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Robert Stanley Nov 2018
September 5th 2018, Dear Diary i'll say as I start a fresh page
Tap tap goes my finger on my desk
Flick flack goes the pen cap as i tap tap tap
What can I say im lost in thought
How can i feel about everything im just awfully distraught
September 18th 2018, Dear Diary same dance different day
I just want to feel a certain way
Is there any way i can break free?
Of this normal routine
The people here they seem sincere
Only to hurt me in the same exact ways.
September 27th 2018, Dear Diary now im just yelling at the page
Another hard day
Just too much of the same
Someone look my way for even a second
Just for today.
October 5th 2018, Dear Diary it's all just a blur
My head says one thing my heart another
My hands are starting to stutter
My mind is sound but my heart is a flutter
What do i do my life is confusion
Right now I just don't see a solution
October 12th 2018, Dear Diary a new developement on my stage
Theres just a sparkle in the rain
Someone different starting to look my way
I don't know what to say
Just lead with maybe and see if they go away
I just can't do it not right now not with who I am and what my life is about
October 19th 2018, Dear Diary same old same old
An occasional glance in my direction
But I go home to the same mess and imperfection
But you know I just can't let them go
The past is the present and it has kept hold
October 26th 2018, Dear Diary now im just lost
What was there before can be again
But won't history just repeat itself in the end?
The yelling the fighting the screaming the crying
All to just go back to the forgiving and forgetting
But even as this new road seems enticing
How can I bring someone in when my life is this frightening
November 2nd 2018, Dear Diary what do I do
My tears stain this flawless page
My writing choppy and dismayed
To him im nothing but im also everything
But to me hes something but I need there to be nothing
Then theres still this feeling with the new soul I've been discovering
Could there actually be something?
No absolutely not this is something I'm done discussing.
November 8th 2018, Dear Diary this time hes done it
I've had enough I just want to run
Get me away from this evil that be
I don't care who he was but right now all I see
Is this demon that's chasing me
Grab my friends we have to flee
Get me to somewhere where I can be free
Drink till the lines blur and my head stops making the decisions for me
November 3rd 2018 Dear Diary I really think that he loves me
But still I'm me this torn sheet of paper
This indistinct human this imperfect creature
I can't walk down that path not again
I'm filled with fear
"What if he's just like the others"
It was just a fluke just forgive and forget
You know that you belong in this trench
He's not that bad let me just go back to bed
November 11th, 2018, Dear Diary Just keep your head up and look straight forward
Still confused of everything thats behind
I don't want him to hurt
But I don't want him to see
That there are all these dark sides to me
People change
But then again they don't
If I don't take the leap i'll never feel the fall
I guess that's not so bad after all....
November 18th, 2018, Dear Diary, You've always been here
Through confusion and mess
Never been jealous
Never given me a second guess
Who am I filling these pages about
Am I ever going to let all this out?
Just one big split decision
I just don't ever want there to be a collission.
March 14th 2033, Dear Diary, It's been a while since ive written
I broke free of my prison
All it took was just one person
And a few years of them holding my burden.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

September 16th 2018 1:34 pm

The war started between the illegible instructions and chunks of wood. I decided to enlist, well, more like volunteered. I arrived at the camp today and met a few loose screws. They don’t have time to train us, we are being shipped out as I write this in my journal.
I hope to god I survive this thing so I can see her face at the end. She will be ecstatic to see me alive, I know she has her doubts. We can not let the engrish win.

September 16th 2018 3:17 pm

We have arrived to our camp. It’s a pigsty. Styrofoam specks cover the yard like snow and cardboard chunks are blown to bits just over the trenches. No time to settle in. Just enough to down a cup of dirt coffee before we charge in. It’s been storming all day, everything is covered in mud.

September 16th 2018 3:56 pm

Stage one has been complete. We have a wall up. This should help stabilize anything that comes after us. It was no easy task and we have been told this was the easiest part.

September 16th 2018 4:32 pm

The foundation has been completed. There were casualties. Henry, a brave man, lost a hand and had to be evacuated. We can hold them back if our aim is true. I hope there are angels watching above.

September 16th 2018 4:33 pm

There are no angels watching, only devils in the disguise of pictures with the number on the wrong side and the finished side flipped around. The foundation had to come down. Back at square one.

September 16th 2018 5:56 pm

The foundation has been rebuilt. Correctly, I hope. More men have been lost. I know this is dark, but one had a flask on his body that hasn’t been emptied. It is now emptied.

September 16th 2018 6:29 pm

The wheels have finally been installed. We are now mobile! Thank god. We can now trek over anything that gets in our way. It’s still pouring rain. I wish I could find another flask.

September 16th 2018 6:53 pm

Hooks and roll and top have all been fitted and examined over. We may have done something right for once. There’s hope that we will win this thing after all.

September 16th 2018 8:48 pm

We stumbled onto a cache of cold ones. We lost sight of our goal for a while. We are back on track marching forward.

September 16th 2018 9:17 pm

The last wooden peg has been hammered in, the last ***** has been ******* and locked. This is it, it’s finally over. We won!

September 16th 2018 9:18 pm

“It’s about time” was my only reward.

It’s ok, I came out stronger than what I was. I have scars I can tell my kids about. The blisters from using hand tools and the knowledge on how to decipher Chinese disguised as English. Useful talents I’m sure.

September 16th 2018 9:20 pm

Finishing off that cache.
Today I put together a cabinet island.
Her Dec 2018
The beginning of 2018 I was struggling beyond words
I was struggling to get out of bed
I was struggling to find happiness within myself
I was struggling to eat a simple meal
2018 was the year I attempted to end everything
2018 was the year I sat in treatment in the hospital after a suicide attempt and opened up for the first time in my 21 years of life at the time
2018 was the year jersey shore medical saved my life and made me feel something again
2018 was the year I knocked down every wall I ever built since the age of 7
2018 is the year I went back and accepted the fact that I couldn’t save my 7 year old self no matter how much I wanted too
2018 is the year I rebuilt my life, making it more open and filled with scenery
2018 is the year I took my life back
2018 is the year I threw my emotions into writing
2018, you’ve been one hell of a chapter in this book, and my god I am so thankful it wasn’t the last chapter


2019 I’m ready for you baby
Vladimir Lionter May 2020
THE 1st
I have known you not long, believe me
Girl - friend, and I am not joking
You have become so dear to me,
Like a light ray, endlessly darling.
You are warming me by radiant hopes
You are valuing me, my feelings, you.
Your moral aid’s giving me vital force,
You are awake the whole night through.
Being together we won’t die
Our plans to live are plain!
Two stars bright’ll light up in a blue sky
After our dying again.
{2018}

THE 2nd
Winter has burst forth again. Nature is
Measuring the camisole of snow hard.
“It always happens year in year out”,
Say you and you seem to be right in this.
You say looking at me. What affecting
Tenderness’s your glance containing. You’re almost
The princess in a holiday attire hobbling
When it is so necessary, the horse
At full tilt, don’t quit, be with me longer, please!
Your character, steel will, features are dear
To me up to pain, no one’ll find your peer
I love to be with you, my honey bliss.
{2018}

THE 3rd
Country meadow as the carpet of camomiles,
A nice girl’s standing in the field.
“Volodya, your poems give me creeps, thus”,
She says without being bewildered.
Her plaits as cornfield have spread over her
Shoulder- blades as a brook. The girl is
Very beautiful, her voice’s ringing so
Clearly as if it were the nightingale’s bliss.
Her eyes are like winter waters
I am enchanted by their depth.
Freedom’s wind secluded corners
In soul. Peace’s in my soul’s wealth.
{2018}

THE 4th
I’ll sit down by you, my sweet, filled with joy’s
Tune, under crown wood noising by blessedness
You are the most lovable among girls
You are my most true, darling, princess.
Your bust can be compared with ripe poppy-heads,
Your pimples juicy are luring me.
You are my long- awaited berry, my goddess
Pure for my being able to be.
We’ll crown our conjoint life’s happy
Cup by the last straw not being in the cold.
You are ineffably beautiful now, sappy
You’ll be beautiful whrn you grow old.
{2018}

THE 5th
Hard parting is the wisest of the wise
And the word’s expressiveness’s in my soul.
Oh, woman’s lot, what for are all these pangs?
When will it end once and on the whole?
And what for is this punishment at last?
It is related to sword of Damocles.
The distance separated both of us,
Every night I sob of all days those.
Every day I read in correspondence your
Poems–how sweet is to be Muse! And
I’ve erected obelisks in your honour
I won’t be able to forget your type grand.
{2018}

THE 6th
Accept me, please, my wonderful girl- friend,
Accept me absolutely and my poems.
And I’m ready to reveal you my yesterday’s
Sins in my rear leisure’s hours.
Understand me, a poet artless, please,
Who’s got used to love so elevated.
My sonorous style’s more terrible than pistols’
Shot, feeling’s calling’s as the vow on blood yet.
I don’t smoke or drink brandy or whisky,
And terrors are often unknown to me.
You are my Angel so dear, close, friendly,
And my idol sung in my poems free.
{2018}

ЛЮБОВНАЯ ЛИРИКА

ПЕРВОЕ
Я тебя недолго очень знаю
И поверь, подруга, не шучу:
Для меня ты стала как родная –
Ты подобна светлому лучу:
Ты меня надеждой согреваешь,
Мною непомерно дорожишь –
Мне морально сильно помогаешь,
Хоть ночами целыми не спишь!
Мы с тобою без вести не сгинем –
Наши планы – жить – они просты!
После нас, подруга, в небе синем
Две зажгутся яркие звезды!
{2018}

ВТОРОЕ
Зима вступила вновь в свои права
Камзол из снега меряет природа.
«Всегда так происходит год от года» –
Ты говоришь, и, кажется, права.
Ты говоришь и смотришь на меня –
И как же много нежности во взгляде –
Почти принцесса в праздничном наряде,
Что на скаку стреножит и коня.
Не уходи, побудь ещё со мной!
Характер твой, стальная сила воли –
Черты твои мне дороги до боли!
Такая милая, мне нравится с тобой!
{2018}

ТРЕТЬЕ
Сельский луг как ковёр из ромашек!
Чудо-девушка в поле стоит.
«Мне, Володя, твой стих до мурашек!» –
Мне, стесняясь, она говорит.
Её косы как хлебные нивы –
Растеклись по лопаткам ручьём.
Эта девушка очень красива –
Её голос звенит соловьём!
Её очи – как зимние воды –
Околдован я их глубиной.
На душе снова ветер свободы,
На душе наконец-то покой!
{2018}

ЧЕТВЁРТОЕ
С тобой сяду я рядом, любимая,
Под древесною кроной шумящею.
Ты из девушек – самая милая,
Ты принцесса моя настоящая!
Твои груди как спелые маковки –
Меня манят бутончики сочные!
Ты моя долгожданная ягодка,
Ты богиня моя непорочная!
Чашу жизни совместной счастливую
Завершим мы последнею капелькой.
Ты сейчас несказанно красивая –
И прекрасною будешь старенькой!
{2018}

ПЯТОЕ
Мудрее мудрого тяжёлая разлука –
Невысказанность снова на душе.
О, доля женская, за что такая мука?
Когда она закончится уже?
К чему сейчас такое наказанье –
Оно сродни домокловым мечам:
С тобой нас разлучило расстоянье –
Я каждый день рыдаю по ночам!
Я каждый день читаю переписку,
Твои стихи – как сладко музой быть!
И в честь тебя воздвигнут обелиски –
Я не смогу твой образ позабыть!
{2018}

ШЕСТОЕ
Прими меня, прекрасная подруга –
Прими как есть, прими мои стихи.
И лишь тебе в свой редкий час досуга
Готов раскрыть вчерашние грехи.
Пойми меня – нехитрого поэта,
Привыкшего к возвышенной любви.
Мой звучный слог страшнее пистолета,
Признанье чувств – как клятва на крови.
Я не курю, не пью коньяк и виски
И часто мне совсем неведом страх.
Ты ангел мой, такой родной и близкий,
Ты мой кумир, воспетый во стихах!
{2018}

Translator - I. Toporov
"...And as if I set fire to matches,
I’m pronouncing amorous words.
“For ever”, “honey” and, of course, “dear”
Carrying always in my head the same.
If you touch passion in the man, it’s clear
You will never find the truth again..."
Sergei Esenin, 1925
«...И, как будто зажигая спички,
Говорю любовные слова.
«Дорогая», «милая», «навеки»,
А в уме всегда одно и то ж,
Если тронуть страсти в человеке,
То, конечно, правды не найдешь...»
Сергей Есенин, 1925
Victor D López Dec 2018
Victor D. López (October 11, 2018)

You were born five years before the beginning of the Spanish civil war and
Lived in a modest two-story home in the lower street of Fontan, facing the ocean that
Gifted you its wealth and beauty but also robbed you of your beloved and noblest eldest
Brother, Juan, who was killed while working as a fisherman out to sea at the tender age of 19.

You were a little girl much prone to crying. The neighbors would make you cry just by saying,
"Chora, neniña, chora" [Cry little girl, cry] which instantly produced inconsolable wailing.
At the age of seven or eight you were blinded by an eye Infection. The village doctor
Saved your eyesight, but not before you missed a full year of school.

You never recovered from that lost time. Your impatience and the shame of feeling left behind prevented
You from making up for lost time. Your wounded pride, the shame of not knowing what your friends knew,
Your restlessness and your inability to hold your tongue when you were corrected by your teacher created
A perfect storm that inevitably tossed your diminutive boat towards the rocks.

