Aidyn Rains' Poetry


Aidyn Rains lives in Dallas, Texas, where she resides happily with her two favorite kitties, Izzy and Annie. She is a former environmental science, biology, english, and real estate major, but is currently working on her degree as an Administrative Assistant. (She hopes this is her last major.) When she's not scheduling dental appointments, she is reading, writing poetry, drinking coffee and studying metaphysics and astrology. Please e-m@il any comments or suggestions to her at figicat@directlink.net.


Mom’s new and improved fling when I was ten

A miniature plastic toolset
with a wrench that really works
and complete with a happy birthday
song
at no extra charge to his
new little daughter,
who will soon forget his face and then perhaps his name
and the blue truck he drove as soon as
she meets another toolman to fix her problems
and mend her scars and soothe her need for
just one more night.

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Purgatory

Must I be fated to suffer for my disbelief?
Or, if not for disbelief...
Perhaps because I never liked the
moaning wail of the organ?
Perhaps limp bodies tacked onto
tiny 18 karat gold stakes produced...what?
Fear - not love.
Perhaps I never felt inferior to
a white-collared secret-stealer.
Perhaps the water I was submerged in
was cold - and only made me shiver?
Forgive my insolence - but my reverence is
reserved for one who is greater than
You
or
I
Because I worship not a mortal -
Must I plunge my soul into purgatory?

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fyi

so i thought you were a rock
(a house)
in which i could grow
instead
you are a
cage
in which i remain a child

but

i
am
not
a
child

just in case you had forgotten.

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cruelty in the season

November is a cruelly cold month
and sundays have lost their charm.
So I drive real slow to get home-
postponing inevitable
coldness that freezes my insides
shut tight against the world
without you here
I’m all frowns and lip-service
and thinking of weeks ahead I curse time
and life - cause a handsome pair of
brown eyes lives in the month of
May.

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crazy cherry flavored future
(thoughts about you while sitting in a lecture hall)


I’m trippin on cold medicine so my hands are far away
with you is where I wanna be -
unless you’d rather
(and I’m not suggesting) opt for solitude
I’m only reminding you that I’m not your only option but
I’d merrily snatch your name up in my
salty palm and lace it with sugar and
rum flavored kisses upon your face under
Spring flowers and before
Our God, Your Mexicans, My Natives, and the Reverend John.

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chocolate

chocolate-faced caffeine-filled children
grow up on trampolines and sega
to become america’s prime crop of
coffee-drinking pot-smoking college students
who write their fathers on e-mail
and talk to their mothers on the telephone
and send aunt peggy thank you notes for the
wonderful blue winter mittens received on
birthdays in august
(but it’s the thought that counts)
and it’s the gpa that matters
and it’s only constructive criticism
so take it lightly
with a grain of sand
and the future of the
chocolate-faced caffeine-filled children
and memories of trampolines and sega.

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my anxiety

and sometimes i just wanna quit
loving   smoking   cussing   drinking
caring about you
cause it’s making me hurt
bad like slaps and punches
all at my heart
all at my brain
all at my soul
and that’s another thing-
i’m all wrong there
right where you are
in my soul where your
acid eats away at
what’s me anymore?
and if i reached out
to stop you
could you please
let me take a breather
for awhile so
i can find myself
in this town that smothers me
and makes me feel
apathy is a better way to go-
all alone with
my depression
my anxiety
my beer
and my fish.

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ode to a mistake

i must say i was wrong
    (regrettably)
about you and i
    would like to state for the record that
    heart-pounding flood of emotion
        (unlike love)
was temporary
and i am sorry if this has caused you
    (or i for that matter)
any confusion.
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remembering you

remembering you there you were all lips sweet
and touch soft to the core
of me
until the motion became
familiar movement in sinc
with the back and forth of waves
of rapture-and again here we are
long after the fact
(years, in fact)
and still your lips sweet and touch soft
and waves
slowly rock in-
to a blissful warmth
flooding the core
of us

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moon-man

there is a man on the moon
and he is tragic.
He dutifully visists me each night i call him
(without complaint).
so i take this time to say
Thanks.
(because you are loved)

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for love

she is something
i cannot catch
- but hold -
only while she’s resting
(from life)
and yet in that
moment,
she is mine.
(but fleeting still)
she runs away
and leaves me to remember a

single

moment

of love.

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Dear Sir

Dear Sir,

I regret to inform you that you may not love me at this time. I realize you have many great qualifications; therefore I will consider you’re offer at a later date.
However at this time, I am not seeking an attendant. We will keep in touch and you shall be informed of any changes that may occur in the future.

Thank you for your interest.

Sincerely,
The Queen

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Fifty-six

Fifty-six pick up sticks,
she almost said no.
The sheets were stained-
his scent remained
and the girl never felt so low.

Contaminated and desacrated,
(and on a glorious autumn day),
Her grip was tight-
she aimed just right
and blew herself away.

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