The urge to make contact
With your temple,
Pint glass clad
In that brief second
After you made
On the pace of service.
Oh how I would strike.
My weak wrists
By the anger boiled
Up from toe
To head (mine)
Would defer to blown sand
And drawn blood.
It takes great self control
Not to do it
The compulsion is like bile
Sudden and sweet
But reeking of old lettuce
At the back of my mind.
It would only take an instant
The law on my side
You asking for it
Almost a beg that sigh is
For me to do something stupid
To make you the fool
And me the criminal.
You'll get your drink
You thick fuck
But not until every other
Patron in this place
Has had theirs.
My hand hot would be
By your blood.
Or cider black?
Like she wanted to know
If I was home,
If I could hear,
To the right,
It’s all in my head.
The other voices.
Years from now you won’t remember,
But I will,
Your face a cherub halo glow,
6 candles for all your years.
We sang that song,
And you didn’t really get the joke,
Too eager for cake I suppose.
We told you to blow
Make a wish we said,
And you turned that head,
When we hushed you and
That you not say it aloud.
For wishes said aloud don't ever come true.
I don't know who came up with that bollocks,
I know more than one person (2)
Who wished for you.
At 6 you made more sense
than the 100 other years
In the room with you.
If we all said our wishes aloud
Just maybe, they'd come true
With a little more frequency.
Than once a year.
I know you will (we all do)
But never stop stopping to ask,
Questions like you did that day.
Only you are only you,
And we can't wish for anymore than that.
Another day another molar.
Beef patty-ing my inside cheek.
Another night another squalor.
Bad dreams not remembered
Other than by heavy sweat,
Similar to pancake batter.
Another day another pound
Of flesh I’ve gained from lying here.
Another sheet, another pillow,
Propped against dirty mattress me.
My cerebellum smoothing out,
Like crayola by the storage heater.
Another window opened wide.
A pale attempt to let in ozone,
Pea soup, bird song, pale onion sky.
The planes I hear but cannot see,
Will drop bombs on N.Korea
If only in Klonopin dreams.
These are my concerns.
My special blanket
It covers my mind
I'm used to my blanket
Like a small child I carry it everywhere
My mind is a dark place
But my blanket makes it not too bad
There was a time it wasn't there
& it was a nice break
But that was just a break
Time to get back to work
My blankets in charge
It tells me when to eat, never
It tells me when to sleep, all the time
My blanket used to give me breathing room
But now, its suffocating me
My blankets choking me
& I've stop struggling
My mind has put the blanket in total control
I shut down
I push everyone away
Even the boy I love
I know it kills him
To see me this way
But my blankets my minds dictator
It calls the shots
I love you, I promise
But this blanket will kill me in the end
Like a blanket of snow
My depression covers me
& I've let it win
Zipped open my back pack before sunrise
To gray skies and gray thoughts
Counted them, shades of gray, fifty...three
The count appeared to be rising.
Shook all the reminders out, upside down, on the bed
A dozen paper bracelets that spelled out OVER TWENTY- ONE
Dried daisies, four leaf clovers, sea shells, smooth stones and some wrinkled notes
These penned thoughts began to soothe me like a lover's hand on rewind.
With both arms I clutched my empty pack
Picked up my list of things necessary for the cleanse
Going by water to a secluded island on the lake
Where the only gray that will rise
Will be the smoke from a thought consuming campfire.
and answers on Watauga Lake.