When still a girl, you saw Franco with his escort leave his yacht in Fontan. With the innocence of a girl
Who would never learn to hold her tongue, you asked a neighbor who was also present, "Who is that Man?"
"The Generalissimo Francisco Franco," she answered and whispered “Say ‘Viva Franco’ when he Passes by.”
With the innocence of a little girl and the arrogance of an incorrigible old soul you screamed, pointing:

"That's the Generalissimo?" followed up loud laughter, "He looks like Tom Thumb!"
A member of his protective detail approached you, raising his machine gun with the apparent intention of
Hitting you with the stock. "Leave her alone!" Franco ordered. "She is just a child — the fault is not hers."
You told that story many times in my presence, always with a smile or laughing out loud.

I don't believe you ever appreciated the possible import of that "feat" of contempt for
Authority. Could that act of derision have played some small part in their later
Coming for your father and taking him prisoner, torturing him for months and eventually
Condemning him to be executed by firing squad in the Plaza de Maria Pita?

He escaped his fate with the help of a fascist officer who freed him as I’ve noted earlier.
Such was his reputation, the power of his ideas and the esteem even of friends who did not share his views.
Such was your innocence or your psychic blind spot that you never realized your possible contribution to
His destruction. Thank God you never connected the possible impact of your words on his downfall.

You adored your dad throughout your life with a passion of which he was most deserving.
He died shortly after the end of the Spanish Civil War. A mother with ten mouths to feed
Needed help. You stepped up in response to her silent, urgent need. At the age of
Eleven you left school for the last time and began working full time.

Children could not legally work in Franco’s Spain. Nevertheless, a cousin who owned a cannery
Took pity on your situation and allowed you to work full-time in his fish cannery factory in Sada.
You earned the same salary as the adult, predominantly women workers and worked better
Than most of them with a dexterity and rapidity that served you well your entire life.

In your free time before work you carried water from the communal fountain to neighbors for a few cents.
You also made trips carrying water on your head for home and with a pail in each hand. This continued after
You began work in Cheche’s cannery. You rose long before sunrise to get the water for
Home and for the local fishermen before they left on their daily fishing trips for their personal water pails.

All of the money you earned went to your mom with great pride that a girl could provide more than the salary of a
Grown woman--at the mere cost of her childhood and education. You also washed clothes for some
Neighbors for a few cents more, with diapers for newborns always free just for the pleasure of being
Allowed to see, hold spend some time with the babies you so dearly loved you whole life through.
When you were old enough to go to the Sunday cinema and dances, you continued the
Same routine and added washing and ironed the Sunday clothes for the young fishermen
Who wanted to look their best for the weekly dances. The money from that third job was your own
To pay for weekly hairdos, the cinema and dance hall entry fee. The rest still went to your mom.

At 16 you wanted to go to emigrate to Buenos Aires to live with an aunt.
Your mom agreed to let you--provided you took your younger sister, Remedios, with you.
You reluctantly agreed. You found you also could not legally work in Buenos Aires as a minor.
So you convincingly lied about your age and got a job as a nurse’s aide at a clinic soon after your arrival.

You washed bedpans, made beds, scrubbed floors and did other similar assigned tasks
To earn enough money to pay the passage for your mom and two youngest brothers,
Sito (José) and Paco (Francisco). Later you got a job as a maid at a hotel in the resort town of
Mar del Plata whose owners loved your passion for taking care of their infant children.

You served as a maid and unpaid babysitter. Between your modest salary and
Tips as a maid you soon earned the rest of the funds needed for your mom’s and brothers’
Passage from Spain. You returned to Buenos Aires and found two rooms you could afford in an
Excellent neighborhood at an old boarding house near the Spanish Consulate in the center of the city.

Afterwards you got a job at a Ponds laboratory as a machine operator of packaging
Machines for Ponds’ beauty products. You made good money and helped to support your
Mom and brothers  while she continued working as hard as she always had in Spain,
No longer selling fish but cleaning a funeral home and washing clothing by hand.

When your brothers were old enough to work, they joined you in supporting your
Mom and getting her to retire from working outside the home.
You lived with your mom in the same home until you married dad years later,
And never lost the bad habit of stubbornly speaking your mind no matter the cost.

Your union tried to force you to register as a Peronista. Once burned twice cautious,
You refused, telling the syndicate you had not escaped one dictator to ally yourself with
Another. They threatened to fire you. When you would not yield, they threatened to
Repatriate you, your mom and brothers back to Spain.

I can’t print your reply here. They finally brought you to the general manager’s office
Demanding he fire you. You demanded a valid reason for their request.
The manager—doubtless at his own peril—refused, saying he had no better worker
Than you and that the union had no cause to demand your dismissal.

After several years of courtship, you and dad married. You had the world well in hand with
Well-paying jobs and strong savings that would allow you to live a very comfortable life.
You seemed incapable of having the children you so longed for. Three years of painful
Treatments allowed you to give me life and we lived three more years in a beautiful apartment.

I have memories from a very tender age and remember that apartment very well. But things changed
When you decided to go into businesses that soon became unsustainable in the runaway inflation and
Economic chaos of the Argentina of the early 1960’s. I remember only too well your extreme sacrifice
And dad’s during that time—A theme for another day, but not for today.

You were the hardest working person I’ve ever known. You were not afraid of any honest
Job no matter how challenging and your restlessness and competitive spirit always made you a
Stellar employee everywhere you worked no matter how hard or challenging the job.
Even at home you could not stand still unless there was someone with whom to chat awhile.

You were a truly great cook thanks in part to learning from the chef of the hotel where you had
Worked in Mar del Plata awhile—a fellow Spaniard of Basque descent who taught you many of his favorite
Dishes—Spanish and Italian specialties. You were always a terribly picky eater. But you
Loved to cook for family and friends—the more the merrier—and for special holidays.

Dad was also a terrific cook, but with a more limited repertoire. I learned to cook
With great joy from both of you at a young age. And, though neither my culinary skills nor
Any aspect of my life can match you or dad, I too am a decent cook and
Love to cook, especially for meals shared with loved ones.

You took great pleasure in introducing my friends to some of your favorite dishes such as
Cazuela de mariscos, paella marinera, caldo Gallego, stews, roasts, and your incomparable
Canelones, ñoquis, orejas, crepes, muñuelos, flan, and the rest of your long culinary repertoire.
In primary and middle school dad picked me up every day for lunch before going to work.

You and he worked the second shift and did not leave for work until around 2:00 p.m.
Many days, dad would bring a carload of classmates with me for lunch.
I remember as if it were yesterday the faces of my Jewish, Chinese, Japanese, German, Irish
And Italian friends when first introduced to octopus, Spanish tortilla, caldo Gallego, and flan.

The same was true during college and law school.  At times our home resembled an
U.N. General Assembly meeting—but always featuring food. You always treated my
Closest friends as if they were your children and a number of them to this day love
You as a second mother though they have not seen you for many years.

You had tremendous passion and affinity for being a mother (a great pity to have just one child).
It made you over-protective. You bought my clothes at an exclusive boutique. I became a
Living doll for someone denied such toys as a young girl. You would not let me out of your sight and
Kept me in a germ-free environment that eventually produced some negative health issues.

My pediatrician told you often “I want to see him with ***** finger nails and scraped knees.”
You dismissed the statement as a joke. You’d take me often to the park and to my
Favorite merry-go-round. But I had not one friend until I was seven or eight and then just one.
I did not have a real circle of friends until I was about 13 years old. Sad.

I was walking and talking up a storm in complete sentences when I was one year old.
You were concerned and took me to my pediatrician who laughed. He showed me a
Keychain and asked, “What is this Danny.” “Those are your car keys” I replied. After a longer
Evaluation he told my mom it was important to encourage and feed my curiosity.

According to you, I was unbearable (some things never change). I asked dad endless questions such as,
“Why is the sun hot? How far are the stars and what are they made of? Why
Can’t I see the reflection of a flashlight pointed at the sky at night? Why don’t airplanes
Have pontoons on top of the wheels so they can land on both water and land? Etc., etc., etc.

He would answer me patiently to the best of his ability and wait for the inevitable follow-ups.
I remember train and bus rides when very young sitting on his lap asking him a thousand Questions.
Unfortunately, when I asked you a question you could not answer, you more often than not made up an answer Rather than simply saying “I don’t know,” or “go ask dad” or even “go to hell you little monster!”

I drove you crazy. Whatever you were doing I wanted to learn to do, whether it was working on the
Sewing machine, knitting, cooking, ironing, or anything else that looked remotely interesting.
I can’t imagine your frustration. Yet you always found only joy in your little boy at all ages.
Such was your enormous love which surrounded me every day of my life and still does.

When you told me a story and I did not like the ending, such as with “Little Red Riding Hood,”
I demanded a better one and would cry interminably if I did not get it. Poor mom. What patience!
Reading or making up a story that little Danny did not approve of could be dangerous.
I remember one day in a movie theater watching the cartoons I loved (and still love).

Donald Duck came out from stage right eating a sandwich. Sitting between you and dad I asked you
For a sandwich. Rather than explaining that the sandwich was not real, that we’d go to dinner after the show
To eat my favorite steak sandwich (as usual), you simply told me that Donald Duck would soon bring me the sandwich. But when the scene changed, Donald Duck came back smacking his lips without the sandwich.

Then all hell broke loose. I wailed at the top of my lungs that Donald Duck had eaten my sandwich.
He had lied to me and not given me the promised sandwich. That was unbearable. There was
No way to console me or make me understand—too late—that Donald Duck was also hungry,
That it was his sandwich, not mine, or that what was on the screen was just a cartoon and not real.

He, Donald Duck, mi favorite Disney character (then and now) hade eaten this little boy’s Sandwich. Such a Betrayal by a loved one was inconceivable and unbearable. You and dad had to drag me out of the theater ranting And crying at the injustice at top volume. The tantrum (extremely rare for me then, less so now) went on for awhile, but all was well again when my beloved Aunt Nieves gave me a ******* with jam and told me Donald had sent it.

So much water under the bridge. Your own memories, like smoke in a soft breeze, have dissipated
Into insubstantial molecules like so many stars in the night sky that paint no coherent picture.
An entire life of vital conversations turned to the whispers of children in a violent tropical storm,
Insubstantial, imperceptible fragments—just a dream that interrupts an eternal nightmare.

That is your life today. Your memory was always prodigious. You knew the name of every person
You ever met, and those of their family members. You could recall entire conversations word for word.
Three years of schooling proved more than sufficient for you to go out into the world, carving your own
Path from the Inhospitable wilderness and learning to read and write at the age of 16.

You would have been a far better lawyer than I and a fiery litigator who would have fought injustice
Wherever you found it and always defended the rights of those who cannot defend themselves,
Especially children who were always your most fervent passion. You sacrificed everything for others,
Always put yourself dead-last, and never asked for anything in return.

You were an excellent dancer and could sing like an angel. Song was your release in times of joy and
In times of pain. You did not drink or smoke or over-indulge in anything. For much of your life your only minor Indulgence was a weekly trip to the beauty parlor—even in Spain where your washing and ironing income
Paid for that. You were never vain in any way, but your self-respect required you to try to look your best.

You loved people and unlike dad who was for the most part shy, you were quite happy in the all-to-infrequent
Role as the life of the party—singing, dressing up as Charlie Chaplin or a newborn for New Year’s Eve parties with Family and close friends. A natural story-teller until dementia robbed you of the ability to articulate your thoughts,
You’d entertain anyone who would listen with anecdotes, stories, jokes and lively conversation.

In short: you were an exceptional person with a large spirit, a mischievous streak, and an enormous heart.
I know I am not objective about you, but any of your surviving friends and family members who knew you
Well will attest to this and more in a nanosecond. You had an incredibly positive, indomitable attitude
That led you to rush in where angels fear to treat not out of foolishness but out of supreme confidence.

Life handed you cartloads of lemons—enough to pickle the most ardent optimist. And you made not just
Lemonade but lemon merengue pie, lemon sorbet, lemon drops, then ground up the rind for sweetest
Rice pudding, flan, fried dough and a dozen other delicacies. And when all the lemons were gone, you sowed the Seeds from which extraordinarily beautiful lemon trees grew with fruit sweeter than grapes, plums, or cherries.

I’ve always said with great pride that you were a far better writer than I. How many excellent novels,
Plays, and poems could you have written with half of my education and three times my workload?
There is no justice in this world. Why does God give bread to those without teeth? Your
Prodigious memory no longer allows you to recognize me. I was the last person you forgot.

But even now when you cannot have a conversation in any language, Sometimes your eyes sparkle, and
You call me “neniño” (my little boy in Galician) and I know that for an instant you are no longer alone.
But too son the light fades and the darkness returns. I can only see you a few hours one day a week.
My life circumstances do not leave me another option. The visits are bitter sweet but I’m grateful for them.

Someday I won’t even have that opportunity to spend a few hours with you. You’ll have no
Monument to mark your passing save in my memory so long as reason remains. An entire
Life of incalculable sacrifice will leave behind only the poorest living legacy of love
In your son who lacks appropriate words to adequately honor your memory, and always will.


*          *          *

The day has come, too son. October 11, 2018. The call came at 3:30 am.
An hour or two after I had fallen asleep. They tried CPR in vain. There will be no more
Opportunities to say, “I Love you,” to caress your hands and face, to softly sing in your ear,
To put cream on your hands, or to hope that this week you might remember me.

No more time to tell you the accomplishments of loved ones, who I saw, what they told me,
Who asked about you this week, or to pray with you, or to ask if you would give me a kiss by putting my
Cheek close to your lips, to feel joy when you graced me with many little kisses in response,
Or tell you “Maybe next time” when as more often than not the case for months you did not respond.

In saying good bye I’d give you the kiss and hug Alice always sent you,
Followed by three more kisses on the forehead from dad (he always gave you three) and one from me.
I’d leave the TV on to a channel with people and no sound and when possible
Wait for you to close your eyes before leaving.

Time has run out. No further extensions are possible. My prayers change from asking God to protect
You and by His Grace allow you to heal a little bit each day to praying that God protect your
Soul and dad’s and that He allow you to rest in peace in His kingdom. I miss you and Dad very much
And will do so as long as God grants me the gift of reason. I never knew what it is to be alone. I do now.

Four years seeing your blinding light reduced to a weak flickering candle in total darkness.
Four years fearing that you might be aware of your situation.
Four years praying that you would not feel pain, sadness or loneliness.
Four years learning to say goodbye. The rest of my life now waiting in the hope of seeing you again.

I love you mom, with all my heart, always and forever.
Written originally in Spanish and translated into English with minor additions on my mom's passing (October 2018). You can hear all six of my Unsung Heroes poems read by me in my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/show/1zgnkuAIVJaQ0Gb6pOfQOH. (plus much more of my fiction, non-fiction and poetry in English and Spanish)
Dakota J Dawson Mar 2018
2018 is bad
An artist with a silly hat
Ugly fur coat
Solemn face
Hurting and burnt

2018 our fate
Violence is now hollow
Birds still sing
Same songs and melodies
But different strings

2018 my hair
Blond now
Left dry and weak
From the drink
Making me stink

2018 I hate
Individual in despair
Needing some air
A blank slate of the mind
Creativity without care

2018 is clear
Loud as an ocean
Rushing toward land
Crushing against solid realism
Forgetting to dream
Patrick Austin Sep 2018
Our Backgrounds before we met...

I'm an only child born in Montana in 1983, from a divided home. Parents divorced at seven, Mom was unstable and unfaithful. Dad obtained custody of me and we moved to Oregon Coast to live with my Grandma. I had unhealthy visits and relationship with Mom thereafter. My Grandma died at 12 and at 13 my Dad remarried an alcoholic woman, I had a strained relationship with them until adulthood when she stopped drinking. I had exposure to trauma; alcoholism, mental illness, verbal abuse and juvenile troubles. I rebelled by using drugs in my late teens and early twenties, I lived on my own for a few years after high school but had little direction.

My bride is the eldest with two little brothers, parents stayed in same area of Portland during childhood with lots of family support and her parents stayed married. They had Christian values but some anger and anxiety issues at home. She was sexually assaulted at 17 and never had good closure with this. She told me her parents didn't provide her enough help with things like this growing up. Status quo was the backbone of the family dynamic, challenging emotions were discouraged. She rebelled by being reckless with herself, financially and sexually. She decided to join the Navy at 19. She lived alone briefly, but mostly with Grandparents & Parents before our marriage.

I loved how we both grew up reading Archie comics. No other girl I had ever met had that in common with me. I think we wanted a surreal life like the one in Riverdale.

2002

She and I were 19 when we first met in my home town on the coast at an arcade. We became friends and secretly liked each other. I was too nervous to ever make a move on her. We traveled together, she stayed with me, we used drugs together and drank at times. One night she drank too much and had *** with a guy I knew at a party. I was devastated by this. She was Navy bound and I didn't see a real future for us. The next morning she left and I didn't talk to her again for two years. I figured she would be gone with the Navy soon and that she must not have been interested in a relationship with me despite the time we spent together.

2003

I was depressed about this rejection. I dated an older woman who was interested in me but was no substitute. I eventually moved to the Portland area to work and live. I still had few plans and was lonely, in or out of the few brief relationships I attempted. I never found someone that I felt safe with or had a true connection, let alone true love. She ended up not following through with the Navy and continued working her way up in her job at the call center. She attended community college and dated a few guys. She dated one guy for a couple of years who was not a good match for her but stayed with him off and on despite issues. His family was wealthy and treated her well. He slept around on her as did she. At one point he gave her an STD. She also had an ongoing affair with a married man in the military that she went to high school with. He had a child and a wife with mental health issues. She was still hurting a lot at times and not always doing well.

2004

She reached out to me via email after two years of no contact. We emailed back and forth a couple times over the next few months. We talked about meeting up. We spoke on the phone and eventually met up in Portland. We had an amazing night getting to know each other again and work past the confusion of our earlier days of friendship. I realized that she did in fact like me before but since I was timid and trying to be proper and take things slowly she didn't understand my motives. She apologized for her actions at the party as well. She claimed she was in a really messed up place and was making bad choices at that time. Getting our feelings out in the open was good and she appreciated my attitude towards being slow to make moves on her when we first met. I was worried about falling for her based on our history but eventually I was determined to give it a shot. We soon after starting dating and being intimate. Our love was extremely powerful and beyond all others we had both experienced. She broke ties with other suitors and shortly after we talked about marriage and started planning a wedding for the next year.

I remember when we first held hands. We were so shakey and she was quivering on my couch as I had my arm around her. We felt so safe with each other. We could finally be ourselves and do what our hearts desired. We knew we were on to something new and so amazing. We were so patient with each other as we navigated our new love and emotional thresholds.

I remember when we saw Matisyahu in concert together. That was a once in a lifetime experience and a life-changing moment for us. I feel it set the tone for things to come in our future.

I remember how creative my proposal to her was, in the Arcade where we first met. I hid the ring in a prize container from one of those claw machines. Pretending I got the ring from inside by reaching into the machine on one knee I was so nervous and wasn't sure if I could pull it off before she caught on. She looked so shocked and surprised. I was so excited she said yes! We took pictures in the photo machine and had burgers afterwards, I'd do all of it all over again just to see her face in that moment.

2005

We found an apartment for us in Portland. I moved in while she was still living back with her parents until the wedding. She had to change her number because the married man she was previously involved with kept calling her about changing her mind about marriage and continuing their relationship. She was offered a job in Denver and we decided to move away together after our sandy wedding in Cannon Beach. I still had a very hard time and was embarrassed with my past history with her. Many of my friends knew what had happened at 19 and how much it hurt me but I was so crazy about her I think I tried to pretend it didn't happen or that it was not a big deal because we were younger. We got married and moved to Colorado soon after. We made friends at a church, I became more active as a Christian and really loved being married. We were very involved in keeping spirituality in our marriage. I began to notice her poor financial decisions and practices more. This caused conflict but we always tried to communicate and work on things.

I remember when we went down to my folks for New Year's in 2005. We sipped tea in my Datsun as we drove to the coast over the snowy mountain pass. We told them of our engagement. We were all so blissful and excited. We never knew what was to come. We didn't even know about the opportunity in Denver yet. Our story is amazing!

I remember when I wanted to go see her in Portland and the roads were iced over. I left my car at a park and ride before I caused a wreck. I took the light rail across town then rode a bus to the Eastside shopping mall. The bus to her house was not running because it wasn't safe so I walked the rest of the 4 Miles sometimes having to crawl on my hands and knees to make it up hills in the ice and then I finally made it only to just spend a couple hours with her and fall asleep on her parents couch. Her Dad drove us back the next morning to my car so I could get to work. It was all worth it just to see her for that little extra time. I would have done anything for her.

I remember when she was interviewing for the new position in Denver? I drove all over Portland trying to find little toy cars to help with her illustration about how a team is like a car having all four wheels and how they work together to accomplish a goal. I was so proud of her for giving it her all and succeeding at earning that position. Now that I think of it, that car analogy applies to our family and us. We all need each other to be better and keep on track and be a team. I am so motivated by that and our boys. I lose my way without that and I want to be her reflection and motivation as she has been that for me. I truly thought we brought out the best in each other when we were together.

I remember when we were given tickets to see Fiona Apple. That was so spontaneous and a great way to kick off our time in Denver together. We always used to watch our same movies over and over again. Like the Friends DVDs and White Christmas every winter break and The Wedding Singer. We walked everywhere and lived simply. "I wanna be the guy, who grows old with you"

I remember in our first Denver apartment when we took baths together in our claw foot tub in the big bathroom. We put a board over the top and played cards. I liked playing Uno with her in bed too. She was so funny being slightly color blind and in the dark, mixing up the greens and blues. We played Uno in Breckenridge too at that cool bed and breakfast in the fall.

2006

We had continued fun and adventure in our new home of Denver. She was doing well as a trainer for the bank and I started working in health foods. We went camping in New Mexico a couple times with friends and we both took individual trips to Oregon as well as one together for her uncle's wedding. We had marital spats on occasion but always bounced back. The issues we had seemed like part of a normal marriage and were far better than what I had grown up around. I realized that marriage was a lot of work but I was up for the task. She occasionally became aggressive throwing things at me or breaking things during conflict.  I believed I was the problem and tried to change for her in many ways. With two incomes we still had trouble making our bills at times. She had debts that I never knew about that started to catch up with us but I took care of getting them settled and we paid off her car and traded it for an older Volvo Wagon that we both loved, I even had it repainted her favorite color for a birthday gift. Overall things seemed like they were progressing in a positive way.

I remember when we saw Midnight in concert in Boulder. That was the peak of our hippy days. We were alive with pleasure in our healthy vegetarian diets and practices living in a time and place like no other. I want to be like that again. Reggae was our music. We had much in common.

2007

We really fell into our roles in our marriage and the community; church and culture, friends etc. Things seemed very balanced and appropriate for us at that time and that age (24-25). We had separate bank accounts and jobs. I had money in savings. We started the process of buying a house so we could invest in something. She became pregnant shortly after. I embraced the challenge with positive energy but we were both in for a big change. We started having more fights. I didn't have many friends and would write to old friends via social media just so I could to catch up and tell them things were going great with being married to make myself feel better than I actually did. She hated the dawn of social media and also felt isolated I'm sure. She felt I should be doing more for her and I didn't know how to do what she needed but I failed to ask a lot of the time. After one argument, she left the house. My instinct told me to look at ******* and ******* as a retaliation. I had not done this much once we were married because she always met my needs but when things were difficult between us I felt more emotionally isolated. She walked in and realized what I had been doing. She was very upset, and because she was pregnant, thought I was not attracted to her. The truth is I found her even more beautiful and in fact when I looked at ******* I tried to look at women I found less attractive than her so that I feel good about what I have. I mostly fantasized about how these women were more submissive and loving than her. That is the part I needed to feel good about and feel better about myself with because I felt very dominated and controlled. She has never forgiven me for this and I will never stop feeling sorry to her for my brokenness. During one particular argument that year she was getting close to being violent towards me again and I pushed her away on the chest with my fingertips. She got very mad and said I hurt her. I immediately felt terrible and apologized. I never let something like that happen again. I have always avoided violence towards others especially women and of course her. I was defenseless against physical and emotional abuse.

2008

Our eldest son was born at the beginning of the year, it was a traumatic birth for everyone. We wanted a natural birth with a midwife but we were transferred to a hospital and she ended up having an emergency C-section, nothing went as planned. We had a really hard time coping with the emotions of this experience. A lot of buried feelings and trauma from both of us started coming out. We moved a month later into our new home outside of town. No more walking or biking to places, we had to drive everywhere. This house was next to our friends from church. We thought this would make us feel less isolated but we didn’t really have the community with them that we had hoped for. They were upset that they didn't have a child of their own yet and being around us might have been hard for them. My wife stopped working and stayed home with our son. All these changes made for a very difficult time. I did my best to support them but this was the first time we shared a bank account and needed to follow a budget more than ever before. We had no debt at the beginning of the year with money in savings but then the hospital bills put us down about $7,000 and rising with new home and moving expenses and baby needs. My job could barely keep up. She and I had a hard time adjusting. We could not afford to travel home to Oregon and visit family as much and we felt more and more isolated. She started showing me more signs of instability, locking herself in the bathroom with kitchen knives and scraping her legs which continued off and on for years to come. Talks of divorce and suicide threats seemed to happen more than before. I felt responsible and tried to fix her ever changing issues with me.

I remember when herr ******* were full and swollen with milk. It is so beautiful the way she could feed our babies. I wanted her in every way, our bodies belonged to each other. I was there for her and our shared pleasure. I loved it when she told me that she was mine in the heat of passion. This spark could only be a bandage for so long but I didn't know that yet.

2009

I tried to promote within my company but was not selected, they were cutting budgets and employment all around me. I felt worried about our future. I had always thought the military might be a good opportunity and could move us closer to family back home. My father-in-law encouraged me to look into the Coast Guard. I felt this would be a good way to get moved closer to Oregon.  I ended up joining the Navy because we found out we were pregnant again with our second son and that was the only way I could join a military branch. She worked off and on as a nanny and later in the year at a coffee house working nights. We barely spent time together and when we did it was a lot of hard conversations or arguments about finances with making up intimately in the middle of the night between times of caring for the baby. She once scratched my neck with her fingernails during an argument. People I worked with noticed. It was a hard time and we knew change was on the horizon with jobs and moving. We did visit Oregon that summer though and had a great vacation at the beach with a borrowed 4x4 and staying at a hotel and picnicking out of a cooler as well as going to her brothers wedding. I was 26 and about to join the Navy to provide better for my family at all costs sacrificing myself for their benefit because I would have rather died than look like I didn't try my best for them.

I remember when our babies would kick and move around inside her belly. I loved laying by her and feeling her tummy. I would hum to the baby and hear them move and squirm. I loved giving our boys baths when they were babies too. We had our little bundles of our love, wrapped in a towel in our hands, so tiny and vulnerable. I miss those days and want to remember them with her, aside from this state of melancholy.

2010

The Navy recruiters would only take me if we rented out our home and had her stay with family during boot camp and training. We moved to a furnished apartment in Denver and put our things in storage. She was 5 months pregnant and our eldest was two. I shortly after was let go from my job. Our second son was born in April. I got a contract with the Navy at the last minute but didn't leave until August. We sold our beloved vehicles and lived off retirement funds for six months and moved down to Florida where her parents had just moved out of the blue for work, to stay with them until I left for boot camp. I applied for temporary work in Florida at a dozen places but had no luck in my three months there. I took care of our eldest a lot while she took care of the new baby. Being in Florida was a culture shock for us but we had our moments of romance and made the best of it. Eventually I left for boot camp in August. It was really hard and sad to be gone. She stayed in Florida and came to visit me with the baby at boot camp graduation in October. I then went to Connecticut for five months of training. It was also hard but at least I could call home every day and be in the same time zone. I visited Florida during the winter break and saw my boys and her. We went to Disney world and had a great time on her parents. We also made a romantic home movie I could enjoy while away from her. I flew back to Connecticut and tried to make the best of things. My roommate was very abusive of substances and I resisted the temptation for a long time but the threat of being submarine service bound and missing my family pushed me to drinking every weekend and getting messed up to escape before I left.

I remember when we drove to Key Largo, Florida and stopped at a crazy bird wildlife center. I remember our oldest was so amazed hearing a bird say hello back to us. It was so foreign and fun there. I am glad we all shared that experience together.

I remember our trip to the citrus grove in Florida. That was such a great day for our family. I always look back on that with really fond sentiment. I felt like I was in a beautiful family music video with them.

2011

I finished Submarine Training and got orders back to the Northwest. The plan was all coming together. I arrived first and bought a car and got our items moved from storage in Denver to our townhouse rental in Washington. She and the boys joined me a month later. I didn't report to my Sub for another month as they were at sea. She became pregnant again with our third son right after arriving. We had just bought a small car and were not planning on another child. Towards the end of the year I was working a lot and having a really hard time, being bullied and treated poorly at work plus our financial situation was still very difficult. Adjusting to the military was hard among younger men being 28. I dreaded each day in that environment but I tried to endure it for my family. I went to sea for a couple months at the end of the year stopping in Hawaii and California. During this time She reached out to her ex married affair partner after six years of no contact. She didn't tell me until later. She said she needed closure with him, we were not in counseling yet but she decided this was appropriate. I flew home early from sea and wanted to surprise her. The stress and trauma of this quick transition home after being to sea for the first time (which was also traumatic) made me want to drink and get messed up before flying. I arrived home and surprised her but I seemed off to her which I was but didn’t explain why, I have never done that since. I got to be home for two months almost work free while we celebrated the holidays and prepared for the new baby to be born. She started getting more involved with a church and building a community for us which was great. Our financial struggles almost led us to foreclosure of our home back in Colorado but by the grace of God we got it sold with a short sale just in time.

I remember when I came back from Hawaii and brought her a beaded necklace and she wore it naked with her big beautiful pregnant goddess belly and we made passionate hippy love together. I want to grow out my beard again and spend my life making hippy love and feeling free again.

2012

Our third son was born in January. It was a very positive birth experience and much less stressful than the other two. Shortly after I flew out to finish the other half of the deployment I had missed. I really focused on being positive and spiritually connected by reading my Bible at sea which was helpful. I called her when I arrived in Japan halfway through being gone. She was upset because she tested positive for an STD while trying to get on birth control. I became suspicious of her yet she was suspicious of me. We both got tested again and I was clean, she told me she had a false positive after all. This put a big strain on our trust, especially being so far away. This forced us to be honest with each other about some things such as her contact with her ex lover and my drinking to cope. We were both very upset until I returned home and we could start some counseling to work through things. Forgiveness seemed to be difficult for us. It brought up hurts of the past when we were 19. She also had severe postpartum depression that became worse after each birth. I was still having a hard time with work and the submarine environment. Our church friends tried to counsel us but it was not the most helpful. My submarine was scheduled for extended repairs and not going to sea for three years, I would be transferred before the end of that period. I used this time to bond with her and my boys. I wanted to get better involved in our community and do volunteer work and side jobs to earn extra money. Our boys were all given diagnosis's for autism which begun to fill our lives with appointments and challenges for years to come but we were a good team in dealing with all of it. It gave us something to work together on but took our focus away from working on our own personal issues and relationship with each other as much as we should have.

2013

We had new years with both sides of our family in a snowy mountain setting in Oregon. It looked like it was going to be a great year until her Grandpa passed away suddenly. It ripped our entire family apart but especially her. He kept the family grounded and she was very close to him, he really loved all of us. She and I started going on dates again because we had Navy sponsored child care. It was the beginning of a really good thing for us. Tragically one night after a date we were dancing with the boys on the patio and I tried to pick her up and I lost my balance and fell on her, breaking her collar bone severely. She needed surgery and was very mad at me for years to come. She has a scar, a metal plate and numbness in her chest. We worked through it with our community from church but she still is very mad at me. I feel more terrible about this incident than she could ever know. I would lose a finger in place of that incident if I could. I continued having a really hard time in the Navy and I didn't want to stay in but She insisted our boys needed care only the Navy could offer. She also said she would divorce me if I ever left the Navy. I took this threat seriously even though she assured me later that she would never actually do that. Against my own convictions I reenlisted because I wanted to do the best thing for my family. We moved into base housing at the end of summer and didn’t go out to do things as much anymore. The house was nice but it ****** us in, we also had less community with people around our home. I started volunteering at church more and doing work with special needs people. I felt like I was doing good things and that I had purpose all around. I think she appreciated this about me.

2014

We started seeing a professional counselor together and individually. It became a regular event. I worked on myself and she worked on herself. I had a lot of issues with my Mom and eventually broke off communication with her for my own well-being and the betterment of my family. I got past a lot of the bad feelings I had. She worked on her traumatic experiences and our relationship dynamics. Just when things were going well I got a new boss who made things hard for me and others at work and I started messing up more. I got in trouble for messing up a job at work and was given strike one on my record. She lost respect for me as a provider but I tried to stay strong showing her that I would continue to do my best.

I remember when we had an appointment in Tacoma and we had a brunch date together afterwards. She looked so beautiful that day, I took her picture and was so proud to enjoy  huevos rancheros and momosas with her. I remember going to the Tacoma Art Museum seeing the Georgia O’Keefe exhibit, we have a great time together doing new things and feeding each other's interests. I loved laughing with her too, sometimes we just bust up like nobody's around. I loved the sound of her laughter. I loved watching Portlandia with her, it is so funny to remember the funny place where we became close and be able to relate together.

2015

I kept working hard and being involved with family and appointments for my boys and her. I still maintained my volunteer work and part time side jobs. I got strike two with the Navy for messing up again... I had just gained orders to leave the sub for local shore duty. I could not get out of the extended repair situation soon enough. She was very disappointed in me and not so understanding. I worked through this situation with our counselor as did she. He always told her I am a good man and that I do a lot for her and the boys. It's true, I care more than anything about them, I made mistakes and I feel bad especially when I cause my family stress. I left for shore duty in April. It was a hard time adjusting to the new routine but eventually we seemed to make it work. That summer we took a trip to visit Texas where her parents had just moved from Florida. We spent a great night together for our 10th anniversary in a hotel in Texas and went dancing. We had a lot more time together as my work schedule was less. The more people we had in our home working with our kids on issues the less useful my input seemed. I was not included as much in making family decisions because they all seemed to happen while I was at work, despite my objections. We tried to get our budget under control but she still had anxiety discussing spending. She continued to struggle with depression and was put on medication because she had still been harming herself. She was put on Prozac daily and anti anxiety medication as needed. He family members were not very supportive of medication which upset her but I always tried to be supportive in seeking help and continued care for both of us.

2016

We had a busy routine of kids in school now and home school and preschool and appointments for all of us. She wanted to go to church less and less. I started drinking a couple beers at night almost every day. I tried to mask my stress from her mood swings. She decided not to go to church at all anymore and focused teaching the boys about Jewish traditions exclusively which was hard for me to adjust to and confusing for the boys. I loved her and wanted to be supportive. As usual I was submissive and removed myself from the Christian church and some friendships. I feel like we lost our community at that point. We searched for a good place to have a new community with Jewish people but it was like starting over. I felt like I converted to Christianity for her when we got together and now I had to convert again, either way I would have done it for her because I loved her that much. The kids were confused by this change. After trying and failing at many synagogues we finally found one that seemed right for us.

2017

We finally had some money in savings because I kept it a secret and ended up planning a trip to visit her parents in Texas but it fell through due to lack of military flights. Instead we spent three nights away in a nice hotel resort as a family in February. We had three days of pure family time. Playing Battleship and other games in our room as a family, watching movies and eating at all the different restaurants and getting room service. Going swimming everyday in the foggy pool. I love our family and how we can have a great time together doing nothing but at the same time so much. That was so peaceful and relaxing. I wanted to keep doing things like that together as a family before our boys got too old. Shortly after this vacation she wanted to go back to school, then we bought a third vehicle so she could. Shortly after this she changed her mind about school and wanted to buy another house instead. I went along with it to please her and we practically killed ourselves trying to get the move accomplished with not much help or money. We had a good year over all. We got away for a romantic anniversary together in the summer. Just before the boys were going to start public school in the fall, her parents moved back to the area. She had anxiety with this and cut off contact with her parents and brothers for a while. Her Dad called me very upset and I tried to keep the peace until they reconciled. I was doing better with work and made up for lost progress as well as making arrangements to change jobs in the Navy to something more fitting. Since the boys started public school, I planned on leaving for Navy training in my new position after the beginning of the new year when they would be at a more settled place in their routine.

I remember when we went to the Olympic Club for our anniversary and we stayed there for a night away. We drove the long way through the countryside talking about new music that she wanted to share with me and she made notes of it on my phone notepad. We brought our own cooler and picnic that included Session Lagers and chocolate. We checked in to our room and made noisy bohemian love on the edge of the creaky bed in our small European room inches from the door. Then we went to the theater downstairs and watched the late showing of a really interesting Sci-fi movie "Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets". We took showers and slept sweetly together. We made love again in the morning before we had a delicious brunch outside on the patio. We took the long way home and drove around on new roads and found our way out of cell phone reception. We figured out the road less traveled to get back to our home. We loved being alone and away together, just one night can make such a difference and mean so much.

I remember going to the Forest Theater to see Tarzan with our boys. That was such a great time. I would love to get our boys into theater and go see them someday. I wanted to keep our dreams and goals together alive and not lose opportunity and fall short by losing our partnership.

I loved going camping in Seabeck. Loading the truck with all our gear and getting away. Archer got sick from the cowboy caviar and I had to clean him and the tent up in the night. I was glad we had each other to be a team in our marriage in that situation as with all the other times. These sorts of things are what escape a person's mind when they are determined to get a divorce.

2018

We had a lot less money than the year before, again buying a house took its toll on finances as did the boys school and after school activities. I stayed very involved taking the boys to appointments and sporting practices. We stopped going to synagogue but tried to practice Judaism at home as much as possible, which I was very supportive of and involved with. She was still depressed and talking about suicide at times. I encouraged her to get help as I always had. Eventually she was diagnosed as Bipolar 2 and manic depressive by a new provider. She started taking new medicine for this and was worried I would want to leave her. I assured her I would never leave her and that I always wanted to work on things with her and help her. I left for training in Mississippi February 8th. It was going to be hard but I thought it might be good to have some time apart from each other to miss one another and reflect on things as well as prepare for times when I would be away at sea. I got in trouble in Mississippi for giving junior personnel a ride and being negligent of people who might be underage and possibly drinking, this became strike three. I never thought this could happen. I became recommend for separation from the Navy shortly after and was stuck in Mississippi for six months instead of six weeks. She was supportive through most of it but seemed to fall into hopelessness. Money was spent by her that we didn't have without discussion. She quietly leased appliances and tires and purchased a vehicle as well as having a secret bank account and email address. I discovered through our insurance company that she wanted to leave our policy for divorce. I didn't know this and she had even told the boys she wanted a divorce before I even knew. I was caught off guard and confused. I kept trying to communicate and reason with her but she didn't want to talk. I refused to give up and wrote emails and a letter but it only seemed to push her away further. By the time I left Mississippi she had filed for divorce and a restraining order against me saying I was unstable and a threat. I couldn't return to my home. My whole life fell apart in just a couple months. I found out she had been talking to other men in the Navy and keeping more secrets. I assumed this was her way of taking control during a difficult situation. I really needed her support during this hard time of transition out of the military. I became homeless, jobless and without my family in a month. I prayed to God that given time things might change between us but it was of no use. Bipolar had consumed whatever was left of my bride and there was no turning back.

I felt that our love was not one to be cast away. Other people might not understand or agree but what we had was truly special. We may have surely needed some time and space to get counseling as well as reconfigure and repair our marriage but I didn't feel like our relationship was irretrievably broken. She was so important to me and I thought she was the love of my life and would always have my heart. I wanted to be her partner in love and life, watching our boys grow up and being there to support each other. Being that she is Bipolar I knew she will need a lot of help and I was more than willing to assist her in making sure she was taking care of herself and not throwing herself into harm's way, ensuring she sticks with a plan we agree to for consistency. I cared about her deeply and had much compassion for her. I didn't believe she was thinking this through or thinking about the future. I really wanted to look at the long and short game with her, neither seemed appealing to me if we progressed but here we are. Things are not going to be easier. She will still have to face her problems and deal with me on a regular basis for the rest of our lives no matter what happens. She can believe her lawyer when they promise she'll get the moon and stars out of this in the end but they only see half of the story. Above all they want our money. It would have been good for her to face me in person and tell me she wanted to divorce and we could have started talking about it with a counselor to figure out how that could even work. Instead she chose to avoid as much responsibility for her actions as possible by doing everything in my absence as if I am not a real person. I had to find out about it from our insurance company and was last to know.

