Oh the click-clock of his shoes
Oh the click-clock of his steps
As swift as I could I ran
As swift as I could I did
Rushing to the music
Oh for the click-clock is back
The click-clock of this shoes
The sound I long, my muse
He’s home at last, at home at last he is.
On blog: http://designserif.com/post/69547664690/oh-the-click-clock-of-his-shoes-oh-the-click-clock
Six months of
to be better,
to maintain a love that was tragically one-sided
and doomed from the start.
Six months of scars,
of long sleeved shirts
and pathetic excuses,
of lying to my parents
and telling myself,
"Things will get better."
Six months of long distance,
of broken promises,
missed phone calls,
and waiting for you to come home.
Six months of leading me on,
of empty words
and false I love you's,
said too soon and too often
but never truly meant.
But I am not sleeping.
I am steady staring at my ceiling, trying to recollect the last time I felt this forlorn.
...the last time I felt a hollowness make its home in the pit of my stomach, only to be satisfied by the thought that you might be yearning for me, the same way I am aching for you.
... and I am still not asleep.
The butterflies in the pit of my stomach,
are now dying.
They once fluttered around so proudly for you,
but you've left them poisoned with abandonment the day you called your quits.
It's 3: 17am
and I am almost asleep.
But I wonder...
If the same loneliness that consumes me,
consumes you too?
A snowy morning brings forth crisp chills.
Kisses goodbye still hang in the air.
Little feet scamper in to seek warmth.
The bell sounds off, the teachers report.
Children are laughing, they are having fun.
Roll call is taken, and then math has begun.
A dark shadow quickly casts upon the walls.
A morning to forget unfolds...
Innocence is youth, they always say.
Yet how can you encompass innocence
When your friends don't go home?
When you see your mom break down?
Children should laugh, children should play
Parents shouldn't have to see them...
How can one raise small minds in a cruel world?
When lollipops and sugarplums no longer dance.
Children are children, less never forget.
Give them their youth, give them a chance.
All manner of people can be found in train stations, there character betrayed by attire to the more observational at least. The hard pressed city worker, walking ever walking, phone at hand, ever scanning emails and ensuring accessibility always, to control is too maintain is too succeed. Those who's steps seemingly shorter and more though out, are either here on some grand tour or some exotic soire as if silently noting surroundings, as the pass beneath the ornate decorations of their location. There care free folly the main indicator of intentions.From time to time a transport police officer shall pass, stern faced, seemingly compelled by some unknown mission others stand stationary a deterrent to would be criminals. From time to time the most beautiful facet of humanity is likely to appear, in the adoring stares of young lovers. It's this or the hold and don't let go grip, young lovers and train stations have long associated (In my mind at least) the point of departure is a grey area. Where displays of public affection normally reserved for movies and poems, reach the realm of social acceptability. Long deep kisses and well thought out speeches describing the grievances of an ever bleeding heart. There is one group I have failed to mention, who in there own way are entirely distinct from any of groups fore mentioned. They are the watchers, found normally at some quite looking coffee shop across the street, however this is not to imply they can not be any of the above. All of the above mix intermittently with interesting results, I shall for as long as I live never forget the passionate embrace of an on duty police officer and his wife. His eyes bright with surprise, at ease staring upon the one he so adores. I leave the station and head toward the embankment,
All manner of people pass me on their way to unknown offices, some holding hands and staring deeply. The rumble of unseen locomotive reassures me now of course I'm drawing closer, the winter winds once faint now felt as the once green leaves now all manner of colour are pulled by unseen gusts. This city must surely be the greatest in the world, from the industrial chimneys distant to the rolling ocean. Dockers smoke cigarettes and exchange raucous tales whilst foreign sailors stare intently. I always try my hardest to listen to as much as I could manage of these half spoken speeches. Im rewarded instantly with an image far more detailed and planned than anything the most creative minds could conceive. The wild waves create orators, there thoughts distilled be evenings spent alone. I've always found myself drawn to transient people, I feel like I've spend forever dreaming of someplace else Greenland Egypt Canada, you name the place and I've seen it in my dreams at least. It took me a while longer than I care to admit to truly get a feel for the place, at first like some timid child I avoided it. From the age of thirteen I've been locked in a battle with wanderlust, my urge to leave it all is simply overwhelming. In all my darkest fantasies, I leave this place at some point on some old ocean liner to arrive at unknown port. Too share a meal with mountain air as my ashtray overflows. I warm myself with images of ancient explorers sailing distant oceans, guided