Welcome to episode 18 of njs warm mug of phantom poetry if you new the podcast I'm NJ Saroff a Also known as the phantom poet on SoundCloud This podcast best enjoyed a cup of tea and today's tea is Today's poems are what someone would put on my tombstone, letters to your Shadow, where wind would take me and human And the poem of the week is there is no greater crime than leaving by Bertolt brecht What someone else would put on your tombstone Here lies Natalie my full name would be printed on my tombstone I would not be able to make a correction or fix any of the gendered words used on to it it would say she lies here or she lived a good life She was a writer she was everything at the same time she was nothing she wanted to be she was a daughter, she was an actress, she was absolutely nothing she she she I was not a she when I died I want to be the he, the they, I want people to respect the gender that I I found myself in I want the name NJ printed on my stone I know that's a lot to ask for I know that Natalie is the name they wanted I know that Natalie has meaning but I don't connect with Natalie it's like we're two different people in the room one is called NJ, the other called Natalie, NJ is demiboy or non-binary Natalie is girl we aren't friends we would walk by each other in the hallway and ignore the other We do know that the other exists and that some people prefer one over the other and that some wish that one would just go away and die To die nameless to disappear and not bother any more to correct people on pronouns or names or the gender identity How you say daughter instead of child mother instead of parent gurl instead of pal sometimes I wish I was nameless formless non existent then they would have nothing to get wrong But I exist so please just listen before you put me in the ground and move on Letter to your shadow Dear shadow Shall I call you my dark twin Surely you are not evil You are simply a reflection You take on my form, my outline Magnify and shrink it You desire the light though you aren't seen in the night You are my longest and oldest friend every time I've been alone not in darkness but in the light that shines you have found me and in a way almost held me you do not speak But maybe you do not need to You do listen better than I do I've always wondered what's it like on the other side for you to always follow to never go your own to create their outline instead of your own I wonder if you miss me the way I miss you when it is too dark or when I am under shade I wonder if you think of me in those times when I am away I wonder if you wait for the light wait for the sun, smile at its arrival or if you don't want to be seen you want to hide if you want to remain invisible dearest Shadow you are my oldest and longest friend You have seen me through everything You know all my secrets I don't know if you wanted to but you do and now forever it will be just us two I have vivid dreams my thoughts paint images of days and weeks that stretch on in 2 years my memories I fall asleep the colorful visions of old times I called myself an artist yet I seem to only produce my best work in my head never fully able to put it out on the paper with brush or pen a dream of my masterpiece the words flowing so quickly the brush not shaking in my hand I tremble at the thought of making something beautiful it's not that I don't think I'm beautiful I do think I'm beautiful but there's something mystical about art shape its words how do we humans feel worthy enough to make it why do we feel the need to capture all the moments around us I call myself a writer I call myself an artist call myself a playwright I call myself a poet I call myself human and I think that's the only phrase that best describes me Where I'd like the wind to take me Back to the days of my youth Back to when I was closeted Back to when I claimed silence to be my one true friend Back to dating simply so I could --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm Mug of Phantom Poetry

Warm mug of phantom poetry: episode 18: gender and identity

Welcome to episode 17 of NJ warm mug of phantom poetry I'm NJ Saroff also known as the phantom poet on SoundCloud This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea and today's tea is Today's poems are a poem for destructo, a poem to mousetrap, to Georgia and sunflowers by van Gogh and the poem of the week verses 1, 20, 21, and 51 from song of myself by Walt Whitman To Georgia O'Keefe Bathed in colors are the roaring flowers springing to the curves of life growing out of the page blossoming into magnificent shapes, paint droplets circling and bubbling around the edges A flower, a forest, It could be anything and everything What do you find in the painting Poem for mousetrap I'm a glutton for food Hearing my bowl get filled puts me in the mood I love play I lay on humans and make them stay give me attention all through the day When I see a mouse I don't just pounce I stalk and wait till it's the perfect date to grab it up and eat it up And say oh yum cause I'm a cat that likes to have fun My fur is black like the night I'm always ready to cheer my owners up just right I jump onto there thighs when they want to cry and I purr till their filled with delight I love to sit on laps My name is mousetrap Poem for sunflower Van Gogh Van Gogh was not just a man of madness His Happiest picture was maybe also his saddest Sunflowers spark joy Yet this painting seems coy They sit in a vase drooping down Missing the dirt missing the ground Losing their petals Waiting for the water to settle Where did the sky go The flowers do not know They just hold their blooms Filling the air with sweet perfumes A poem to Destructo In the box is where I'll stay I do not want to come out and play I want to lay in my box Wait for lovely to pet me in the box Sometimes I do like to climb My fur is nice and fluffy All the humans think it's so lovely And lick my fur to unwind If I see a mouse I get ready to pounce I always miss but my owner still gives me a kiss They love me even when telling me no My name is Destructo The final poem for this week is song of myself by Walt whitman Walt Whitman was an American poet, essayist, and journalist. Bornin  May 1819, he was a humanist, who was a part of the transition between transcendentalism and realism, incorporating both views in his works. Whitman is among the most influential poets in the American canon, often called the father of free verse. He Died in March of 1892 Song of Myself (1892 version) BY WALT WHITMAN 1, 20, 21,and 51 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry: episode 17: end of april

