teawritesstuff

[billy-crudup]

Before, you were asking about ‘our daughter’. It’s crazy. But… it really got me thinking… what if… you had come with me all those years ago.  You want to know what would have happened? ‘What if?’ We’d wake up everyday… in a tiny apartment… over a failing laundromat.  EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE (2022) dir. Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert 

[teawritesstuff]

red bricks and vines

I walk around with heavy shoulders with heavy red bricks wrapped in green vines in each hand.

I’m walking up this rocky mountain and the cold winds blow daring me to stop.

It whispers words at times reminding me of the hurtful past and to let go as I try to carry on, but the weight of it is still there.

I can’t put them down. 

Green vines have grown around the bricks, tightening them to my hands.

They’ve been there so long that I’m used to it now. 

I forget that they are there.

I’m reminded when I go to scratch my twitching nose or when I raise my hand.

Simple things always bring it back.

I’m told to let go of these bricks, but they are a part of me like how our pasts make up our story whether it be good, bad, or terrible.

I’ll probably never forget, and as I sit on the top of the mountain seeing the beautiful forest down below. I’ll take a moment to watch the tall pine trees sway in the wind.

I’ll remember something too. 

Something, I’ll forget time and time again.

[gay-thoughts-blog]

[luzity]

one time king didn’t let go and one time when he did.

separate tides // king’s tide

[teawritesstuff]

Ow

[teawritesstuff]

Worry

tw: talks of death and hospitals

The anxiety of a hospital waiting room is one like waiting for an acceptance letter into your top choice school or taking a test you spend weeks studying for but you can’t remember any of the material.

Your heart beats in your ears as your brain scrambles for any answer that can solve your dilemma. You submitted everything that was needed and you knew the answer to the last question.

You start to take deep slow breaths and wait for the mail carrier to come by. You take breaths knowing you have plenty of time.

But sitting in the exam room waiting to hear back from the doctor about if you have cancer or not isn’t like that. Your mom is in the corner of the room. No one is on their phones. Your mom starts to make plans just in case. She is willing to give you the master bedroom with the nice bathroom attached. You can watch TV on the wall and maybe take time off from school. Then your mind races and you think of the possibility of your mother having to bury you. You can hear the eulogies of peers that care so much about you.

They are a kind person who always put others first

They are so sweet.

We will miss them.

You won’t be there to hear it, but you hope it is beautiful.

The knock on the door is startling. The mail lady is here. You finished that exam.

Turns out, it was all for nothing. You are just fine. You just got into your top choice. You aced that exam.

But, then, the next thing comes to worry you.

[teawritesstuff]

I am Here

The thundering outside whispers as rain thumps against my window. The trees dance in the wind and reach for each other as lovers in cars pass under.

The noise is soothing as it keeps going, reminding me that though the weather outside is ugly and trees fall in their attempts to hug each other; I am here. 

I am here and I am real.

[teawritesstuff]

Forgive and Forget

They always say to forgive and forget,

But I don’t think that’s right.

We can forget, but never forgive

and we can forgive and never forget.

Forgiveness shouldn’t be easy to obtain,

The breaking of trust is hard to do

So forgiveness shouldn’t be the same.

[teawritesstuff]

Stories

My mind is everywhere but here.

It wanders down the wooded path,

under the moonlight as it gazes at each plant

and at each creature that scurries by.

My mind chases after these creatures with a blissful laugh,

as it keeps going and forgetting about the busy night ahead

it grows tired from running and laughing and demands rest

when I need it most.

I lay in bed now, ready to sleep.

Nothing is getting done and my eyes are tired and droopy,

but my mind is awake and ready to chase creatures again,

it is ready to tell me all the stories it has to share.

Boring stories really, but does that really matter? My mind has stories from different forests and strange creatures it has witnessed. My mind is excited and ready to share, and even it is painful it will share it. Because memories are what make life the good and the bad. 

[teawritesstuff]

Why?

America, can we talk for just a second?

Why the fuck is healthcare so hard here?

Why am I, and hundreds of other people struggling

to get a piece of paper saying they’ll “help” pay

for our medical bills. 

Why the fuck do we have to pay money to live?

As you cram preservatives and fake food into our throats,

and then we get sick and can’t afford the basics.

Why is that everywhere else they have a system to help?

