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 be around or play with 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 all my classes in school
Got in to many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel
My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased
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
I can sense your foot steps on my door
I hear your whispers like your sitting next to me
I try and confince myself that your gone
but this heart doesn't believe the truth
I laugh and wish your here to laugh with me
I cry and wish your here where you can hold me
I miss your touch , your hug , your kiss
people tell me that your not gone
then where are you ? are you hiding ?
okay i'm sorry I don't want to play hide and seek any more
I want you now , I need you now
more and more every passing day
I'll read words reminiscent of expressions,
You'll feel tears flowing down the page,
The deepest pain, hidden inside
Will work on out along with joy and light.
You'll be surprised for the worst, then for the best,
And you'll feel a relieving sense of rest
When you read the hurt and the fear
And they're burned on paper, not in a heartbeat.
Just try-- tears for ink,
Letting loose instead of denying,
A little truth, you don't even have to be with me.
Love and faith alone won't save you--
Sometimes in life, just try to
כשאקרא את המילים הן יזכירו מבטים,
תרגיש את הדמעות שזולגות על הדפים
הכאב הנסתר ,העמוק שבפנים
יתבטא יחד עם האור, שמחת החיים.
תופתע לרעה ואז לטובה
ולפתע תרגיש תחושת הקלה
כשתקרא את תחושות הכאב והפחד
כשעל נייר ולא לב שרופות הן בלהט.
;דיו במקום דמעות-- רק תנסה,
הכחשה תיהפך להרפיה,
קצת אמת, אפילו כשאני ואתה לא ביחד.
אהבה ואמונה לא יושיעו לבד--
לפעמים בחיים צריך קצת
love like just know time feel way pain world heart think eyes day oh night away things words say need left thoughts mind life sun want good inside body lost new true damn light make head beautiful stop free hands right small hard loves today little fuck morning thought sweet moment times bed tell dreams long white truth thing song really skin slowly start deep woods silence lies look better lay sleep realize fall sky memories far gone green breath held room dark doesn't hold dream run thank end past dead open begin knew tears yeah hear cause air blood earth self beauty real days finally care big cool north 10w turn walk lips kiss dawn remember sound making hair fingers felt door water woman black outside large she's let's tiny window face bit speak play slow god teeth smell wish heard rain tired silver great bring wants low there's won't soul got tongue live arms red house close girl years letting note music universe man soon clean trees wood thinks post stolen you've gray clouds home ones hot soft wet hate desire warm trying mom comes longer sea thinking darkness hand shore leaves broken glow fool second knows rock read cold stare feels took father sing bag release crazy stone mouth wake forever dust watch came wanted stand help use place needs brings suppose believe laugh shit seen having ways leave weight perfect stars drive miss higher high ocean feeling memory makes present view page bear wash loss snow hell aware constant magic
no matter what the peak arcs all descend
unto the earth from which they first arose
that's the most certain the most profound trend
even for one who best withstands the blows
of evil fortune or of cruel fate
falls to despair then rises to high state
no epoch should be measured by one rule
yet we insist that far beyond the cool
and shaded halls where measure has its sway
all things are governed by a simple tool
so each becomes the hero of their day
just past its height the moment seems to bend
with all the weight of ages that could close
cold time's long judgment that will never mend
either warm eyes or the dull hearts that froze
from lack of feeling or the heavy freight
of knowledge that would rise and not abate
from the bright ocean to the chiefly stool
while other wisdoms might in time unspool
we were not shown the truth but in one way
which was to lead us all back into school
so each becomes the hero of their day
there's nothing more on which we must depend
between the morning and the next repose
when all the hours will with clean music blend
so that our thoughts will come out sweeter prose
all of our motion take a smoother gait
while vision leave us with no dark to hate
returning light finds each beside a pool
bright with our hopes and in the morning cool
though being clear and apt enough for play
we can be certain that none is a fool
so each becomes the hero of their day
we have been warned against the last misrule
of ancient dodderers sunk in their drool
their grimaces the doltish things they say
enough to know we're past this basic school
so each becomes the hero of their day
I give you a necklace, with is feel with so much sentimental feelings.
Except that don't represent, my love for you.
I give you a dream, not gave.
Sold it with truth of reality, of what I will do for you.
Except that don't represent, my admiration concerning you.
I can't begin to put in words or speak enough about my love.
You're my deepest fantasy.
You're my deepest love.
My inspiration like God above.
Yes, I'm confessing it.
Gonna keep on expressing it.
And you won't find me contesting it.
Let alone protest it.
Yes, I give you my love.
Its the only thing I want to give you constantly more of.
Cause you deserve so much more.
I'm so overjoyed to be the one you love.
