Trust Me

TRUST ME

By Aulton Grubbs

Trust me: time is sliding away.

My voice needs to ring out to legions.

Trust me: I make palaces in my winning mind.

I also solve mathematic equations in my head.

Trust me: I develop strong values on my own.

Some world happenings I could fix.

Trust me: I understand the stock market.

I also mean to contribute to the economy.

I want to teach environmental science.

Trust me: I love my family.

My relationships forge a bond most precious.

Trust me: I am more than you know.

You don’t listen to me.

You don’t have faith in me.

I’m so tired of the bullshit.

Please don’t mock me.

Please respect me. 

Please defend me.

Please knock on my door and get to know me.

I want to inspire change. 

I want equality.

I want to be happy.

Give me a chance.

My thoughts really shine.

Don’t be blind.

Look at my mind.

You live in fear of me but I am kind.

I am smart

And I forgive.

Take voices soundly.

All voices.

Especially mine.

Autobiography

 

I have tried resurrecting images of human hope
I have tried into thinking of the kindness of your heart
I have tasted loneliness
I have hurt others intentionally
I have joined in groups of poets
I have surfed and felt cold
I have loved and felt loved in thinking of the friendships I truly have
I have hoped to speak and I have freed my voice through spelling
I have gotten hope despite giving up
I have kindness for silence in the trees
I have joked with my friends
I have great respect for women
I have read the classics and great poets
I have had too many donuts
I have gotten scared by bullies hurting my feelings when they try to take my safe place
I have internalized their voices
I have traveled the country to see family and friends
I have invented your goodness
I have heard doctors describe my brain
I have heard my mother believe them
I have internalized shame
I have heard trees opening their leaves to the breeze
I have treasured your eagerness in teaching me kindness
I have trusted and interested truth
I have treated others better than I have treated myself
I have used up the patience of my mother on some days
I have earned ribbons for races
I have hurt inside my heart
I have hope too

- by Joshua Greiner

Tranquility

 This is a description of what it feels like, for me, to see that beautiful sparkling water and then having to wait to go in.  Kate Gogal

Tranquility

Water is my tranquility
It calms my mind, body, and soul
It is my therapy 
Then why do they torture me by making me wait and wait and wait
Oh, how that beautiful water sparkles in the warm sun
Can't they see how badly I need my fix?
Stop the torture!  I can't wait and wait and wait much longer
I need to dive into that sparkling refreshing tranquility now!
Stop the torture please!  I cannot wait and wait and wait anymore
I must be one with my pool, water is my therapy
It is finally time!!!!!!!!!  No more waiting and waiting and waiting
At last, I am at peace

Brynn F.

As I got more comfortable doing RPM I began to realize the beauty of words (and especially poetry) available at my fingertips. I started taking a poetry class with other RPMers and found a camaraderie I never knew could be possible for me. Being a part of this group gave me confidence and a feeling of personal pride. Below is a poem about how I felt going from a self contained autism classroom to being homeschooled. Most autistics suffer in silence. I know because I was one of them. 

Anniversary Poem 

In fall only distress was growing 

Incited by clicks of the tongue 

My body knew other change was near 

It was year’s end and time was oppressive 

The mask of my appearance was binding 

     the blindness of others 

My body in a stim and on another walled off being

 Books made me believe I am more swan than 

     ugly duckling 

I am a swan in training 

This moment is my changing into myself 

The flames are in the past

What can others against RPM know?

Nadia Sohn Fink

Students like me who point out our words often tell our art heart: can’t neatly draw, can’t magically sing, so art, is it really within silent reach? This video is aiming to be tender thought sandwiched by dancing air, beetles, insect song, and fine night strolling. Time spent making days on days of listening, thinking, observing silently is hard. Think we are art heart wired. Time to make more poems open like open days. -Nadia Sohn Fink  

https://vimeo.com/544091673 

Note on music: I typed this music out. You can too: https://typatone.com/