A Year of Poetry by Amanda Paweska



TOKEN
Prized,
the golden, shining idol.
A worth
to hold, to praise,
to cling to.
Imagined.
Invoked with grandeur,
idealism.
Possessed by pride,
image.
Gleaming eyes turn away
as surface cracks,
the finish fades.
Where’s the worth
with no shiny penny?
Ugly,
too cold, too imperfect,
too real.
Realised.
The tarnish becomes trashy,
uncovered.
The plain, heavy metal,
truth.
Weighed down.
Tossed.

15/01/07




SHE
She screams at the top
of her lungs.
She’s frustrated, she’s scared:
Screams because she
can’t move anything,
Screams because she’s fighting,
and nothing is changing.

Screams for attention,
screams for quiet:
She screams for it all.

Forward or back,
she’s sick of being stuck.
Stuck in time, stuck in place.
Screams because no one
is listening.
Screams at herself,
her shadows, her past.
Screaming for you
to listen, to hear.

Screams in silence,
screams in response:
She screams to it all.

You don’t hear her.

02/09/07




CHOSEN
The choice was yours,
and you were right;
- not selfish, not heartless,
never clueless.
We would’ve made each other
miserable.
We would have
suffered.
We…
were never ment to be.
Let no one
tell you otherwise.

They don’t speak for me,
with wooden signs, poster paint
and the words of an old tome.
Spilling anger, hatred,
their loveless act.
– they aren’t better than you,
can’t be better than me.
They never had to think.
They still don’t realise.
They may never know.
It was never
their choice to make.

You weren’t my mother;
I wasn’t your child.
We never would have made
a family.
Though I can’t, know
you are okay.
Though I won’t, know
you are loved.
Though I’m not, know
you will survive.

The choice,
always yours,
and you are right.

02/12/07
I am pro-choice. I am pro-voice.




HIGH SCHOOL IDOL
An image in a faded photo,
a flash of light
in a dark mirror.
A cluster of scars,
but wanting to be those stars.
Misplaced, who I was,
now, who am I?
Slipped; fell back from the pack,
stuck behind, but too tired
to run and catch up.
Forgotten; Remember that one,
Who was? Where is?
A name scrawled out
on the back of a photograph.
Messy, playful ink.
The name and face don’t match,
the place is miss-matched.
Who ever saw those scars?
No one tells.
Frozen in time,
long forgotten time.
Different people now,
same place
– one stuck back then.
A glimpse in the mirror
“I remember you…
vaguely”
Yourself.

02/24/07




ETHIC OF CHOICE
Live or exist,
death takes more
effort; of choice
being active and
declaring yourself.
Alive! Dead!
Not merely existing,
not dragging along.
Cowardice, no!
The scared
do nothing.
This,
this takes planning.
Selfish, maybe.
Who else will
look out for you?
An act of self-love,
self-preservation.
Have to own
you life somehow, some way.
Dead! Alive!
A choice,
neither right, neither wrong:
they both
just are.
But both,
are more
than merely existing.

03/16/07




MODERN ROMANCE
I loved you once,
in a dream,
and we were happy.
At least
for a while.
Once upon a time
and all those
fairytale beginnings.
You loved me once,
in a thought,
and it was sweet.
Never real,
but it still ment something.
Fantasy
can beat out reality
every time.
It’s a fool’s game
but we all play it now.

You wanted me,
you’ve told me.
Heated words,
and sweat soaked breath.
Ever put fumblings
into words?
It loses in translation.
Just touch me,
and save your words;
never know, you might need them
someday,
someone else
might need to hear them.
I wanted you,
I said so,
but I was never specific.
Let you touch, taste,
even take me;
But you never had me.
(Never were one for details, were you?)
But you could have.
(Too much information then?)

We did this,
seemed right at the time.
We smiled, we teased,
we touched and
we played.
Oh, but never for keeps.
Too bad,
I could have kept on playing.
Until the streetlights came on
and it was time to come in,
of course.
(I didn’t confess
a true thing, never would.
Never could.
That’s against the rules.)
We did this,
understood it, we swore.
Never ment to last,
carriages turn back to pumpkins.
It’ll stop;
soon it’ll fade away.
Everything does, right?
At least once there was
a dream and a thought:
Happily ever after,
or something.

03/21/07




CONTRADICTION
I don’t want you,
but I don’t
want to lose you more.
I won’t fight,
but I’ll push
– they’ll call me manipulative
for it.
Say how very male
how very modern.
I’ll assert myself,
but cry when I get
what I said I needed.
They’ve taught me
to strive for that.
Modelled me in their image.

New woman: drop
that emotion
but perk up those boobs.
Those can be useful.
Slut!
You’re never ment
to actually use them.
If you cry
you’re not playing fair.
There is no NO,
you were asking for it.
Toughen up! Fly Straight!
But never lose those soft curves.
Look, you can teach
an old dog new tricks;
but it’s always been easier
to own you, than keep you.

