Poetry Showcase from Jackie Chou


You weave a web
everywhere you go–

who are you, spider girl
but your one-and-only
Facebook photo–

a silver heart pendant
a fake hometown
a false alma mater

Nothing I do 
is good enough for you—
not even 
the sweat of my ink
you claim as your own

You say you’d be so cool
without me–
yet I know the truth
you’ve flipped upside down

Like a damselfly
I spread my wings
to disentangle myself
from your web of lies

The Neighbor

You walk like a queen
with your downgaze
dictating my downfall–
you'd like to place me
in a pillory
like a medieval prisoner

I’ve committed 
the most unforgivable crime
in your eyes–
by being alive
when you'd like to squash me
like an insect under your sole

I have every right 
to breathe the air you breathe 
to free myself 
from your collar of shame 
I'm no criminal 
and you're no monarch

Remembering an Old Crush

I've always wondered
if you wrote poetry
and if you did
what it was about–
the shiny new star-shaped rims
you got for your tires
all the girls you brought
to your Downtown LA suite
for cups of gourmet cappuccino 
and one-night stands
whom you drove home the next day
in your polished gray sports car?
Do you need heartbreak
to write good poems?
Or do you, my prince
have depths beyond 
your frat boy facade
to transcribe into verses
to touch the heart?


I've longed to hear you 
say it all my life–
only to be told the opposite.
You've branded me mediocre,
since I was old enough to know 
the meaning of the word–
ordinary, unexceptional.
I'd rather be a retard than that.
I've had to discover for myself 
that I'm a genius,
etch a star on my own chest,
place a crown on my own head.
Because to you, 
I will always be a commoner,
a B that never makes it to A,
an act that gets no applause.

Creative Process

My therapist asks me 
how I write the poems I write.

I tell her it’s similar 
to painting cherry blossoms,
like I do in art therapy.

The words dab on the page
gentle like a kitten’s prints.

There are days when the cat
becomes a tiger,
and the pawsteps become stampedes.

Then there are days
when the cat falls asleep,
and the words don’t come at all

except perhaps in dreams–
faint silhouettes whose shapes
I can hardly decipher.  

A Poetry Showcase for Jackie Chou 

New Poems by Jackie Chou

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1


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