she's convincing me to run away with her to a wasteland, above the clouds
a paradise where no one ever comes down
but they're holding so tight, singing 'I'll never let you go'
while she's on the other end, the voice in my head, saying just let go, be free, let your demons rest
but I'm remembering bright eyes and the shine of the moon on ocean waters
and I don't get how 5 months ago
everything was more than fine
I'm lightheaded now, delusional and untrustworthy to open my mouth
I'm afraid if I try to speak, all my secrets will spill out and I won't be able to stop myself from showing you my naked, wrecked mine
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 and 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
Fire is a sad being. If we personified fire and made it a person, we could say that Fire is lonely.
Fire has one true love,
Fire loves the Air.
And if we personified the Air, we could say that it is longing.
Air cannot feel the passion that Fire has for it.
When Fire burns, it destroys the Air.
Yet the Air lives for Fire, giving its life to feel some small embrace,
to hear the delicate whispers of the burning bush.
Fire crackles, trying desperately to speak,
to convince the Air to stay away.
"Let me wither,
Let me flitter,
Let me love and you will dither...
Love of mine, We can not touch.
When we do, you burn away.
Love of mine, You are too much.
Let me leave, so you can stay."
it is true
when we give our blood too much
we aid in disempowerment
constant giving in love and providing does set unhealthy-precedent
and when it falters in its expected-rhythm
ugly-tantrums get thrown, bordering on disrespect
demands kick in hard upon trod-floor of insidious-hooks
there's always a rider for the other party
some or other condition to feed the monster of excitement
while health straddles some jarring regions
in hostile-spitting strong enough to lance startling-injury
shoelaces dripped in hazard-oil over a generational-canyon
provides unwanted-fodder for establishing long-term slippage
(no! you weren't raised this way.. where does this stem from?)
there has been no failure to show how humans act and speak
this is unacceptable)
oh............you want / you want / you want..... all.the.time.
then kick up unholy-storms where there's a break in rhyme
get ye, lad.. go practise your ire on a field
go throw a stick on the prairie
go find your path, you're old enough
yer insolence plain sucks!
(I could tell you .. you're rude.. go home,
but you already are!)
S T - 10 dec 13
it needs hair on teeth and grit in mouth to swallow some stuff, but persevere against adversity.. not always flippin' easy.
to teach independence and responsibility to children is a constant and ongoing thing.. one can hardly let up..
yeah, I guess it's the old adage of repetition, repetition, repetition ...
(there's a poem I half-remember.... about parents letting go of their offspring... natural pattern..)
between jagged-rocks and petulant-push
how breathes a soul
stuck in places where no space moves?
reach for the blue one.. then, a white one
later.. three small ones
wooden wheels of erstwhile-splendour
interest little to jelly already set
skull goes numb in efforts
can't keep placating, no
wrong to wring neck of bird
who feeds well the keeper
who keeps warm the feeder
who helps to lift the spirit
The Island Moorea,
In the heat, the sun,
The rhythm of my footfalls
crunching loose gravel road,
The swish of pack swaying
in consort to my measured pace.
Breeze pushing branches of Palm,
Ocean waves breeching shore line long.
Island vehicles passing, occupant's laughing,
a man laboring under large pack, alone walking,
Who could have been freely riding.
Something unthinkable to Island Folk,
in hot tropical places.
Passed along the way several humble homes,
Greetings exchanged with smiling people there.
Not long afterwards, new sound approaching,
crunching gravel, rolling up behind me.
A lovely young girl, perhaps still a teen,
long brown naked legs peddling a bike.
Hair jet black, long to her waist, wearing
a sarong, split up the side,
Shoulders bare and brown.
Dark eyes of wonder, sparkling of youth.
A radiant smile adorning her splendid face.
We went for a time at my even pace,
looking and smiling each in our place.
"Hello there" I said, she giggled, beamed
even bigger. Perfect teeth displayed.
"Why you walk?" She asked in puzzlement.
"To get to where I'm going". I replied
This response producing a pleasant laugh
from the girl. In which I too joined in.
"You go One Chicken?" She asked
I stopped then and turned to her.
"Where is One Chicken?" I questioned
with a grin.
She raised her graceful arm,
one finger pointing up the road.
"One Chicken there." she informed.
