confession

confession


to love a woman who is
a woman in every sense but
who acts like a man to
the woman who wants to
love the woman in her in every sense
but, i am not a man and
i know this and she knows this

she may play the part of
the shy deviant boy but
i am every hopelessly helpless boy
that i have ever dated, hat in hands
reciting sonnets under balconies,
selling proposals without diamonds
i know this and she knows this

the truth is that,
at the end of the day i am
too complicated, too introverted,
too frustrated, too scared
she is so fearless, so sweet,
so kind, so brilliant
to bring out the lover
she knows is inside me
i know is inside of her


copyright JANEisnotplain 10.20.06

NIGHTMARE

nightmare

i am running through my
nightmares wearing flip flops
and all i can hear is
breathe, flap, breathe, flap
flap, breathe, breathe, flap
across a cold linoleum floor
stacked with the smell of papers
of books, newspapers, notebooks
slouched in the flickering fluorescent lights
like next year’s junk addicts
flap flap flap flap
breathe!
and if i stop i hear the
buzzing of my PC
sitting and looking at me for answers
just the way i look at myself
just after brushing my teeth
in the morning or in the
evening after listening to
the radio/television propaganda
the semicolon weight of the words
awake!
flap, breathe, flap, breathe

copyright JANEisnotplain 10.06

modern american poet

modern american poet


i am the modern american poet
i graduated from the ivy league of the midwest
where i was taught how to use the thesaurus
and i was encouraged to use big words
to express esoteric concepts
and so i don’t really give a shit
how my art makes you feel
just as long as you think that i’m smart
because i’m so up to my
last can of tuna fish in student loans that
i’ll write anything that sells
honestly, i have no soul
but that’s ok because that may mean
that i’ll become famous someday

i am the modern american poet
i’m reppin from philly and yo
if you aint from around my way
and you don’t know how to
use yo to carry on a conversation
then you ain’t my people and yes,
i write about racism, sure
i mock your divisionist tendencies
while ironically perpetuating them
by changing my vocabulary
but i don’t really give a shit
how my art makes you feel
unless you’re exactly like me
in which case just nod your head
and show me some love because
i’m so up to my eminem album
trying to stay true to the new
hip hop poetic culture that
i’ll write anything just to
increase my street cred
honestly, i have no soul
but somehow the lack of color in my skin
doesn’t stop me from pretending

i am the modern american poet
and don’t really care where you’re from or
from where you graduated because
right now i’m like way into death
and dying and blood and
i don’t really give a shit
how my art makes you feel
because the thought of death’s icy grip
closing in on my existence right now
is way cooler than anything else and
is kinda getting me off so that
i’m so up to my black gothic attire
in angst right now that
i cant even begin to try to reach you
honestly i have no soul
and even if i did, i’d probably
sell it to the devil

i am the modern american poet
have you met my ex boyfriend who
i broke up with three years ago?
how is he? did he mention me?
did he look sad? does he miss me?
despite the tears of agony,
i think i’ll write something about
the irony of hating yet loving someone so much
i really don’t give a shit
how my art makes you feel
as long as you pass me that cover up
i need to powder over my life blemish
i’m so up to my muscle t-shirt in identity crisis
that i’ll write anything that gives me a face
honestly i have no soul
and if i did, i’d rip it out
for one more romp with my ex

i am the modern american poet
SEX SEX SEX SEX
CLITORIS PeNis, clitoris, PENIS
CUNT SEX VAGINA PUSSY
i don’t give a pussy lick of a shit
how my art makes you feel
just as long as my man hating friends
admit to still needing dick
just because.
PENIS CUNT SEX FUCK
i’m so up to my dyke duds
in rage right now that
i can’t talk to anyone who has a penis
so i’m sorry if i can’t relate to you
honestly, i have no soul
because i believe soul is a myth
spread by men to keep the sisters down
feminist clit sex
excuse my tourrettes

i am the modern american poet
i’ve tried so god damned hard
not to become cliché, and
look at me
please, anyone
just look at me

copyright JANEisnotplain 10.06

REVERANT

reverant

crucifying my thighs
nail my rusted mind
a.cross bearing
pomegranate eyes
inviting baptismal absolution
washed peace


enter through revolver
revolutionary doors
in turn all
internally integrating
the lightness of
be
-ing

copyright JANEisnotplain 10/06