What I miss I dreamed of you last night the way you used to be, the way you felt, the way you seemed, on the outside, never who you really were, on the inside, you are so much different in my dream, almost like, how you used to be, at the same, time better than who you ever were, I dreamed I could pick you apart, and then put the pieces back together, and we could start over, but we don't even talk anymore, we don't even see each other, I don't even know if you're alive or not, I hope you're okay, I hope you're good, but at the same time I wish I didn't care, I wish I didn't still think about you, I wished, that when we stopped conversations, that my life stopped having you in it, in my head, but it didn't, I didn't, I never stopped, I think what sucks is that the world keeps spinning, and I'm spinning in an entirely different direction than the earth, and I get dizzy easily, from all the thoughts clustering in my head, I don't know how to stop them, I obsess over them, you used to silence them, with the simplicity that was you, I think that's what I miss most, not you persay, but the silence you gave to me, the quiet, I know you weren't good for me, and I know I wasn't good for you, I know the two of us together were thid toxic Force, we just drove each other crazy, but I do miss you I know you don't care about I know you won't even see this, I know you don't miss me. But I still miss the idea of you and I don't know what to do April 14 . For these next 2 poem the prompt I chose to do came from 2 separate final sentances the first comes from the April edition of poetry magazine the part The part that makes me want to close my ears and run away and buy unsettling me so profoundly convinces me of her Divinity her demand that I recognize in myself the humanity she sees and she summons us to see as her Offspring and her dwelling place as love is revealed Love There's a part that wants us to close our ears and run away run so far that we will not know how to return back, We will forget who we are We will forget where we came from And we will never return and we think this is all well and good until we miss her until we miss the world until we miss all that came before us all that once existed And she in her beauty and divinity, in all her grace and pleasure She will call to us She'll so profoundly convince us to recognize ourselves and the humanity she sees so present in us. She summons us to see, as her Offspring, and her dwelling place, the love slowly being revealed that we tried to hide away from. She will love, it is all she knows how to do, she will love us even when we curse the name of love, She will love us even when we cannot love ourselves, She will hold us when there is no one to hold us, She the grace and beauty this invisible force We do not see her But she is there And Sometimes we do not want her But she is there from afar she is lonely And she only craves to make us happy To hurt or the harm was never Love's intension, Though we may believe it to be, We want to close off We want to run away we want to forget her beauty and her grace her pleasures that she gives to us We want to see no more of her and forget ourselves Love is in her dwelling place She continues to call, continues to reach out, continues to wait She has not given up on us So we can not give up on love. The Other quote is from Circe by Madeline miller the final sentance of that book was I lift the brimming bowl to my lips and drink Esteem I lift the brimming bowl to my lips and drink, I inhale with each sip. I take every last drop in. Then I lower the bowl and smile. For so long I was afraid to even hold this bowl To even look at it Now it's in my hands Now it's empty I have done what I thought I'd never do. I have taken a sip. lt has felt wonderous, beautiful, I breathe in Finally, A sigh of relief, Of thanks, I didn't think I was worthy of taking the sip Of drinking in the whole bowl --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 16: poetry month part 1

My email: njs.works.writes@gmail.com. Something about Summers always makes me want to cry  Something about sunny days and storms And then the cloudless nights always makes me crave another In the long days of summer it’s moments like this where things that once made sense for so long suddenly don’t  Something about summer and the freedom it provides that should be safe and welcoming but really it’s tackling me till I can’t breathe  Something about summer how sadness creeps in like tidal waves Something about tidal waves drowning me in a sea of memories Something about the beginning of July how I suddenly feel the need to give in and not try I’ve never liked the heat that makes me shiver more than the cold  Something about summer makes you want to go out but I prefer to stay in or under Something about the anxiety that comes with the thunder  I hate summer all the love, pain, and that burning golden sun, I Want to run, I want it to end  Yet once it’s over  I wait for its return Peaceful at ease mesmerized by the breeze chlorine filling the air, leaving one without a single care The splash of the pool The weather not to hot or cool Blue is the water birds do not bother The day is perfect for a swim The patrons jump in on a whim The swings blow on their own accord on the wind, Nothing about being here is a bore hair pinned back in a bun skin hugged by the sun Smooth are the waves people make with their Dives is this what it feels like to be alive? t The chwmical waves crash around you, The sky cloudy but still blue it's The first time summer is happy and not a bummer Creeping up from the corners of your mouth lips grining in the heat of the South A smile you thought had gone astray for miles Laughter is all around, it's almost an unrecognizable sound it's all so serain like something out of a dream, You notice then that the world is beautiful and life is suitable again to breathe to not leave It all make sense As the moon climbs over the fence The sun sinking down No reason to frown Starlit night The crickets chirp going to be alright And as the frogs jump by And you find a spot in the grass to lie Gazing up With your spirit about to erupt From the joy you haven't felt by being so coy Ode to summer and all it wonder Ode to earth and all it brings assunder, how lovely is it all, the season before all the leaves begin to fall. Spring time Dandilions peaking out from the ground Daisies bursting from the soil Dog wood blooms on the trees Daffodils gathering in the dirt Violets brighting the earth Iris laying around the gardens Roses covering the bushes Feilds of lilac Trees of blue Hills of red Spring where have you been Oh how we forgot you when grey was all that was seen When white took more than the stars that gleam Here you are sunny and golden Beautiful bright breezy The trees with their leaves return from their dead slumber Storms come to life with thunder Walk with me, it's spring time Dance in the rain, winter is over Lay in the ground, fall asleep in the warmth, Run through the feilds it's alive here Hike the mountains and see the sun as it displays everywhere Honeysuckle sips, from the trees the seeds spread the butterflies come out, the birds return, the squirls return, it's spring it sings, let the sounds ring, happy in what this season brings. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 15: nature feat Nikolas J. McKenzie