It was a store/bar, sort of place,
In the very midst of nowhere.
Indeed more than merely one chicken roamed,
Many chickens were and a pig or two, as well.
All mingling free and doing their thing.
We entered from out of the bright daylight,
into the deepest of darks,
Like in a movie theater you arriving late.
Eyes adjusting slowly to what lay ahead.
A few Island Beers later,
I had acquired several new friends,
The girl my invitation to the party of
already happy people a little drunk on beer.
The Music was mostly of French persuasion,
With a bit of Bob Dylan thrown in.
The Beatles also had a tune or two.
The Liverpool beat resounding down Tahiti way.
Before the light did fail, I shouldered my pack
and walked some distance from Chickens and Pigs.
Found the beach, hung my Hammock for the night.
Built a small fire and opened a can of Spam.
She appeared again about ten,
looking beautiful in the new moon light.
She had washed her hair,
still damp and smelled fresh of Lilacs,
Or some such aromatic scent.
We did not speak, no words were needed,
Made love on the sand, 'till the retreat of the
tide and sand crabs did come out, in their
eerie numbers, to eat what was at hand.
I suppose even us if we let them.
We retired then both to my hammock,
A pretty neat trick if you can swing it.
And we did.
She was so child like and yet,
very much a woman grown.
There was no pretense shown,
no false inhibitions rendered.
These were not limitations of her culture.
A people that live by their emotional impulses.
An open and free spirited people living
passionately within each minute.
It all felt more akin to a dream than real,
All around me there was beauty,
Loving and being loved without hurry,
Free of guilt or even a single expectation.
Living in that wondrous moment,
of uncomplicated human splendor.
Like some Garden of Eden surrender.
In the morning we swam in the sea,
frolicked like kids having a day at the beach.
Made love in the sand, I dozed in the sun.
Upon my awaking she was gone.
I waited an hour or two, packed up my camp,
shouldered my load and returned to the road.
A few minutes later, again I heard the now
familiar crunch of rubber tires,
rolling road surface and there she was,
a straw basket in her Bike's basket,
A huge smile on her unforgettable beautiful face.
We sat in a grove of trees,
among birds singing, insight of the sea,
Upon a Palm log and ate fresh bread and
fruit, drank strong black coffee (French Roast
I presume,) nibbling some marvelous cheese.
We tried to talk, but she understood little of
what I tried to say, my French was nearly
nonexistent, only adding to confusions sake .
She leaned her head on my shoulder,
the way lover's do and tenderly held
my hand within her two,
As if not wanting to let go,
Those gestures said all there was to say,
And we savored each silent moment.
We parted there, she on blue, rusty bike
and me on "shanks mare",
Off in two different directions,
Each out into the depths of our own lives,
Gone just like that. . . And yet,
Indelible, never to be forgotten or replaced.
Moorea do yet visit me, in dreams as real as can be. She never
grows old, nor does the beauty we shared for that one brief moment
in time immortal.
Someplace among the Islands of Tahiti there is a woman in her late fifties,
most likely a Mother, even by now a Grandmother. I hope she recalls as
fondly the American blond man with the big Orange Backpack, that in 1972
she meet upon the road, near "One Chicken" and loved freely and completely
for two days and a night, as that man does so fondly remember her.
I'm no poet, you all are poets. I'm just an old guy with memories and
little stories to tell. Thanks for letting me share.
She spoke first(hello forever?)
With tolerant words translating
(Just in time)
And saying to my spirit in its own
Divine language interpreted
As inherently natural.
"Do you have a bath robe?"
Would she need it if she wasn't staying?
Yes without a word
As my body jumps
Catching up to my needs.
I grab it for her..
For her hope springs(eternal?)
Into action a decimating want-
To keep her and make Home.
This in a moment
Captured in my reasoning
Fueling my anticipation
As I decide to love her without fear-
As I fear being alone.
(Time catches up to the young spirit inside)
What do they see when they look at me?
This question rattles around inside my head,
As I stare at my reflection on silvered glass,
A perfectly reversed copy that I can only dread.
Is it the reversal that keeps me from seeing what they see?
The smile that angles too much, now angled the wrong way.
Does that small change hide the howls that scream when I look away?
Do the lenses in front of my tired eyes hide the tears that have fallen?