of unexplored oceans
A floating mass of divinity
diving deeper than any human could reach
Until the sun is rendered invisible
by the titan blanket of waves
Here the monster sleeps
enveloped in her isolation
for a love that will never be
to ever grace the sea
of unexplored oceans
to deaf voices
Like the strings of a cello
embraced by its players bow
for a partner
to join her million year old chorus
And yet she remains
of unexplored oceans
Sie halt meine Liebe
Noch im Speicher
Ihre Augen werde ich nie vergessen
Ich sah Gott in ihr wie kein anderer
Wenn ich sie wieder zu sehen,
Wenn dor Tod keine Grenze
Lass es sein, oh Gott, lass es sein
Sie ubt Achtsamkeit in ihrem Gang
Sie spricht, wenn sie spricht
Sie liebt es, wenn sie allein ist
Sie erzahlte mir,
Und ich glaube, sie
Wenn das Ego hingibt Stolz
Wahre Macht gehalten wird
Wahre Liebe aufgedeckt
Und die wahre Wahrheit ans Licht -
Her kiss of days between
She holds my love
Still in memory
Her eyes I’ll never forget
I saw God in her like no other
If I am to see her again
If death is of no boundary
Let it be, oh God, let it be
She practices mindfulness in her walk
She speaks when she talks
She loves when she is alone
She told me
And I believe her
When the ego surrenders pride
True power is held
True love is uncovered
And the true truth is revealed
I take a sip of black coffee
It sits resting in the ceramic mug next to this typing space
The liquid rushes down my throat
This fifth cup of the hour brings joy
Is it a crutch, for I miss my usual companions of mind expansion?
Or is it a common cultural ritual of casual importance?
Is it a tool to fuel the fire of prolific inspired thoughts?
Or is it an illusion of harmful dedication to fulfill the need to write?
I feel it helps,
Though, naturally, it is not necessary.
Just as wine to wet the palate of flow,
Or an herbal cigarette to get the picture on the roll, the scroll, the holy goal
It simply is a habit - an extra step to the top floor of Creation.
I've been in the fields - the plantations
I've picked the coffee bean with my own hands for hours upon hours on end,
Leaving nothing but sticky hands and a limp paycheck to help me continue on my way.
Where am I headed?
Only the sky knows the answer to that question.
I try my very best to listen to its whispers
And imitate its words with action
I try and follow the orders of the divine to the best of my ability
But I am human,
And with that fact, I am hindered by natural law
And so I sit quietly on this lazy sunshine afternoon, sipping my black coffee
Recalling the days of sticky hands and limp paychecks in the humid fields of fate
And laugh at the craziness of my existence.
When I was born, did I think that I'd be here today, recalling such things
And forever immortalizing them in word and symbol?
I can't recall.
Perhaps I did , but perhaps I didn't.
They say that you choose your family before your come into this world.
But did they also say that you’d pick your face and desires?
Did they say that you’d be exactly who you wanted to be?
I’m not too sure who “they” are, but I don’t really care
As I poured the coffee into this mug,
I also choose what I want to do, who I want to be, and just how I shall love the world
As a human, we’re born free
The mind creates whatever it wants to base its perspective on reality off of.
The lock of gravity to keep us from floating away
Even when you’ve had a drop or two of ol’ Sandoz, you’re still kept from flying from the world
Words can fly, though
At least spoken word.
The words carry a vibration, a soundwave, which continue throughout the cosmos for eternity,
Unless eternity doesn’t exist in this universe,
In which case, they shall bounce off the walls of Space and Time and ricochet back to their source
Oh holy game of Sound Tennis
Free us from thinking you don’t exist
When the game is being played, its easy to forget that its just a game
It is only a game
Sitting in the sunshine of afternoon daze,
Sipping away at coffee and dreams
Life seems more like a blessing of bizarre circumstance and genuine interest in formful comfort
As opposed to a game with no more of a meaning than to finish it and try win in the meantime
Something seems fishy
And it isn’t the cat or the caffeine
Its the bare existence of existence
Perhaps I’m dancing around in circles, getting nowhere
But is there actually anywhere to go?
Sure, I’d love to be on the beach in ninety degree weather in the Cayman Islands rather than the cold of This northeastern mountain range of poor old troubled Amerika
But such is life
Perhaps one day I’ll be back on the beaches, dreaming easy of nothing, for the dream has already been Fulfilled, oh what a dream
With a farm up the hill from the coast
With fresh gardens and fruit trees and cannabis and coconuts and a shack of humble gratitude
With rivers and fish and goats and chickens
With sunshine and warmth and light and forever blue skies
With a woman of love and peace and art and intellect and wisdom and smiles
With the quaint knowledge that everything is always alright, regardless of circumstance
With the security of not needing security
With the freedom to laugh without pausing out of courtesy to not wake the sleeping
With the ghastly beauty of not waiting in line to ride a roller-coaster, for the mind is more than enough
With twists and turns and self-inflicted burns
With the crazy catch of tomorrow while still being here today
With nothing less than paradise awaiting the caress of self’s heart
And the holy notion that there’s something even greater on the other side of this life
Om, tranquil being
Pour more coffee, must stay awake - no sleep in days
No sleep in weeks
How do those speedy speedsters do it?
