I hammered my self-loathing,
Gouged out its laughing eyes,
Ripped open its smirking mouth,
Then strangled it, stomped it,
Buried it, forgot it; moved on.

The poetry, though, hmm,
It helped me fight, win,
A soundboard of pain,
Reliable and true, so true,
Always remains, waiting patiently.

Keeping my attitude healthy,
Is it needed? Yes, it is,
Riding undulating emotion,
Self-loathing rises, unbidden,
Caressing fondly: a soft kiss.

I body-slam self-loathing,
Hurl it back to the pit,
Peer out of the abyss,
****** at any light, any hope,
Grasping words, fighting.

Love is always needed,
A powerful weapon, hmm,
Without it, well, zombies come,
Tearing within, mocking,
Urging the thin-red-line.

I will not yield, I scream,
I write, even weep, and more,
Knowing love will come, soon,
And will help me claim,
I hammered my self-loathing.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Sometimes I find it difficult
to remember what life is worth
when I am wading this deep in blue.
If I am trying hard not to drown,
how can I focus on the clouds?
In the back of my mind, I will always
know that there is good in the world.
However the mind gets distracted when
balancing on a tight rope. For if you fall
there is no going back, only
falling through the sky, watching
people laugh together
as you plummet to your doom.
It just isn't easy to make it across the tight rope.
What if it wasn't tied right?
What if you fall off?
What if a demon flies on by
and carries you straight to Hell?
I know that it could happen; the demon
has already visited. The claw marks,
the scratches, the nightmares will
always be etched into my heart, soul and skin.
They are scarred, as I will be forever.

Battling back troubled tears
Robert took the mike in church
to confess his sins to all
for the lives that had fallen by his hand.

In a causal web as dense
as a tropical thicket,
men in suits and brass
had ordered him to his post
at an Apache helicopter door.

Robert fired and men became bodies.
Those whose fate he sealed
would have done him the same
had they fired sooner or straighter.

But had the wheel turned otherwise
would they, like Robert,
have darted up from their sleep
in the dead of night -
soaked in the sweat of terror and regret?

For every Robert's sake
in every land,
I prefer to hope they would.

*November, 2013

..I want you.
..I want you in the most innocent ways.
I want to wake up tangled in sheets
your feet wrapped up in mine..
Hear your groggy voice as you stretch your body awake.
I want to feel your finger tips linger on my back
as you write love letters on my skin..
I'll laugh next to you, squirming away as it tickles.
I want to feel your lips kissing my shoulder
as i lay against you,
softly , over and over , gently as i sigh.
I want to close my eyes
as you explore my skin, connecting freckles,
mapping my body like your own secret constellation.

I want..

to stay in these moments forever.