Art by Marta Barcikowska https://jamartprints.com/artist/marta-barcikowska/
Thoughts Running Amok
I lie, still kept up by the deafening sound of my thoughts,
The whirring of my brain going 90 miles an hour,
Trying to silence my mind,
I grieve the loss of power,
Fighting off the ideals I find myself obsessing over,
Waiting for my head to quiet,
Only getting older.
Who Are You?
I still do not know who I am
but should I know jet?
Am I straight, gay bi?
Am I kind, cruel, mean?
Am I just being selfish?
Could I stop all this dressing?
Am I just being myself?
Who could I?
If I still do not know who I am
But If I don’t know who does?
Why do they care?
Why do the invent what they do not know?
Why do they have the right?
They try to tell what’s right
But what If I don’t mind
What if I don’t want to mind?
I will just keep being myself
Even when I don’t know who I am.
Down here in Passage West
We play sports with pride and passion
While wearing the Passage crest
From GAA to soccer,
From a full forward to a goalkeeper,
We win our games with pride
In the history of the family surname
With all the gear
In our clubs we have all the tier
From a glove to a boot
Scoring goals and points with a head or a foot
In passage, we reach sky height
Our jersey are the beautiful colours
Of green and white.
She is perfect, you think
Her smile, her eyes,
She is perfect, you think.
She is kind, and funny
She is perfect, you think.
I remember I wanted to quit for so many times,
But I knew this moment would come,
Now it’s my time,
I have got to make up for all,
Them nights that my Mom done cried,
I’m going in, I’m putting everything on the line,
Like I’m going to war,
With my demons in my mind.
They told me to be myself
But that is not so easy as you think
To lay down the titles and names needs time
So, take the time you need for that
To be yourself is a difficult and hard process
You won’t get it finished alone
So, make sure to climb up the mountain
Which is called life, not alone
With friends and family, you trust on your side
You can reach more than that
So, do not be alone and think about the bad things
Try to be yourself and do the things you like
Drop the mask of sadness and self-hatred
And be more you.
I feel special.
No, I don’t feel special
I feel weird.
Every time that we have to meet people,
You see a few people around you
But I see a crowd.
A crowd that suffocates me
It suffocates me so much that
No words come out of my mouth.
Afterwards I feel as if a poison runs through my veins,
Because I can’t move and I freeze,
But I still have the strength to run away.
So that later you come and tell me:
‘They are only people and they don’t bite’,
But for me they do bite, but not them…
The whistle echoed through the grounds
The sound of boots hitting the floor reminded me
Of hounds coming through the door
Sprinting down the left side with a man running at me,
Not caring what happens
His eyes blaring with determination as he attempts to break me,
I avoid him with no affiliation
Defending our goal as the ball came gliding over the top,
We act as a bomb is about to drop.
Through the thick, locked walls of the now frozen heart
Sit years of memories, hidden emotions and past souls
That no longer belong in your heart
But still linger with the fear
Of being forgotten.
All you want is for them to be forgotten.
I am so nable
Life is tough
I lost my phone cable
Council living is rough
Waiting for dole day to come around
With nothing in the fridge
I feel like a hound
Looking over the bridge
Days are dark
Living without hope
It’s not a walk in the park
When everyone keeps calling you a dope
I feel so lost
With nowhere to go
At what cost
Would I go home.
Fighting With Myself
My mind beats me up and drags me down the cliff
Expecting me to climb it all over again with a smile on my face
It tells me what to do and when to do it
And I do as it orders me to
Afraid of what could happen to me if I do otherwise
It puts me in a mask and it shapes me to its own taste
Hoping I will do this to the rest of my life
Forcing me to lie out of fear of the others not accepting me as I am
Pressuring me into staying in the cage that I put myself into.
“you’re gonna end up on paul street”
i’d rather go into serious debt,
get food from a bin to eat,
ask for money with my pet,
get robbed at knife point while it’s pouring sleet,
and get arrested for stealing a trumpet
i am paul street.
I’m going back,
Back to Poland,
The run-down streets my parents grew up in.
The junkies by Makaran,
They sit there all day like a big clan.
Radiation fills my bones,
As I walk down the path covered in stones.
Never feel like an outcast there,
Everyone welcomes you like you’re one of them,
I love Poland, my second home forever.
Wasted in making mistakes,
But what is actually a mistake?
Something that makes you vulnerable to others’ judgement?
Then love is a huge mistake.
It consumes you,
It destroys you.
dressed up as the best thing that could happen to you.
Because that is what they told you.
Cat-catcalled in a school uniform
Money thrown from moving cars as I walk home
And looked up and down by old men
People I know sexualised by others
People I know by name
People used by guys not worth the time
And I told them they’re crap and ugly and not worth it
But they never listen
Blinded by the fake emotion of wanting
Someone to love and find them beautiful.
With A Smile
I will not let my masculinity be defined by the feelings and actions of others
To see values, honesty, empathy over wealth or power
To take action on issues not only surrounding women
But also listening to men’s struggles
To not have masculinity and misogyny go hand in hand
To not see it as men or women but as people
I want people to be able to say masculinity
With a smile rather than a scowl.
As a woman I’m afraid to wear the wrong thing.
As a woman I’m afraid I won’t be good enough.
As a woman I’m afraid I will get hurt.
As a woman I’m afraid I will say the wrong thing.
As a woman I’m afraid of you replacing me.
To the pump of the beat to the jump to my feet
I get in a car skirt and retreat
For all I know you say you’re friend
But when I turn back I know you’re a foe
My mind is filled with the intrusives, but you don’t see me getting abusive
If I could I’d hop on a train God knows I’d run from this pain.
What We Should See
Sometimes we feel small, as we don’t actually matter.
Sometimes as objects that only count as numbers,
Sometimes we think they only see superficial things
And not what we are, our abilities, our thoughts,
I look up, the dark alley standing eerily before me,
Thoughts fly through my mind,
I hear footsteps behind me,
My heart races, I pick up the pace,
The footsteps quicken,
My stomach twists,
I feel their presence and hear their shouts,
Then, all I see is darkness.