Their team name is ANGER.

It physically hurts
when others they speak
their words attach to my skin
and I try to dig them out of my pores
only they’re quick
seeping in
and expanding inside.

My brain sends an army
their team name
ANGER.
They’re vicious
and ready to tare their opponents
as they grab the words that slip in
on the ready they launch them out
to destroy the others
that cause the hurt
and any of the innocent
standing about.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Thanks for not sharing.

Using chemicals to feed the garden
deterring the critters
and the insects
as if they shouldn’t eat
as I hold the tomato
batting it in the face
of the little critter
looking at me
flicking its tail
as I laugh
it’s all for me
later a rumble comes over
and the pain almost unbearable
I hunch over
the critter in the window
laughing at me
Thanks for not sharing.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Every task is rushed.

Every task is rushed
by the emotions
triggering quick actions
and over thinking
as I struggle through the chores.

Standing upon the soggy floor
my foot slips
and my body falls
overwhelmed by the water stains
and dirty feet prints
I crumble beneath the crawl space.

Settling in with the rats
searching for food
as they begin
to nibble my skin
I lay dormant.

The cries of the ones I live for
call me back in
as I flick the rats to the side
and tell them they cannot feed
they must go.

As I pick myself up
climbing back through the hole
ready once again
to clean the messes
each day brings.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

In the syringe.

She saw the nurse
holding the syringe
labeled a bad mood
and quickly she thought,
How would it be any different
why not succumb
and accept it?
Wouldn’t it be easier
to be regulated
even if it’s anger and sadness
at a high intensity
rather than a mixture of all
happy, excited, surprised, sad, angry, frustrated
the list continues
unsure of which feeling will appear
at least she’d know
the words for the feeling
she was feeling at every moment.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Opinions have become political.

Every thought
has become closer to war
and opinions
have become political.
I remember the times
when people just voted
to vote
as if it mattered
then the election ended
and they lived on.
Now all we do is talk
complain about this side
complain about that side
and I’m like
are they both rich?
Salute to them
they bought their way
their faces glued on the tv
I salute them.
Which one?
Uhh there is more than one?
Oh yea that’s right
the one that looks
like a poorly made
wax figure has melted out of office
and now we have
another old man
cool.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Frustration.

Frustration existed
at the first moment of thought
even before thought was possible
frustration crept in
at the moment of breath
even before then
as they nestled in their
mother’s womb
frustration was already alive within them.

As frustration grew
through childhood
and early adulthood
frustration changed
at first it was the smallest
feeling a tinge of hunger
awaiting another
to be fed
feeling a burp
awaiting release
by a pat on the back
a first step
a stumble
and several steps
turned into full on sprints
and it was time to go to school.

Frustration was never
seated in the back
yet never placed in the front
of the teachers lecture
frustration appeared
as the teacher shook their head
forcing them to wait their turn
speaking out of turn was prohibited
thinking up their own responses prohibited
bathroom breaks were few
and if they weren’t quick enough
they wouldn’t make it
and the laughter consuming
as frustration grew.

As adulthood approached frustration
grew excited
and began to lighten
leaving the adult full of anticipation
till the bills piled
and they had others to answer to
and expectations rarely were met
as they realized
the rules are binding
and they’ve been trapped
by their teachers
and the rest of the elders
into believing
they themselves
were capable of answering
to themselves.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

I watch the words.

I watch the words
as they write themselves
upon the walls of my mind.
The little me
she scurries to wipe clear
the walls
to keep it clean
as the words
write faster upon the walls
she struggles to keep up.
Smudging words
as letters become entangled
and words look funny
and peculiar
to that of what I was taught.
She stands back wondering
if any words
are any one persons
and if any thoughts
are any bodies alone?
Are they the thoughts
of the person that wrote them
or are they the thoughts
of all the others
that invented them.
Are our thoughts
forced upon us
do we think them up ourselves?
Is it that our minds
have already been written
since we subject ourselves
to rules and structures
and information
passing from one to us
and I ask
at what point
do we stop thinking
for ourselves
or have we never?
Have we only thought
the thoughts we were given
by others?
Are all our thoughts
predetermined?
Is it possible to think
something different
when we use words
that already exist?
How many combinations
till they’ve all been used
refurbished
and it all becomes the same?

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

I can see the thoughts.

I can see the thoughts
as I think them
slipping out of my mind
as if they’re spiders
quickly sprouting webs
as the words dangle
hanging off my ceiling
in the webs of thoughts
hatching as the anxious
feelings grow
and they multiply
as my mind sputters to keep up
my eyes weighted
by all that they must process
and my hands quickly type
as the words
begin to be eaten
by the thoughts
and my feelings keep changing
and my opinions they alter
as the spiders feed.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

If the universe is connected, then we are all connected?

If the universe is connected,
then we are all connected?
I want to break free
of that connection.
I want to make art
that isn’t of the past.
I want to create new
not alter parts
rather find entirely new parts
as they did
in the times before now.
When they were gifted
with the newness of life
of having fewer books
and fewer connections to the past
and they could create
and they could design
and they could set rules
in which we now all follow.
If only we could
repaint our past
hang up new signs
and let the dead be dead
as we allow ourselves to create again.
Graffiti the buildings
burn our money
shred the cards
close the banks
and just create
something entirely different
that for once
isn’t about one hovering above
rather all standing together
and then
I’ll be willing
to fuse that connection
once again
because it’d be worth it.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

It’s just a part of human.

All the trash pile it in a landfill
and the pains just cover with a pill
and the thoughts erase with a hard fall
as the others just stand there and stall
shredding the evidence of actions
altering the captions.

History books are flawed
and feeling that soon will be outlawed
as the past speaks
the boards of the past creeks
and we all just listen
some angry, some content with their vision
and others left to question
their very own reflection.

It’s just a part of human
trapped in part of tradition
bathing themselves in culture
as they bury themselves within scripture
it’s the pressure of the species
forced to live sheepishly
because we think, because we feel
because we over compensate what is real
neglecting the past is truth laced in opinion
the ability of make-believe is human.

Thanks or reading.
-Temperamentally Tina