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 Nov 2015 Medhina Khanal
mikecccc
I got no sleep
No good reason why
Now I'm stumbling
And bumping into walls
Up is down and down
Is sideways
I can't hold a conversation
I'm a touch zombified
So now I'll set my alarm
And get what zzzzs
I can before
I head out.
Water is reeked with nicotine
The souls are reeked with Ginsberg
but the heads and the thoughts have both pungent smell like
hot rooster comb flowers
I slept last time the day before yesterday
I saw the ****** Mary so beautiful
in that glow of blue & gold
                                           neons of Bethlehem
thumbing a lift near a cadillac with CD plate
& the jazz was caroling in wet sand
there were twelve bars in the honour of that boy
who has to come here one day finally, ****
he has to come just for jamming in this world
as it's said he could /!/ get all that mess of ours
off ourselves gentlemanly playing the part.
From Stop-time (published 1969)
light
pricked
pin-light
holes
through
prefumed
clouds
 Nov 2015 Medhina Khanal
me gs
Aren't I a little too young
To be drowning myself in a liquor bottle?

me.gs
 Nov 2015 Medhina Khanal
me gs
Better a death from lung cancer than a death from a broken heart

me.gs
ive been trying v to get over someone lately and its not going v well. i need a girlfriend asap but theres literally nobody where i live lol fml
 Nov 2015 Medhina Khanal
Tomo
Savior
 Nov 2015 Medhina Khanal
Tomo
Your hands, they're trembling again.
Mine are too.
I reach out to save you,
but suddenly I'm grasping a ledge.

I didn't ask for this, but somehow,
I gave myself a role.
You didn't ask for this, but somehow,
I claimed you as mine.

There's so many of you!
What am I supposed to do?
Can I even do anything?

No, I can't.
I can't save even a single life.
That power doesn't lie with me,
not in the least.

Yet there is a hope!
A hope beyond me.
A hope that transcends time;
a force greater than I can imagine!

On a tree, this hope was hung.
A man judged for all time,
A God who sacrificed all he had,
for the sake of monsters like us.

Yes, this hero, this God-man, this Jesus
died and was raised to life.
This Savior who came for us,
who claimed His children's lives as His own.

He will save you, not me!
I have no hope to give on my own,
but that Jesus died, bearing your sin
and killing it forever.

He will claim those who are His,
and He will save them.

I'm no savior, and I don't have to try to be.
Oftentimes I make myself think I have to be a hero for everyone around me, and I forget that God is in control. This is a little reminder of that.
BECOMING CONSCIOUS AFTER EATING A YELLOW MOON**


yesterday I ate a yellow moon
as it rode low, and slowly
encountered a twilight sky.
it tasted like vanilla crunch.
but you know, eating the moon
gives you a headache,
like the kind you get if your face
was slammed against the wall,
then kicked in the gut
when you were down.
the kind of headache
I’ve had since I was three;
at least that is what I was told.
I can’t remember much
about those early days.
besides the headaches,
I have been deaf since ten
and I carry a limp as well
as a glass eye
from having philosophical
discussions with each cellar step
as I bounced down.
I now find it hard to open the cellar door
cause I swear I hear crying
coming from down there.
I know it must be me
sprawled on the blood soaked floor
and I think I might go crazy
if I saw myself.

~~~

you know what’s really crazy though?
for the longest time
I loved him; would follow him
do everything I could to please him.
bring him his pipe
or the newspaper
get him coffee.
except on those days
where his eyes were red
and he stank of ****. thenI would plead:
“oh daddy. don’t be mad at me.
please don’t hit me. no,
no, not mr. johnson, that
hurts so much.
I’ll be good. I promise.”

~~~

even now, I think I love him.
I never meant to push him back,
to knock him down the stairs
I guess if I had called
the ambulance right away
everything would have been okay.
but the judge said that it was wrong
to stab him so many times;
to cut off his johnson
and stick it in his mouth.
somehow though,
I never understood why.
it’s not like he begged
for mercy
and he never once cried!

~~~

I am home now,
back from another conversation
with electricity,
sitting in my room
at St. Mary’s starring blankly
at this huge, yellow moon.
as I savor its vanilla crunch,
I am trying to understand why
I feel like I am to blame?
trying to remember if I ever smile;
work up the courage to hate him.

(Written under this pen name)
~~redzone 10/29/02
Posted as Aztec Warrior 10.31.15
I have been reading a lot of poems that deal with abuse of one shade or another and wanted to add to this conversation. This aabuse is far too widespread and need to be forced into the light of day and STOPPED.  So there are no misunderstandings, I personally have never been abused. I know of and am friends with many who have been and continue to suffer in open and internal ways too numerous to mention. I hope that perhaps knowing you are not alone in this will be helpful.   Aztec
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