Hollie Getter

Rookie (Illinois)

How To: - Poem by Hollie Getter

'Religion is for the feeble minded' I find myself bound to the feeble. Matthew 16: 26 For what has a man who gains the world, and looses his soul?

Gods calling to me as my head hits the pillow, frightened am i so i sleep.

I stand naked at times in the mirror- playing with time - i pinch and grind and fall short...i fall apart rather quickly...and have you noticed how the absence of breath comes so very quietly.

They say many have laid to rest this way in padded cells, praying to procalain gods, or just watching dust form on the ceiling. Porcelain breaks, dust blows away, padded cells...we hide from them every damn day.

God please don't break, blow away, go away.

The world makes me sick yet in this chair i sit typing words to not exactly no one.

I have TRIED to show ugly it's ugliest face and it bit me which i knew it would, and i reached back in fear towards stability...'cause the faith i had proved to be no good.

I found that things change when you're looking the other way...even the things of yesterday that seemed so bound to permanance. Vacancies accumulate.

All i've got is this moment to be with, and the News presses firmly on my fragile tissue, and my eyes fill with tears but who's to notice? And my heart sends brilliance to my mind and my mind tries to comfort my heart back to absense. And i sit in this chair in my Wednesday underwear.

Fragile i couldn't even go to hockey games. Saw my dad in a fight once and ran away. But the older i get the more makes me sick and the battles i fight are with rage.

But no battle ground. The opposing sides can't be found.

Look for me and you'll find me in the corner, spitting my own thin blood on the ground.

'How To' books don't help but they still fill the shelves of those mainly concerned with personal pleasures...we need to make room for more global endeavors.

'How To: Survive'

'How To: Not Tell Lies'

'How To: Live and Change Lives for the Better'

'How To: Bleed for Justice'

'How To: Show a Morron He's a Morron'

'How To: Write How To Books For the Things You Think Matter'

Hate becomes no one. Rage fuels mistakes. The human body is fragile with it's emotional state. EVERYBODY BREAKS.

My hands are soft on both sides. My nails clean underneath. I want to fight battles by bleeding on my knees. BUT I NEED TO KNOW SOMETHINGS CAN BE WON.

God calls to me before i sleep and in fear i ask for the faith that i need to do anything. everything. at all.



-HLG

(April 16,2008 Wednesday)


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 17, 2008



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