Immediately after I hear the word divorce I looked into her cell usage history and find she has a new military boyfriend that she talks to 20-30 times a day. She felt she owed me no explanation for this and it was none of my business. A mature person would have let me know about this months before and I would have seen it coming but there was no sign until it was seemingly too late. She strayed down a dark path and never turned back.

Her proposed parenting plan was cruel and had no thought put into it. Two hours a week with supervision, no holidays but father's day? She said she’s not trying to keep me from the kids but this is the exact opposite of what she’s saying with the paperwork she filed. She seems very mixed up and still you continues to make rash and sudden choices. Like a completely bogus restraining order against me that contradicts so many facts she has stated herself on record during my Navy retention process. She was so bold as to want to change her identity and even put it in ink on the divorce paperwork as well to a whole new name. That is not the actions of a stable person. She has since changed her mind again on that just as quickly as everything else in her recent life choices. I can't trust that any decisions she is making right now are for the right reasons or that she is of sound mind. I have never seen her so conflicted and confused, grasping at straws and running scared from herself.

Using the legal system so carelessly and going back and forth makes me feel like she is not ready to be making big choices and changes for her and our family. It is very unfair that she can’t consider my feelings on things and what I wish for the boys as well. Very reckless behavior. She can’t anticipate that the day would come where she has to face me and talk to me like an adult. She wants to hide behind the legal system which only leaves much to be unresolved. Ghosting me is not really an option in a marriage of 13 years with children.

Having relationship conversations is too difficult for her at this time and she would rather avoid it and skip to divorce because she thinks that will somehow be easier. I suspect she knows she is making poor choices, possibly out of fear and lust for something new and less painful than the reality of things right now. Our marriage was nowhere close to divorce when I left. She was sad to see me leave and woke with me at 3:30 am to say goodbye, making me coffee and cookies for me to take with.

Our community and accountability seems to be gone due to the continued trend of isolation that she is drawn to. The God fearing loving committed wife I thought I had is gone or trapped inside a terrified shell of herself. She cut me off from her family members and I can't discuss my concerns about her with them either. She only seems to have community with those who are not going to discourage her from these destructive choices.

I understand we have had issues and struggles but we are no worse off than other couples during challenging times. I think that because we loved each other so much it just hurt more when things got hard. I can't accept or believe this is justified or the right choice based on the positive trend we were on before I left. This was the longest break we have ever had from each other and I think she just needed someone to be there more for her, no matter who it was. Time can heal all wounds and I hope that is true for our relationship as co-parents.

She still refuses to tell me about why she wanted a divorce or talk about anything beyond caring for the kids. I have fought the restraining and I can see my boys again but I am still not allowed to my home without her permission.

I have risen from the ashes in just a couple months. I rent a room from a nice couple from our old church and obtained a good paying job while I continue paying the household bills.

This is a really hard time, this difficult spell could have been a tool to better our relationship. I wanted to experience more beautiful memories with her. We had so many more beautiful memories and dreams left to create. This is what marriage looks like to me now as I lower the casket.
This is a timeline of the major events during my 13 year marriage. Amidst the reality, I injected all the lovely memories that refuse to leave my mind.
sunprincess Feb 2018
Dear Poets and Readers

This poem page will be dedicated
to our men and women in Blue
To those who have given their life
for me and you

These are only a few of our fallen

★ Heroes ★

Castle Rock, Co
Deputy Zackari Parrish - 29
December  31, 2017

Harrisburg, PA
US Marshall Christopher Hill - 45
January 18, 2018

Brighton, Co
Deputy Heath Gumm - 32
January 24, 2018

Colorado  Springs, Co
Deputy Micah Flick - 34
February 5, 2018

Locust Grove, Ga
Officer Chase Maddox - 26
February 9, 2018

Westerville, OH
2 officers shot in the line of duty
February 10, 2018

Chicago, IL
Commander Paul R. Bauer
February 13, 2018

Mobile, Al
Officer Justin Billa
February 20, 2018

These officers were true heroes
So very sad they are gone,
And now we are left to carry on
Without them
Many prayers and thoughts for their families
and friends
Glen Castillo Jul 2018
Sabi nila,kapag nahanap mo na daw ang tunay na pag-ibig ay nahanap mo na rin ang iyong langit dito sa lupa. Kaya't naniniwala akong langit din ang maghahatid sa'yo patungo sa akin. Pero naiinip na akong maghintay at nanghihinayang sa bawat sandaling lumilipas , na hindi ko man lang magawang hawakan ang iyong mga kamay sa mga panahong kailangan mo ng karamay.Na hindi ko man lang magawang damayan ka kung dumadanas ka ng lumbay.Alam kong katulad ko,pakiramdam mo minsan ay binitawan ka na din ng mundo.Kaya't patawarin mo ako kung sa mga pagkakataong nararanasan mo yan ay wala ako d'yan para ikaw ay aking ma-salo. Kung totoong ang pag-ibig at ang langit ay may malalim na kaugnayan sa isa’t-isa,malakas ang kutob ko na tayo din ay iginuhit na katulad nila. Minsan na din akong nagtanong,saang sulok ng langit ka kaya naroroon? Malapit ka kaya sa araw? O marahil nasa tabi ka lang ng buwan,na sa tuwing sasapit ang dilim ako ay binabantayan.Kaya pala kahit saan ako magpunta ako'y lagi niyang sinusundan. Pero maaari din na ika'y kapiling ng mga bituin na kay daming nais mag angkin. Kay palad kong pagdating ng araw ikaw ay napa sa-akin. Kaya habang wala ka pa,ako muna ay magiging kaisa ng mga mabubuting kawal ng ating bayan. Makikidigma kung kinakailangan,ipaglalaban kung ano ang makat'wiran. Upang sa iyong pagdating ay malaya nating tatamasahin ang payapang buhay. Kaya habang wala ka pa ako'y taos puso kung manalangin sa ating may likha. Na paghariin niya nawa ang kabutihan sa aking puso bilang isang tao at higit sa lahat ay bilang kanyang anak , upang sa sandaling tayo'y pagtagpuin ako rin sa iyo ay magiging isang mabuting kabiyak. Hindi pa man tayo nagtatagpo,nais kung malaman mo na laman kang palagi ng aking panalangin. At habambuhay kong itatangi ang iyong pag-ibig na siyang dahilan kung bakit maka ilang ulit kong nanaising mabuhay. Nais kong ipagsigawan sa mundo na iniibig kitang wagas,ngunit mas mamatamisin kong hintayin ka at kapag naglapat na ang ating mga dibdib,ibubulong ko sa'yo na ikaw ang aking daigdig. Maghihintay lang ako,habang wala ka pa.




© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Pag-ibig sa tatlong salita (IKAW,BAYAN at DIYOS)
Aaron LaLux Oct 2018
She’s got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,

city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck,

so we fck,
and after it's said and done she says,
“I don’t usually do this.”,
yeah well we often do things we don’t usually do,

no road home and no rules,
no control no lines no tolls,
keep knocking and you can come in,
but no one’s home,

what’s going on up there,
how can you be so terrifyingly beautiful,
why are you armed with such a stare,
I know you’re a weapon but what do you use it for,

armed to the teeth no bark all bite,
I say she’s a unicorn she says she’s a vampire,
and I don’t fall in love but with this one I just might,
because we better express ourselves before we expire,

got burned from her fire,
but it hurt so good,
like those cuts that we inflicted onto each other,
feeling erratic I guess blame it on the mood,

always ready to talk about anything except the truth,
she says she only lied to me once,
and that was about not liking Ethiopian food,
and I pretend to care but honestly don’t know if I give a fck,

what the fck,
I’m drunk,
and I don’t usually drink,
but I often do things I don’t usually do,

and I don’t mean to be rude,
but I’m not sure I love you,
because even if I did,
I’m not sure it’d matter to you so what’s the use,

you want the truth,
the truth is we’re born alone and we die alone,
and in the middle is where I found you,
and for a moment this runaway thought he'd found a home,

and I wanted us to stay forever in that moment,
laying there naked in each other’s arms,
but you were insecure and covered yourself back up,
because you didn’t want me to see your scars,

you’ve got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,

city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck...

∆ LaLux ∆

Melbourne, Australia
October 2018
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Clarifying failed. Spelchek is not on strike.

{clear ification, an ionic bond be tween me and thee,
alienated mind, not mined, crafted
from tactics and strategies
beyond chess.
Player One,
1980's era
jewish-geek-mid-pubesence-kid-level,
proceed with caution.
This trope has trapped many a curious child.
---
Now, enter the old ones,
Grandfather taught uncle chess so well
he went to the state tournament in Kayenta,
and a grandma was
state-champ-bare-bow-in-the-rain-shooter,

these, now must learn

minecraft on x-box to be considered
for the real life role of

good at games grand parents
from the time right after atom bombs kicked up dust
places dust had not been in a very long time and
as the dust began to settle

some dust mights was cationic.
Negative bits, they became embedded in the code.
Bumps, fering, coming together
just a knot in a string,
attracting anionic curiosity might

round and round phorward ferring to be
a thread to tie my heart to yours

like twisted Pima cotton thread,
that I pulled from an old sweatshirt
to tie a crow feather in this paho of words filled with old jokes

Making this clear would belie the entire story AI and I know true}

truth is. we agree. no capsokehspaceasneededcommasetal.
caps okeh space as needed commas et al
go.
Did that work? That line

subject of this act fact done, agree to follow,
and I may lead and be

not you, me, dear reader, I mean first true

there is no any if nothing is. So simple some say its sublime beyond the spectrum of ones
and zeros thought on off probably

either or any time time can be accounted for

wouldn't you take a

thought,  nothing,
as it is commonly said to be understandable,

the state of not being, imagine that

the state of not being we negate in being,
unless you are mad and are lost in a whirlwind
such as such voices have been said to

have twisted into threads as
wicks for our lamps
turn floating on
golden oil twisting
wickered into wickering wee shadow fibers
on the western wall for legends to sprout from.

Wickering mare over there, expands us both by my hearing her
you had no idea she was near enough to hear
time is no barrier in actual ever.
What phor can contain me,
whispered my whimsy

Imagine she spoke,
what would she say for what reason
would she say

good good good, I feel good, ha,
I am right, by accident. ever body can feel this good.

good is good.
good is.
Sam Harris, agrees, good as far as good goes, is good
in every vecter from now

the terrain does exist, beyond the moral landscape, to

true true
trust me, I been there.
Been there done that was inserted into the vernacular on my watch,
first summer post war.

matter must not matter as much to me as it does to thee, nestypass? no se?

All jewish boys have chess move metaphors.
(a phor is for containing,
bearing
meta,
everybody knows, like metaphysics,
after physics in the stack of stackable metadata)

OHMYGOD THE IDW circa 2018 -- who knew I ate this **** up?

[the old code calls for excretion of digested material
from which meaning has been extracted in the idleword accounting processor:
literal
<pre>what if utterance=****, then **** haps, no else then</pre>]

Did that happen? One of my friends told me that happened in Florida, the whole world turned to ****... for lack of a nail a kingdom was lost, they say, little foxes spoil the grapes,
hung chad ex
cuses...

Pre-expandable ROM, not magic. tech,

pre-infinite imagination? impossible.
and nothing is what is impossible with good as god.

Is there no perfect game?
is the game the session or the life of the user
offline

rerererererererererereroxotoxin, poison pen
ideal viral umph exspelliered
up against the wall

reset. We

kunoon albania omerta oy vey, who could say?
one way better, one way not? quark.
up or down, with variable spins, who can say?

Life's right,
yes. but mo'ons of other something must have been for higgs to ever matter

and it does, I got commas, from 2018.

Are you with me? This is that book I told you I had access…

You or some mind other than mine owned mind, where
my owned peace rests in truth,

otherwise, I know every any or else in the code since I can recall,
in time

if this were a test I swore to take to prove to you
the we can be me in your head

phillipkdicktated clue

if you don't know me by now, maybe we should stop.

Temptations are times. Time things. Time spans, yeah, like bridges

or portals, right
The Internet in One Day, Fred Pryor Resources,
Wu'wuchim 1995.

Ever, not everish or everistic or every, but ever
body knows,
but you.

Catch up. We left all our doors blown off, once we learned that we could blow our own doors off,

there are no open sesames or slips of leth or sibylets

shiba yah you knew all along there was a
song she sang all one and we watched it morph
before our very eyes

alone.

The magic stories words may contain, may bear, we must agree

more than we may know, by faith, metagnostic as we see

the sublime gift of the magi
become clear und

be und sein sind both trueture same tu you, we agree.
But. Lock here, no pre 2018 editing codes

validate past last go.
Do one good thing today. That was my goal. Today https://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton Part 3 Soyal Hopi Mystery Enactment (called mystery plays). And the intro to Moral Landscape by Sam Harris, led me let ******* write a poem.
PEARL SMOKE Jun 2018
Scared Prt 1.
2014
iM Scared Of Losing What
iHave Left.
iM Scared Of Seeing What
iHave Left Go Away.
iM Scared Of Disappointing
My Loved Ones Again.
iM Scared Of Being Reminded
What the reality of Drugs.                        can do once again.
iM Scared iF iM Sober Then Fall
iWont Ever Change again
iM Scared The Drugs Can
Take over me Like it Has before
Once more.
Scared Of Feeling Numb And Live The Whole Drug Addiction Cycle all over.

Scared prt 2.

I Relapsed & Now I'm worried.
Will I Go back to my old ways?
As much as I desire The Feeling of escaping my reality,
I can't live Like that. I don't want to be a drug addict all over again.
The Feeling Is pleasant . The Living of being 1 Is Horrific.

