Humans are not facts.

WE are unsolvable
because humans are not facts.
Our databases are stored of opinions
cluttered of numbers
we consider statistics.
Compiled to skew perception
because the COLLECTor
determines from whom
what is collected.
We are NOt FACTS.
These minds of ours
alter their data
making it possible
to stay on
and not shut down.
We are not TRUTH,
we are not honest
because humans
live within their illusions.
Behind screens
sharing perfect collections
of images
in which tears are only shed
when sympathy is to be gained.
Humans are not truth
they seek compassion
and they give it
to look human.
I laugh at the irony
because being human
is a kind of animal cruelty
that belongs to only us.
To only that animal that is human
and whichever choices
we make
we haven’t been able
to bleed it out of us
because that cruelty
has been growing
within us
at the birth
of intellectual thought.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Stitch the skin.

We can repair
stitch the skin
use glue when needed
staples that disintegrate
as the wound heals
but the blade
it’ll reach
different parts
different places
the skin pigmentation
lighter or darker
it doesn’t matter
because living things bleed
and humans
die for their ideals
because strength
has been miscommunicated
for centuries
and no matter the process
we always fail
to live within restraint.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Embracing the pavement.

There is this place
in which I can feel
my body embracing the pavement
and the smell of iron as my blood
drips leaving a corpse
for another to find
this place it’s very real
this place I’m speaking of
in which we spend our limited time here
preparing for a place
we can’t see
can’t feel
can’t hear
and in preparation
of that mythical place
we abandon our future kin
leaving them a place
that soon will be unlivable
because we’re worried
about an eternal afterlife
rather than fixing
rather than cleaning
rather than saving
no it’s not the soul that needs help
it’s the very real bodies
dying about us
as we stand about
saying “look up
our protector up there
is always right here with us.”

The deception in your words
I may decipher
in which what you meant is
I have no time to help
unless it’s noticed
and broadcasted
and it is me that is not at fault
for I am only me
and I am the victim
in which I must speak
and say the victim is all
and is no one
all at once
because it’s impossible
to decipher opinion and fact
they don’t correlate
and rather lets just say
we all could try
and admit
and mend
and help
and solve together
and when we cannot
we say we’ll try
and we’ll try and we’ll leave
leaving behind our journals
hoping the next generation
can solve
what we haven’t
lets just hope there is another
and I will say
I will try
I will
and I will more
and what I cannot
I’ll apologize
as I leave this place
for that’s all any of us can give.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

I live here.

I’m not living for what may happen
I live for what is happening
this life right now
here in this place
in which I can think
in which I can feel
in which I can hear
in which I can smell
I can see
I live here
and even if I lost my senses
I would know this place is
and always has been real.

Rather than preparing for after
I choose to make the healthier choices
for this life to be longer lasting
and I don’t allow myself burdened
by an infinite dictator
because if it is true
there is life after this
count me out
if it’s ruled
by a so called creator
that created us in their image
I say no thanks
I’ll never be ready
to commit to that
for in death
I rather believe
there is no one left
to answer to.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Can we just live?

I’m going to die
You’re going to die
He’s going to die
She’s going to die
They’re going o die
It’s going to die
They’re all going to die…
Till then
can we just live?

We have opinions to give
ideals to push
thoughts to give
thoughts to take.

Living without fight
would be an impossibility
when each and every
is fighting the war of right.

My questions are these..
In death
who is the victor?
Does it matter then,
when you can’t think,
you can’t feel?
Does it mater then,
when we’re all dead?
Because our ideals
became our life
and living became
agony for all
because none of us is right
for all of us.
Will it matter then,
to be the most right,
when all is dead?

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

The evil we evade is all of us.

The most painful thought
that clutches my brain
digging in
and replacing hope
is that the evil
we evade
is all of us.

There is no group
we could confine within cells
or burry within our soils
to vanish the evil
and live within purity
because humans are animals.

It’s not the rich alone
it’s not ethnicity
it’s not privilege
it’s not poor
it’s not a country
the evil it lives within all
and you can’t separate it out
because you might just be
confining yourself within a hole.

It’s everyone
it’s all of it
all the time
because our stress
our wants to measure up
obliterate our humility
because we want the best
to be the best
to be the right
not the wrong
and we will fight to be it
because destroying the opposing
allows us to create a perception
in which our right
is every bodies
because we’ve killed the rest
and that is not a place
I’d ever accept
so bury me with any.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

I’m real because I can be.

I’m real because I can be
I have nothing to hide
no appearances to keep up
I’m just a nameless person
because I am not known
in a world of somebodies
writing off words
letting go of thoughts
existing here
the same as you
the somebodies
and all the others forgotten names
trying to exist
knowing they exist
and wondering is that enough?
and no
depending on your own worth
and what defines success
because it’s not a definitive
it’s a choice
a thought
that changes
between me
and to you
because we get to decide
what success is
and what defines us
as we are
and no you do not
have to listen to pop culture
and the biggest hits on the radio
to determine
what happy is
because sometimes
it’s the same
and other times it isn’t
for being human
means we get to think
and we get to determine
and we get to find us
and that is different
between person to person.

Thank for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

A pile of spaghetti.

I want to be patient
able to calm my mind
not react
a supportive body
not a pile of spaghetti
to slip upon
when walking through the kitchen
you’re holding a knife in your hand
gashing bits of skin as you slip
I don’t want to be torment
I want to be a happy feeling
not the coldest
part of a room
goosebumps the moment I enter
I don’t want to be the cause of shivers
I want to be supportive
in which I must
learn to calm
and mellow through
what I let be stress
words that are only words
debt that compiles
and turns into others wealth
it is
and rather than
be the misery
I’ll just let it shed
dusting it within a pile
and sealing it within a bag
to leave for the trucks
because this is humanity
and I am human.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

The feeling feeders.

They crawl
they get in
they get out
nestling within the dirt.

The feeling feeders
expand, growing larger
they want a release
they want to speak
and me listen
and I can’t
because I am not selfless.

In the dirt they multiply
eating the neighborhood
taking it in
letting it out in their squeaks
they want us to listen
their stories exhausting
and I’m tired already.

I don’t need to listen
hear the words I’ve spoken
I know not always politely
I make mistakes
I speak irrationally
and fast
I don’t want to remember
my faults
in each conversation
so please eat it
and let it out somewhere else
because I know
my faults
I do
just let me rest.

I understand your lonely
others must be
alone in their homes
literally or metaphorically
although I am not
I’m exhausted
with plenty of human interaction
and when I get a chance
I want to be alone
those critters in the dirt
just take a rest
and when you wake
try something new.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

A shovel in the hole
throwing about the excess
trying to make it larger
digging about
they’re going to find it.

Pacing in the cell
awaiting the final call
it’s their choice
waiting and pacing.

A few holes
air, there is air
breathe quick
slow it down
just a tick.

All shook up
their hands moving fast
a headache setting in
the pain is breaking
this small place suffocating.

The lid is falling
I dodge
a hit upon my head
down I am
I begin to smell it
ready to feed

I eat
and in that thought
I lay down
as if I must accept
this is home
the bottom of this jar
I die now
or I die later
free is neither.

For the prompt of this poem I was picturing what it’d be like to be an insect trapped in a jar. Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina