With rejection,
One doesn't forget the wound,
But one starts to forget the person
Pretty rapidly.
The White House has become
A Psyche Ward Docudrama.
I wonder if HBO
Will make a miniseries out of it
I spent my fair amount of time
In inpatient psyche wards
In the late 1980's
And early 1990's,
But I've broken the cycle.
President Donald Trump
Has never been properly evaluated
By a psychiatrist.
Many of the people surrounding him,
Who must believe in some sort of
Rather than mental health
Are just ENABLING him.
It's kind of pathetic
To see this happen
To the President of the United States
And the United States Government,
But I can't say that I've never been there
I still remember your look,
The ''judging look'', when you saw me with him.
I can't say if I was happy because I saw you hurt,
Or I just was sad because you needed so long,
To find out,
To find out that you actually love me.

But I'm happy.
I've got my revenge.
I've made you admit it,
Even though you never said it to me.
But I did it.

But this time I have left.
I've got my revenge.
I've got inside your head.
Even the strongest one has fallen.
And finally I have found a peace.

And even tho months has passed.
I still pray for you every night.
I still pray that you find peace.
I'm so sorry that that peace wasn't me.
And I'm sorry I needed so long to see it.

But I'm happy now.
He is nice, and I can say with all my heart that I love him.
He is giving me everything you were never capable of.
Love, kindness, happiness, protection.
I finally see the future.

But still,
I will remember our month,
Our lovely November.
Stay safe my Scorpio,
Because, finally I have left.
But I will pray for you.

With love, your Scorpio.
rob kistner Jul 26

it is this time every year
perhaps coaxed by the warming breezes of spring
that a flood of recall is unleashed

smell of leather oiled in neatsfoot
clatter of wooden bats in a canvass bag
scrape of metal spikes on concrete
snug feel of the ballglove
tuggin’ on the cap
rollin’ the bill just right

smoothness of the cowhide sphere
firm grip on raised seams
click and clack of the catcher's gear
cheers, jeers and sometimes tears
right foot on the rubber
excitement of taking signs
leg coiled for delivery
the hey batter batter
pop of the ball in the pocket of the mit
or the anticipation of an onrushing grounder
relief of snagging one in the webbing
launching the throw across the diamond
shielding my eyes in a high sky

feel of polished hardwood
crack of the sweet spot
exhilaration of connecting solidly
breaking down to first
taking a good lead off
soft slide into 2nd base
the thrill of swiping successfully
the joy of crossing home
my teammates in a dog pile
sweet sweet exhaustion
knowing I left it all on the field

your arm around my shoulder
the pride in your eyes
real root beer
at the real soda fountain
with the team after the game
riding home on the tailgate
of our old Edsel wagon

it is every year at this time
that I think of all of this
that I think of you dad

how you wanted me to try pro
how the scout felt I had the arm
it is the path I didn’t take
you never made me feel sorry

thank you for these memories
thank you for your love
you were my solid rock
in a storm-tossed sea


rob kistner © 2008
Love poem to my adoptive father. He was a blue collar worker, a foreman of the maintenance department at a major chemical company. I rember him picking me up as he came home from work. He would raise me high in the air, then he would motorboat my belly.
The feel of his cold stubbly face on my skin, the smell of chemicals on his clothes - these are, to me, the sensations of genuine love, a love I will never forget. My home life was not at all the best, but dad was my rescue, my champion.
I miss the man everyday since he died of a massive heart attack in 1983.
He was my safety in a tumultuous home. Shortly after he died there was a massive funeral. Full church. My dad was beloved. I loved him dearly!
Hummingbird Jul 19
I am coming,
For all his stars they turned to shadows.

I am coming,
For all the hurt they gave him.

I am coming,
For all the turmoil they put him through.

I am coming,
For all the demons that ever dared touch him.

I am coming,
To protect my monster.

For all they have put him through...
They have made his life a nightmare.

So I will become theirs.
Janan Jul 19
Not everyone who shows you an ounce

Of attention during your states of vulnerability
Where your brokenness has drenched blood into your arteries,

Clogging the bit of hope you had left seeping in an abyss,

Deserves to bask in the taste of your ancestral secrets.

Why weren't you taught the science of the lion and the gazelle,

Where predators seek out the weak and down-trotted,

Just For their leisure?

just because they’ve seen tears shed

And they've caressed the nothingness that
wallows in the pit of your stomach,

does not entitle them to your graces

You must learn when it’s time to protect your peace.
must learn when solitude is necessary
Choderlos Jul 10
Like the light that guides your way
I will protect you and keep you safe
Sheathing your feet from hurting stones
As long as there's breath in me
Till the last mile of the way

Like the star in your darkest night
I will be there in the saddest days
Brightening up your face again
As long as there's a trace of distress
Till the darkness gives way to light

Like the shadow in the nights
I will be with you forever and for always
Staying by your side as the clock ticks
As long as you keep me
Till the last day of eternity
elinor Jul 8
I'm going to cover your heart in bubble wrap,
shout to the universe to never dare to drop it again,
and carry it in my arms
so tight to my chest
that your heart may just merge into one with mine
and we can just beat together.
we'll share a duvet of bubble wrap
and I'll let you pull the whole thing
so it covers you,
and I'll still be warm
from the closeness of our
intertwining arteries
and the silkiest blood we pass between them.
I'll be lathered in your crimson fuel
and call it the race of our love.
I don't think you need to be shielded,
and I know you don't need me to shield you,
but just one layer of bubble wrap
won't hurt anyone,
I can't protect you like YOU can protect you
Like slides across a projector,
Unwanted memories sweep into my mind.
I wish I could go back to before,
Sat cross-legged with my pigtails swinging, listening to the grown ups lessons.
That was all before self-hatred tugged at my heartstrings,
And unworldly voices hissed in my ear that I wasn’t enough,
That I never would be.

The flashbacks are blinding me, they distort the image,
Twisting the reality.
How can a friend do that in the first place?
He was supposed to be my rock, my shelter from the storms inside my head.
I had built myself up knowing that he would be there to keep me strong,
Placing brick by brick around my heart, I deigned to think I was unbreakable.

They said not to throw rocks at greenhouses,
What do we do when the rocks begin hurling themselves at our fragile walls?

I want to grasp at the shards,
Holding my broken pieces so hard my palms drip with blood,
And cut down those who hurt me.
To fight back despite the tears streaming down my face.
I want to use the shards to rip the skin from my bones,
Destroy to create; erase myself to rebuild myself?
I will become stronger, I will never be so vulnerable.

Most of all, I want to rise from the rubble standing tall,
And learn to never again lay my foundations in shakey grounds.
Maybe then, I will have finally understood what the grown ups had taught me all those years before.
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