Mother always called me the devil child
She said I was  loud, destructive and wild

Parents told sister I was bad and she didn't ever have to play with me
Much time alone was no fun, however for some friends I did make a plea

I'd beg for my mothers attention, she'd run off to her room crying,
Yelled for my dad to come get me, because to her I was very trying

I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a **** in front of the family

When I was very young mother once said “I will ****** you in cold blood”
Today mother said “you’re crazy, I’d never say that to a child, you are crud”

Nothing I did would ever please my mother
Gifts I bought her were tossed in the gutter

All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got into many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel

My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased

None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day

I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless

She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives

No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking

Mother took me out Friday's to eat and buy what I wanted, after work
Last stop, the liquor store for drink and smoke, was left in car like a ****

Mother would always drive with me while she was drunk
I knew she'd been drinking because she smelled like a skunk

Bought games that took two to play, parents never had any intention  
Of spending time with me, I was a bad child needing intervention

If I didn’t act a certain way when opening all my very expensive Christmas gifts
She’d pout, leave, and I’d have to open my gifts alone because I’d created a rift

Wasn't  perfect I admit;  ran off when 16 regret parents sent me away,
Came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, she felt angry

Said drinking not my problem, she’d return when I could face the truth
Never could admit wrongdoing, everything was because I was a youth

Home from school one day mom was passed out on  floor drunk
Called 911 her Dr blamed me and said no visit,  he called me a punk

My dad arrived home, find she was throwing up while passed out in bed
He'd take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it,  something I'd dread

He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process.  I was told by her doctor that I was the blame

Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace

Since I was a badly spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs

My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead, he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see

I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling

My father ran out the back door when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to  bother with me, I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume

Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city, I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve.

Married two very bad guys both who drank, beat me and verbally abused
Divorced them both and had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused.

Moved into an apartment I still today about it rave
Mother always referred to it as a little dark damp cave

Things I wanted my mother to do with me she would say no
But wouldn't turn down a chance with other family to go

But this home where I've written articles, poetry that's been published
Most of the things I've written, mother has said they are mostly *******

Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability to complete anything new

My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze

Had to take her in pain for doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead

Unable to attend school for years, the doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome

School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared

She finally one day went into remission
And now the Nephrotic kidney condition

Seems, for now, to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay

For a while, I home schooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt like I was the rule

Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework, and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening

Took her out of school and put her in to get her GED
Then  she was soon graduated within month of three

A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right

Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat

Alone I’ve raised a good child, published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in that will be on web pages forever

Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy

I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue

Sister divorced husband for molesting children told kids I was bad
Lives in my town and over 20 years never talked, by her, I've been had

I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse, something I couldn't forget

Mother has disowned me going to court to remove my name
Because she said I've caused her embarrassment and shame

I'm damaged goods, only go to doctor and for groceries to shop
I hide inside and on computer, write stories and poems till I drop

Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal

Looking back I find so many things have not been my fault
But I still feel many days like I'm the only one under assault.

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved

Downshifting

drifting, listing to the right,

I fell on my bike the other day

flipped over the front of it actually

but kept myself in a navy crawl frog position

landed kind of on my stomach, kind of on my knees

and then a split second later my bike had finished its flip and it landed on my back.

Nothing really happened except this nice man came by— he had seen it.

I got up and was walking back and forth

and he dusted leaves off of me and felt my head in the back where the bike hit it.

I had a bump and the man was gentle, respectful.

He asked how it felt to walk and asked where all the places were that I thought I hit.

I said here here here and here especially. 

And I said, “Did you see my bike land on me?” 

He said, “The whole thing was kind of bad.” 

And I think he wanted to downplay it.

He was about my age and I wanted to say hey, I’m not really asking you out on a date but you are so kind and if there isn’t a woman in your life who

would be upset about it would you like to have a coffee with me? 

but then I thanked him instead and unexpectedly hopped on my bike and started riding away to catch up with my son. 

And the guy was saying to my back, “Really? You’re just going to ride your bike?” Like maybe I was supposed to be traumatized or something.

 But maybe he wanted me to walk with him for a minute…

The truth is I really wasn’t hurt at all except for a couple of

scrapes and big bump on my left quad muscle and bikes are second nature to me, so yeah, I’m gonna ride.

 So I rode for awhile and I felt like I had just been in a soft pillow with that dude. The feeling of being so comfortable wasn’t leaving me and I thought man, I rode away so fast, how come? He would have felt like an idiot yelling after me, I made it impossible for him. He was a shy guy anyway, I could tell. Or at least was sort of surprised by the exchange.

