Life is so precious
every moment
     wisps off into the dusk
as sunlight appears fleetingly
onto our upturned faces
and shifts into
          the paradigm of rain
how we struggle every day
to maintain this perishable dance
hold our heads
     above the rising current
fighting to stay aloft
battling for our survival
at times expectations tossed
         our broken sanity weaving its way
into our consciousness
we forget that even in
our daily commitments
there is magic
we forget to let it resonate
What if we decide
To throw our fears aside
What if we take a
steel-edged chance
gathering courage and running
to that rough-hewn cliff
what if we wish to climb
          the ladders as they spiral up
what if our ripening
is right now
as we search our souls
               to the root
and we must simply pull
back the cutting stone of illusion
to lovingly reveal
that luscious
vibe
of earth
            and fruit?

I've wrote a poem about her before.
Never had enough words.
Can't figure out what to say.
Day by day.
She is the light.
The last person I text at night.
She is the only person I trust.
When my family turned to dust.
Yes there is my girlfriend.
She's really something.
To young to really understand bipolar.
I don't want to hurt her.
I don't want to be a murderer.
Like with Chae.
I still think of her everyday.
Blame myself for her addiction.
Blame myself for her pain.
Thought racing through my brain.
Would I be better dead.
Thoughts racing through my head.
I am going to pull the trigger.
Just not yet.
I'll wait til everyone who lives leaves.
Like everyone else I've ever loved.

Did you mean for that to happen?
Did you mean for my heart to shatter?
Did you mean for me to cry so hard I thought I was dehydrated?
Did you mean for me to lie awake at night and question the memories?
Did you mean for me to go over our last conversation over and over?
Did you mean to take a part of me when you left?

Did you mean it?

A mother gone
Safe warm arms
Stolen...
from her
two-year old
daughter...

New arms and faces
kindly enough
reach out to her

But she learns
...too late...
where her mother
went

Confusion and uncertainty
new faces and places
fear and
loss

no belonging place
to call her own

no okay safe place

and many very hurtful ones

...you'd better not tell

...of course not....
she forgot

she never learned to listen
no one ever heard her voice
they didn't know she had one.....
she didn't know
...she had one.

shellacked....

painted over
shoved down
no thinking or feeling
here
no talking
nobody home
covered up
with coats and coats
and layers upon layers
of
shellac
all sealed up
no life here now
no air to breathe
what life to live?
How do you do that?????

no one lives here
people look and don't see her
there

is she stuffed
like a doll?
Who is she
anyway....


new names and faces
over and over
no belonging here
no safe places

always trying

to find

acceptance

and

a place

to belong.......

You gotta take your shoes off,
mother just washed the mat,
and she'll tell you,
'I just washed the mat'

You gotta remember to floss,
God chose not to give you teeth with enamel.
It's not your fault,
it is your responsibility.

You gotta study hard at school.
Your brother works at a coffee shop,
your sister is thirty two thousand dollars in debt,
do better than them.

You gotta be kind to your mother.
Her past stretches through dark times,
and her present is filled with shadows,
your father is blocking the light.

You gotta be wary of your father.
An accident occurred
and then his brother made a mistake,
and now he suffers, he does not grow and he will drag you down.

You gotta be tender with your oldest brother.
He doesn't know where his heart lies.
He believes the greates sin is to not love
and he loves no one but you.

You gotta understand your God.
They may be different than your brother's
(lets hope They're different than your mother's)
but you need to meet them on level ground.

You gotta stay soft,
the world is hard, it'll get harder each day of your life,
but you must remain like water.



Is it better to roll off the hard surfaces, the ones that cut, or is it better to cut them instead?
I pray that I'll know when you grow old enough to ask

His words seeped like a sweet whisper,
Swaying branches in her tree.
Blood flowing to the tips of her fingers, all the way to her rosy cheeks.

But sweetness disguises the bitter...
A wasp hard at work, filling honey in her soul.
This intricate, delicate hive he has built, surrounding her with delicious walls.

Step off course, and with a stroke of her hand...
Buzzing became deafening, engulfing, intoxicating.
What once was a blue sky turned to grey,
his swarm blocked out the day.

Sharp pain began to spread, one excuse after another.
One piercing lie after another.
With each sting, her respect bleed away.  
Stealing her sweetness, leaving her in decay.

Through the winter she waited, her emptiness soaking in cold flakes.
Until spring finally came - and a new bee began building his hive, on sweet honey lies.

Skin red as berries
Dry to the touch
Blistered and burned
I wince as the pain
Envelops my entire being
An envious lust
She must know that
I’ve found a new sun
A punishment if she must
Learn to share me
Jealous of my love
For you, she cries
And burns my skin as
Payback.
I smile though hurt
Because this envy
Brings me a
Feeling of
Greed.