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Pen Lux Sep 7
The words beyond me
are very well known.
Despite the lack
of presence shown.
It's taken time, and
pain, and sorrow,
to find myself growing,
no longer dreading tomorrow.
Inside of me
resides a feast of
Love, and Pain,
and so much Trauma.
Yes, it's been stewing.
I'm no longer brewing.
I've long awaited
for the calm,
To be able to say:
the storm I became has abated.
No longer jaded
As words bloom
because they're releasing meaning.
I'm no longer full of hatred.
No longer fearing to be hated.
For the poison I gathered
wasn't only me who it effected
and left tattered, shattered, and confused.
During my drinking I wasn't the only one abused,
or misused.
My heart couldn't take the pain
of what broken pieces left remained.
I was never taught, skilled or trained
to deal with life beside
intentions that truly mattered.
Broken ribs, contusion contained chest,
small *******, big brained, lungs stained,
soul shaking, adventure-seeking fearful heart,
child with no father, no mother, no sister or brother.
Afraid to speak because she's said too much, a crutch.
Crutch upon the Devil's flame. Crutch upon his name.
All that I distained became all that I obtained.
Creation is a work of art if it comes from within the heart.
Yet with a heart full of poison, hellbent on consumption,
feeling empowered by destruction, self-hating coward,
shallow affections that were showered.
As I am
no longer drinking myself downward
and see myself moving forward I've
found that everything matters
Nothing lost it's meaning as I felt that
I could remain strong against others,
while at the same time self-defeating.
No longer holding onto pain.
I've begun to release
There's no mercy left for being shattered.
No more shattering, slashing, smashing,
self-hating suicidal tendencies or fantasies.
No, I am not healed fully.
No, I am not all knowing.
No, I am not perfect.
No, I am not giving up.
No, I am not going backwards
for sifting through the memories.
I must sift through to lift through
this heaviness.
I must walk this steep mountain
that seemingly leads
as far away as
to the birth of our galaxies.
Full of lessons unknown
I must create and be shown.
I must abstain from the comforts created within my pain.
Yes, I will open my heart once again
and I will not turn away when the reality hurts
just as much as I'm about to explain.

Pros come and go. I want for them to stay.
Not in my mind, but on the page anyway.
José Vaca Jul 2020
Refined white lies.
Increased hate crimes.
Blood spike death rise.
Black lives chastised.
Allies demonized.
**** ring enterprise.
Children traumatized.
Elites organize.
Information ostracized.
Revolution televised.
Oppressive systems capsize.
As we the people synchronize.
Through the day butterflies.
Though at night fire fly’s.
Colonizers vandalized.
Hate symbols pulverized.
Say no more, mobilize.
Dream no more, visualize.
Social justice normalized.
War and famine neutralized.
Empathy not sympathy.
Happiness not jealousy.
Peace and love, no room for hate.
Like bumble bees let’s cultivate.

Replacing sugar with honey.
XPY Apr 2018
i sat there for the
longest time.

In the dark-
in that small,
small space and

fabric rustled around me
with every shift and every
movement and change.

I watched, through
the small crack of light,
the shadows
dance and the soles of
shoes pass.

I tried to make sense
of their movements
the sounds that come
out of their mouths.

Their interactions.

After the longest time I
decided to stand up
from the floor
of that small, dark space.

I put my hand on
the ****, and it turned.

I crept out
of that space.
Timid, unsure.

I don't think
anyone noticed.
I'm glad.

I'm still not quite...

there yet.
There is something to be said about coming out of closets, even if silently, by yourself.

© KMH 2018
Whisper Yes Oct 2017
Because of it all
Not in spite of it all
Take the step
Palms softly open
Heart trembling but willing
The gentle, truthful tremor of not knowing
I do not know
I do not know
I love
But I do not know
Cannot know
Should not know
But what you do know is that you must
You must step toward
Don't think
Feel and then act
Fall into the vortex
The flow, the pull
Step into it
Allow yourself to be swept up, holding soft center but allowing the momentum
Allow the undoing
The becoming
Slowly, slowly, slowly
Whisper Yes Oct 2017
Be open to my closedness
Resistance comes in many forms
Fear – is my resistance fear?
Fear of opening up, fear of going too far
Write, just write it all down
How it felt when she kissed my head and thanked me
Thanked me for speaking, for sharing
How it feels having a blanket placed over me
How it feels to have found a tribe
How to stay with self?
Just like this – by doing it
Answerable to no-one
Nothing to prove to anyone.
Relationship with men comes from relationship to father?
Don’t let them see all of me
Keep the wild, the introvert, the poetic soulful side back
Fit in with them, how they want me to behave
Don’t ask the challenging questions
Don’t hurt them
Don’t bring up hurtful topics
Don’t leave him – it will hurt him
Is it hurting me to stay?
Still don’t know
The other is constantly there.
Think of the possibility merely the possibility of resistance becoming connection
Don’t have to understand that sentence – don’t make sense of it
Merely consider the possibility.
Resistance becoming connection.
Can feel my mind working out the time, thinking about food
It’s all fine, observe the thoughts, don’t attach
The medicine is working, it is working
Don’t have to do anything
Go with the rhythm, trust the inner rhythm.
I can feel me here – no past, no future, just me.
Whisper Yes Oct 2017
Let it pass through
Let it wash over
Feel it, write it
Live it
Be it.
Don’t hold it, stuck inside
Taste it, feel it, trust it
Let go of the holding
Know that it is real
How I feel, who I am
Is real.
Express it
Give it voice little one
Release that which is not mine to hold
Release that which is not mine.
Whisper Yes Oct 2017
Slip in, slip under
Under the veil of sense, under the veil of logic
Between realities, between what you, what I know
In between there, is where the work must be done
In the place where logic and words and sense make no sense
In the place where truth, beauty, pain and fear reside
Inside of you – inside of me
Where the hurt lies, where the scars are
The pushed downess, possibly from, definitely from the generations before
The male lineage
My dad, his dad, his dad’s dad, and so on…
They were fighters, so the story goes
The Watsons were renowned for fighting, for drinking
My dad followed and didn’t follow suit
He loved me, loved me so much
Loved me the best he could at the time.
How our daddy’s saw us and loved us effect how we feel seen by men.
Slip under the self-conscious, slip under
Raise the possibility that I could
That I could open up to life
That the harsh harsh critic could quieten and be replaced
Be replaced by connection to heart, to self, to other, to nature
The possibility that I can trust the unknown
That I could move from my heart and trust that movement.
Daddy’s first born
Why so silent daddy?
Better try and be interesting to get heard
Look pretty to be seen
Did you hear me daddy
Did you see me?
The epic tales
All end the same
With the hero
Emerging victorious

But in real life
Most are not heroes
And we often
Emerge beaten
And bloodied
And unable
Or unwilling
To try
Ever again
Pixievic Feb 2016

the desert
of this
life of living
existing in
this world


from the
shrouding of
want and
that's lived
like a canker on
the landscape
of my mind


from the downpour
of emotion
from all the things
that I have
through a
full of pain


into my new beginning

Beautifully Mindful

(C) Pixievic 2016
Moving on, breaking free, a time for living & being me
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