Here is Jen Fagala reading it's wild geese by Mary oliver You do not have to be good.You do not have to walk on your kneesfor a hundred miles through the desert repenting.You only have to let the soft animal of your bodylove what it loves.Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.Meanwhile the world goes on.Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rainare moving across the landscapes,over the prairies and the deep trees,the mountains and the rivers.Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,are heading home again.Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,the world offers itself to your imagination,calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -over and over announcing your placein the family of things. What disociating feels like Sometimes I forget I'm writing While I'm actaully writing It's like I'm just watching myself writing Like I'm focussed on it but zoned out while doing it It's like riding a bicycle and looking up at the sky and you forget your pedaling and feel like you're just walking while watching looking up at the clouds, I guess it's odd to use that metaphor because I still don't know how to ride a bike, some would say this means writing is fluid to me comes naturally I can do it in my sleep, but I think it's cause my mind drift, its like I'm on another planet but I don't know how I got there maybe it's a moon because I can feel the gravitational pull of another planet pulling me down and I can do nothing about it I'm from another planet I feel like I'm watching everything it's a completely different planet then the first two mentioned but there I am watching this moon be pulled by another planet through a telescope and I am Bound by telescope unable to Move It from that position of watching and yet I even look through a telescope in years so how can I use a metaphor about telescope when I don't even know how to use one. Sometimes while doing something I feel like I'm not the person doing it, like I'm not really there, it's like being trapped in a cloud which is partially gas, but distracted you because it's fluffy and light, and as it floats away with you in it you see that it's hard to capture it hard to pull it down so you lay in the sky stuck to the cloud, watching from above the life that is happening with someone who is you but doesn't feel like you. I've never touched a cloud never felt a cloud I just know how to describe them but maybe they aren't like that at all, maybe disociate is something indescribable like the cloud. I disociation, tiptoe away from reality and begin to tell someone else story, I tell of the lives of others that effected me, but not my own story, my mind wanders away from the page and I think about the people who die in winter i wonder how do you dig a grave in the cold frozen soil beneath the fresh snow of the morning Ground. I should not be thinking about death while breathing life into these words while giving birth to a poem but I am, maybe we look up at the sky, not because we see the beauty but draw our eyes away from falling off the flipped over bike. Vaccination for anxiety: after plath By N. J. Saroff 2018 The moans of those lost never wanting to be found are left to their own devices they shake the building with their vibrations, the walls inhale their cries of pain, the paint chips off and sticks to the hollow grave yard beds they sleep in. In the middle of the night doctor depression walks in the door squeaking open, I do not wake to the sound of his presence. His sharp needle stabs me in the brain, injecting me with a sadness serum, I do not flinch, I have come to expect this ritual, I only exhale fog into the cold empty night of darkness. The white of the room is stained yellow by age, the sheets once grey have a brownish tint to them now, the nervous nurse closes the window, chaining the balcony to stop the flyers. The rainy winds flood the lake, we drown ourselves in bath tubs, our burial homes swept away by the storm. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry: episode 14, feat Jen Fagala, illness part 2