For now and forever more.
Words, like I said can't express it.
Cause you deserve to feel it.
So every touch I give you.
Every kiss I give you.
Yes, feel it.
Everything I do.
Please feel it.
You deserve so much more.
If cowboy hats had ear muffs,
maybe they would talk more,
though they would hear less.,
caution tossed to the winds howling.
Not for them
the hairy skins of animals
on their bare hair, too much
respect for their sojourners.
Wooly caps are for sailors,
The ones with cutesy ears
hanging down to the shoulders,
popularized by geeks,
adopted by stylish teenage girls,
well, they would rather be frostbit.
the silent type,
but never quiet, their thoughts are
their stories, eyewitness accounts,
never told under oath, of the truth
about life and death, in the
So, no flaps for them
lest they not hear the
noisy silences, cries of the frigid
Megan, get a cowgirl hat!
She was the girl everyone loved
She had a smile that went ear to ear all day
She knew her friends inside and out
And could tell with one flinch
If something was wrong
She was the girl they went to
If they needed a pep talk
Or a hug
Or the truth
She was always there
She was the girl who seemed perfect
She came to school
She was put together
She had a line of friends
And a couple of boys to choose from
She had a big family
They were happy
She was happy
She was a pretty soul
She was the girl who didn’t know she was loved
She didn’t smile at night
Her friends didn’t know her inside and out
They had no idea anything was wrong
She was the girl everyone went to
Yet she had no one to go to
She never got a pep talk
Or a hug
She got the truth
she got from herself
No one was there
She was the girl who just wanted to be perfect
She came to school
Mascara thick and black
Like her mind
To distract from the bruises on her knuckles
Like her emotions
And her lips glossed
The one thing she could maintain
She seemed put together
It looked like she had a line of friends
But she didn't have many close ones
And she didn’t know that those couple of boys liked her
She didn’t think anyone could possibly love her
She had a big family
They weren’t all that happy
She wasn't all that happy
She was a wrecked soul
There's a cracked mirror on the wall
broken by carelessness
but kept around to use
Everyday I look in that mirror
I see myself for who I am
broken by the carelessness of the few I cared about
but kept around to use
Everyday that mirror looks at me
sees me for who I am
bits and pieces missing
handed out to strangers like candy to children on halloween
broken in ways that can never be repaired but still manages to do what it intended to do from the start
Everyday I walk away from that mirror with the same realization
I am the cracked reflection I have seen for years, growing closer to the mirror i've looked in every day
I have hung my self on a wall
Everyone who looks at me breaks
begins to reflect the only truth they can accept
There is a cracked mirror
Hiding in the reflection of others
Alone, Cracked, I hang on the wall
Anne crutches herself into Sister Paul's office. The nun is sitting in a chair behind a desk, hands folded on the table, eyes stern, lips a straight line. Anne stands before the desk, taking in the huge crucifix on the wall above the nun's head.
- You can sit down, Anne, the nun says, eyeing her firmly, watching the 12 year old girl, as she manoeuvres herself with one crutch onto the chair.
Anne sits down and puts the crutch beside the chair and pulls her red skirt over her knees, covering the stump where her leg had been.
- Do you know why you're here? Sister Paul asks, unfolding her hands, and laying them flat on the desk top.
- No, Anne says, looking at the nun's black and white headdress, the thin features of the face, hawk-like nose.
-There has been complaints made about you, the nun says. She watches as the girl fidgets in the chair, lifts herself with her hands, back further, on the chair. - Are you not comfortable? She asks.
- No, Anne says, My knickers are too tight.
The nun sighs, looks at the wooden ruler on her desk, wishes she could, but knows she can't.
- Complaints made by other children here and staff members, the nun says, toying with the ruler with her fingers.
-What sort of complaints? Anne asks.
-The worse sort: bad language, insolence, rudeness. It has to stop, Anne, do you understand? The voice sounded like grit poured into a bucket.
Anne fingered at her backside. -Ah, that's better, sorted it out now, she says, putting her hands together in her lap. - I can't recall any rudeness, she says, acting miss innocence, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, kind of expression and pose.
The nun looks at the girl and inwardly is glad she never married and had children, especially if one had been like this.
- Sister Bridget says you called her a dried up prune, the nun says, looking at the dark hair and eyes of the child, the insolent way she sits and looks.
Anne frowns.- Me? To Sister Bridget?
-Yes, to Sister Bridget, and Sister Mary says, you exposed your bottom to her when she asked you to take your afternoon sleep. The nun looks at the girl's expression, her frown of brow.
- No, not me, Sister Paul, must have been some other kid's backside she'd seen.
-Are you calling these two nuns, liars?
