Slam Poetry

Margaret Ruth Olson will woe words where thoughts refuse to go. Play pieces where people left long ago. Your misery falls like hot rain, and yet i watch it freeze like snow. Freeze me. Fight me. Play me. Write me. Poetry. Tonight. 7:00pm. 501 studios.

For

I am flighting
But you're flighty
Forever flittering at my fingers
Forcing forever back to for-never
For failure
For futures free of fun proof living
For flapping
Until i forget how to
Fly
You say I want to hold your breath
Breathe your steps
Soak up your sand
Count your grains of nonsense
You are full of it
Full of forgetting
Full of how to
Full of fights lost
For flights cost
More than I was ever willing to pay
Break me
Cash me in
Tell me my worth
I am worthless
I am worth this
Thought of thinking
This thought of throwing
Thimbles of protection
Thanks of never-lasting
Towards your thought bubble
I am bursting
I am cursing
I am wishing
For failure
For futures free of fun proof living
For flapping
For forever flittering at my fingers
Forcing forever back to my for-never
Until i forget how to
Fly

Not Cool.

So incase you didn't know, my name is Margaret Olson, and i write the stuff on this website. I know cool concept. So here's the deal. Don't jack it. Don't claim it as your own. Don't pretend like you wrote it. It's called poetry, it's really easy to do. I can teach you. Just leave my stuff alone.

Feel Me

I see him standing there and my fingers shake to reach out and brush his soft skin. I feel the goose bumps chill up his arms and i wonder if i did this.
i can feel her looking at me by a sense not easily defined. static between us chooses me as the victim when it's broken by a touch that hits more than just skin
he's breathing as if i pegged not only his heart but his lungs too with one sharp jab. "Can you hear me?" Speaking to myself, convinced the halo of the situation surrounds only me. He answers.
“Yes,” and as a glass sheet has been put on my mouth, i try to scream out for a savior. in vain. my mind inhibits me. her feelings aren't just hers when she asks to talk
I lean in. Hoping a simplistic kiss would close an awkward situation but he wont allow it. He's forcing me to respond. To feed the desire that i cannot even touch, nonetheless eat with the devouring bites he's used so many other times. i will not fall into this trap, “Please."
I look in his eyes.
No, knowing these simple pair of lips would do little more than nothing, i deny the attempt to pull my wicker-weaved fabric of being from my mouth. how can something so grand be derived from nothing? it defies nature, it defines my entirety.
He doesn't even know what the simple out reach meant to me, as he denies me even the smallest favor. "If you can't, then who else will be willing?"
with just two simple flicks of my eyelids i retort, "and that, you must learn on your own, for who else possesses your heart?"

You Propel Me

Sweetheart
Can we sit down for a moment
Forget the pettish colors of our socks
The flow of our blood
And just be real
For one moment.
You ask me
“Gather my words
Make my meaning
Mean something to someone more than me.”
I respond.
“I wish I could write your tale
Finish the story book you haven’t even cracked open,
But I can’t.
I can’t wish for you to find the wisps of light that will propel you
Construct the wings of a kite so fragile
You only want to fly.
I wish I could whisper the secret.
But I can’t.”
Your disappoint fills me.
“But I can hand you my pencil.
Guide your weary fingers,
Where words will not wobble.
Watch my mind leak to ink.
I am yours to play with.”