by starlight. Some people just elude me. I'd call myself stubborn but certain people melt me, I the eternal romantic a victim of my own high hopes. I'd often find myself alone, staring across the river and wondering. I always sit upon the same old bench carved with all manner of messages declarations of undying love, names, dates all carved into immortality. The steady movement of approaching footsteps is eternal, beyond the customs house solitary North Star shines, as if admiring its provincial estate. An unknown entity now serving as a subtle voice of reason in the darkness, occasionally couples pass, as if to cement my my longing. The starlight illuminates breaking waves, as boats sway easy tied up to subtle quayside. Ever reminded of my obligations I should really leave and go to sleep. However the pull of the darkness is tangible, that was something! oh something! Suddenly a gentle calm smothers all thought, as lights glimmer distant. Light! Oh brother light, I the eternal castaway home bound at last. My expectations were entwined with food and wine, and the comfort of my own bed.
A summer night on this island I call home
I wander on the beach, where its usually dark and cold
The hawksbill sea turtle crawling up to nest
The mongoose chasing after each other
because they haven’t eaten yet
The palm trees dancing
Tranquility has been found
it reminds me of the girl I am
The island girl
And the beach is where I can be found
But in this enchanting moon light you see it all
The wash up trash bags and the garbage that falls
The broken glass within the sand that cut your feet
The unwanted fishing poles and hooks
The nets that traps the sea creatures that bring me serenity
My enchanting moon light that I once love
has now becomes dim
And the beach goes back to being dark and cold
hawksbill, green, leatherback and loggerhead
they don’t come to visit me anymore
Someone has taken my home and turned it into a rubbish bin
The enchanting moon light that once lit up my home
Has brought my attention to the injustice
That continues to go on
it was a dark place
cats ate their litter
bees stung each other
and butterflies tore their wings
it was eerie
this place you booked me a ticket to
pain i fell in love with
i bought a thousand little daggers
and each night used one
to puncture my heart
until it turned violet
i loved my charred soul
by dipping it in tar
every single day
and when you missed my colourfulness
you bought me a return ticket
i loved my new home
but you paid my rent
i couldn't say no
you saw my state
tried to wash the stains off
but they were stuck
you scarred me permanently
and still passed me the buck
sent me off again
to another place
so i started again
My mother always called me the devil child
Because I was loud, destructive and wild
I found out years later I was born with ADHD
No one wanted ever to spend any time with me
Parents didn’t know of ADHD or why I was different
They didn’t understand and they were very intolerant
Parents told older sister I was bad and she didn't have to play with or be around me
So much of the time alone was really no fun, however for some help I did make a plea
I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a turd in front of the family
All my cousins were smart, while I was failing most my classes at school
Got in to many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel
All my family made fun and they called me names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say whatever they pleased
They all knew my mother would not try to defend
Because she and my grandmother started the trend
Once I told my mother that I was happy about something
She said happiness was by me not deserved but a thumping
Mother was always mad at me since I never wanted any piano, ballet, or baton lessons
I had my own mind, and impressing other people in life was not one of my obsessions
Could never make my mother happy, she was always very angry
I use to hit myself, scratch my face because she drove me crazy
When I was ten got mother a gift at the five & dime for her one birthday
She tossed the gift in the garage, called it junk, said was best to throw away
On Christmas day, when I unwrapped a gift if I didn't act surprised in a certain way
She'd throw a fit, get drunk and make me feel guilty about things the rest of the day
I was always afraid of my mother, never knew
what she next to me that she would try to do
None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day
I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless
She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives
No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking
Never knew of anyone I could be close to, for a hug or some kind words
Things were always bad I needed encouragement for me to be heard
My mother took me out on Friday nights to eat and buy whatever I wanted, after work
Her last stop was always the liquor store for drink and smoke, I was left in car like a jerk
Bought games that took two or more to play, but she nor did dad never have any intension
Of spending time with me, I was in there way. I was a bad child that needed intervention
Wasn’t the perfect child I admit; I ran off when I was 16 did things I regret parents put me
Away, they came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, and she felt angry
She said her drinking wasn’t my problem, she’d be back to see me when I could face the truth