Episode 13 Welcome to episode 13 of NJ warm mug of phantom poetry If you're new to the podcast I'm NJ Saroff also known as the phantom poet on SoundCloud This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea this week we've had this huge outpouring pandemic of coronavirus I did not run any poems about coronavirus but I have written poems about being sick not physically sick because that topic is always just weird for me I hate being physically sick but mentally sick is what I wanted to talk about specifically depression and PTSD while my anxiety makes me very sick I decided that I would kind of extend this topic over two ways cuz there's just so many poems and I'll talk more about my anxiety next week today's poems are anxiety arrose, how is your day, mirror conversations and depression feel like, And the poem of the week Is the loneliest sweet potato by Sara benaim and butterfly the gnarled by Amy king Anxiety arose trembling hands fight frail weakness of my body my knees crumble as I shiver into a puddle of nervesmy brain is lying with the unfocused loud energy of racing thoughts that can't be silenced I tried to sit but can't try to stand still but it won't constant motion fills my limbs spiking my heart rate into a frenzy is shiki smile creeps upon my mouth trying to hide my violent hyperventilating I have forgotten how to breathe I do not know how to stop I am having a panic attack and all I wanted to do is let go of the world and get out of my head and flee my body How was your day How's your day she asked from across the table I took a breathe in to remind myself I had to be stable it's been an uneventful day a Lazy day wishing to fade away to lay in bed, not talk instead to be lonely tired anxious annoying not inspired lack of vivacious you see I do not want to do anything today my mind is a black hole of a mess the stars that used to be glimmering in my eyes have faded I am now just explosions Fireballs asteroids the meteor shower coming in your direction I have nothing to offer today I am no Blue Sky I don't really want to be alive today is one of those days and doing my clothes are the only thing that might bring me some kind of joy I'm exhausted drained I feel like somebody actually dumped a whole trash load on to me like I am the dumpster or maybe I'm the sink drain and you decided today was the day to clog the sink with all of the issues and I don't mean you as in the person across the the table I mean you as in my depression and anxiety, today is not a good day I am an emotional wreck like I feel like I got into a car crash while I was asleep and I woke up unable to move for most of the day and the pain mentally and physically was the worst thing, I've barely eaten I've barely gone near the stove I'm literally just sitting in my coat here talking to some stranger who will only hear half of what I'm saying my underwear from yesterday is still on, my clothes are just barely changed I haven't showered yesterday took a bath so that's a start and I swore I was fine yesterday but right now I am not fine most people by now know this is not unusual they know that there are days when I completely hide myself in the world lock myself in the room, like go into a box where the sun can't find me turn off my phone, play music really loud on my record player read a fucking poetry book and ignore my existence, there are plenty of days when I see many messages me and I say hey I don't feel like talking today there are plenty of days when I make my Facebook status of do not disturb there are plenty of days when I say could you please just shut the fuck up because my brain hurts and it wants to leave my fucking skull so could you please just go I'm sorry I need to be alone and I know this is rude but it's one of those days when I just want to be left alone and I want to go home crawl in my bed and just hide for a few hours and forget that there is life that I have to live, that there are things that I have to do, --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 13: illness part 1

Episode 12 Welcome to episode 12 of NJ warm mug of phantom poetry If you're new to the podcast I'm NJ Saroff also known as the phantom poet on SoundCloud This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea This week I wanted to talk about memories I'm very good at picturing memories but not as good at holding onto the when and where of memories but poetry has helped me record important memories in my life Im including a trigger warning today as 2 of the poems I chose mention sexual assult and trauma and self harm This week's poems are how, wishes, and a poem to owings mills and the poem of the week is permanent home by Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, How by naticat I fell in love once Maybe twice now that I think about it Okay I’m sure I have only ever been in love 3 times. Each one ended different, he didn’t want me to be anything more than his fuck buddy, she didn’t like me the way I liked her, and they only liked the idea of dating me, not actually dating me. Suddenly surrounding me are people with very real emotions Very real feelings for me what am I to tell them, being honest seems so dishonest and wrong yet its who i am, I just want a fuck buddy who is just as inappropriate as I am, I just don’t like them the way they like me, I just prefer the idea of dating rather than actually dating How can someone love someone who has become the mere thing that the person they loved hated the most, how can someone look at that person they love and even utter the words I love you to them, I never wanted to be this way, I was sculpted this way by others, its not my fault, I give you a chance then I push you away . You ask me what I want but I Dont know, I never know. You say I can fall in love again, but I fall out of love so quickly You Dont want me, Dont tell me you need me, I am no good for you. When I fall in love I Dont stop being in love the feeling never goes away. I’m still hurt inside from those 3 who I know didn’t mean to hurt me. How can you love someone like that? You deserve better than this. I wish my mind mesmorized recipes over bed sheets, birthdays over hand prints, Book quotes over those lies I want to remember appointment times, instead of the anger lines that creased against his face Recall the flavor of hot cocoa not the way his lips taste against my skin Can I remember song lyrics instead of the bed we slept in I don't want to replay the way he stole my breathe away How his sigh ate my cries for help I feel so frantic in the places we used to go, a simple trigger and once again my tongue can't form a single word but no. Sometimes I find myself picking at this wound on my brain maybe if I drive myself insane I'll forget him. Be able to hold on to the memories of my lover Kiss, or old photographs, or the morning mist I want to remember the good parts of my life Not the metaphorical way he dug in his knife Sometimes I find myself waking up in his room even when I am so away from that house of doom And I just want to cry, cry about the nights, rid every nerve of the guilt from all the fights But I have carefully tucked his touch into every crevice of my body, made sure i couldnt escape his laugh in my ear, I still drown in his scent, and deep down I think I still care, I check his Facebook profile once a month to see who's remained friends with him despite the fact they know what he did, every time the number goes up, anger boils in me and i can feel it about to erupt I can not eject the shards he left me with, they dig into the cuts that reject the process of healing I am left with gripping onto him the same way he held onto to my limbs Careful not to leave a see able mark, but visibile anytime love leaked out of my heart. 2-15-19 When i was younger I remember how clean the streets were they used to glisten shine in the sunlight when you're young you think everything is alright but now trash lines the Roads and I don't know where to go so I stay in owings mills, ive lived in owings mills 13 years, --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug phantom poetry: episode 12: Memories

