Key To Survival, a poem about knowing who is good and bad by Janet Kuypers

Key To Survival

“the poem of j”

I

Have you ever seen someone
who has a flock of people around them
and that someone is just naturally talking
but people are attracted to them like moths to a flame
people there are like sun tanning high-school girls
facing this persons bright light,
wanting to soak them all in
and hoping theyre more beautiful for it

You see these people,
everyone smiling,
circled around this special someone
its like an animal magnetism
you cant help but
try to nudge in,
to hear their words
to try to get a little of that narcotic for yourself

its like being a child again,
with a ton of kids in a candy store
where someones giving out free candy
and all the kids are so thrilled
and theyre grinning from ear to ear

You havent even gotten close enough
to hear their words,
but youre already starting to smile

II

have you ever seen someone
standing at the corner of an intersection
they look dirty and disheveled
and you try to keep your distance
“˜cause youre guessing theyre homeless
and asking for money
but you have to pass them
theyre right on the street in your way
so you try to walk
on the farthest edge of the sidewalk
but you watch them with your peripheral vision
and you see them making animated gestures
and you see their face contorting
like theyre having a great debate
with no one
like theyre giving the speech of their lifetime
to no one

because, you see, no one wants to listen
everyone knows this is a madman raving
so you just try to ignore them
you make a point to not listen
I mean, theres a Hell of a lot of noise
we tune of out of our minds,
cars going by, honking their horns,
the low rumble of other people talking nearby
the shuffle of your footsteps
well, this is another one of those noises.
you dont want to hear them
you had a bad feeling about them
as soon as you saw them
just ignore them
and hopefully they’ll go away

III

I knew of a woman
who went on a date
with a male friend of mine,
and after the date
the guy talked about how great she was,
how they talked about their future
and what they both wanted
he talked about the inside of her place,
but after he left messages for her repeatedly,
she never called him back again

saw this woman weeks later
at a Starbucks
and she said she felt bad
but she never wanted to see him again
because during their date
they never talked about what they wanted
he just talked about what he wanted
like how she wouldnt work
because he even told her how many
of his children she would bear

she wouldnt let him into her home
(does that mean he was looking through her window?)
and she said that after the date
she showered for hours
because she felt mentally raped

poor girl
she saw someone who seemed nice
but it took her only a short while
to know what he was really like

IV

sometimes you look at people
and you just know

sometimes it takes you a little while
but people cant hide their souls forever

everyone gets feelings about someone
whether or not they want to admit it

its not womens intuition
men feel it too
you feel it in your chest
when you see someone good
and you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach
when you see someone bad

sometimes you look at people
and you just know
and you can try to avoid that feeling you get
and you try to shrug it off as nothing
and you try to run away from the feeling for years
but you cant hide from your soul forever
itll catch up to you
when you least expect it

sometimes you just know
youve felt it
Ive felt it too
we know what to run to
and what to steer clear of

weve got to
its in our nature
its a key to happiness
and our key to survival

What the Hell is She Complaining About, a poem about the effects of rape by Janet Kuypers

What the Hell is She Complaining About

i cant go around telling people
about what you did to me
you see, nobody wants to hear it
and nobody wants to hear a girl whining
what the hells she complaining about anyway?
but you know, nobody knows
the effects of what youve done
nobody knows that I showered for weeks
no, months
to try to feel clean after you did that to me
nobody knows why i have
violent fits of rage
how Id hit the wall, rip up the plaster

you want to know what i think of men now?
you want to know their place in my life now?
you see, i didnt know what else to do
so i became the rapist
and now i let men do nice things for me
but i always keep them at a safe distance
i never let them get too close
because i dont care how nice you are
ill always keep you at arms length
i learned my lesson

so yeah, you had an effect on me
and i have to bottle it all up
because no one wants to hear the details
i mean, i wasnt physically injured
what the hell could i be complaining about anyway?

but you know, there are times
when i wish you left a mark,
like a bee sting or something,
so people could see a welt
from what you had done

wait, no, i take that back
id wish i was stung by a bee
and i was allergic to bees

because then my blood pressure would drop,
my pulse would get rapid,
id fall into anaphylactic shock
my skin would turn white
before I got the the hospital
as they tried to keep me alive

all because of a bee sting

while everyone else is thinking,
a bee sting,
what the hell is she complaining about

Self-confidence , poem about having confidence in yourself, by Janet Kuypers

Self-confidence

He hadn’t seen me
In five to ten years
And we hugged each other hello
And he asked me,
“Have I gotten shorter?”
And I was saying earlier
That he was teller than me
Back in the old days
But I guess he DID seem shorter
So I said,
“I don’t know.”
But I knew that I didn’t get taller
So he said,
“Maybe you slouched a lot more
When I saw you before.”
And I though, “Well, maybe.
I have a lot more self-confidence now.
I stand up for myself now.”

The Writing Of My Life, the life changes after your death poem by Janet Kuypers

The Writing Of My Life

i planned for everything
and you knew me, you knew i had scripted
everything out accordingly
you knew i was a writer
you knew i was a poet
you even knew i was starting my novel

did you even know that i used
your mothers maiden name
as a last name for the
scottish lab technician in my book?

well, as i was saying,
ive worked it out over the years
and ive figured out how to take care of myself
and ive figured out how to get ahead in the game
and you know, I did pretty well
i had scripted my life out

i was an open book

but i was careful, i know
that at the beginning of the page
some things made my pen swirl
and i started to write on an angle
and sometimes i’d curl around on the page
or write upside-down

but as i figure out how i wanted my life to be
i was quite meticulous in my writing
and the page actually looked quite graceful

and ive still got room left on that page
for more writing, for more living
but i think so far it was looking prety good
i figured out how i wanted the page to look
and i did just the right things
with the writing on the page
and, well, the writing of my life
was looking pretty good

and after meeting you,
you were a nice edition
to the writing of my life
you even saw me play at my last live chicago concert
and, well,
you enriched my life

even though sometimes you’d piss me off
you were vibrant, and you
helped that page look better

and then

and then you had to go die
i don’t even want to talk about you
not taking care of yourself enough
i know you worked out,
but scottish or not
you were diabetic
you should have checked your blood sugar levels more
you shouldn’t have drank so much

i know you wanted to work on the writing of your life
but you must have known
you couldn’t cram all that living into your body

you should have known that

but you know, you weren’t a writer
i don’t know if you ever looked at the writing of your life
or if you just relied on what you painted
to show how you felt
but you knew i was a writer
and you knew how i watched
over everything in my life

you knew i was the one in charge
you knew i had a plan for everything
you knew i worked my ass off
you knew i succeeded at everything i did

you knew

you knew and you had to go off and die
and mess up my whole page

because right at that point that god-damned pen
started scribbling all over the place
and it made a real mess out of part of my life

yeah, you know i cried for days for you
who am i kidding, i cried for months
and years later i still cried for you
and yeah, no one wanted anything to ever happen to you
but sometimes, you know,
like in the stages of recovery,
anger is one of them
blame is one of them
and right now all i can do
is be angry at you for dying
because i haven’t gone through all the recovery steps yet
but i have to blame someone
for making me feel this way
don’t i