I'm hoping you are well today,
I've just read something rather beautiful
that has inspired me to say:
Thank you Thank you Thank you
Lord, I've never felt this grateful
for every single thing in my life,
even ones-at times-angry and hateful.
Starting with the biggest first,
thank you for my parents,
for even when I'm scared of them
I know that they'll be present
at certain times of need
and perhaps someday
they will meet a wife.
Next thank you so Lord
for my sister,
angry and annoying,
just like a blister
She knows every inside joke
and we can laugh together,
quoting, singing, dancing, mocking,
truly two birds of a feather.
Thank you so much for
all my friends
Lord knows without them
I'd be at wits end. :) <3
Thank you for everything
I take for granted
like loving parents
who actually wanted
a little baby,
a little me
when they didn't know
what I'd turn out to be.
Running water plentiful,
Safe healthy food till I feel full
Not living everyday in fear
that I'd have to face
a gang rape scare,
a solid roof above my head,
a box of pads beneath my bed.
A plethora of coloured pencils,
don't need stencils.
Thank you for the hands
that learned to draw before
they were taught
to even write the alphabet,
did you know of the attention
that I would get.
People notice me and my creations,
ask me to do a transformation
of a screwed up line, out of place,
they joy I get from their face
when they hold up
something I've done
and shout to their friends
'lookit what kim's drawn!!'
Thanks for my perfect
and you kept Sara safe
when she fell off that log,
Were you there when we pulled
that tick right out of Puck,
so many tries,
but got it out with some luck. :D
Of course thanks for
all those boys,
the ones with beards that
still play with toys.
For my linkin Park buddy,
and Ed of course,
who hasn't been here
(having been sick as a horse)
Thank you for Beatles,
Green Day and for KISS
thank you so much Oh Lord
for giving me this.
I'll no longer roll my eyes at mass
when we say we praise you, each lad and lass.
Instead I'll throw my hands in the air
Shout Halleluiah! for the presence that's there.
i just want some sort of sign from you
that you want me to still love you
in two years.
i will sit here and wait for you to come home to me,
i will wait two long fucking years.
if you wanted me to.
i swear i would;
if you could only swear that you would forgive me
for the hearts that i will have broken while you were away
and i would kiss you
mind and your
for being so understanding
my hair has stopped falling out
and it feels thicker
i want to shave it all off in the bathroom
(with the same razor i used to drag across this wrist)
and put it in a wooden box, and send it to you.
it would just be yours to keep
(sometimes, when i am feeling insane
i take a box cutter at work
and cut my fingertips, just a little bit.
or i take the blood that naturally flows from between my legs
and smear it on the walls of the shower
and on my legs and arms
i lay down under the stream of water
in the same shower where you once made love to me
i let it cover me
and i cry
i cry out for you)
and then maybe months later, i would buy a plane ticket to see you
and it would make you so angry
(because you told me to leave you alone.
you told me to leave you alone
and then you kissed me
and you told me you loved me.
you just don't want to talk to me anymore.
i'm trying so hard to figure out where your words and your actions match up.)
you would of course just send me home
and the plane might crash down
and in death i would be happy
that you might finally care about me
i wish i could explain to you,
how much i love you.
and how fucked up i am without you here.
and how strong i am without you.
but how weak i feel
and how i want to scream until you hear my voice, miles and miles away
and i cough up blood
and lose my voice
you hear it
and you get in your car,
and you drive into the sunset
and you see the city skyline
just a few minutes from my house
but don't even bother to call
you sit on the side of the road
staring at the cars driving by
concentrating on this decision
then, turn around and drive the two hours back home
didn't even bother to tell me you were here
and i can't even think about our home
the bed we slept in together
because in that little town
in that little room
you were the only thing that made any fucking sense,
and i am a mess now
and so is this p
Let me tell you about a place
where adults can come to play
It's an adult Disneyland
and there's no end to the day.
The fields are lined with vendors
providing meditation spots for free
I even found a tied died Jesus
twice in one day to save me.
I slid on rainbow water slides
rode a multicolored ferris wheel
I surveyed miles and miles of wonder
flying high on a pink seat of steel.
There's a strong sense of community
that serves one communal mean
to convey one's self expression
though art and sustaining green.
Sandalwood swirls through the air
and joins music's pleasing taste
That fuels the hungry thousands
to dance in an ecstasy filled haze.
Camps proudly fly their country's flag
and speak one universal truth
That art and music hold the key
Sad road trip home........
See you in '14
an afternoon on the fringe:
there is water
in my ears.
there is a gentle flow
there is a shower head.
I stare at it,
study the tiny holes as they
continue to produce -
knowing that while nothing is free,
there is a chance at freedom
for all things.
I cut the faucet
just because I can,
submerge myself in the ice,
watch as my skin tightens
from the sudden shock.
everything is mine in here,
I am almost godlike.
someone could murder me through
the curtain and get away
before the steam clears
and still I'd die in control.
this brush with inner peace,
it's worth teetering on the edge
of one's sanity.
yes, it's moments
that keep you going
long enough to clean
from Slinking Under The Electric Bulb (2012)
It rains and rains.
Day after day.
Night after night.
Water falling from the sky.
Soaking the floor below.
Washing up the dirt.
Confining people to their shelters,
Giving them time to think.
Are there thoughts meaningful or not?
They are in fact theirs to own,
But do they bore themselves?
And the rain suggests this meditation.
As the sky leaks,
Covering the plants,
Giving them life,
While the birds bathe,
And the mushrooms flourish.
Yet, people still think only of themselves.
They dont wonder abnout the birds,
Or the mushrooms.
They worry about vanity.
They worry about relationships,
Retirement, family, health, sports.
