
it got this way.

I don’t have much else to say
that you can understand
just grasping for
truth you can stomach

And how did this
go so wrong?
We can fight about it
all night long
till
you get mad
I cry
is this the homestretch
or the long goodbye?

When does it all fall back together?
When does “it’s over” sound worse than forever?

4 Responses »

 

Skin Tuesday, Jul 7 2009

I know crying doesn’t change a thing

I know I could have
sat somewhere else
or moved faster
spoke firmer
I could have
but I didn’t
and I can’t shake
unwelcome hands
pleading face

you can’t say
” I love you”
“come back soon”
when I’m running out of the room
when I said to stop

what about me said
I didn’t mean it?

or are you
too hard up
too assuming
too confused

I could do worse
and I could do better
than this
than tears in the car
professional phone call
coffee at the mall

this is
brush the dirt off your shoulder
kind of thing
and didn’t I show you my child
my ring?

I don’t know why you even tried
or why
I didn’t
exit quicker
why I cried

my skin’s thicker.

5 Responses »

 

Collection Calls (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, May 26 2009

“All I’ve got is what’s in my head
Please don’t go,
I’ve been trying to reach you through this phone” – Harvard

Collection Calls

I hope you
burned those letters
and poems.
I hope the words filled the air
from ink to smoke
from solid pen-on-paper honesty
to vapors of things
not free
just changed
just mistaken
for the kind of thing
that a good night’s sleep and a shower
can wash away.

I hope you burned them
and I hope it hurt you
to know you turned it all into ash
to know what you had,
could still have
if you’d just been able to hold on…

I tried to write the words
on your skin
on your lips
your cheek
your forehead
your neck

I guess they never took
I guess you never let them sit
I guess the ones
I pressed to your chest
were the first ones dismissed

and yes
I’m angry
and I will be
until I’m done
grieving this
and I’ll grieve it
as long as it hurts
and everytime you
half ass
an attempt
to normalize this
you magnify it

You can ignore this
as much as you want,
it doesn’t make it disappear.
I hope you burned
all the paper evidence
and still twinge
when you remember.

How long are you going to pretend
nothing happened
nothing mattered?

It’s the dumbest carousel we’re on right now
but I’m not leaving
till you finally make the jump
and say something
one way or the other
I don’t care anymore
what comes out of your mouth

just that
you pick the words you know you mean the most
and stick to them,
place them
on my head,
rain them down

I’m so thirsty for anything you offer,
I’ll drink whatever you’ve got
and if you finally pour out the real stuff
I promise
I’ll stop.

2 Responses »

 

Gardens In The Dark (by Rebecca Chasteen) Saturday, May 2 2009

This is the first of the poems from the poetry challenge. I’m going to post them in order, one a day (well, that’s the plan)

Today’s prompt,is to write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc.

Gardens In The Dark

Life
sprung from darkness

Vast, heavy veils
I wore,
I covered the seeds you dropped
carelessly
when you’d leave
and they gave way to promise

There, broke through light
the thickest night
the fight of my life
watching you
slip through

So born was my faith
in the completeness
within me
without you

So born was my power to watch you at my door,
wondering who changed the locks
as you try to turn the knob

I’m still on the floor,
fighting the pull to slip you the key
through that little space
where light and dark meet

I’m still at your feet
but I’m not letting you see,
so born
the power in me

I’m churning my energy within now
I’m growing everything I need

You were, at times, a velvet night
but night you were

And I’m born
I’m more
I’m sure
you’re casting shadows elsewhere
by now

here’s the link to the challenge, Day 1:

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/April+PAD+Challenge+Day+1.aspx

One Response »

 

Wish List (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Apr 16 2009

I really just want a witness
Flesh and blood
Every time
All the time
But a witness that doesn’t interrupt, interfere

A witness…

And a worshiper,

I want one of those too
Again, of flesh and blood
All the time
To understand, praise, cherish my body and thoughts and words and heart

That’s all I want

3 Responses »

 

chasing men (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Apr 16 2009

chase the bitterness with something sweet,
that’s what she does when she’s chasing men.
switch it up
when she can’t catch the buzz

chase men who break her
with men who make her feel good again
and ignore the fact that feelings fade
and ignore the risk of getting drunk on him
and starting to get wrapped up
whisper love

till she comes down
and sees it all in sober light
chase down the lies she was told last night
get that disappointment out of her mouth

chasing men never ends
the constant intoxication impairs too much
and creates false realities
that anyone not so wasted
can’t see

chasing men like she believes
she’ll ever get one that keeps her high
chasing men like there’s a perfect fit
chasing men till she loses too much
chasing men till the men give up

chase him before she loses hope
she needs someone at the end of her rope
she needs to believe she can find one
that keeps her feeling all the good stuff
the right way

be ready to chase him,
cause he may not stay.

One Response »

 

Cool Sweet (by Rebecca Chasteen) Wednesday, Apr 1 2009

“Rock and roll, hey
Don’t you know, baby, we’re all alone now?
Give me something to sing about” – Paramore

Cool Sweet

You should
lick that champagne from your fingers,
there’s no rush,
there’s no reason to brush it off
on rags of cloth,
and let them drink
the cool sweet

I know you saw me
watch you
move
you didn’t stop
I didn’t lose
my nerve

It turns out
there was still something there
your hands stuck in my hair
at first

It was cool sweet
outside
you had defiance in your eyes
you were set on fulfilling every thing you tried

You never asked, and just assumed
I’d bend all my rules for you
and I did

I was anxious to be shown
what was burning through your soul
I didn’t know
you’d never let that go

It was a hazy sky you left me under
breathing the things you left in the air
champagne in my hair

And I sit
cool sweet
with what you gave me
tasting what’s left
on my fingertips

how did this get
so sticky?

8 Responses »