Do my crossed arms hide the heartache that has become too solemn?
What do they see when they look at me?
It can't be what I see, for they would not stay.
My eyes roam my body, picking out flaws with the ease of a plastic surgeon,
While my mind does the same to my psyche, more intense than a psychologist.
Self-hate session done for today, it only took an hour this time.
What do they see when they look at me?
Eyes closed, I try to build an image in my mind of what they've told me they see.
It looks so similar, same clothes, same hair, but it's not quite me.
Not-Me smiles, but it's not my broken smile.
This charms with sardonic sincerity, promises a wicked sense of humor and a clever wit.
Not-Me stretches, but it doesn't highlight his sharpness.
This highlights the hollow of his collarbone, light catching the curves and angles to perfection.
Not-Me laughs, but it's not loud and obnoxious.
This bursts out in sheer delight, eyes crinkling in joy, ringing with mirth.
Not-Me walks forward, but it's not my gangly lurch.
This flows with determination, long strides that speak of a hidden strength.
He is not broken by his past, he is stronger for it.
He is not haunted by old memories, he is wiser for them.
He is not burdened from loss, he is compassionate from it.
Is this what they see when they look at me?
Is this why they don't shy away?
The reflecting glass pierces my darkness,
My breath shuddering as Not-Me is cast back at me,
Strong and whole in his glass frame,
I reach out to him, wishing only to embrace him into me.
I am Me, and I am Not-Me.
I am broken, which makes me strong.
I am haunted, which makes me wise.
I am burdened, which makes me compassionate.
What do I see when I look at me?
Is it Me?
I was riding high until some thoughts passed by.
Saw a few pictures and memories flooded the very limited space in my head
Levees feel like they're about to break through tear ducts, yet still afraid to cry.
But now, at this point there's been many I shed
Very sensitive connections kept us together.
You couldn't speak English, but still spoke through your action
Came by my side during storms that I could not weather.
I wish I knew how fast your time was passing
Sometimes I took your companionship for granted
Often not investing thought in the moment.
Stood by me, even when life.. I couldn't stand it
Now I'm thinking about your fate and how I wished I could've controlled it
Anytime I was home, you made me conscious of your calls
Whenever I was in my own bed you made sure to join me
It's as if now, without you, I'm getting withdrawls.
A bond beyond brotherhood draped in comfortability
The week I house sat for my mom, will remain with me always
Laying on the floor depressed, not only because you were dying
Still get choked up, knowing we showed each other love, before your next phase
But to keep you alive, some witnissed to see how hard I was trying
Weeks later after I moved, I woke up in Nevada thinking "where'd Austin go?"
I swear I felt you, and thought you were there, even though it may've not made sense
Know you're still in my heart, and were always so blissfully pleasant to hold.
I still feel you, and will always make room for your presence
You were the one cat I knew that would actually just into my arms from the floor, on command.
You held on, never scared as if you didn't wanna let go
Literally wrapped your paws around my neck in a hug-like embrace, or should i say - little hands.
Spent more time together than most of the humans I know
I miss you buddy, and the feelings haven't changed.
Some may think caring this much about an animal is strange.
Truth is we're all animals, and I'll see you at the next stage <3
Soothe livid thought
give cool, quiet birth.
See with one time,
across solitary dawn.
You voice sound,
yet give rain color.
This storm rhythm,
meager, though soft,
over stone could not hold.
Brilliant music beside,
celebrate every drink of wicked wind.
Taste. Dance. Sing.
Through winter night,
and summer morning.
Slip by like water,
not under myself,
or beneath love,
but remember after who & what you are.
dance through change,
& leave life happy.
When music is poetry,
hear with love.
A heart must speak
between language & thought.
A poet will use
lightning & dirt.
Sound is vision,
light is word...
Your words lace up my veins giving me courage
to fight the shattered glassed wind
that peals me apart,
But your absence of words that propels between your lips
allows that sharpened sigh become wind
that makes my feet miss the ground.
Your silence crucifies the tunnels of my ears
that plead for a satisfaction to my thirst
with words given in droplets on a sponge.
What happened to the letters bleeding into words,
dictionaries of fucking words, that dripped
from your mouth that perfectly targeted me?
Anxious thoughts, a moaning stomach, and slippery hands
is not the way someone should breathe
so say something