The girl looks at her hands in her lap, raises two fingers upwards, out of the nun's sight.- No, not liars, just mistaken. We all make mistakes, Anne says, we're all human, after all.
Sister Paul's eyes darken, she grips the ruler tighter, pushes her toes to the end of her sandals.
- And some of the children have made complaints, too, the nun says, the words hard as nails from her lips.
-Ah, you know what liars kids can be, Sister. They couldn't tell the truth if it came wrapped in yellow paper saying, TRUTH. She smiles at her wit.
Sister Paul doesn't smile; her lips tighten, her eyes scan the child, if the girl at been at one of the schools, rather than the nursing home, she'd be well on her way to a sound caning.
- I know children, Anne, and liars, the nun says, eyeing the girl firmly, tapping the ruler on her palm. - You are a liar, and I know you. I have read the reports on you before you came. I was reluctant to take you in, but had little choice. You will behave yourself or be expelled from the nursing home. Is that understood?
Anne senses a fart coming on, but holds it in. - Yes, Sister, sorry Sister. It's my leg you see, it gives me pain, and keeps me awake at nights, and I get tired and I get irritable. She puts on a hurt expression.
The nun sits upright and stiff, an expression of dislike etched on her features.
-We are given pain, by God, for a purpose, Sister Paul says, it is a gift we ought to shoulder and bear with gratitude.
-Like haemorrhoids, you mean? Anne says, fiddling with her fingers, a blank look on her face.
- You know what I mean, young lady, pain in general, not in particular. At that moment the nun feels a great urge to inflict pain on the girl sitting in front of her. She can picture it, the whole scene, the satisfaction.
Anne shifts in the chair, steadying herself. - Can I go now?
The nun sits back in the chair, eyes focusing on the girl, her face straight and stiff as a board.- Your leg has been amputated, so how can it give you pain? the nun says, her words pushed from her mouth as if they were sour.
- Nerve endings, they don't realise the fucking legs gone, oops sorry, about that it kind of slipped out while I was engaged in thoughts, Anne says, looking at the nun's reddening face. - Didn't mean to, it's my leg you see, it gets me all uptight, and wound up like a clock, and then ping! Out it comes.
The nun sighs deeply. The word hammers inside her ears and brain. - I won't have such language, do you hear me, not another rude word or expression.
Anne clenches, the cheeks of her buttocks tightly, to hold in the the coming wind. She nods, gives an expression of remorse, allows her eyes to water, takes out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wipes her nose. - Sorry about that, don't mean to be such a bad girl, my apologises to all. She wipes her eyes, lets herself go, does her acting bit, slumps her shoulders, weeps softly.
The nun is confused, sits up, feels an urge to go around to the girl and embrace her, say, there, there, dear child, but she doesn't, instead she stares at the girl, at the slumped shoulders, at the dark hair, the sight of neck, and wonders what kind of mother she would have made had she married, would she have coped with the nappies and sickness and foul smells and dressing and undressing a baby and the disturbed nights, and a man touching her, and doing things to her. No, she couldn't have married, nor had a child. She sighs and softens, -OK, Anne, lets say no more about it, and she gets out of the chair and walks around to the child weeping, in the chair, and puts an arm about her, feeling the shallow shakes, the sobs, the sight of the one leg, knowing a stump was beneath the skirt. - There, there, calm down, it is all too much for you after losing your leg, I'll have a word with the children and staff and explain about your pain. She holds the girl close to her breast, feeling her there, the catching of breath, the sobs, the shaking shoulders, and plants a kiss on the girl's black hair and head.
- Sorry, Sister Paul, Anne says, between her acted sobs, sniffing, wiping her nose, feeling the fart go away silently, like sneaky hound, all without sound.
The nun feels her heart open and close. - All right, Anne, you may go and rest your leg or stump, she says, going back to her chair and sitting there, watery eyed.
Anne lifts her head, pushes her hair from her eyes, sniffs and wipes her nose. -Thank you, Sister, you're like a mother to me. She pulls herself up from the chair with the crutch, feels the pain shoot through the stump, rubs it, pulls a face. - I'll go and rest it, she says, soft voiced, sobs held in check, head lowered. She crutches herself from the room slowly, sensing the nun's eyes on her, feeling a sense of fulfilment, like passing an audition, and lets the door click gently behind her.
Sister Paul sits and fingers the ruler. Sniffs and coughs softly. Feeling the girl's shoulders in her hands, the gentlest of touches, the sense, momentarily, of being a mother, compassion, concern, yes, it is there, she says inwardly, maybe I might have made a good mother after all had it been God's wishes, even if I had to put up with a man's touch for the duration. Thank God, she says softly inwardly, for my vocation .