Dreamers

Don’t let them get you down

I know you probably supported them

and their dreams so much so that you lost yourself

And now that you’re reaching for the stars

 

it seems they are intentionally avoiding your endeavors

That the support you provided isn’t reciprocated

That’s ok cuz this is your fucking dream

Dream bigger since it’s just you

dream louder and longer

and don’t stop until you have everything you’ve ever wanted

just because they don’t have the courage to support you while you’re learning

doesn’t mean you’ll never be good enough

keep going keep digging

 

New England Cafes

 

 

Passionate Seekers

Empty sex, soulless endeavors and failed attempts at trying to find ourselves somewhere buried beneath all the shit we were drowning in. He called me a bitch in front of the kid and I didn’t like that so I reached out and socked him right in the chin. “I don’t need this. Why am I even here?” Only I knew why I was there. He had this freedom my tiny inexperienced little fingers just wanted to grasp and never let go of. Only thing is his freedom came with a price he wasn’t willing to share. The previous day we were all cuddled up watching Nemo. Snacks mingled with kisses. Things were quiet and I told him why I liked him and he told me why he liked me. It’s for reasons I can’t recall because there’s something about toxic relationships that make the good times fade much quicker than the worst. You gotta dig a little deeper to find the nice girl hidden behind the slutty bitch. There was this one time we made dinner together, daughter in high chair, music on, and bare feet tapped against the black and white tiles. We danced and sang terrible lyrics and smiled in fear that tomorrow was nipping at our heels. And it nipped. I tell him he’s useless, he tells me I’m a whore. We go back and forth till the socking happened. Shitty, I know. That may have been one of those nights I lost a handful of pearls on the floor of some other guys bedroom. We just wanted the release, you know. I’m not sure either of us ever got it.

people-3063217_1280
This Black Lacey Number

 

Saschia Johnson

cropped-cable-541063_1280.jpg

Jam Jars

There was this world

my escape

but the demand for my attention was too great

fantasies nudged me awake all hours

the picturesque garden and nipping faries

and the words

they poisoned my proper shapes

in such a fantastic way

in a way hope was made toxic

And so I tilled but not for long

my pride got the best of me

for the world was much too fertile

and I confused the growth

for the jars of jam I canned through the winter.

-Saschia Johnson

 

 

 

 

 

not my business

is she black 
no she’s


⊕ white


 

is she loved by any other

than

the one that’s love is pure

?

it holds her down

*it- a woman, not a companion

Because companions required the stuff she didn’t

have to give

she buried them

along with pure love

in a grave

 

*it held her down

while he pounded

while he finished

 

only to call the next|                                                    |morning and ask

 

How’d you like it?

 

She, a business woman

couldn’t say

“me too”

because maybe he
changed maybe she’s

wrong

 

She changed though

no longer

purely loved no longer

a virgin

 

Held down by
strength

Held down by- not

a companion

 

-Saschia Johnson

IMG_20180319_085120_149.jpg

 

Skin Show

 

I kept him sacred

I circled him

finding his flaws In every inch of my poetry

I don’t touch him because

he’s my own sacred shrine

untouched by human artists

Untouched by the words of man

Only to be described in silence by the divine

Whether you believe in that type of thing

or not

he’ll tell you to believe and behind him

I’d nod, yes, conflicted

I want him as my own

but I want the world to know this sacred

feeling I can’t afford to lose.

-Saschia Johnson

 

fairy-2164638_1280

Crumbs Dishes

I’m in search of symbols

I search the worst places first

starting with Social media

the dusty ones

Those few I should’ve deleted

 

I clean the house

Because they could be mixed in with the dishes

Or with the crumbs on the carpet

And when that’s through I sit and think

And think

If I were a metaphor where would I be?

There’s the trees

the oceans

The sky and wild creatures

Love, heartbreak, Death

Is it possible that the search

is the metaphor

The crumbs the dirty dishes

the urge to find a connection

-Saschia Johnson

hay-505419_1280

~*Energy Drinks*~

Love Notes from my Spine

I’m holding you up

like a puppet on a string

but you have to move your own arms and legs

You can do this, I shout from behind

I support your rapid decline

and slow ascension

Rolling down has momentum

it’s the act of Sisyphus that brings progress.

-Saschia Johnson

Sisyphus c.1870 by Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Bt 1833-1898
Sisyphus c.1870 Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Bt 1833-1898 Bequeathed by A.N. MacNicholl 1916 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N03141

 

 

Featured Image:

Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Bt

Connections

These hands write and write

Wandering into the crevices between my floor boards

I thought I heard a bed bug

It’s causing this insane itch

There’s a connection, I know it

Maybe it was that night with the Russian

The silly thing must want me to

teach it English.

Or it’s sent from a lover who’s

on the other side of the wind.

Maybe it bit Einstein cuz it

walks around whispering, “It’s all relative.”

As long as it doesn’t get under the wallpaper,

I’m sure I saw it wink when I swallowed that one man whole

I survived, and you must know,

Eating an entire man

Could kill you.

 

-Saschia Johnson

 

cable-541063_1280

 

Inspiration from

Henry Miller, Milorad Pavoc, Albert Einstein, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Silvia Plath