I wish savored your lips I wish I gave you one more kiss I should have memorized your skin against mine I should have asked you for more time I wonder if in a few months you'll forget me And I'll be a distant memory I want know if you really meant that you wanted us to be just friends or if in a few years it all come crashing to an end We'll go our separate ways Lie to eachother about how everything's okay Do you think we'll miss the other Or will we force ourselves to move on with another Cause I don't want to try this anymore, This searching only to end up at closed doors your voice is in my head As I imagine lying in your bed Us saying those 3 Words But now I want to leave them gone and unheard I can't erase your face I miss the way that you taste This just doesn't feel fair Why am I stubborn? why do i care? If I pretend it isn't real Maybe it will fix itself and we'll quietly heal But it's happened its in the past Like summer it's not going to last Fall will arrive with it's dying leaves We'll grow again find new pieces I'm just waiting for the funeral When the body won't feel so dull When I look into the coffin and see our love And how in an instant it finally came undone What we dont say We don’t say I love you We don’t say I miss you We don’t say I’m thinking of you Sometimes we don’t even say good night That’s not even polite I send you well wishes You’ve left my emotions needing stitches We act like just friends If only i had this end If i could rewind If we had just taken our time If we could just say it again I love you my friend You’ll always be more to me You helped set my heart free Picked me up when I would fall Listened to my boundaries and walls I swear you gave it your all But you said you didn’t get the butterflies So now I’m stuck here about to cry My heart still flutters Some nights i still mutter They come out in a stutter Those 3 words Its probably absurd Cause you don’t feel the same way I wish I was okay I wish you could stay I wish i didn’t have to go away You say you’re still here But i don’t see you any where Kisses don’t feel the same The numbness is to blame Why are we dragging this through the earth Letting it collect mud and dirt I don’t hate you I never will Yet still I wish it was different Cause we don’t say the things we used to We dont say the things that matter As we grow apart we both grow sadder I wanna run and get out Figure out how to forget about The nights in bed The things you said The hugs that were so long How you hold me and it still doesn’t feel wrong I look into your eyes I could live in the feeling of being mesmerised Take my hand One last dance again But we don’t We wont We don’t say the things we used to And i still love you lead on the longer i stay the more youll get hurt yes i love you love the way your lips feel  love the way you smell  love the way you laugh love the way your voice feels against my ear when we lie next one another love the way your hand fits in mine love the way you smile staring into those blues grey sometimes green eyes, i couldnt see my life without you but when you are lying next to me  sometimes i dont want to have sex sometimes i just want to hold you close and cry but the longer i hold your hand the longer i kiss you  the longer i keep you laughing the longer i stare into your eyes the more i wish i could tell you the truth that this hurts that sex hurts by saying nothing i am finding myself each day hating who I am  you dont deserve someone awful like me who will never crave you the wave you crave me i dont even see myself as a girl, you think i am a girl, but i dont feel like a girl  i am not always attracted to men atleast not sexually or maybe im not attracted to you but i like you i just dont want to have sex with you’ but i need you to let me go To the one I cant let go of I’m sick of telling this lie Faking okay as you leave and walk on by I don’t wanna cry I sit in bed unable to try The --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom Poetry Episode 11: falling out of love

This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea and today's tea is white tea with RaspberryFlower Lady the poem for Brianna lime leaves and sunshine flowers darling would you count the hours lady laughter warm sand color a firecracker reading energy or smile pink like rose of friendship Daydreamer light Beamer never a moment of dull or gray she takes the rain clouds paint them blue with Sky Ray's she sings the song The Birds hum along she takes the words on the page reads life into each so strong graceful nothing out of her reach no one's like her no one can compare so modest so unaware of just how amazing she is any day by her side is a day of Adventure she is Joy at the center she's a memory you want on endless replay She lays down on the field of grass e greens the world knows now what beauty means her, flowing are Brown waves around her face hair blowing in the wind with such Grace carmelize filled with such love and passion one feels mezmorized by everything she sets her mind to you don't know what next she'll do oh flower lady Sky fairy laughter dreamer won't you stay awhile and sit with me. Nostalgia mirage A poem for Miguel The sky isn't clear the spitting rain escaping the lips of clouds, tumbles into open lakes, snapshot memories of sunny day, bright nights, those starry Eve's, a friend like a tree still there despite the ever changing weather, roots buried in the ground like days past not dug up till change becomes inevitable. There is jar of moments, of better hours spilling out of the top, pouring over the sides, leaving it's mark on time, remember when things were simple, where someone else's hand held onto yours and kept it warm in the cold, it all used be easy you swear, the remarkable self tries to recall everything that once was begs to go back there, but your feet keep moving in the opposite direction you are dragged on by the wind, where did it all go? with love to a temporary friend That after 379 pages came to an end inked and wild transporting to the world of the mind of a child pages folded to mark our favorite spots little notes in the corners fade into dots each chapter a memory for a book is a friend that's only temporary its smooth soft cover or hard one like no other as the book was read a rush was felt pulse wasn't steady and our hearts began to melt so much to offer in this book things we didn't expect at out first look the adventure and places we saw the maps and animals we later draw inspired to read more for just one book opens doors here's to everyday spent together i wont forget a single letter it was a great time You will always be a forever friend of mine thank you temporary friend for 379 pages till the very endFor lo The moon cast its shadow upon the night the stars lit the way home to what I loved had left my mind forgetful was I. I felt the trees tangle around my ankles, pull me in and become one with them. I felt a leaving then a longing. Suddenly I was not the being I was minutes ago in the woods, and nature had stole my soul ever so slightly and I longed to have it returned. But it feeds upon the earth and leave me baren. The walk to where I was going and planning to go no longer felt important. I was no more. As I approached the door I discovered I could not open it. I was like the wind just a breeze. I was a shell on a shore. I, a hollow opening wishing to be filled. But I could not fill it. For my soul flew among the birds and took to the sky. Sinking into the mud and river, I was alone, yet I did not feel lonely, because the world around me was so alive with evening voices. This gave me a sort of reason to go on. And so I did, with out a soul, with out a body, with out a heart, with out a form, I grew my branches, and stemmed out my roots. I became one with what was around me, and I loved it. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 10: being in love part 2

