~

something
sinister
this way came,
a lie insidious
steals our name;
one most often
we accept,
one so common
we ignore
its evil dance
concealed
in shame;
cohabitation
at its worst.
a simple line
that looks like this…

though brutal
our abuser
when asked
to spill our soul,
accounting for
another’s misdeeds.
instead our tongues
get caught
with heavy coils
that pull us down.
when cruel jaws
that gripped our leg
could be opened
by our witness,
hungry fangs
clamp tigher still
because we sit
in silence;
and in our silence
witness bear
the marks of
these who hurt us
the ones who
claimed to care.
whose uncovering
feels betrayal
and betrayer
feels the thief,
it adds to
our undoing,
becomes
a web of our
own choosing;
contradiction
of entrapment
traps us in
another's deeds.

i ain't no thief,
i’m just a child
with a story;
the only one
i’ve ever known.
its mine I say,
it fits me well,
it isn't one i stole.
these marks
have made me,
yes... even this
my painful tome.
but take this story
from this child,
you’ll take away
my only home!
take away
my lies
my name
and I’ll
be stripped
of all but bone;
left to wither,
die alone.
i'm just a child
with a story,
the only one
i"ve ever known.

i bear these scars,
i know them well,  
today i wonder why
i never chose to tell.


~

post script


is it too painful to relive the story?
or perhaps it is that in my shedding
i fear it will become my shredding
all that i have come to know,
despite its pain, as part of my own soul.

today i tell others to spill the truth
but am not willing to follow my own advice.
does this not make me guilty of
knowing but failing to act
on my own behalf?

Regardless of
your interests,
no matter how fascinating;
your spirituality,
no matter how robust;
your intentions,
no matter how pure;
your experiences,
no matter how profound;

nary a soul is made exempt
from etiquette and respect:

People will remember how you make them feel
more readily than what you did or didn't do
(though the two surely aren't mutually exclusive!)

Point is:
don't be disrespectful or hold others in contempt
simply because you have dissimilar tastes or perspectives:
One should learn to navigate the discrepancy
and desire to come upon mutual understandings.

That's called Philosophy.
It's not for the feint of Heart.
It's also not what you read of it;
it's by what you live and why.

What are your virtues?
Which, if any, is your patron deity at this stage of your life, and why?
Define the terms: Music, Art, and God.
Who's your favorite writer?

See,
I may disagree,
but we can look on the bright side:
now we have something to discuss.
Finally, some much-needed food for thought!

I grow weary of *Philosophobia.

~

fallen…
heroes all,
saviors-in-training,
on mission repeat;
the service-giving,
life-giving,
members of
a fighting team.
existing solely that
you and i
can spend our time
consumed
with the art
of loving well;
their actions
no less impassioned
than our own,
no less worthy,
no less loving and
no less selfless.  

whatever we think
of war,
we must think
of the individuals
who move toward the fray
rather than away;
those to whom
we owe our very
everyday existence
be it extraordinary
or mundane;
to their daily efforts.,
to their repeated training,
to their daily sacrifice,
we offer
a prayer-filled salute!

and to these
who paid dearly,
to wives,
sons & daughters,
mothers and fathers,
nation with a
grateful heart,
a debt we cannot repay,
we humbly offer
our heart-filled
and loving tribute.
may you ever
rest in peace.

~

*post script.


serving you and me from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina,
these fallen Marine heroes are:
Capt. Stanford Henry Shaw III of Basking Ridge, New Jersey;
Master Sgt. Thomas Saunders of Camp Lejeune;
Staff Sgt. Liam Flynn of Queens, New York;
Staff Sgt. Trevor P. Blaylock of Lake Orion, Michigan;
Staff Sgt. Kerry Michael Kemp of Port Washington, Wisconsin;
Staff Sgt. Andrew Seif of Holland, Michigan; and
Staff Sgt. Marcus Bawol from Warren, Michigan

http://www.marinecorpstimes.com/story/military/2015/03/13/names-of-7-marines-killed-in-helicopter-crash-released/70277156/

(the four fallen Guard members remain unnamed at this time)

next month my son is deployed
to points classified to us his parents.
i can only think about his sacrifice
in terms of time, money, exposure to danger …  
and his safe return!

The doodles of my mind
are
the beginning of...

an idea
or
a discovery of self
or
clarity of thought

whatever...
they are the beginning

real, but not

krs
3/13/2015

Love...
so strange
beautiful
sometimes ugly
fills my heart

A lover who...
draws a line on intimacy
who accepts, but not fully
who makes me laugh
but slings an arrow
a tear drop falls

Love so fulfilling
but leaves me wanting

Bittersweet...
the heart yearns
for romance
and sighs in comfort

Always touched
in friendship
denied a lover's touch
of sensual promise and passion

Love...
So strange
beautiful
sometimes ugly

Fills my life

krs
3/12/2015