Heresy by Valerie Parente
Who am I
to declare what is
and isn’t
right?
And who are you
to decide which words are
and are not
taboo?
What is
an intrusive thought
if not
an act of God?
It all means nothing
until you assign it meaning
so wield your power
like it’s the only thing to believe in.
– Valerie Parente (11-18-2023)
A Daydreamer’s Cup of Tea by Valerie Parente
I tried to be pretty
so I became pretty creepy
memorizing the potential in a mental state
as if I never wasted it in the first place
losing the life in my complexion
because the real world pales in comparison.
I want to be the best
so I became the best at madness
believing there is a foolproof way
that the make believe can be made
so close I can almost taste it
but I’ve acquired a taste for the bullshit.
I long for something real
while denying the reality here
then I turn around and ask
“Why can’t you be grateful for what you have?”
and I can’t tell if I am my irrational thoughts
or the one who recognizes their implicit flaws.
On paper, it sounds insane
in person, it’s insanely mundane
I say I like it better in my mind
even though I’m more likable here on the outside
but when I try to merge the two scenes
I realize maybe I’m not anyone’s cup of tea.
The truth is, this daydreaming
is a state of mind with no defeating
because even if I achieved the dream
I’d still find solace in further fantasy
the mental and material are forever inverse
and I am my own worst enemy in this universe.
– Valerie Parente (11-10-2023)
Antithetical Thesis by Valerie Parente
I have this freedom
a freedom to express
but I am afraid
of my own success
and what it means
to let my laurels rest
because if you like what you see
then I can reap the benefits
but who wants to be a reaper
other than the lord of death?
I don’t want to kill my spark
I want the ever glowing brightness
but I’ve always been in love
with finding beauty in darkness.
It’s all so confusing
the antithetical thesis
the dissonance of my hopes
mixed with poetic justice
because I want to be free
and I want to be complex
but out there on a stage
you might see that I’m less.
I have to put myself out there
if I want to impress
but I crumble from criticism
because I’m such a pathetic narcissist.
I don’t really want the fame
I want the respect
because fame is the curse
that you get when you’re blessed.
– Valerie Parente (9-22-2023)
Ship In A Bottle by Valerie Parente
I was meant to go places
but I was too afraid
so I hid in a bottle
and became a display.
Trying to preserve myself
might have been a mistake
because now I crave touch
but I’m perfectly encased.
Now I’ve come to realize
as I get older with age
I wasn’t fragile to begin with
I made myself this way
piecing myself together
in a teeny tiny space.
I limited my horizon
when I had potential for waves
but I know better now
this glass, I can break
and when the shards fall
I won’t be bound to one place.
– Valerie Parente (7-20-2023)
grief is the proof that love connects the living to the dead
by Valerie Parente
We live in 3 dimensions
but we die into more.
It feels like loved ones “have been”
but my dear, they still occur.
You have been trained to feel saddened
because you can’t see them anymore
but that’s the living’s misconception,
the dead are still here, in a different form.
We struggled for a definition
so we came up with a new word,
called it “grief”, but it’s really “connection”
to a state beyond this world.
– Valerie Parente (8-4-2023)
Thorns by Valerie Parente
Thorns,
wringing my neck
hijacking my own prose
and taking my own breath.
Thorns,
tangled with my veins
I long to protect
the thing that constrains.
Thorns,
why do I wear them proud
as if their scratches
make me profound.
Thorns,
mistaken for a preference
I say I’m comfortable with them
but the discomfort is ever present.
Thorns,
such a cruel joke
because my favorite flower
has always been a rose.
Stony Brook by Valerie Parente
Words about my self are so cold
because this conscious stream is frozen.
I’m making faces under the surface
in the name of what’s unspoken.
I questioned life on solid ground,
but I never stood a chance
at clinging to the rocks
that blistered my own hands.
Underneath the ice I laid on
was an isolation I schemed
where I was swept away by the current
as the current swept by me.
I still cross that stony brook
but I know better this time
holding my own breath
in a space so traumatized.
– Valerie Parente (5-26-2023)
Nervous Habit by Valerie Parente
When I’m nervous
I draw trees.
Picture them naked
in the breeze.
– Valerie Parente (5-18-2023)
Frostbite by Valerie Parente
I don’t think peace of mind
is meant for those alive.
There’s no such thing as closure
there’s only getting older
and though I say I pray for relief
there’s a stronger part of me
that’s encased in thick ice
from the post traumatic life
and I know if I let it melt away
I won’t know who I am today.
Here I am, frozen alive
and it is not a surprise.
To live is to identify with time,
to live is to be encased in ice
and it confuses most
that it feels far from cold.
When frostbitten on the skin
it feels like perpetual burning
and I never quite let go
of the warmth in my soul.
– Valerie Parente (1-2-2023)
Not So Sweet by Valerie Parente
Everybody has a bit of a sweet tooth
looking for that candy-coated praise
you wanna call me your honey
but baby I’m an acquired taste.
Maybe I’m not so prone
to that “sweetie pie” catch phrase
I swear I care, I really do
but I’ll be damned if I’m cliche.
Love is hard but loving me is harder
past the honeymoon phase
I’m trying my damn best
but boy oh boy am I to blame.
– Valerie Parente (11-29-2022)
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