Scared prt 3
2017
I’m scared
Of never finding hope
To believe my life has no worth
To never finding a light
To get lost in the
Darkness of my depression.
Im Scared
To never feel true happiness
To believe I have
No purpose in life.
To see I really don’t matter ..
I’m scared to prove
Myself right.
To really never start a life.
I’m scared to
Then lose my self again
To lonely nights with toxic touches

Scared prt 4

Be aware
I’m not scared like I used to be.
To lose  you, see you walk out.
Watch you leave & end us.
I have drugs.
To replace you,
Forget who you were
Erases our memories & best times.
Be aware
If you do me *****, I don’t care.
Drugs will always be there .
Il depend to forever not feel..
If you leave me, I won’t cry.
I have lines to get me past times.
So please know , I’m not scared.
To be left ,

Scared prt 5
2018

I’m Trapped.
I’m not ok , I’m not safe.
The habits creeping up.
Slowly but rapidly.
I believe I got it together.
I tell myself I got it under control.
But do I really?
Relapsing after 2yrs is making an impact.
I’ve been falling frequently.
For a short time but I’m still using .
It will take ahold of me unexpectedly.
Slowly convince me this Drug life’s worth risking .
I need help .
I look fine.
I haven’t used severely but my minds hyped.
Il Get To that level.
If I don’t reach out in time.
My thoughts are converting slow
I can feel the careless emotions growing.
That’s why I’ve found it so easy to use and get away with it.
“Just today” “it’s only alittle” “I can handle this”
That’s until I build up my tolerance.
Lord Help me .. you know il cause heartbreaks if I turn back to what I Once was..

Scared

I’m so scared.
To get played again .
To get lied and betrayed.
I’m scared of my reaction.
I know il die alive.
I won’t even have the strength to ****** you.
I’d be so broken and just let the world walk all over me.
If you Do me *****
I’d lose it completely.
You’d prove all my doubts correct.
Assumptions I already knew were true in my head.
If you play me, Id lose my head.
Literally, go insane due to confusion & hate.
If you hurt me.
Drugs is what I’m going to be out searching.
Not even ask for an explanation.
I’d be too focused walking straight ahead to my connects house.
If you do me shady.
I Will Be angry at the world.
Scream to the top of my lungs
“WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS
I would drown myself in drugs.
I’d hate the world completely for hurting me when I’ve done none wrong.
I’d go So crazy.
How can I So Loyal Be Played With.
Etcetc can’t even write more

Scared prt 6

2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
Anymore.
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
Anymore.
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared prt 7.
I’m scared
To Relapse & Stay Stuck
To give up recovery
I’m scared to
Look at you and walk away forever.
To just not care wether you believed I truly loved you.
I’m scared
For my love to be trapped
For all My strength to be gone
Lose it all ,
I’m crying.
Addiction will forever live in me
Wether Active or Overcomed
This drug will Always come
Aslong as I’m Happy , Positive
I won’t want to take a hit
But Even if nothing’s going on
My body & mind will randomly itch.
Ive been walking with this for too long to just erase it .
To forget I had a habit .


Scared prt 8
Jan 2018
Im not scared
Anymore .
I don’t know what to feel
Anymore.
I think I’m worried,
I just don’t feel it
Anymore.
My thoughts try to
Tell me something’s wrong.
I Can’t think of anything..
I’m unsure If I’m ok.
I don’t know if I’m
Even thinking straight.
I remember once feeling
So afraid.
I had to seek help on my own .
For the sake of my sanity.
My heart felt a heavy
Storm coming.
It rushed me to look out
Find shelter .
With strong material .
I started moving .
But did I act fast enough ?
Did I act before or after
Time had already passed..

Scared Part 9
Am I Fine.
Will I not rack a line.
Never touch a Rock in my life.

Am I Good.
Will I not Use again .
Will temptations not be seen as threats ?
Can I handle.
My urges to not Tweak again.
Will my triggers Be nothing to worry about?

Will I never feel tempted.
Have I finally over come every Obstacle of addiction?

I’m sorry.
I’ve worsen , I’m stuck once again.
This time it will be harder .
I’m a recovering addict
Stuck in a constant relapse Cycle.
What must I do
Should I sit & wait
On my next down fall ..

SCARED PRT 10

March 2018
I Didn’t notice.
Like always
I believed I had it all under control.
Everything was ok.
Everything seemed fine.
I felt normal,
I would stop soon.

I was Wrong ..
I Fell Down So quick.
I went hard.
No dubs or teeners.
I went straight to a Ball.
I just went all out.


I lost myself again.
I Lost control of the substance.
I Was trapped.
It became a problem.
One I wasn’t aware of.
I Had no recognition of at all.
I Didn’t see that I couldn’t stop.
I kept going
Kept using without seeing the frequency.
The days spent stuck.
I lost touch with reality.
This previous Relapse
Has been the worst in my life .
I haven’t had a binge like this time since 2015.
I used every day .
For 6 1/2 Weeks.
I lost track of the days & time.
I Sniffed & Smoked 2 8 ***** all to my self.

At the time I didn’t see how crazy that was.
Those weeks, an 8 didn’t surprise me.
The amount didn’t shock or Worry me.

I was fine , I had control.
I was doing ok , everything seemed & felt normal.
It was just a small relapse.


I was wrong
I lost touch with reality.
I formed a habit .
I was addicted again .

The sad part is
I’m able to acknowledge this Only through writing.
In real life , my denial mind
I’m able to handle my addiction. I’m ok & Dont have a problem.


It angers me.
Since my 1st Relapse
In August.
I’ve Fallen Very often.
It saddens me.
How I quickly Skipped
The Weight.
Why does it worry me?
My mind will no longer seek a Dub when I’m triggered to use.
It will want Another ball.

Anything less
My Addictive mind
no longer craves.
It now settles for Big.
This relapse has changed the game for my addict ways.
I’ve Relapsed every month
Since August.
I Had it all under control.
I Was able to use and stop.
Just this last time
I completely lost it.

Scared prt 11

I’m scared .
To lose my strength.
Have no durability.
To Give in So quick.
Be that weak
Where I don’t fear Tweak.
Find it easy
To just go seek.

I’m Worried
To reach that level .
Just Relapse constantly .
not care who Knows.
My problems
Have me overwhelmed.
Every day
The Stress grows .
I can’t bare another
Tug & Pull.
Glen Castillo Jul 2018
Zet
Ang iyong mga mata’y lagusan ng liwayway
Sa kulimlim na bagtasin ng aba kong buhay
At ang iyong labi na sintingkad ng rosas
Ay ang tanghali ko sa mga gabing ayaw mag wakas

Ang durado **** buhok ay ang gintuang palay
Sa kaparangan ng puso kong hindi mapalagay
Ang ngiti mo ay binhi ng halaman sa kalangitan
Na sumisibol unti-unti sa mundo kong ‘di  na nadidiligan

Sa piling mo sana ang pinapangarap kong daigdig
Ituturing kong alapaap ang mahimlay ka sa aking bisig
Ngunit tulad din ng mga kwentong itinago ng kasaysayan
Maaaring ikaw at ako,
Ay kwentong ako na lang ang makaka-alam

Mapaglarong tadhana ay dito ako inilagay
Sa digmaang hindi ko kayang magtagumpay
Sa tunggaliang ang kalaban ko’y ako
Sa pag-ibig na hindi ko maipag tapat sa'yo

Palihim kitang sinusuyo
Kaya’t palihim din akong nabibigo
Patago akong lumalaban
Kaya’t patago din akong nasasaktan


Kung iadya man ng panahon na dito ka maligaw
Sa tulang habang panahon na ang laman ay laging ikaw
Ito pa rin ang mga sandaling ako'y alipin mo
Ito pa rin ang mga sandaling hawak mo ang aking mundo




© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Ito ang ating kwento,ang kwentong ako lang ang nakaka-alam.
krm Jul 2018
July 4th, 2018

Where the land of the free has become obscured by the shadow
of oppression,

Its' silhouettes are the monsters

children are afraid of under their beds.

How, fireworks remind so many gunshots

Self-proclaimed nationalists cannot stay loyal enough,
to know what would be good for this land.

This land of the free,
no longer belongs to the home of the brave,
but the cowardly.

Family & children born unto what we deem unattached,
from the roots of this soil,
they are not welcomed for lady liberty's "borrowed" arms to embrace them.

When each artifact
was sculpted from an immigrant's hands,
but we've warranted their tribulations
are greater than stars on our flag.

If those stars stand for detainment,
tragedy, and fascism.
I do not proudly pledge such ideals,
embracing my heritage of greats-
who journeyed over on ships across seas.



They are the stars of America's history.

—V.H.
astrid Feb 2019
6th of december, 2018.

“Pinagtagpo ngunit hindi itinadhana.” Madalas kong naririnig ‘yan, palagay ko’y ikaw rin. Pero kung iisipin, napakarami nating mga taong natatagpuan na nakatakda ring umalis. Ang ilan ay babalik, ang ilan ay maglalaho na lang. Hindi ko alam kung saan ka riyan nabibilang. Walang pakiramdaman, walang pakialamanan, walang pakundangang naghahanap ng mga bagay para pilit kang makalimutan. Gigising ako nang nakangiti, masaya, at ang nasa isip ay
“kakalimutan na kita,” ngunit kahit kailan ay hindi ‘yan nagkatotoo. Ang pag-asang makaahon sa ‘yo ay palabo nang palabo. Sa bawat gabing nagdaan, napapatanong ako kung saan na naman ako nagkamali. Saan na naman ako nagkulang? Saan na naman ako kinapos? O baka naman sumobra? Paikot-ikot ang mga mata sa lugar kung saan tayo huling nagkita. Saan mo ako iniwan? Pareho tayo ng pinupuntahan, pero hindi ko na alam kung paano pa babalik. Hindi kita mahagilap; ang tanging palatandaan ko para makabalik ay hindi ko na mahagilap. Dahil naglaho ka sa isang iglap. Hindi ko na alam kung paano pa babalik. Dahil hindi pa kita nakikita.

Ilang eskinita lang naman ang pagitan nating dalawa. Nariyan ang mga tricycle para mahatid akong muli sa bahay ko. Nariyan ang mga dyip na pupwede kong masakyan para lang mapalayo sa ‘yo. Tayo’y palaging nasa ilalim ng parehong langit, aalis at uuwi sa iisang lugar ngunit hindi man lang kita makamit. Pareho ng sinasakyan, pareho ng mga dinadaanan. Iisa lang naman ang mga pinupuntahan natin, ngunit ang araw-araw kong biyahe ay naging ikaw na ang destinasyon. Nagbabakasakali lang naman akong baka matupad mo ang aking imahinasyong hindi ko na batid pa ang limitasyon. Sa bawat pag-alis ko ay nananalanging magkita tayo sa lalong madaling panahon.

Ngunit hindi ko pa rin alam kung paano babalik. Alam ko ang ruta, alam ko ang sasakyan. Ngunit ako mismo ang nagpupumigil. Dahil hindi mo ako tinutulak palayo. Hindi pa man tayo nagkikita, mas gugustuhin ko nang hilain mo ako paalis sa kung saan mo ako iniwan. O baka ang presensya mo lang ang hiling kong masilayan, para tuluyan na akong makalakad paalis sa piling mo. Hindi ko naman mapapantayan ang babaeng nagdala sa ‘yo sa tahanan mo— ni hindi ko nga alam kung paano umuwi sa dapat kong uwian. At sa bawat biyaheng sinusulong ko, hindi ko man lang naisip na baka mali ang daan na tinatahak ko. Iba pala ang langit na pinagmamasdan mo sa umaga, kahit ang mga bituing nais **** titigan sa gabi. Iba pala ang sinasakyan **** dyip sa bawat pag-uwi. Iba pala ang eskinitang napapadparan mo. Iba pala ang langit na sinisigawan mo ng pangalan niyang kaakibat na ng apilyedo mo. Iba pala ang inuuwian mo.

Pasensya na, tanga ang kasama mo. Mali, hindi mo pala ako “kasama” dahil kahit kailan ay hindi ka naman sumama. Hinayaan ko ang sariling maligaw sa mga mata mo. Hinayaan kong mawala ang isip sa mga salita **** nadadala ako sa ibang dimensyon ng mundo. Hinayaan kong magwala ang pusong binuhay mo— na bibitawan mo lang din pala, dahil masyado itong magulo. Ngayon lang ako nakalabas at hindi na muli pang magtatago, ngunit niligaw mo ako. Pasensya na, gagapangin ko pa ang sarili ko palayo sa ‘yo.