Catching feelings- He told me he loved me last night I wanted to ask how I wanted to ask why I wanted him to explain it as if I was a math equation and love was the answer to solving me fixing me but it's not I'm sorry I don't even say I'm sorry anymore I just shut up quiet down No one will hear me leave Because I wont dare make a sound I don't like talking about myself Except in poetry, somehow it feels more filtered there like not the ugly coffee grounds I have wont make it into your coffee in the morning Maybe he doesn't love me he just loves the idea of me I'm afraid I don't even say I am afraid these days My mouth shivers with anxiety and no one ever gets that close to me but he's getting close to me, falling in love with me or so he says I'm paranoid scared he'll find the real me behind every carefully placed brick of this wall, scared he'll not like what he sees or worse, scared he'll actually love me and I hate me, I don't tell him this but I do believe he knows this I don't know how anyone could love someone who won't even bother liking themselves. I think I am ugly Except when he calls me pretty I feel like crying in his arms honestly Am I really allowed to have the answer this time? Maybe I'm not meant to be solved I'm not some project after all. Maybe I am not afraid or sorry that he loves me Maybe I'm just scared to love me. January 12 2019 Kiss me Kiss me with your smile Ask me to stay awhile Kiss me in the moonlight Tell me it's alright Kiss me with one hand on my waist the other on my butt Kiss me because you don't give a fuck Kiss me with your words Kiss me because it means everything Kiss me because you want to Kiss me like you knew it was right Kiss me like your life depends on it Kiss me like tomorrow won't come Kiss me because maybe we'll have another day to kiss again Kiss me sloppily Kiss me with those wet soft lips I've always wanted to taste Kiss me as were laughing Kiss me while we're crying Kiss me before we sleep Kiss me as we are waking up Kiss me in the rain Kiss me in the sunshine Kiss me no matter the weather Kiss me cause you like to kiss me I'd like to kiss you, I'd like to know what your lips on mine feel like I wanna kiss you no matter the weather Kiss you in the rain Kiss you in the snow Kiss you and not let go Kiss you as you fall asleep Kiss you as your eyes return to open Kiss you in the middle of the song while you're singing Kiss you as you begin to giggle Kiss you to know what it's like to kiss you Kiss you when you need comfort Kiss you when you need quiet Kiss you because we might not get another day Kiss you because we still have tomorrow Kiss you even if some say it's wrong Kiss you feircely Kiss you and have it not mean anything I'll kiss you because I want to because I need to I kiss you for awhile Till we're both left with smiles Kissing you in the sun light Kiss me and it feels right Kiss me and I'll kiss you. Falling in love on the foot path I wanna lay in the grass As you exhale the breeze Your breathe against my neck is calming to me Can I get lost in your scent? The way birds lose track of flying when they sing their song. Will you hold me safely but not too closely just enough but still with space to grow Just enough to know someone needs me Will you try not to forget me the way we forget the sun when it rains Can we wash the tears down the drain I wanna fall asleep next to you, eyes met, no regret with nothing to do Am I worthy of table for two Of the love you give so sweetly Can we just be here existing, maybe kissing, are you listening to the way I'm learning to be okay Do you care, because I'm oh so aware, that if I dare, be honest and open I might scare you away. I feel exhausting from the changing sensations, the spikes in tempature, leaves falling becoming snow, I just hope you won't get sick of me Don't let go Love is natural I've been told it comes from within But do the fish ever forget how to swim? Can I like being in my skin I'm trying to want --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 9: being in love,