Never could mother admit her or dad doing wrong, everything was because I was a youth
Came home from school one day mom was passed out on the living room floor dead drunk
Called ambulance for her Dr blamed me and said no visit, and he called me a worthless punk
My dad would come home and find she was throwing up while passed out always in her bed
I’d watch him take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it, was something I would dread
He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process. I was told by her doctor that I was the blame
Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace
Since I was a bad spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs
My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see
I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling
My father ran out the back door, when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to bother with me, and I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume
Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve
Married two very bad guys both who daily beat, threatened me and verbally abused
Divorced them both had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused
Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability of completing anything new
Am not proud of this but I had 30 jobs that I lost in 10 years and even tried going to college
Unable to remember how and when to do things, my head from years of abuse was in a fog
Filed for SSI and Social Security, got on section 8, food stamps WIC and other government aid
I needed a home for myself and my daughter so I had to depend on things like this to get paid
My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze
Had to take her in pain for Doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead
Unable to attend school for years, the Doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome
School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared
She finally one day went into remission
And now the nephrotic kidney condition
Seems for now to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay
For a while I homeschooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt exception to the rule
Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening
Pulled her out of school and placed her in to get her GED
Soon she graduated quite quickly within month of three
A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right
Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat
But alone I’ve raised a good child, self-published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in magazines that will be on web pages forever
Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy
I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
But I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue
Those cousins with the high degree
Don’t seem to have too much on me
Both lost their jobs within a year out of college from being snobs and dishonest
But the parents just think that it was because others were being so glibbest
Both stuck alone in life working in their old age
That just mostly pays a low minimum wage
Sister divorced husband for molesting her children still won't speak told her kids I was bad
She lives in my town and over 20 years she’s never visited so by her I've been for life had
Most of all I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse and neglect, something I couldn't forget
Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal
All Rights Reserved
ride the busy street.
and far too many wonders.
i put boots on,
ready to take off,
and in that instant
a knot in my heel.
is this a sign to slow
down? stay put
in my old town?
but the old town
brings back old
to start fresh,
I guess so.
so travel west-
as west as Chicago
to see my Katherine smile,
it's warms my soul,
it brings me back home-
even when I'm far
To hear the blunder
Things I'd miss most
are shooting stars
near the moon.
But who am I kidding,
you can't see shooting
star in New Jersey anyway.
To throw the Newports in
the freezer, to replace them
with fudge-pops could be a
Starting fresh could mean
I cannot help but
hurt from wanting
what the heart
And who knows,
a year or two later
my heart could be
closer to the Sun and
floating in Space,
or dead on the floor.
I can not help but follow
what the heart wants
to sip tea and coffee,
not knowing what I really
prefer, not hearing from
my Mother, knowing that
she really does not
approve- how can
I not just want
than just some
to sit on the couch
and read every book
or magazine that comes
how can I tell the people
that I love that I had
a breakdown? I lost
control of myself?
I screamed, I kicked,
I spit, I swore?
To throw it all away.
how many times
will I wash my mouth out
and learn to watch
what I say, when this
breath down my
neck has never
been more cold?
The season of the unwanted approaches
The forced meets the prolonged meals
The vapid remarks, the family sparks
Inlaws at odds and at war
To much excess and a festive mess
Impropriety is always the norm
The works do, she touched you
You responded over the top
When it's over it becomes colder
The nuclear family's gone bang
Cases at dawn a taxi at the door
Another unwanted leaves
So before it begins think on the things
That matter and not what's offered
For a life alone no kids no home
Is all the gift you will get
If you're caught in the hall
With your hands on the maul
Say goodbye to it all
And the season of hollow soul