These Laurels Were Not Meant To Rest

These Laurels Were Not Meant To Rest by Valerie Parente

Imagine, imagine, imagine.
When the world is mundane
I give it my passion
another artistic era
to rise from the ashes.

Create, create, create.
People say I should be satisfied
but I need to formulate
an endless stream of words
from this mental landscape.

Another rhyme, another day,
another opportunity for artistic display.
These laurels were not meant to rest,
in this garden I’ll always progress,
so ever-evolving, so evergreen,
like the creativity that lives within me.

– Valerie Parente (2-26-2021)

Compatible Toxicity

Compatible Toxicity by Valerie Parente

There is no bad guy,
it is not you or I,
everyone has a toxic side,
everyone is inherently kind,
those positives can combine
for compatible good times
but a problem will arise
if your toxic traits are compatible with mine.

– Valerie Parente (2-23-2021)

Celestial Being

Celestial Being by Valerie Parente

I see myself in the moon
because I go through phases too.
I see myself in the stars
because I, too, glow in the dark.
The constellations are my family
they are my home, and all of humanity’s.
Life is incredibly dark, life is incredibly ripe,
life is the way we organize the stellar mind.
Do not give into fear, do not go insane,
this landscape is just a temporary display.
You will be infinite, you will return
when you review all you have learned.

– Valerie Parente (2-5-2021)

Spellbound

Spellbound by Valerie Parente

Spellbound cycles, I go,
like magic, not neuro-typical.
As if I’ve been blessed by a witch
ever since I was a little kid.
She gave me a strange kind of gift
struck my heart, but must have missed.
I become enchanted, but it’s strange
because I feel it in my brain.
Spellbound, that’s what I call it.
That’s my crazy way of falling.

At first sight, there’s a spark
and that serves as the mark
that I will always reference
to justify my obsessiveness.
Second stage, there’s the longing
clinging on to every moment
reading too much as I read minds
gradually making a mess of mine.
Third stage, the gut punch
usually after years, not months.
I can’t eat or sleep, I just cry
and every time I nearly die.

Then it all starts over again
the random spark, and I’m obsessed.
I don’t know how others fall
feeling the magic of it all
entranced in such a good sense
when my trance feels hellbent.
It always starts out exciting,
to realize I can feel something
but it turns into a special kind of hell
where I can’t separate from the spell.
There’s never a justification
for that inexplicable fascination.
It just strikes, and I’m weak
blood rushing at its peak.
But it never works and I get worse.
A brand new spell with the same hurt.

– Valerie Parente (1-28-2021)

A Little Sympathy Would Be Nice

A Little Sympathy Would Be Nice by Valerie Parente

I think a lot about my past
but that doesn’t mean I want it back.
My brain was wrongly designed
to dwell on former times,
getting caught on the same loops
and I know that gets you confused.
I don’t want the same things,
but that’s what my conscious brings.
If you find that weird
then imagine how I feel.
OCD is like a chronic bad habit,
a royal jester playing old tricks
and when its trying to fool you
just know it tried to fool me too.

– Valerie Parente (1-18-2021)

An Artist’s Battleground

An Artist’s Battleground by Valerie Parente

It’s not a battle I should have to fight
but it’s a battle I don’t mind
because I know what its like
to fight for my life
when my own mental strife
destroyed me from the inside
and I was forced to find
a new reason to try
so if someone out of spite
wants to give me a hard time
about the things that kept me alive
then I’m perfectly fine
fighting that fight.

– Valerie Parente (12-7-2020)

Actually Healed

Actually Healed by Valerie Parente

I always thought it would be a gradual process
and maybe it was and I just didn’t notice
but it seems overnight I stopped caring.
There’s opportunity to hurt but I can bare it.
And if I had one lesson to preach
it would be that you should believe
that, with time, you will heal from your heartache
and you don’t have to understand that today
but all of a sudden the loss of a relationship
will no longer have any negative connotations.
It’s over and I’m perfectly fine
and all I remember is the good times.
Now when I look back I can laugh
with absolutely no emotional strings attached.
Because I really
truly
from the bottom of my heart
have moved so far on.

– Valerie Parente (11-16-2020)

The Utmost Importance

The Utmost Importance by Valerie Parente

All I want
in the big scheme
is for you and me
to be able to speak
about how we feel freely.
Where ideas are allowed
to differ in a crowd
without shutting each other down
with a buzzword blocking the profound
just because one person has self doubt.
Because I might be bitter inside
from personal bad times
but that doesn’t give me the right
to say you cannot vocalize
all of your good times.

Because the right to speak
is the right to feel
and the right to feel
is the right to be
and if we can’t just be
then there is no point to humanity.

– Valerie Parente (11-4-2020)

Idiosyncratic Pain

Idiosyncratic Pain by Valerie Parente

I don’t want to be known for my pain,
I want to make the most of my pain,
and if that entails
emotions to prevail
in a story that parallels
my particular mental hell
and I can make you understand
a specific circumstance
then all will be fine
’cause baby, I’m one of a kind.

– Valerie Parente (10-22-2020)

Sitting on Skulls and Bones

Sitting on Skulls and Bones by Valerie Parente

A pile of skulls and bones,
she sits on them like they’re her throne,
resenting the death that rots beneath
while presenting the depths of her beliefs.
So much destruction from perfectionism and ultimatums,
so in love with what she had, but love’s what made it complicated.
She was suspended in a bittersweet purgatory,
still existing, but never free,
not quite in heaven, not quite in hell
and you’d be surprised how bad that felt.
So she did what she does best,
she poured her heart out then she left
convinced there’d be a saviour,
but no one came to save her.
Now she mourns all the love she once had
while the things she loved don’t mourn her back.
It’s a truth she has yet to accept
so she built this throne out of death.
Coping by spinning gold
out of moping that has grown old.
So regal in all of her grief
turning life lessons into a trophy,
because there’s so much value in every loss
you don’t fully see it until it’s gone.
Now she sits here in grateful defeat
honoring the things she willingly reaped.
Dead and gone but not dead inside
because this gratitude is still raw and ripe.

– Valerie Parente (10-9-2020)