I was at the edge of myself       almost becoming
the words waiting in silence


maybe i don't have to explain
because I saw two trees
embrace
in the justpastmidnight light
and the vision
stilled me.

Fear of the dark, a somewhat childlike fear, lead me to an electric shock, which lead me to break my vow of silence, which lead me learn what happiness really is.

Being happy is not fake sunshine advert sitcom glory
It is
Being able to take the gory and daunting turn of events that is
Making a mistake.

Talking it through
Or shouting it through, hissing it through
But
Above all
Letting it pass through -

Listening to another when emotions are heightened,
Using the strength and courage I’ve been cultivating to make that step (or leap)
To recognition of a lesson peeking out from the rubble of a mistake.

Mine were, in no particular order

Preparation, communication, setting and community

Did I really prepare my local community for what I was embarking on?
No, I did not explain what I was doing thoroughly.
Was the setting of meeting new family and old people in a house where 4 languages are spoken daily to get all communication clear, really the best place to take a vow of silence?
No.
Was I myself ready? Stable enough in who I am
to withstand the pressures of others all around me?
Or to maintain silence in the face of a panic attack?  
I didn’t know until I tried.
And the answer was no.

And *that is happiness.
Being able to take the gory and daunting turn of events that is
Making a mistake
Into
Relinquishing myself from self hate
Recognizing old patterns of destruction
Ushering in new ones of growth and peace
Embracing the fact that i can feel myself laughing
at the ludicrousness of it all           despite parts of me wanting to remain angry

Having compassion for those around me
Including myself -

A Being,
Happy.

Sojourn at the hinterlands of a fog casket
awoken to be suffocated
put to sleep        to dream
within a dream                         the nightmare of a mother's fear

depression is so easy to slink in
so wary of all those palpable sins
like being yourself -

awoken to be suffocated
put to sleep      to dream
with a dream                           the nightmare of a mother's fear
where pink haired ladies
talk about my dissonance

within a dream about the nightmare of my mothers
self punishment -

for birthing me
questioning                if it was the right decision

if I          was born to suffer
this fate

so i wake                  in the land of dead people
who's limbs fall apart
as they're names are called out by the concierge

to my voice as whisper
to my courage bubbling underneath
a mother fearful of coming close
forgiveness is a blessing
and the tears flow

                       out of the eyes of a child onto the cheeks of a woman
who's life was molested by other peoples sanctions
a woman who stood tall for the voice of others    children and elders
who encouraged chance meetings to be themselves via magazine clippings
and a mother afraid to come close
and a child still living the actions of a ghost                 looming at her with wide eyed slanders of " you ****** up , you *******
you **** up at everything"

it's difficult to look               it's like watching someone be strung up
naked
tied to posts
and the spaces between their fingers sliced
their yoni sliced
their ******* sliced
their heart beating wide eyed screaming
silenced.

My mother
who birthed me
whom i respect
for all of her showings
no matter how ****** up

strung up
and the vision is blinding.
and we're both crying
but i don't tell her
because it's lunch time
and she's ****** up again.

my mother brings out the rawest form of me
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
we talk about *** , i'm on the verge of tears most the time
about not respecting yourself
being born with the consciousness of 7 dimensions
respecting yourself
some of my words come out in paradoxes that have yet to be resolved
i tell her how my aim is to **** in his mouth one day
she tells me i'm disgusting and we laugh at the ****** hanging up my nose
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
It's 30 degrees outside
We have to turn on the air con
occasionally there is applause
as we talk
about how the best way to make a contribution to this planet is to be yourself , she says she hopes she offered me that wisdom as a child
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
and say that it was mixed - be yourself but then smack ! Don't do that thing. It was confusing.
She says she wasn't conscious , she was confused
she couldn't do it now
like i don't eat meat
certain things fall away when you respect yourself.
My mother brings out the rawest form of me
I brush my hair in a soapy tub

You are a
     Fox in a beard
            With morals and
Values some may fear
Due to your honest , straight
Nature,
              But I can see more
Than that .
           I can see the hurt
Aspects in your eyes, that
Make you
              That much kinder –
      For out of pain,
Those, who choose –
Can birth and
Form much
Richness of character
And bear more of the elusive soul - rarely seen without the ego garb - but in this case , is slowly taking off the costume to reveal the secrets within.

---------------


Stretched out like a green mountain lion –
A tickling of pride and mocked nonchalance dance side by side in your Eyes accompanied by
The slight fiendish grin
That overcomes your
Face when you
Know I can’t resist
You anymore

If i'm quite sure where to listen              the words exist perpetually

What once  little me                   sung gospels of
has sunk into the sea.

thoughts met with resistance
stagnate and form dis-ease

especially them reflex thoughts ,                given a
thought              turn out to be denial
that thoughts
can (be            let) pass
without marker or address               that a notion
can cross the endless ocean            of of my self-mind
without duress           or that opinions                 can
move right through.