Writingthestorm - Blog Posts

Where I’m From

March 4, 2015 - One of the first poems I’ve written!

I’m from half built tree houses

And vicious snow ball fights.

The one who gets to the sled first wins, 

And the blasting of music to strangers.

I’ve seen the top of mountains 

And felt the bottom of rivers.

Screaming, “MARK!” at signs, and

“Fluffy!” at strangers. 

The bruise on the thigh that will never heal

And the obnoxious air that fills the place.

The crushing trees that are in it for blood

To the cat stuffed in a wooden box in the basement.

I’m from the alarms and the gummy bear stuck on the fan.

Haunted radios and jello in the fridge.

From knowing what I’m saying when I’m not saying much

To the rabbit foot key chain in the old rotten box.

I’m from the snapped and twisted,

The stubbed and burned,

Leafing and dead family tree,

That I am proud to call my own.

anna magee

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/where-i-m-from

Untitled (wheat thins)

anna magee (~2017)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/wheat-thins

Soft, Strange

(March 4, 2021)

Stagnant kisses linger longer

High and bright on movie screens

Glassy eyes in jars, and secret scars

Blushing vibrant blues and greens

Here lies scattered static stillness

Where dullness drizzles to the bone

Dreams catch and crush lonely reality

The world of which is home sweet home

Fear flies fondly from my throat

A soft, strange sister speaks to me,

Beyond beginning and breathing, will be

Always another adverse anxiety

anna magee

Junk Mail

anna magee (January 24th, 2021)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/junk-mail

Love in Portland

We took a walk

through Portland lights,

He asked me why

breakups made him feel like a 

balloon pressing too close to 

a sharp ceiling

He looked at me and smiled

But he didn’t choose me.

At 3 am he wrapped his thoughts

A little too closely to the pain

So I tiptoed up stairs at dawn

And slid into his bed

To warm his body and his brain

But he didn’t choose me.

On rainy nights we jumped in puddles 

and talked about the future

in a playground down the street

He told me his dreams

And I told him mine

A shooting star crossed the sky

But he didn’t choose me.

Down the road now a little ways

In a sunny September glaze

He told me he missed me

In the bed in the attic

He cried into my body

And I felt my release

But he didn’t choose me.

He came back again

The weekend after

To drink the devil’s wine

Drunk; a laugh, a kiss

Talk of old times

He said he was sorry

But he didn’t choose me.

Now the summer sun

Is obscured behind buildings

Touching the sky

And he took me to his heart

And gave it all to me

And said if he could go back

And do it all again

He would choose me.

I fought my way into his head

Into his thoughts, into his bed

For so hard and so long

But now that the time had come

All the things inside my head

All the things he’d ever said

Built a wall between him and I

He asked me to choose him.

I chose myself.

anna magee (~ July 2016)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/love-portland

Silence

anna magee (March 1st, 2021)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/silence-494684

Stuffed Animal Massacre

February 25, 2021

Here and there one can find

Little puffy streams that spill through the carpet

An indication of seams split, an unknown victim,

Soft piles of proof, a give away

Leading velvet trails twisting toward the culprit

Who is sitting almost expectantly by the window

With a face

Of audacity, or guilt, perhaps both

Beaming from puppy eyes

A single string still dangling from quivering lips

As if to engrave the point

- anna magee

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/stuffed-animal-massacre

LD Blues

anna magee (~2016)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/ld-blues

A sleep so damn peaceful she doesn't even dream

anna magee (tidbit - March 6th, 2021)

Homecoming

anna magee (~2017)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/homecoming

Stupid You

Your clumsy hands have

Slit my passion’s throat,

Right down the jugular

A crisp straight line,

A road that leads to

My dying mind’s eye

A black hole now

No thanks to you

Or to the girl you prefer

With words like honey

Simple and sweet

So you can understand

No tricks up her sleeve,

But oh, my words confuse

Your simplistic mind

Like a child 

Too meaningful and

Full of emotion

Too raw for your

Shrinking ideologies

Open your stupid little eyes

So you can see

The world I have painted

In your shadow

anna magee (~July 2016)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/stupid-you

Mouth of the Forest

anna magee (August 15th, 2017)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/mouth-forest

Lollipop suckers in the left-hand corner of something simplified

anna magee - “Spit” (September 25th, 2021)

Butterfingers

anna magee (August, 2017)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/butterfingers

Stolen Chair

Last night

The wind

Took my chair

Much to my

Displeasure

But the chair

Didn’t care

As it floated

Away, miles

From the stoop

From which

It had come

Snatched and

Stolen by

Nature, and

Flung down

The street

An adventure

For plastic

And bolts

anna magee (February 27th, 2021)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/stolen-chair

I have nothing to lose but my wounds.

 anna magee

JMM-D

anna magee (~June, 2016)

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/jmm-d

2016

November 4th, 2016

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/2016

And one day may I lay in an endless landscape of wildflowers

Let my stomach be full and my hair unruly

The sun beating down in true mid morning light

The birds sing a song not of this world

I want to bathe every ounce of a life that was never mine away in the stream a mile north

Icy cold water

Babbling over rocks

Washing away someone’s mother’s screaming

Erasing his sweaty handprints from her body

Let my face be stained with blood red fruit

Sitting underneath the cherry tree

Gorging myself with the very definition of contentment

My cheeks touched by the sun

There is a pleasant sort of exhaustion I will feel

When my basket carries freshly picked fruit

My arms sore from the trees I had scaled

To pick better fruit and gaze at what lies in the field of beauty

It’s 7

The sun is going down

Fireflies take over the land

crickets are chirping a symphony

It’s the kind of spring that you believe might last forever

My window is open

The trees sing their hollow lullaby

I’m asleep in minutes

I wake up to find myself drenched in sweat, the window is closed.

there are no birds.

