read a poem Archives - Page 2 of 7 - ⚡️Kristen Kalp

Posts in "read a poem" Category — Page 2

Followup

Last week she told me she wouldn’t come
to my latest offering even if it were free.

I absorbed the blow, laughing —
light as a leaf
falling from the tree outside —
but the seeds of her doubt are trying to take root.
(I have been silenced by far less.)

Perhaps the larger part of Maturity In the Internet Age
is choosing to look it all in the eye and proclaim:

You cannot take my work from me.
You cannot make me believe I am trivial.

You cannot silence me today.
Or tomorrow.
Or on any of the days to come.

This is the promise,
and the reward,
all in one:
you cannot
take
my work
from me
ever
again.

Amen.

This is an episode of That’s What She Said, my podcast! Listen in 👇🏼

P.S. If you need (not-poetry-based) help with following up in sales…stay on it.

The Mental Health Pep Talk

mental health pep talk

Little did I know when I started a business eleven (!!!) years ago that I would be talking about mental health with people all the time. The ins and outs, the ups and downs, the hardest parts of being human — it’s all on the table, and that was BEFORE we came down with a pandemic. Lemme read you a poem and love on you in this episode of That’s What She Said, okay? (There are hundreds more episodes here.  Or catch up on all things dealing with depression while running a business.)

To Past Me, Who Has Endured 20 Years of Depression

I love you.

Thank you for every tear you cried;
for every time you left the house
when you’d rather stay in;
for every time you shared the truth
instead of pretending to be okay.

Thank you for being brave enough
to ask for help, to tell on yourself,
to rest and pause when needed.

Thank you for simply enduring
when your brain was sure
you should no longer be alive.

Thank you for resisting the easy way out.

Thank you for being resilient enough to grow into;
grow despite;
grow past;
grow deeper.

Thank you for reaching into your darkest parts,
hands flailing around in sheer nothingness,
and finding gem after gem to examine,
cherish,
love.

Thank you for continuing to feel
in a world that wants you
to go
numb.

Just: thank you.

P.S. Dig poems?  My book of poetry is pay-what-you-can priced.

Today I started with nothing.

And so I took a walk,
greeting as many beings
as I could see:

rain, puddle, rose.

I drank deeply from the lilacs
and wondered at the tiny complex
reproductive organs of flowers
whose names I do not know:

nova, miracle, Wild.

I watched ants traversing canyons
of tree bark
In search of
I Do Not Know What:

sustenance, wandering, sweet.

(I didn’t have anything to offer
the water-soaked crow resting over there
and tried to not feel bad about my failing.)

(Human, human, human.)

At the last corner,
a pink bed of cherry blossom petals
strewn all over the sidewalk
to celebrate this homecoming:

You are here, you are here, you are here.

Air, sky, breath.

Alive.

Remember.
Alive.

P.S. We need this Note to Self now more than ever.

Let’s unlearn productivity, starting right now:

We are born into Not Enough.

Let’s storm the corporate castles
and make our meaning
from the world that already exists within this one —
the world in which the poems and paintings
and portraits and plants
count for something far more
than cash can ever provide —
the world in which our caring
is cause for celebration,
not another fucking commodity —
the world in which we take unlearning
productivity, perfectionism, and patriarchy
as seriously as we once took
wondering
whether we looked cute enough to leave the house.

P.S. Dig poems?  My book of poetry is pay-what-you-can priced.

(Also!  What you see burning in the featured image is a mix of everyday herbs similar to what would have been used by my way-back-wise-women ancestors.  The bundle was gifted to me by Bear Hebert, whom I interview about anti-capitalist business practices here.)

The Personal and the Political

In this episode of That’s What She Said, we talk about making art when assholes are in power, bridging the gap between ‘professional’ and political, using versus spending your privilege, and the fine art of channeling fury into fuel.

“…this is your life and you can’t put it on hold because assholes are in power. Assholes, after all, have always been in power.” — Beth Pickens, Your Art Will Save Your Life

When I get fired up, I write poems. This is the one that come out today.

Dear Casey,

I’m sorry this is how you’ll turn 18,
with a man who brags about grabbing pussy
as President.

I’m sorry the adults in the room haven’t managed
to topple the systems of oppression
we were born supporting.

I’m sorry for your trans friends who are being
quite literally eliminated today, as if they never existed,
as if they can be erased as easily as a penciled-in promise.

I’m sorry we haven’t figured out
how to make ‘invisible’ labor visible
or overcome capitalism in order to save the planet.

I’m sorry your children will drown in plastic
and possibly fascism. I’m sorry we couldn’t.
Didn’t.

Won’t.

P.S. Joy is an act of resistance.