When I win,
I lose
the little pieces of myself;
those never grow back.
I’m fragile, I break
but you’ll never see a crack,
never let a chip show
– they’d call me weak;
damn me, damn girl.
I’ll just fake it:
it’s what a woman does.
I need you
to value me,
but become worthless.

03/22/07




TAKEN CARE OF
Be a good girl;
mind your manners,
cross your legs.
Just shut up
and swallow.
After all,
we’re feeding you this
for your own good.

How else will you learn?
How else will you survive?
Don’t worry baby,
he’ll tell you
when to think, when to speak
when to spread.
Just wipe that shit off your face.
and get on your back.

Don’t talk back,
don’t roll your eyes girlie;
listen carefully
You should smile,
you’re pretty when you smile.
Don’t get defensive,
we’re only trying
to take care of you.

How else will you know?
How else will you succeed?
Don’t fret your little head;
He’ll hold your hand,
he’ll lead you through,
you’ll pay him back.
Don’t worry about cumming,
that’s his job too.

Only speak when spoken to,
you’re to be seen, not heard.
Because you know,
good girls don’t –
better girls don’t enjoy it.
It’s not confusing,
we’re helping you,
we’re telling you the rules.

How will you live?
How will you grow?
Can you move?
Can you breath?
Do you feel anymore?

Push them off, get your clothes
and run.

04/10/09




HIGHER LEARNING
High school princess,
prom queen,
geek,
no one,
shadow.
Learn to live without light,
breath without air,
but grow with all the space
you need.
But most of all:
Love, without telling, without sharing.
Safer that way;
The smiles mean more,
the blushes are deeper.
It’ll still all go to hell
– your way, your time –

Football players
and class president
Lies!
The truth is darker, dirtier,
waiting to break free.
You’ll learn, they’ll share.
Love, sex,
and the woman question.
Just don’t expect it
to mean anything.
High school cliques
are hard to break,
habits are even harder.
Sex is not an emotion;
a kiss is just the means
to an end.
One step closer.
Why does it feel like two steps back?

Those smiles
don’t mean so much now.
You’ve learned
to get more than a blush.
You can’t be young and naïve forever.
Idealism ages you.
No more roles to play,
none without consequence anyway.

In the end,
you’ve learned,
even if it was the hard way.

04/13/07




CONFESSIONS FROM THE FRONT SEAT
I didn’t feel you
inside me.
I felt your eyes
on me.
You watched, waited.
Could you see why?
Did you find your answers?
I hid.
Pulled back, curled up.
Can’t do this.
Can’t handle this.
Can’t stop this.
Scared.
I didn’t taste you
on my lips.
I heard you
allowing me.
You coaxed, waited.
Couldn’t move me.
Did you want to reach me?
I held back.
Tangled in the past.
Not here.
Not real.
Not now.
False.
I didn’t have you
with me.
I saw you
pulling back.
You stopped, waited.
Was it me?
Could is have been anyone?
Won’t cry.
Won’t cry.
Won’t cry.
Broken.
You hated me.
I still wanted you
to like me.

04/17/07




HYPOTHETICAL Say I loved you,
say I did.
It’s just a question
a theory.
Will it be by trial,
or is it death
by ridicule this time?
It’s just a question,
we’ll skip all the evidence.
– the tears, the obsession,
the awkward groping.
Pay no attention
to the man behind the curtain,
or is that the cliched bleeding heart?
Either way, it’s a game, right?
We’re just having some fun,
a little innocent playing.
What do you say, will you play along?
Ignore the smile,
forget the kiss,
I can barely recall your touch.
Sentimentality
is just a weakness.
Wait, am I spouting your rules too fast,
too much;
Never get in too deep.
Always too many questions,
and never enough answers.
With us
Between us
If there was an us.
Is there? Was there?
What happens next?
Say I cared,
say I still do.
It’s just a question,
how much could it hurt?
Can’t be more than not knowing.
What do we do,
if I will love you?

04/03/07




THE APOLOGY
Forgive me,
I didn’t heed your warning
but I cast myself
for your role;
I have no one to blame
but myself.
Dress up, paint up,
legs up.
I wanted you in.
Forgive me
if I fell for it.
The lie was mine
but we both wanted to believe.
It would be so much easier
to stay dirty,
so much more
if it stayed less.
I never waited
for wild declarations,
when you wanted me, I folded.
fell, begged,
panted.
I was lost for you.
Forgive me,
when the smile and the kiss
ment nothing,
I listened for something.
I told you everything.
I wanted more.
Forgive me –
I won’t apologise.