Why do we have to give up thousands of dollars to touch our child or to not die?

Why, America?

Why?

[teawritesstuff]

Love Poems and Chicken

I’m told to write a love poem and I think back to the poem I wrote for class. Because I realize that I have never been in the romantic, I want to have sex love, but I have experienced crushes and platonic love.

I wonder why it is so hard to write about the love for my friends and family.

I think the best way to talk about it is through food.

I make food, extravagant food like fried chicken for those I care about. I don’t mind cooking away for days at a time to make something for a friend. I’ll change an entire recipe and accommodate for a friend.

Love is weird. It isn’t as easy as making fried chicken completely from scratch. That has directions and instructions. I’ve done it a hundred of times. But love? I’ve never done that. At last not romantically.

[teawritesstuff]

History

As we walk down historic streets

lined with old trees and buildings

remember that some are witnesses of history

and some are graves.

[teawritesstuff]

Battle

It’s a battle

a never ending battle

a wits end battle

that we all fight until the very end

because we must be the one who stays up the latest

to finish the project

and get the job done.

[teawritesstuff]

Yesterday’s Poem

The power went out the other night

when I was supposed to write that 6th poem,

so I took the chance to go to bed.

I wish I could have said I had a poetic dream,

but instead my alarms melted into my dreams,

and I slept in and woke up late.

[teawritesstuff]

Unicorns

I wonder what unicorns dream of.

Do they dream of us humans?

Humans, those mythical creatures 

that chase out things they hate.

Creatures that murmur hateful words

as other humans walk past.

The creature that hates another

just for the way they look?

The unicorn shakes its mane,

That’s impossible it though.

Humans would never be that barbic.

[teawritesstuff]

Very Asian

On New Year's Day,

I spent hours behind the stovetop, anxiously waiting for the kakuni to braise.

It took about four hours and I needed the sauce it braised in

since it would be used for the tare.

I spent hours anxiously hoping that I made the tare just right as I dropped the hard-boiled egg into it and hoped it would turn into a tasty Ajitsuke Tamago.

I made the broth delicately with soy sauce and bonito flakes and chicken broth.

I watched as the broth boiled, and I dropped gluten-free ramen noodles into the pot, the only thing that wasn’t homemade besides the soy sauce.

I open a bottle of original calpis and poured some out offering cups of it to friends and family.

I delicately made each bowl of ramen with love and topped it with the ajitsuke tamago and other toppings.

We all sat at the round table slurping up the noodles and talked about how good the ramen tasted. I wished I cooked qyoza and karagae too, but I wouldn’t have the time. I would have wanted to make everything fresh and homemade, so I just stopped at ramen.

I love cooking for my friends and family. I love showing them my culture, a part of my being. I love sharing the cuisine that makes my mouth water like a dog drinking water. I like to watch their faces light up as they eat. 

Yet.

People take offense when I talk about it because being Asian, or Very Asian, 

or just different isn’t appropriate.

[teawritesstuff]

Why are My Poems so Dark?

There’s always a guilt to be felt when you share a story that doesn’t end happy or doesn’t have something happy in it. But, here’s the thing happy stories aren’t really fun.

Who is interested in learning about a birthday party where everything went right? 

Mom and dad carried the cake in, and the candles sparkled and danced.     Everyone smiled and sang loudly. We all laughed as I blew out the candles and opened my presents. I got a barbie doll and a new shirt.

But, wouldn’t it be more fun to hear the story that the roller rink burnt down on your birthday?

 Yeah, all my presents caught on fire after that grease fire at the roller rink.

There is something that is interesting about dark poems. We witness these stories with our own beady eyes and we try to interpret them. We try to understand them. These memories. These traumatic, happy, sad, memories. We want to remember. We want to share. Because without these stories or memories are we truly happy or sad?

Stories aren’t always happy. And stories aren’t always sad. Or dark. 

They’re stories. 

They’re memories.

They’re what we witnessed with our own beady eyes.

[teawritesstuff]

189,819

The longest English word is:

Well, too many letters.

It sits at 189,819 letters.

It’s a technical-scientific word

and a mouthful to say.

My tongue gets tied often,

it twists and turns and folds over.

It makes me think of speech therapy.

and the days I spent crying over how

I couldn’t pronounce a word.