I wouldn’t even want to try
I enjoy my dimethyltriptamine inspired voyages across unforeseen holographic landscapes of the Subconscious
Oh, I’m conscious of that
I wonder if it’d be possible to bring the totality of the subconscious mind to full conscious awareness
I suppose it wouldn’t be the subconscious anymore
And thus there would be no way to measure if it worked or not
I think it’s already working
Yep, it’s working,
At one-twenty-eight a.m. It’s working. From noon to night. Life is still life, and it’s all alright.
This poem has been a long time in the making and I still feel that it's too soon to write. I feel like you don't deserve so much of my time and my thoughts. But something deep inside of me knows that this is for me and not you. And I like me more than I hate you, so I'll be uncomfortable and discuss you for as long as it takes to heal me.
How can someone as shit as you ruin my life? So weak and so young. Owner of nothing but ruler of all.
It hurts my pride so bad to even acknowledge that a person as minuscule as you could rearrange my everything. How could I had been so inferior to the likes of...
It makes me so mad to admit that I am afraid of you. Words that my lips will never utter, a thought that my mind 'force closes' every time, the words that my pen refuses to write
I am afraid of you.
So hard to accept that you are stronger than me
I've never known anything so evil
I've never known anything more terrifying than the feeling I feel when confronted by you. Just your presence. Stand alone. Is enough to make me want to run away. To a world safe from you. So that's what I do.
I run and I run and now I'm somewhere foreign. Depriving myself of the things I love to protect myself from you.
When you punched our sister in the mouth and I watched her rip her lip off of her teeth. I died inside.
Literally slipping in her own blood trying to wrestle you off.
Why did you do that?
Where did you learn that?
How did I not know you were capable of that?
How are you capable of that?
Someone so close to me. Became a monster. Slowly, yeah. But still I wasn't ready for that. Wasnt expecting that. Never saw that coming.
It felt like it was all a dream. Still hoping today that maybe it was.
And your lack of remorse keeps my hate for you fiery.
"CALL THE POLICE, BITCH. AND WHEN I GET OUT OF JAIL IMMA BEAT YO ASS AGAIN!" chills tears (This is a part of the process, Domonique. Let it happen. Swallow the lump in your throat. Keep writing)
If I close my eyes I can hear you so clear. I'm there again. Scared. Shaking. Knife in my hand. Knowing deep down I wasn't bold enough to kill you.
And you knew it too.
When she was bleeding everywhere and I stood there too shocked to move. And you pushed me. And mom screamed. And Ravyn cried.
Why would you do that?
I never thought.
I watched my sister try and recover while I just got worse.
To watch her cry every day from excruciating pain as I fed her through a cracked jaw.
It stung so bad that she would refuse to eat.
It stung so bad. And as for Me and My soul. Stung the fuck up.
I cried all the time. To see someone you love plagued with a hurt body and hurt pride is too much for the strongest of us. Wishing I could halve the pain: when we were little girls we halved everything.
But I couldn't.
Never felt so helpless, so useless.
Sleeping in a tiny 2bedroom apartment, living out of boxes. Just wanting my sister to be okay.
Missing my mama. From living with her all my life to not even seeing her everyday.
It was so hard.
And meanwhile I had to go to school, harboring all of this pain.
Never discussing the imminent details.
Rare for a person as vocal as me.
Trying hard to never think of it.
My grades suffered bad, but not as bad as me.
You can imagine how little an equation or a metaphor meant. Absolutely nothing. Because life had just taught me something that academia wouldn't even believe.
This. This is so hard for me to relive.
So I'll stop here. I have to stop here. And when I'm ready. I'll come back and finish.
But this is big. Really really big. Because I promised to never 'go there'. But here I am. And maybe I'll regret it later. And I'll probably never be mentally prepared to read it again.
It's really no fun dealing with repressed memories.