They do nothing but worry.
But few can appreciate the rain
Few can let their mind at ease
Listen to the droplets,
And not worry.
I look at one of these machines today and it sends chills down my body..
I can remember being lost.. I just wondered off as a kid chasing butterflies and fireflies in the deep woods of Alaska..
I was gone for days.. I was parched and so hungry.. My little body could not muster enough strength to scream for help anymore..
I could see and hear animals about.. I was to young to realise that the animals wanted me to eat.. They were just waiting for me to die..
It wasn't until the night came on the 4th day.. My parents called Shineday inc and requested a (Recovery unit) ST-anthony be flown in..
I was falling asleep under some brush and trees.. Not really falling asleep more like crying to sleep.. The I saw these blue eyes glowing over me.. The robot moved the brush very gently and picked me up.. I can remember him being so warm as he held me.. His steps were very silent.. We then stopped and he gave me a small metal box with my drawings on it.. It made me smile! I opened it and there were some pop tarts and water in it.. I ate them up!!! He then took me back to the cabin where my mom ran screaming to me! Even my dad was crying! He went to the (Recovery unit) ST-anthony and thank him over and over..
I am looking at one of these machines now.. I wonder if it was the one who found me that night..
The snuggled smoke that flourished through the wrapped trees of distress,
Surpassed the frenzied flowers that my lover had once possessed.
Neither rain, nor comforting words nestled the neglect of those tears,
Who hid behind the books and the consumption of countless, crazed fears.
Amazed and awed what lies through the window of those memorable drives,
Only to end up with the inevitable filth that dripped from her eyes.
I constantly searched for things to drown out the waves of misery,
To keep her head above the washing water and vicious visionary.
Perhaps, myself, to acclaim her sensible wants and needs,
And to lay the pebbles on top of the dusty path of weeds.
Certain that this was the becoming of a new beginning,
To love a person more than myself, discovering a silver lining.
Time became our fearless friend, yet our worst enemy,
Through the constant battles of her past memory.
Becoming unstitched from each other’s blanket that was once sewn,
Left I to cherish the warmth spent and loaned.
The mighty rolling river is my sanctuary
Where the turbulent water reaches its shores
Landscaped by erosion’s rounded river rocks,
Every color and shape transformed by the mysteries within her shoals
Floodwater logs are cut for firewood here
Smoke dried salmon is cured and dried for food
Tyees’ souls join me here, born in quiet spiritual solitude.
Swirling eddies stirring, inspiring conscious universal muse
Water rushes past earth mother's terrestrial islands
Where eagles nest and soar up high
Beavers dam where flocks of geese swim
Blue Heron’s rookery fill trees to the apex of the sky
Head waters birthed in forked mountain high
Waters rise from beneath mother earth
Rapids pass villages plummeting miles and miles.
Gravity’s tug and draw journey to aid the salmon’s Holy birth
I know I’m one with sacred ground
Ancestors spirit's power is present at ease
The pulse of river water's muse
Is the pulse of this mixed-breed
The half-breeds myth, not Indian or White.
“Young buck born with a divided heart!”
We have big ears we hear everything
A step child orphaned, reborn into the spirit's light
The placid harmony of the river's gentle flow
Waters speak a mantra directly to my soul
I grieve the loss of ancestral grounds
Ancient territories pilfered for miles around
Upstream above where the mighty water falls
Landscaping this river's great divide
Cascading walls of water soar and plunge
From silhouettes high and wide
Centuries rivers carved and shaped an ominous path
Fertile valleys were eroded deep and wide by raging waters wrath
This place was graced through those centuries past
My heart's ashes will rest where river waters yearn to pass
Ancient brothers fished with spears from platforms built up high
Hollowed out trees, as paddled canoes, tended fish wheel traps side by side
In quest of the bountiful sacred Salmon, our food sustaining life
I embrace an ancient heritage, our spirit shall remain steadfast...
Mâyašlen yá he íčhiyopteya wakpá ipȟá...
Lakota note: Coyote was going past the source of the river...he sat next to me...
I don’t think I love you anymore.
I give up on trying
I can’t bring myself down enough for you
I am already nothing
My heart is a piece of paper, crumpled again and again
There are only so many times you can look passed the wear and tear
The water stains from the words you say
The small rips, with no intentions of destroying me completely..
but doing it ever so slowly..
What was once written upon it is no longer legible
No longer easily seen
Maybe the words have already faded
Maybe I can’t get them back
And I have already forgotten what was once written there
I am pretty sure my love will be leaving me soon
for a woman whose skirt does not lift in the zephyr of her sadness:
we kiss and we tie
maraschino cherry stems with our tongues. The
same labyrinth puts rosy skin in our teeth, here is his pubic hair
knotted with saliva. When I think I have everything,
it just means that we are stuck together –
I realize it does not mean that we are happy together. I think
someone poisoned the water
with glue, and it is I who dispenses more to let my love escape me.
He is as happy as a child who has finished a puzzle
except for a single missing piece, repeating the movements
again and again. That has got to bring it back.
For seven months, we have been handed the gift of pretending I
can feel the inner-workings of who he is and why he is
and I am pretty sure he knows he never has
to pretend again. It is there in the silences: across the room,
across the ocean where hundreds of babies have died,
babes with mothers and fathers and parents who weren’t divorced.
All I hear is my love toying with a Rubik’s cube
he never learned to complete. I have a Magic 8 ball saying
I should let him go. I mostly worry about telling my mom, who will
tell my therapist and then we will have to
close too many doors. As long as I am sad, they are locked. A
key is stuck in the mud or in someone’s molars –
my room is empty, the air is quiet, and he has not even left me yet.