05/23/07




LOVE’S SWAN SONG
You’re beautiful to me,
with your flawed smile
and your bent body.
(one of Wilde’s paintings)
No perfect inch of you
captures my attentions,
but the imperfections
bind me, blind me,
- keep me,
even if you don’t want to,
if you don’t mean to.
But y imperfections
push you away.
(such is the nature of things.)
Fantastical expectations of appreciation,
the school girl variety,
never the reality
(cherished letters and shoebox photos)
There’s no slow dance
of love made –
eager hands fumble
like kids before curfew
and declarations read like porn.
Who rewrote the fairytale?

You’re beautiful
when you hurt me,
when you lay your hands on me,
when your heart’s not in it
(not everything is physical.)
No logic, nonsensical;
an irrational thing,
that’s it by definition.
The best things
are never explained
(the mysteries of what do you call it…)
Your mouth on mine,
your hands on me.
The arms around me
could be affection,
bout your kiss; a means to an end.
A dirty deed
to get done,
one step closer to the finish,
one more tie to sever.
You’re beautiful,
but what we do to each other
(is all our own)
is ugly.

05/28/07




UNDISCLOSED
He talks
about loving me
in what ifs
and what might have beens,
if only,
if ever,
if – we never were.
An idol,
a life in alternate reality,
perfection, please
if only…

He talks about love
like scholars of knowledge.
Just out of reach,
just out of touch.
Always talking,
but never saying anything,
never meaning anything.
To say it, but take it back,
break it down
and explain it away;
the pseudo love affair.
We play make believe
and pretend.

He talks of my flesh
in his vivid scenes,
but never has he touched me,
he never will.
Fantasy is something
they can’t take away,
is what he says.
Too precious to steal.

He talks of beauty,
in pattern and word,
compares the flowers,
compares me.
I wish I could see me
through his eyes,
through his words.
But can’t.
What ifs,
what might have beens
never are.

05/31/07




MY BODY POLITIC
Use me, abuse me
then disregard me.
Stretch out my body
any way you see fit;
after all, you’re a man
isn’t it your right?
I am property.
I am procession.
I am female.
History
has taught me well.
Is rape
your rite of passage?
Tell me,
why have so many passed it?
It is just
the nature of the beast,
or have I
missed something.
Modern women
are paying the price.

Touch me, take me
then punish me for it.
The message written
across my skin,
carved in tiny scars
no one can see:
It’s a story
no one listens to.
Her-say
is silenced.
I am equipment.
I am expendable.
I am female.

Push me, bend me
and try to break me.
Time isn’t always kind,
lessons aren’t always learned.
You’re the teacher,
father, husband, government.
That makes me
the student – wife, mother, daughter:
A citizen of the world.
A used body,
a trained and traded body;
it is the human body.
The story
is our shared experience.
I am flesh.
I am blood.
I am female.
My body
doesn’t fit your will,
Our body
won’t change for you.

06/05/07




A GIRL’S GAME
Strength
from release,
Power
from submission.
The gains
they never teach
the girls.
The power
between your legs,
in your body;
to rule, to create,
to rise above.
The danger
they really fear,
they don’t understand,
they try to punish, to dominate.

What to do
with a girl
who masters herself?
What to do
with the girl
who can master you?

No,
is taught,
the control of yes
is earned – by being.
Supremacy
in a body
they label as weak:
Giver of life
Corrupter of commandments
Inspiration of art
Personification of change

Power
from release,
Strength
from submission.
The force
from the body,
from within,
from her.

07/07/07




NATURE OF THE BEAST
I see her now,
she’s not the girl
the girl I fell in love for.
It’s easy to break,
to break this pieced together heart.
(never whole)
It’s easy to break,
to break the things without a frame.
(never defined)
Find the key to time;
time can heal,
time can change,
it never stays the same.
(why can’t it?)

I see him now,
he’s not the same boy
the same boy who held my heart.
It’s been easy to bend,
to bend into shapes he covets.
(never real)
It’s easy to bend,
to bend by the will of another.
(never honest)
Find the point in time;
time of day,
time of change,
it never stays the same.
(why won’t it?)

I see now,
now it not then
(never them):
Love can die,
it grows, it changes.
And sometimes it’s killed,
contorted and mutilated.
(the crimes never punished)
It’s easy to suffer
(never learn)
It’s easy to swear
(never stop)

I see now
it’s never easy
(but we lie)

07/15/07




WANDERLUST
The blood stained fingers
claw
at the light.
It was love
but
it was never pretty.
(mean and desperate)
You were there
in the middle
without observing
a single note.
(you missed the curtain call)
Your attempts
to tread lightly,
pulled in the mud
and stained the floor.
A game
of meeting and mating,
but I cheated
–and you let me
(flirted with more)
Sinking my fingers
in deeper.
It was my love
but
it was never sweet.
Never mastered friends,
(did we try?)
and never reaped the benefits.
Never knew if we could
do as we claimed.
It was messy,
just fumbling through.
It was love
but
it ended.
Slipping through fingers,
as air in your lungs;
needed
(maybe)
but expelled.