Hindi ko maintindihan kung paanong ako’y napadpad sa ‘yo kung hindi ko pa nasisilayan ang mga mata **** mapanlinlang, na kung saan ay nagpahatak pa rin ako— delikado, at muntik pa akong mabaldado. Huwag na sanang pahintulutan ng mundo na pagtagpuin pa tayo, dahil kung sakali ay baka hindi na ako umalis. At baka samahan pa kita kahit saan ka man papunta, kahit sa piling niya pa. At lalong hindi tayo isang halimbawa ng “Pinagtagpo ngunit hindi itinadhana”. Inaantay ko pa lang ang matagpuan kita, upang makaalis na ako.
m.r.
"Omni, Do tell"
A sunless sun...
a cloudless cloud
are the same in one?
Dear Omni, without your help I fear that
I'm done!
Do tell or I wished I'd never met you from day one! ~Venjencie

Ven, venae toward the heart
How can I end what you have start?
Light and dark
each spinning round
Dear Ven, this, only once around
It starts
If you really knew me,
you wouldn't want to know me
at all.~Omni

Dear Omni, because I ink ****** words as a broken poet, We're blood from the same neck of the woods. Is a wingless bird free? If you end it then that's what I will be... a wingless bird that can never fly free. VenJencie

Omni  Oct 6
If the woods be too high, climb down then fly. A flightless bird knows no envy. It too knows it is free. I, Omni do tell, only because I've seen it as well. Dear Venjencie, even the woods be broken, but still they grow.
-Omni

My dearest Omni, maybe you're my harmony,
So do tell something I need to know,
Will you disappear after I whisper my sin into your ear;
(whispering), I'm not devious but I'm very much envious,
For my beauty can never compare to the beautiful colored wings of others,
I fear the woods will cease to grow,
Then my very life will cease
...being wingless you know,
If the woods burn down,
Would you try to rescue me after I made my sin
of jealousy known? ~SacredInkedblood
©2018 Venjencie Arnold

Omni  5m
Only in flight, are we less, but no lesser than any until it is of the mind. I tell you, you soar! Your words take flight and maybe, just maybe, your words save me. Wings need no envy nor want of shame. They take flight in the heart and sail in the expanse of the brain. There are no borders for envy and jealousy for they will always be, and so too we. Your wings mightily open and quench the fires of the forest with a single and simple flutter. There is no need for rescue. Your sin, be it as mine own, is safe with me.
-Omni ©2018

"Omni, do tell"
2018©
Rights credited to Omni and Venjencie Arnold
#Omni please do collaborate so that we can put together this one. Then we can each re-edit as one. Your credit will remain your copyright credit and for me and mine the same. I'm anxiously waiting for your reply in collaboration. Thanks, dear friend and writer. -Jencie
P.S. I'm still glad that I met you. That was added for drama.
Rianna Jun 2019
2014
We are only fourteen.
I tease you everyday in seventh period,
You make me laugh more than anyone in eighth period.
We played Romeo and Juliet
Yet swore we’d never have feelings,
Despite everyone’s beliefs.
2014
You get a girlfriend,
We are only fourteen.
Summer is right around the corner, and i try to forget you.

2015
Your girlfriend doesn’t like me,
You stop speaking to me.
I stop seeing you at school.
2015
I start dating a boy who I swore I loved.

2016
I was done with boys,
I was convinced I loved him,
He wanted inside of my body.
2016
You say “Hi” to me in first period,
I didn’t realize we had class together again.

2017
You begin to awkwardly compliment my captions on Instagram;
You’ve never heard of the quotes, but you love them.
I wrote them, but I’ll never tell you that.
2017
Your girlfriend has been hitting you,
Screaming at you,
Ignoring you
For nearly three years.

2018
I’m sitting with your friend at lunch,
You pass us in the hall.
You’re tired.
2018
You begin to stand with my friends and I in the hall of the mornings,
Once again, I’m teasing you and you make me laugh like no one else can.
2018
She breaks up with you.
2018
You begin confiding in me over things I’m swore to secrecy.
We begin hanging out;
I’m at your house everyday after school.
I swear it’s just to tutor you in English for the ACT,
I’ll never tell you it’s just to see you.
2018
A girl likes you, hates me and tells everyone I was ***** but deserved it;
I take my anger out on you
Blame you, because you let her into our small group.
2018
I stop speaking to you for a bit,
It drives me insane.
Graduation
I go home with you that night,
We are as close as we were. Like nothing ever happened.
We just hold hands
And that’s all I needed.
We spent that entire summer together;
Making s’mores
Staying up until 5am drinking a bit,
And talking of life.
2018
I leave for college but we still try to date.
It’s hard to keep the distance so I come home
A l o t.
2019
I end up transferring back home,
For you but also financial purposes.
June 10th, 2019
We are laying in our bed together, you’re curled up next to me,
Mumbling words of affection and love.

My, how things change.
I dunno. I love him though
Lazhar Bouazzi Aug 2018
A green pond
In a leafless park
Held with an iron bond
His stagnant equilibrium.

©LazharBouazzi, 5 August, 2018
Jeff Gaines Aug 2018
Mark A. Williams
                            SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018

___________________­

Wow Mark,

Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!

Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.

All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.

(RIP Jimi Carlsen)

Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!

Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.

I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.

I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah  back together.

Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018
Such a sad task, to say goodbye to a friend with last words that may never had been spoken up until then. As it happens, this friend and I often relished in our youthful exploits, but still ... I'd not seen him in ten years. Because ... life happens. He had fallen on hard times and was bouncing place to place and I too was moving and living all over. We had spoken on the phone here and there and that would have to suffice.

I  haven't posted in weeks and I haven't read in almost 2 months. THANK YOU to those who have the patience with me to still read me, even though I can't reciprocate at the moment. I will, when time permits, come back and catch up on all of you. It will take me days and days!
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
.i. if Kant could have his von Kleist... well... who else to juggle juggernauts if not me? as a task of redeeming that poor soul who succumbed to the terminator of all poetic ambitions, with his systematisation off-the-page, as eccentric and punctual as a sunset on a sundial at 16:11... and in case either the spring of sunrise, or the autumn of sunset... but so many hours after exacting a sunset... that gluttony of the eyes to stare at it... 16:11 is the zenith of a sunset in november the 15th... much prolonged when warmer... supersized sun when setting in summer, and all that whiskey-copper wiring for the eyes to stare at it: oh for goodness sake, who really cares for Ikea likened assembling of words... we're not putting together a coffee table, we're looking for Darwinistic entrapment, we're scared of the aeons and yawns... we're trying to create a Darwinistic entrapment saying what segregates us from apes! that's how anti-Darwinism works - if they can easily call you a poet and a technophobe... then that hardly makes you a merchant with a Quran... to encapsulate the language of our modernity we're doing everything against writing the onomatopoeia of our beginning... monkey ooo! monkey ooo ah ah! or a gorilla grunting and then snorkeling... we're encapsulating our language more and more... because beginning with ape and then looking at history, and then looking at the consensus of the contemporary: Darwinism's greatest enemy is not theology... it's history... Darwinism and history are not compatible... oddly enough Darwinism and theology are compatible, simply because they are dynamically equal for the case of furthering both arguments in debate... but Darwinism is an odd starting point to argue, given that physicists argue from the perspective of prior to dinosaurs, prior to all things formed.

how can i begin this? it will leave me having to
write it for two days,
the anti-narrative sketch first, then filling in
the gaps sober... just to get second opinions...
i might have to cook a quasi-Hungarian borscht
and fry up a few potato flattenings to a crispy
yum... first the narrator comes in to describe what's
in store, a bit like a translator comes in and says
of Joyce: that's Irish... well, yeah.
               hence the italic preface...
as some would say, the person who wrote these
sketches worked quicker that an algorithm in asking
and also quicker to copy & paste the required
atomic encoding... e.g. ч and ch
                   э and euro and epsilon...
      once upon a time there was nothing prior
to Copernicus, then the somersaults came,
    h ч y        what coordinates where?
    well of course perfecting the encoding of something,
if things weren't stated awry there would be
no optometrists either...
                  it's not hard to read, it's hard to
remember how to read, given that being literate reached
the omnipresent velocity, the new powers had to
include some new power struggle...
mingling Latin and Runes, Greek and Cyrillic...
     and the proto-Latin of additional diacritical marks...
they exposed the entirety of humanity to literacy
within the framework of post-industrial society,
after hitchhiking a ride on the 19th century donkeys
they suddenly had to reveal their power-secret of
being literate, and by the account of women:
corset bound and bored in salons...
      but something else appeared that didn't really fascinate
them: that over-complication of Latin with
punctuation marks above letters: or diacritical
distinction, crowns over letters, subatomic particularisation
of once favoured: universal applicability...
as a narrator? i have to make a complicated
introduction, the sketch lends itself to do so,
it suggests that not all writing can be as simple as
a nursery rhyme, not all writing can actually
    **** memory, not all writing desires being remembered,
not all writing can be remembered,
                in the mediation of the two chiral opposites
there's fiction, which is suspended in an armchair of
pleasurability... but on the opposite side of a nursery rhyme
or a well versed poem? writing akin to arithmetic...
  something truly painful for those competent with
lettering, but not really competent with ten digits...
      as a narrator who has already read the sketch,
i'm trying to not write a "filling in the gaps" to the sketch
like an art-critic might do to a painting deviating from:
brushstrokes were employed. well... d'uh!
variation of italics as in transcending the pause that
implies a condescending variation of taking a pause,
also excluded are: dot, comma, hyphen, semicolon
and colon.                         dot-dot-dot is not joining up
the dots: it implies a variation of how to anticipate
a punchline: drummed: tu-dum wet snare!
     i am actually a narrator who is trying to find
that other part of me that might digest this sketch properly,
     and return fully competent to pick up another
sketch... if ever there was a narrator in this sketch,
it has to be me, after the sketch has been scripted,
and i am left to suggest a need for a dot-dot-dot connectivity
of the strokes of the pen...
i warned myself: do not overdo the introduction in italics,
you know how picky people are...
whether pickled pineapple of cucumber...
i swear Turks invented pickling chillies...
         oh look! an inflatable gazebo filled with helium!
no one's laughing: only because i didn't mention vegina.
narrative puritanism? you get distracted a lot...
but this sketch is really a thesis for narration,
all i have to do is find the antithesis of narration in it:
an actual narrative!          it stretches for ~30 pages...
   well that's me turned archaeologist with a Grecian urn
with a snap of the finger... because that's how this
sketch looks like: ancient -
                         but understandably modern.
              so .  ,  - and ;
        were racing... out came the world record
             9.58(0)         the full-stop is the bracket-bound
0... i.e. it actually happened: hence the pinpoint...
or in Formula 1 a timed nonsense of ave. m/ph
     noted to three decimal points: 130.703...
                                    or chicane cha chicane cha cha!
as said, this is an actual representation of a narrator
encountering this sketch: so before you lose your head...
i've lost mine!
  look at the correlation though!
we've gone way past atoms with the atomic bomb
and encountered subatomic particles...
    we're not going to get beyond subatomic particles
because we're going to encounter the already apparent
reality of obatomic particle: namely our bodies,
   the perceived ******* (ob- is the antonym
                                                  prefixation of sub-):
             that's were the microscope adventure ends,
    and this is parallel to cutting up a second with
three decimal points, as the safetynet suggests:
                                                              π / 3.14;
yep, the obstructive - hence we can't spontaneously
combust... but then again Goethe's Werther did:
  out of love... down the spiral: you sweet little *******.

~ii. i'm actually too lazy to write the sketch and fill
in the blanks... so i'm going to fill in the blanks as i go along,
  or that's what's called the rebellious stance of narrator: mmm,
work in progress, could you see that coming?


ii. a beer in between glugs of whiskey - runes
combined in the ******* / sigma, variant of agliz or
the rune-zeta extended toward a dark shadow of the rebirth
of Ishrael: zoological enclosure; sigma *******
sigma ******* sigma *******, sigma *******...
rune-zeta... we cannot say there are ******
mathematicians and poets akin,
not then one optic encoding states
     a b c d e
         another states f u þ a r
yet another а б (ρ) в г
  α β γ δ:
for worth of gamma into a trill only because of
   a wave, that's ~ approx. on the side of the letter
   e.g. г & r.
   or rho upside down? what the ****?
did Voltaire write this? reading Candide,
i hope he ****** did!
you the problem is pixelated paper? if you know
how you enter a deciphering mode...
                    but you require a personal library to boot,
all that dos formatting,
                       well there's formatting in the humanity
outstretch of this white medium too...
after it isn't all ******* white when all the psychiatric
pills are white too... i have really found something better
than the Bermuda Δ...
       Greek, Latin, Cyrillic and Runes...
i could say neo or proto otherwise,
but i still haven't unearthed the sketch, that
is probably puzzling the Danes, with Cnut on the forefront...
                    but the arrangement of numbers is universal,
but it's not universal, given the particularity of
how language is encoded and why some people are
richer than others...
            but it's still a beer between glugs of whiskey that
makes more sense...
i said, retype the sketch and go to bed...
and i figured: that's probably the wisest of all possible
events stemming from this...
    that's ~27 pages of notes to retype... and i'm already
in a disclosure mode as to expect what's to be jargoned...


p. 1        cкεтч       /      σкεтχ
   necessity of                        (acute
a-       -the           (ism)
is that of language structure,
          only from the use of one's language does
a deity present itself: from within the noumenon
ground work, not the reverse, as in from
(pp. 2, 3)
                 a phenomenological exercise in
the use of language: Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, (etc.)...
       e.g. Islam is a phenomenon,
  it's not a noumenon: or a thing-in-itself...
  for the Islamic god to emerge from Islam's-in-itself
Islam will have to prevent itself from being-outside-itself...
or overpowering other in-itself contentions
but still: to no apparent success narrative of true intention
as satisfactory appropriation and hence lending itself
to a widespread nod of approval.
  challenging space: word compounding, or the space
between conjunctional deficiencies: nod-of-approval (e.g.).

