My mother should be an author
She carves her soul into millions of pieces
Leaving it behind all of the family photos
When I see my mother
I see a woman
Who wants to hide her soul in a needle
Just so the screaming can stop in her mind,
These bottles are rattling in the living room
You see they have put shackles on her heart,
She can't love anymore
Without having ***** in her water bottle.

Where is she hiding her beer?
I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt
From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields
My mother used to take me to.

You know she always wasn't like this
She was strong minded and had a big heart
Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman
Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites
To the ****** Mary’s.
Let's rewind time
See ******* the soul in ten years

10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry
Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore

9- I refused to bail her out of jail again
Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again

8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play,
My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother?

7- I had to hold my mothers hand
Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol

6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again

5- My mother throws the bottle across the room
And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic

4- My mother overslept for my piano recital,
I didn't think it was a big deal
But I remember she spent the whole night crying
With a wine glass in her hand.

3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle

2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day
why are you taking 6?

1- My mother went to the doctor
Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis
I don't know what that means,
But I know she will still be strong right?

0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday.
I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game
She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself

I see ant lines make a trail on paper
Etching out thoughts I thought to have never been thought
I see scenic interpretations of my mind's landscape
Hills, trees, mountains and rivers.
Painting and sculpting all at once
I unravel more than I believe is possible.
So complex, tiniest details of a fine mosaic art

And with  those minute details
I sit down with a mug of coffee
Here in, the cool evening breeze
I weave a tale and thread a story.
And as I write with this hot headed fervor
I see nothing but the gates into my mind,
Open and welcoming, patient and enduring.
Leading me by the hand
Strapping me up for an adventure.

Now, in my own little world
Might take a little more than a thunderstorm  
To bring me out of this trance
Oh no, this world I create and paint
My deft strokes and personal touches,
This one's for my keeping,
This one's my piece of art.

Yes, you look at me and see
Nothing but incoherency  
Sitting in a dark room
Talking to myself
Scribbling nonsense.
Nonsense?!
No!
Just the musings
Of a mad woman !

i'm a loose hair on your diner scrambled eggs:
undesired.

as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.
it comes down to the rain, the sunlight,
the traffic, the nights and the days of the
years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living
it, typing one more line now as
a man plays a piano through the radio,
the best writers have said very
little
and the worst,
far too much.
from ONTHEBUS - 1992