   today's tea is lavender chamomile rose tea Drifting down into the somber feelings for you: I find myself think of you, and for a moment the rainy night sky sparkles, Its bright and warm even when you're not around, I fall asleep fall in in love to the way your memory leaves a sound "Everytime you kiss my forehead I fall more in love" he said I fall more in love every time you kiss me, there's this silence in my brain, its so beautifully blissfully I fall in love every time I try to count the freckles on your back as my finger traces the curves of your spine I fall in love every time the songs you like come on, I cant stop playing them on rewind I fall in love with your exhales the way you smile when you breathe out I fall in love so simply because youre so lovely. I didn't expect to fall so suddenly yet so sweetly my heart beats so warm and wonderfully I am falling in love with the way you talk, for hours about anything, especially music I am falling in love with your arms around me in bed, I might almost just loose it I am falling in love with your eyes, not just the way they shine, but how you don't even need to say a word, I can just look into them know I am falling in love with the way you always listen and make me feel like I'm heard In the night we are singing, and laughing, and smiling and crying, Let me stay lying down beside you. I am falling in love and not wanting to leave, I am falling in love and forgetting how to breathe I am falling in love, and the remembering how to laugh, did you know you caused that? Did you know that I cant stop thinking about you? I am falling into something I am so afraid to put myself through and yet, I don't stop myself, I'm not very good at poetry, not very good at falling, I'm not even good probably at loving you, but I don't know if it matters I hope I am at least good enough to say I am falling into you, and you look over say you're catching feelings too. How to know your in love The thoughts you think are not what they normally are Falling asleep becomes way too hard Dreams stop being an escape The food you eat has lost all taste And oddly its magical The bewildering feeling has a pull You need them by your side Its like the independent part died Why let yourself fall Why not try to forget the memories your mind wants to recall You lose your reason You feel lost in your favorite season And yet you want it more This love has opened a new door There are no recollections of previous And to everyone else you seem mysterious You’re just saying how you feel But to the rest of the world thinks it isn’t real Love drive you high and takes you away And the feeling can’t disappear, it stays Sometimes that’s okay But other days, the feeling of love is the worst Its a paralyzing curse But it pulls you in Till you can’t remember where you been I love you And maybe your feelings will ensue But not now Not before curtain call or our first bow Please get off my mind I forgot how to be kind I wish there was a sign A sign to tell me its over Love makes me hate being sober And yet I crave For you to just wave And miss me The way I want to kiss thee To tumble To fall To stumble Its graceful in all Unless you mumble I came to love you My heart got caught There was nothing I could do So you're friendship I sought In your dazzling eyes Listening to that calming voice It was a surprise Tripping for you wasn't a choice You're arms like wings You pulled me into a safe place You make my smile sing And my heart race I miss you before I go sleep I think of you when I wake I tumbled far and deep You repair what others like to break I look at you and I find things I miss The person I was, am and will be You pull me to your face for a kiss I remember self love I had toward me And it's thanks to the things you say And thanks to the things you do You make things okay I mean it when I say I love you. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm Mug Of Phantom Poetry episode 8: Falling in Love

 today's tea is London fog Grief housing Poem to Moshe Grief feels like 2 grey clouds turning into arms that grab on to your neck, hide your eyes, cover your mouth, capture your ability to breathe and hold your body down till you are suffocating in fumes of memories of the loss of someone who didn't deserve to die because they did so much for all those around them, they cared so much, they wanted to help so much, but now they are gone and there is an empty space in the world where they used to reside, grief is a light sucking force that remind us how close we are to death, that at any moment someone we love or adore can be ripped from existence and become just fragmented memories that every time you dream or think about, make you feel an overwhelming emotions,greif is the guilt that comes every time you laugh Stars and Footprints (A poem in honor of Bridget Harold) A star appeared in the sky, A star I never noticed, A star always there but to dull for us to see, Tonight it was brighter, I knew it was you. Though we can’t see or hear you anymore, We know your there, We know you’re not gone. You’re listening to our wishes, As we wish you were here with us. You won’t be forgotten, Your star shining so beautiful and bright, When you left, You left Footprints, Memories, You left footprints on the people you touched, Footprints that can never be erased, Though someday, We may forget your face, voice or even name The memories you gave us, Will last forever, They can never be erased. Though we can’t see you, We know you’re not gone, You’re still alive, Living your life in the people you touched,. You won’t be forgotten, You’re memory shining bright, You will never be forgotten, You will always be remembered, Because everyday, You’re spirit shining through all those who knew you, It shines as bright, As your beautiful star, Looking down at us in the night sky. 2011 John Donne Holy sonnet death be not proud Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. Christina rossetti Passing away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth, sapp'd day by day: Thy life never continueth in one stay. Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey That hath won neither laurel nor bay? I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May: Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay On my bosom for aye. Then I answer'd: Yea. Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away: With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play, Hearken what the past doth witness and say: Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array, A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay. At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay: Watch thou and pray. Then I answer'd: Yea. Passing away, saith my God, passing away: Winter passeth after the long delay: New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray, Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May. Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray. Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day, My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say. Then I answer'd: Yea. Thank you for listening and if you would like to support this podcast or buy me a cup of tea You can at ko-fi.com/unwrittennat Tune in next time for more tea and poetry --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm Mug Of Phantom Poetry Episode 7: Love of Loss