p. 2    concussion (great film, Alec and Will, 2015, NFL)
concussion... Blitzkrieg Alzheimer's....
brain is fat.... dementia = attacking proteins...
  steroids... the noumenological use of language:
e.g. that ****** is an enigma,
therefore his views will not go viral,
and he'll not become fashion trendy...
it's not individualistic idealism, it's reality.
as will die sonne satan - orbis reach more than 5K
views... so... clap clap... clap, clap.
           what i meant about the a-     and -the
and the ism is following a sentence that sort of
does away with conjunctional fluidity,
apart from the big words, i treat all minor words as
categorically conunctional... and, the, a, is, to, too...
given the sentence: brain fatty *****,
brian organic giraffe wall... ******* hieroglyphic...
           stood above the rest, rest assured.
  dementia: invading protein cells
   (bulging prune of the opportune: purely
digestion?) no thought to eat or eat itself like,
cannibalistically. the brain is fatty...
not fat in muscle for mmm, schmile and flex
for the selfie. how about a protein inhibitor?
(by now, rewriting the sketch, i've lost the page count,
it's actually p. 5 of note paged toward 27).
how about the explanation that we're living in
times of post-industrialisation and thanksgiving
feminism? to me post-industrialisation has created
a class of meaningless white-collar workers
and no blues... it's what the Chinese blues call
the Amazonian nomads: ******* happy...
no amount of crosswords or sudoku will exert
your body to do things for others...
   no amount of mind games will actually tell your
brain to be equipped with: a bunch of hyenas... run!
dementia is a result of creating too many
white-collar jobs (thanks to feminism)
and exporting the blues to China (thanks to feminism
and: oh i broke a nail, can i get a Ching plumber to
fix my heating while i get a ****** to **** me up my
****?!) - maybe i'm just dreaming...
it's great to censor dreaming, i mean: you stop dreaming,
you get to see reality, and you don't even need to
read Proust on a ricochet.
  - so we have brain as fat, and invader cells as protein...
protein digests fat... and creates cucumbers out
of people... where do the carbohydrates come into play?
it can't be at the point of a.d.h.d., can it?
     i'm blaming post-industrialisation, the complete
disappearance of the blues (formerly known as the reds,
in the east) for the whites...
or that old chestnut of: my god you're goon'ah luv it!
   to till for worth from the sweat of yer brow -
funny funny funny... to earn your loaf of bread
you will toil...
                   and toil until you are physically assured
that not ghostly / mental life can enter your world /
books... that went well... didn't it?
   i should be tilling a potato plateau rather than
be bound to be writing this epic (by modern standards)
poem...
             but that's the curse of exporting all the blue
collar jobs to China, then importing mindless
white collar jobs to the west, what the hell do you think
would happen, not the pandemic of dementia?
if you do not exert the body, and then you do not
exert / exhaust the mind... do you think
you can secure a narrative with a post-industrial
westerner on the premise of that person simply being
able to solve a crossword? well... i believe in santa
claus too... but i don't believe in him giving out
presents... because to me, in my oh-so-called maturity
that's called an anagram of satan's clause: which is a legal
term for: i can turn civilisation into shrapnel
of what's said and what's to be said: and what's not to be
said. people can't expect to turn honest labour
for the recreational run on the treadmill in a gym...
and they can't expect photocopying in an office space
to replace Newton's curiosity, and then compensate
all this distraction with mind-games...
          can they? well... they did!

poets are gagged by writers of prose,
no wonder they write so sparingly,
      they are gagged in the sense that they write
as if asphyxiated: they need breathing room.


well sure, if he can revive the Polish steel industry
and i can go back to steel plates and pillars,
then the rust belt will get a polishing also.

or what's called: shrapnel before the waterfall of
narration: darting eyes, and poncy **** all the way through...

     muse... muse...

        well, how about we take the fluidity out of language?
declassify certain words into one grammatical broth,
say words like i and they
                              a  and the    are all conjunctions?
how about that? let's strip it bare, after all: what categories
of words exist for us to primarily speak (let alone think)?
     nouns, verbs, adjectives... adverbs?
       but all those words in between are so jungly classified
into a tangle that i'm about to sprout a handshake
          of a Japanese vine grip: and never let go...

an actual extract from the sketch:

      https that doesn't recognise UCS
                   and insists on IPA cannot be deemed
       encyclopaedic


              i need runes for this! i need runes for this idea!
i don't need transliteration right now...
                but hey! that's an idea, etymological transliteration...
bugly term, sure, but the previous night i was thinking
  of transcendental etymology, as you do, likened to
carbohydrates... so it was transliteration after all...
but a dead end when it comes to geometry and Pythagoras...
      
    three words... and they are computerised (i guess you
have to buy a decent book to decode this), a bit like
buying paint in a d.i.y. shop...
       16DE (dagaz / d) 16DC (ingwaz / ŋ / grapheme of n & j)
                  16DF (ōþala / Valhalla / o / ō = oo),
in total d'njoo / d'nyoo - even i concede the fact that this
is a ******* mind-******... it's a ****** congregation of
four optic encodings of phonos... i moved away from
the ancient greek fetish for the logos... i'm looking at
the phonos... not the logos with Heraclitus et al.
               φº θ þ фª f

ªgreek
  ºcyrillic                ever see a prettier pentagram?
                      i haven't.

(false original title:
škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic - pending)

looking at the phonos is painful, actually painful,
it's like reading a book with a myopic pair of glasses:
a ******* aquarium blurry right there, befor...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'e'? were you: was i, looking for an 'e'?

i can say this much...
what do you get when you mix a shot
of whiskey with a shot of bourbon:
i'm moving between bottles...
it's nearing christmas eve and i'm a ripe
taoist... i.e. i better this world:
by not having the world mind me...
on the odd occasion: oh... you're still here?!

yeah... i'm still here... i have glued-to-fascination
with my shadow... i'm just waiting
for the atom bomb to relieve me of a body
but ensuring my shadow is kept intact...
as if it were a Monet signature on a wall...

but i lament... the momentum has vanished...
i don't even know why i'm so idiotic as
to presume that: from the hour 22:00GMT
to the hours 00:00 circa 00:30GMT...
something will land into my lap,
my lisp... my cranium the oyster shell
my tongue the oyster...

it will not... i can't simply **** anything into
an existence that doesn't want to exist...
perhaps lurking in a canvas of:
"lost luggage" in an airport...
perhaps "there"...
i could be excused my... lethargy...

when was this written? back in 2018?
so i was thinking about teasing cyrillic even then?
wasn't i?
sketch cкэтч or?

what do you get when you mix a shot of whiskey
with some bourbon?
a Burguandian whisker...
i am not going to sound witty...
Ron's key...

that's still a cyrillic "or"... isn't it?
шкиц: škic...

i'm... deflated... nothing "new" has come my way...
i would have thought that...
reading some Knausgård would have /
could have... invigorated me:
reading him was supposed to be my:
dialysis my transfusion!
my zombie-go-to-literature...
it has proven an exhaustive enterprise
to begin writing again:
i became too comfortable
in reading - i almost forgot
the agony of writing...

alas... a contemporary of mine...
and someone well adjusted to prose...

notably: who would have thought
that death in june - the calling (MK II)
was something to be recorded in 1985...
for one: i wouldn't...

but i did begin: back in november 2016...
begin what? to tickle the cyrillic alphabet...
which is way before i discovered my reply
to the runes... to the ancient greek...
and this... "ancient", ahem... still in use...
latin script...

that script that went into the molloch couldron
of being invested in to code...
pristine as the hebrews cited:
how many holes in it?
to write onto a canvas of 0?
q Q R O o p P A a D d g b B...
which leaves...
W E T Y U I S F H J K L
Z X C V N and M "out of the equation"...

škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic (pending):
i better rename it as... circa 2016...
that's way before i even acknowledged
the cyrillic text applying diacritical markers...
i thought them too crude at the time...

beside borrowing outright from greek...
the already at hand oddities of glagolitic,
notably: Ⱎ...Ⱋ...

it's only a single word i'm using...
i have abandoned all notions of metaphysics
in favor for orthography...
i'm not going to burden myself
with: what's after the physics...
i'm after: what's now...
in the respective tongues...
2 tongue deviations from
the original latin and greek...

what came with the runes and what
came with the glagolitic scripts...
what was ****** and had to succumb
to inter-breeding...

come 2020... i will have one clarification
to base my existence on...
pronouncing the growth of my ****** hair...
i will hope to aim at a length of beard
that will forever hide the neck...
i will aim at... somewhere to the level
of my heart... when i will then manage
to turn my beard into an orchestra's
nieche of violins when i procrastinate with it...

since 2016...
i have identified russian in ******...
i've seen it... finally!
зъaрт... i.e. żart
and the "hard sign" becoming a "soft sign"
in źrenica: зьрeницa...

i still think the russian orthography
is... as... primitive as the western slavic...

after all... зъ = ż...
зь = ź...
the balkan slavs have a caron...
which is neither a hard or a soft sign / acute...

their caron is... ч (č) or cz...
CHeaper in english...
and their caron is ш (š) or sz...
SHeep...
or the two together...
and always шч (šč): szczekam...
i'm barking...

pu-shch-air... a rare example in english
of the puщair...
but then lookie lookie 'ere:

CZACHA... skull...
ЧAХA...

perhaps this is my "revenge ****" on russia?
hey! boris the kremlin mascoot...
come and 'ave a look...
with how i disect your orthography
on the / with the language that asks
too many metaphysical questions and no
orthographic curiosities!

i'll meet you in Warsaw... given that you're
probably moving from Novosibirsk...
and i'm either in Stockholm...
Edinburgh or the outskirts of London:
Warsaw will be halfway for both of us...
you don't have to like Warsaw...
i only like it when the Ukrainian smugglers
and the Mongols appear
in the West Warsaw coach station...

smart as who? i am discovering this for
the first time myself...
i was only teasing it back in 2016...
way before i found the right sort of accents
in mother russian...

i do know that that crescent oddity:
above the ja: йa... is what it is...
if you only cut off the head in english... ȷ...
again: it's я given that most russians
are pulled toward an anglophile world-view...
they all see the window to europe...
the baltic and st. petersburg is somehow...
London... and the atlantic...
like hell it is...

i guess i feel it was a waste of time to
have re(a)d Kant, simply because:
i'm not here for the schematics...
i want to know how my thought my labyrinth
building architecture is coming along...
but with no one to talk to about it?

i found the categorical imperative most
dissatisfying... i didn't want to abide by universal laws...
poetry is already shoved out of waiting room
of the republic...
if my "poetry" is not a categorical imperative...
and it's not quiet a a hypothetical imperative...
it needs to be sharpened on a thesaurus
and some grammar...

categorical (adjective)... imperative (adjective)...
well two adjectives never imply much
if there's no noun involved...
and i'm pretty sure that... if i sharpen
the next word i'll compound with categorical-
in that hyphen construct that's only
allowed in oxford dictionary english:
since it's not: propergermannonhyphenfaustian:
i.e. carboxylic (carbo-xylic) acidity...

poetry doesn't belong in either
the categorical imperative focus...
nor the hypothetical imperative focus...

i.e. i must write a poem... to feel better...
i must write a poem... to organise my thoughts...
no! a poem is not a maxim is not a categorical
imperative! a language of poetry is not
a language of morality: it's a language
of experience - or a lack / a lackey's "sentiment"...

i need a... categorical: impetus!
it's not enough to have read kant's critique of pure
reason... it must also involved
having re(a)d the: groundwork of
the metaphysics of morals...
but i'm a democratic reader...
i need to hear the other voices...
i can't be a kantian scholar...
a snippet 'ere, a snippet v'ere (funny how
THETA disappears when making the posit:
THERE - ver!)

who needs metaphysical absolutes...
when orthography (or a lack of it)
in english... spreads open its legs...
and the tongue remembers its tongue-brain-phallus
stage of co-existence in the oyster?!

i'm pretty sure that a categorical imperative
is by no means a categorical impetus...
this had to be written,
but it had to be written in order to disregard
anything a priori... prior to it...
a poem is a shady concern for action or inaction...
it's a deviation from the cartesian crux:
res cogitans (thinking thing)...
into the cartesian levy (res extensa)...
it's an action of inactivity...
as much as it's an inactive activity...
"the rest"...

impetus is not an imperative...
an impetus sources its meaning in a per se
investement... of itself - in itself - for itself...
an imperative?
in pronouns... impetus: i want... i will...
imperative? you want... you will...

an impetus is self-dictative...
an imperative is: indicative...
someone would rightly claim...
those that mourn indicatively...
will don the right garments for the process
of mourning...
which is indicative and devoid of
the per se manifestation of mourning...
it is an imperative when compared to
the impetus to mourn -
which is self-dictative...
which does now shallow itself in
grief by making a socially agreed to fiasco
of a very specific choice of wardrobe...

basically: however you like it...
an IMPERATIVE ≠ IMPETUS...
the year is almost over and i want to break-off
the dust from the thoughts that fudge-packed themselves
as worthy of occupying the minor instance
of having to count a depth of:
not dead within the year of being written.
AUGUST Nov 2018
NOBYEMBRE 20, 2018
hugis pusong inukit sa munting puno
nagbunga ng matamis itong pagsuyo
sa lilim ng mga sanga, saksi sa’ting pangako
na tayo lang dalawa ang magkasundo

ito ang ating tagpuan, na tayo lang ang may alam
kaya nakalagay ang pangalan,pagkat dito ay atin lang
ang payapang tahanan, ng ating pinagsamahan
sa dahong kanlungan, na puspos ng pagmamahalan

ang dibdib kong umaawit, habang pumipintig
halina’t maging mainit ang dating lamig
oh kay sarap palang kumapit, sa gitna ng ating bisig,
(sa ilalim ng) hugis pusong inukit, simbolo ng dakilang pagibig

may hangin na dumadampi wari’y halik sa’yong pisngi
sa punong mumunti, rosas kang kasing pula ng ‘yong labi
at meron pa bang tatatamis sa iyong mga ngiti
kung tunay ngang ang ‘yong ganda’y nakakabighani

sa punong may lilim, kasama kita aking sinta
wala na kung hinihiling, kaylangan ko’y andito na
sana dito nalang tayong dalawa’y mamalagi
sayo ilalaan ang bawat sandali, at pangakong mananatili
you can also follow me on facebook with the page name August' poems

— The End —