People Who Don’t Understand “Art”

I wrote a poem dedicated to people who think artists are “strange” or that art is “weird.” I don’t know about you, but I’ve encountered a lot of those people, so I thought they needed a poem. Maybe reading it would educate them and change their mindsets. If not, at least I got a good poem out of it. Here it is, and happy Friday!



This poem I write

for those who could never understand.

For those who hate art.

Those who’ve closed their minds

and crossed their arms.


For those who think poems

are signs of depression.

I need help.


I write this as a call.


For those who wouldn’t know art

if Van Gogh came to life

and cut off their ears.


This poem is for me

because I need convincing

I’m not crazy.




Lately I’ve been thinking about our fascination with celebrities. They are on television, in movies, magazines, on the Internet, in music, and in any other form of media you can think of. They are rich and live in front of  cameras 24 hours a day, thanks to paparazzi. While their lives seem fabulous, I don’t understand the constant fascination with the private lives of celebrities. Even though their lives are drastically different than that of the non-famous, we should keep in mind that they are still people. They are not perfect, they make mistakes, and have insecurities like everyone else. 

I will leave you all with my poem dealing with one of my favorite late actresses, Marilyn Monroe.


To be just a thing
A doll
Lusted after by men
Pour me a glass
Of delicate red wine
And whisper compliments into my ear
“The most beautiful girl in this world”
“I see past the peroxide”
You say, Dear Gentlemen, that you are in love,
Yet the chemicals have not seeped into my brain
I see past that suit and smirk
Sure you love
My hair
My red pout
My curves
But you’d love so much more
To get me in your bed
A body, a giggle, a fuck
A joke to unknowns behind flashbulbs
An object to old men in bathrooms,
doors locked,
magazine open to my picture
A person?
I am a label, a symbol
Of the best sex a man could have
Perceived shallow as a rain puddle
But I am deep as the Atlantic
In all the hypocrisy of what I must be, I disappoint the world
For I am only a girl.


Readers, what do you think of celebrities? Have you ever wanted to be famous? Comment with your thoughts!







Happy Tuesday! I decided to post a Youtube link to THE song of the moment, “Somebody That I Used To Know.” Love it, hate it, no matter what your opinion, you have to admit the song is relatable. Here’s one of my poems that I feel connects to the song:

Brain Damage


One year

reduced to one brain aneurysm.

A question mark

to which no one can attach a period.

Only an echo of



Polaroids blotchy,

ripped in half.

A man just a memory,

his face yellowed.


Words like an old record.

Static, then skip.

“Will you…”




As I listen

I whisper, “Yes.”


With a scratch the record

plays backwards.


“I can’t…”

“I’m sorry…”


The record stops

and my player is broken.

I have faded pictures,

the words in my head,

back and forwards.


To my readers: Are there people who you used to know, but you now consider strangers? Also, any comments on my poetry or suggestions for future blog posts are welcome!