I must be dreaming.

My childhood came to a screeching teeth grinding stop one day

And my world hasn’t taken a single day off of spinning

My mother was thrown against the living room wall

And I’ve been trying to mend the cracks in my brain

It all came crashing down that day

giddy child laughter silenced

And the screaming began

I hadn’t felt a prick of pain

And it came like a fucking tidal wave

Knocking down Barbie villages and trampolines

Leaving only dented walls with the shape of my trauma etched into them

not every dead man was noble and neither are the dying

has every fall from grace been exonerated

now that your date of demise has been established

long have we honored the fallen as kings

with little regard for their true archetype

have the moribund beings been pardoned of their wrongdoings

now that they face deaths eternal grasp

-sundayafternoonsedentary

i’ve witnessed the cavities slither their way into his brain

etching out the desire to get out of bed

rotting teeth were never so beautifully maddening

the poor man didn’t stand a chance against the decay in his mouth

-sundayafternoonsedentary

i really wish i hadn’t charmed my therapist

maybe i wouldn’t be sitting in the position if i had

i wanted her approval just as much as anyone else’s

so i lied and cried at the right parts

reeling her in until-

snatch.

“this is not your fault”

but you see sarah,

it is.

all of it is.

but if i reveal my tactic of manipulation

my whole facade will come crumbling down

and you’ll begin to realize that i am not the victim of my own story

i’ve been pulling the right strings and moving the right pawns

but again, here i am

wishing i didn’t have to lie to you

because right now. i need you.

-sundayafternoonsedentary

he finally told me he was proud of me yesterday

after i had given all of myself

searching in other people what he didn’t give me

selling parts of my soul for short lived validation

but you’re proud of me dad?

all that is left of me is my heart in your hands

what i’ve become is great he says

but i look in the mirror

and i see a few strands of hair falling from a broken down body

morsels to appreciate

but finally, he is satisfied

-sundayafternoonsedentary

was i created to lie here forever?

molded into a cancerous being

rotting from the inside out

i have been running from existence for so long

only to find out that i will never be able to escape my predetermined demise

so i will remain here

letting a once lovely creation rot

-sundayafternoonsedentary

something about falling snow is unsettling

peaceful to the eye

silencing the havoc throughout homes with a foot of soundproof encasing

sure the purity of the winter is breathtaking

but my lawn has been walked over time and time again

and the chaos is seeping out through the gaps of my snow boots

my screams echo with snow flakes hitting the ground

this chill in my bones is not serene

i spend hours upon hours lying sedentary within my porcelain throne

filled to the brim with the tears of my past lovers

soaking in the glory of being alone again

~sundayafternoonsedentary

will you turn my brittle body into poetry

when the cold kiss of death finally reaches my solitary corpse

will you interpret the path i skipped along

writing brilliant words of how my spirit dances in the wind

or will i be forgotten?

just to become a feast for the life that lives under the surface

scribbled lines in the once lively flesh

it was never pen ink that cherished me so

if my name has not been lost

and you happen to graze upon my initials in a history book

run to my tombstone

letting it be known that it wasn’t all for nothing

recite to my grave lovely words

soothing my wandering soul

remove my past from the chain around my ankle

let my image seep into the setting sun

allow all that is left of me to be the stanzas of a lifetime

an exhibit of beautiful words bleeding from a lifeless body

permit the future to forget the configuration of my skeletal being

but to devote their time to decipher the words you have strung together to recall my existence

please oh please let me be poetry

- sundayafternoonsedentary

make me a goddess

shaped out of pure divinity

mold my features so that they appear to kiss the setting sun

search my soul with eyes full of lust, love and wondering

so sweetly set me on your pedestal

displaying my celestial substance for all of the mortal beings to gaze upon

as the liquor crawls down your throat the phrase I love you is drunkenly forced out

fatherly compassion that only surfaces when the alcohol has engulfed your body

submerged so deeply in a drink that love is just another meaningless word

a silly phrase that slips off of your tongue with the sharp taste of whiskey

too intoxicated to hear the crack in my voice

when i tell you that I love you more

more than your addiction

more than myself

but my words are tossed into the trash

clinking with empty bottles

colliding with conversations you don’t recall

memories of an absent father that loosely maneuver through my conscience

I have to compete with a $58 bottle of bourbon

but you seem to love being numb more than raising your daughter

it’s alright dad

i’ll carry the both of us out of this mess

maybe one day when you wake up you’ll thank me for it

but for now, I love you and I can spare enough love for the both of us