Empty valley on blank pages By njsaroff 2017 There are only valleys filled with memories of you Rivers of moments flowing through the pathways of the head Bloated with what is left of you The lips that used to speak are glued together as you come toward them Like an unseen ghost in this haunted house of a body, Dead on the inside from the abandonment The house still feels every inch of you Still feels your teeth biting on the skin Sharpening were your nails, Like claws, Those knives striking the bones, Grinded into pieces When you left, Thorns grew in the heart Tore away at what remained of the soul The hands you used to hold are consumed by the need to write But sentence that once came to life are wiped clean by An imagination that can only thinks of you The fingers can not clasp the pen to write Blank stay the pages like the crevices of the mind In the corners of the brain lies your memory Feeding on the person from the past like a leach You still reach inside the spirit, Take the last pieces of emotions and turn them into shard Shrapnel Sharp glass that impales anyone nearby with the slightest of movement No words come No thoughts of the person who used to exist return Lungs gasp for air in an empty room but there is nothing to suck in No way to breathe Shell of an older form Feelings of numb Everything is hollow Like no blood runs through the limbs Like thoughts have deserted from every part Turning into voices that can’t escape the mouth The moment replays, Every color of you fills the space Fills the body Once again like it did that night Seasons and smells Sounds and flavors Never leave Enter the body Latch on, They come in like you did Unannounced Unwanted Unwilling to leave Creeping in Smothering anything of what was It's all gone now, It's all boring It's all blank valleys written on empty pages. 11/15/18 --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm Mug of Phantom Poetry Episode 6: house/home

If you're new to the podcast I'm NJ Saroff also known as the phantom poet on SoundCloud This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea and today's tea is winter delight and dandelion peach green tea ken doll, stabalized, deniers of moon, identity the gay tea song Frank Bidart queer Joy young queer hokey pokey Lee Mokobe ted talk poem --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry episode 5: sexuality and gender

just poems episode 3 This podcast is best enjoyed with a cup of tea and today's tea is lavender Earl gray After Low What happens next is an after low Some people get an after glow A sort of high a renewed will to stay alive, or to survive After the stage has left I lose my pep I fall down My depression sea drowns My heart Pulls me apart like a drug I'm addicted to the moment before Keep running back for more Then I'll run away Because I got problems I put off for another day That sensation of its over and ending Wishing I could just break and not keep bending The world moves slow And I'm trapped in a feeling of low There is no escape or exit The lights of my mind are dim lit Everything is hollow and lonely There is nothing left of me What's going on in my head I feel like I'm suffocating in blankets of my bed I didn't leave it it just ended its over Because I crave the past moments of joy I can never be sober I don't need to drink or smoke When I'm on the stage I don't feel nervous or like I might choke Its just what happens after I'm put in such a damper Floating in the ocean on a raft Is that depression or just a draft In the air I don't think I even care It's a low No one knows I mask it with a smile and a pleasant attitude So people don't know my saddening mood Its an after low, you say no Don't feel the way you do If only you knew I cant control the way I feel I keep replaying the happy moments trying to make them real But its gone Like a band with a one hit wonder song I wish I could prove myself wrong And pick myself up and let the sadness go but I cant What a stupid rant Once everything is done Others will be filled with satisfaction like a contest they have won But me I watch that energy As it leaves every part of my soul Suddenly I'm dull void and null The moment of okay has taken its toll Some people get an after high While I just want to die I'm in an after low And you you look so good in your after glow. 2015 is The actor a poem for naomi The actor is not faint of heart Not a wanderer or a drifter They come on with purpose Moving forward knowing exactly where they are going The actor draws you in effortlessly The actor captures your eyes, leaving you utterly mesmerized Stealing your breathe for a moment The actor commands the stage for it's an arena The actor presents the arts we humans need to survive Take me on a journey dear actor Tell me a story only you know the words to I don't see you my dear actor I see this new person A stranger But suddenly I've come to love them This beautiful character They have charms and quarks, They are real A breathe You breathe passion and life A physical being has come to life Actors, they are souls of fire that demand things of our mind As audience it is our job to listen So open your ears my fellow audience members Dance with the actor's tale This next poem is called Perform I'd rather become deformed Than lose my ability to perform I need to stop destroying my body through intricate forms, I crave that stage, that anxiety filled haze The glowing lights that move my shadow to beige The after glow that puts me in a daze My body comes alive My spirit takes a dive Its freedom, I take control of my presence Yet its so easy to forget my essence The self loathing i have come to know well Has covered me in thorns that do begin to swell I wait for the audience to cheer Taking a bow stricken with fear The curtain begins to fall The question remains, is that all? But I was born to perform And i will die, the stage will not mourn Following artaud Listening to artaud At the scholars conference They talk sanely Of madness I pretend To be sane But I am demented Like our hero Following artaud Into the forbidden Where he lost himself In madness I strive for the infinite Possibilities Like the insane Thank you all for listening and if you would like to support this podcast or buy me a cup of tea You can at ko-fi.com/unwrittennat Tune in next time for more tea and poetry --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Warm mug of phantom poetry Episode 3: the theatre

A poetry podcast where i read poetry and drink tea and talk about poets and their poems each week i will choose a theme and read some poems around that them for your listening pleasure. Sometimes i will do interviews of fellow poetry lovers or poetry haters to try and help them see the beauty in poetry you can buy me a cup of tea at ko-fi.com/unwrittennat

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Warm Mug of Phantom Poetry

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