08/10/07




FOOTNOTE ON AN AFFAIR
I’ve always been stupid enough
to love you.
Some might call it brave,
who knows?
Infatuated
was the word I used.
(Those silly games
of pretty words
I was always
willing to play.)
Never mind.
I’ve learned,
I’ve grown,
I’ve given up
– now there’s the cowardice.
It’s always a slow lesson
to run from
what hurts you,
without looking back.
(The sadist said
from pain comes pleasure;
the masochist told me
to take what I can get.)
No matter now.
Maybe you missed out
on something great,
maybe nothing.
Or maybe
there’s no footnote to make here.
I’ve always been told
you leave with what you brought in,
but instead
I have less.
(But what’s a little heartache
and dignity
among friends?)
At least you’ll know,
I’ve always been
but I’m gone.

10/10/07




COMMEMORATION
It creeps by,
like that one leaf
caught in the wind
and dragged across the lawn.
The broken body
of broken days,
pressed forever
between pages of heavy books;
the memory remains, fades.
Peeling paper
of dead wood,
words long forgotten
scribbled and saved
in the shoebox under the bed.
Packed away
for safe keeping, junk.

It seeps in,
the chill before winter
steamed up car windows
and icy handlebars.
The lurking ghosts
of summers past
pieced together
by the difference of light and shade.
The living image, dries.
Posters pasted
on exhibit,
scenes never seen
celebrated as art
imitating breath.
Held up
for example, failed.

It settles
as the final verse
from the radio cracked voice
declaring love’s song.
The disjointed beat
on a different drum,
pounding on
against the cold core,
the pulse keeps time, stops.
Moment passed
by reality;
the clock ticks
and life is remembered.
Restarts,
and keeps moving
remembered fondly, forgotten.


10/22/07




HARBINGER
For better or worse
this is me;
Love me, hate me,
or disregard me.
But never
underestimate me.
The ego is a deadly,
and dangerous thing,
much like
a sensitive heart.
Heed warnings
as Nostradamus predicts
things always repeat.
One can only deny
for so long,
but will lie
to survive, to thrive.
Cast me
the way you need to,
whatever makes you comfortable.
Everyone needs their lies
to hide; safe and sound,
to go home with.
I’ll smile and wave
and bat my eyelashes,
I’ll burn on your cross
and bear your red letter.
I won’t beg,
I won’t bend.
By night and by day,
this is me.
Love me, hate me,
you’ll never forget me.


10/22/07




HEDONIST’S DANCE
Rise
Fast rush, first wave
come crashing down;
heavy, heady, hot.
Steady strokes, comforting weight
pulls you down, under.
Undo and retie,
against the tide.
Chasing, reaching;
touch, taste and try.
First flush of fresh flesh,
the tiny trailed track
to pull you home.
Soft, sweetly, safe.
No sound.
Collapse.

10/26/07




REDUX
A good girl
does bad things;
wants them, needs them
and craves them.
Do we judge the saint
by her sins?
Her moment
of weakness,
of fallen grace.
We celebrate the sinner
by choice
(jealous shame)
We tend to her broken wings,
but watch her crash
as she tries to fly.
The not so silent judgement.
No sticks or stones
but names will always mark them.
Sexual revolution,
backward evolution.
Keepers of virgin whores.
Stands in double meaning
(cherished standards)
Keep the faith,
follow the good word;
we just trail along.
As ideals dictate
the mobs form;
Take up your chosen punishment.
Never so righteous
as to condemn.
A hiked up skirt
damns all of creation
(Pandora’s redux)
Take up your stakes;
the good girl has fallen.

01/11/07




THE SPACE BETWEEN
Do not doubt,
when you see me;
I am balance
of the flesh.
With every coin
comes two sides,
With every day
comes two times.
Skin and bone,
day and night.
I walk
the fine line
between two sides.
Cast me devil,
see me saint.
Wed to life
but flirt with death;
the diversion, the existence,
the role is set.
I am balance.
I am woman.

12/11/07




FLASH FORWARD
Reaching out
across the cold side of the bed;
you’re not there,
never were.
The twisted games
the mind plays
on the heart.
How do you mourn
what was never yours to lose?
You smile for someone else,
not they have
what you never claimed:
It’s not your place
to regret now.
Lost your chance to protest.
Marks heal
and kisses fade,
it’s only memories
that scar.
You’re the dirty secret,
the weekend lie.
Without the glamour
of a title
or red stained letter to bear.
Reaching out
for the cold, damp sheets.
Their blank and empty comfort;
they’re real.

12/13/07