 I could have helped him out could have just said hey thanks are you on facebook? do you wanna do the friend thing…?

 So now I’m imagining what if I had done that and turns out he's single and we got in touch…. and then my mind goes into a happy little land of strong forearms and twinkly laughing and good food and boats and lakes and music and *** in the kitchen and laughing so hard you blow milk out of your nose.

 And THEN I remember….when you fall in love you it’s all fun and stuff but, in reality, there is a whole entire other person attached.

 And that person has all these appendages that are called family and they are a part of the package and you end up having to get along with a bunch of people you ordinarily wouldn’t say more than five words to. You have to see them at every holiday. You have to buy them presents. You have to bake stuff and decorate stuff. And besides the family, the dude himself always has issues of some sort that, no matter how much you love him, are annoying as ****. Why is that?

 And then I think, this…this… this is precisely why I ride my bike. So I can think.

This is the place
Where one afternoon
I'll dance by the rosebushes
But be bleeding and bruised
Darling, my thoughts would break you
This heart is like a black hole
Pieces of you are everywhere
As the darkness unfolds
Here is a day you begged to never come
I'm melting then freezing
Melting then freezing
Its raw, its icy
But hot on your breath
This creation of god
Motions to the devil
So keep me where the light is
This storm that you call personality
Always changes
Calm to ill
My nerves are aching
Pulsating
Calm to ill
So promise me
If you decide to go before I wake
You'll leave the light on
If not at some point
I will succumb for my own sake
We can't downplay the dreary days
I've lost myself completely
But to keep going
I just need to remember my name
So could you whisper it sweetly?
As far as the unsaid goes
Were you scared
Or trying to spare me?
Be truthful now
I can't afford to sink into your gravity
This is a permanent winter
The entire home is asleep but me
They long ago committed
To the heaviness of rosy dreams
I fall victim to insomnia
As my pillow is untouched
They tell me I pose my ruins well
As the next morning
I still have a clutch
I'll never be a champion
So paint my hands gold
Like a weak little bird in a man's hands
I yearn to delicately unfold
I think that I'm finally catching my breath
But its not my air
Its yours
Tell me how to power through
Because my nails are deep in the flesh of desperation
And we mustn't forget
Its only skin
There's no leeway for hesitation.

PriestlyPriestly
14 hours ago

you say fifty people
I SAY FIFTY GAY PEOPLE
you say nightclub
I SAY GAY NIGHTCLUB
you say the shooter was mentally ill
I SAY HOW DARE YOU PERPETUATE THE STIGMA
THAT MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE ARE SOMEHOW DANGEROUS
WHEN THERE HAVE BEEN COUNTLESS NEUROTYPICALS
THAT HAVE DONE HORRIBLE THINGS OF THEIR OWN VOLITION
you say this was isis
I SAY HOW DARE YOU CONTINUE TO SUPPORT THIS ISLAMOPHOBIA
THIS WAS THE WORK OF ONE MAN
ONE MAN WITH A GUN
AND NOW FIFTY OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD  
SO I SAY HOW DARE YOU
TRY TO MAKE THIS ANYTHING ELSE THAN WHAT IS OBVIOUSLY IS
THIS WAS A HATE CRIME
AND THE WORST SLAUGHTER
-BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT IT WAS-
IN HUNDREDS OF YEARS
AND IT WAS A HATE CRIME AGAINST THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY
SO HOW DARE YOU TRY TO DOWNPLAY THIS
TO A MENTAL ILLNESS AND AN AFFILIATION WITH ISIS
BECAUSE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD
AND YOU SAYING well this happens to other people all the time
ERASES THE FACT THAT YES I KNOW THIS HAPPENS TO OTHER PEOPLE
BUT THIS HAPPENED TO GAY PEOPLE
AT A GAY NIGHTCLUB
AND NOW A PLACE THAT SHOULD BE SAFE
FOR MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS
AND FOR ME
IS NO LONGER SAFE
BECAUSE A MAN WITH A GUN DECIDED THAT
SINCE WE ARE DIFFERENT THAN HE IS
WE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO LIVE

"forever spun-out
to the downplay of
insensibilities
playing truant.
all for a taste
of the rush
of us."
~shoo.shu

Challenge it.
Don't downplay racism like it doesn't exist.
Yes, challenge it.

Don't matter what direction it comes from.
Or race.
More likely the race they speak negatively about.
Is also the race they afraid to face.

Listen, there's none so idiotic than a bigot.
Who only strength of stupidity comes from his supporters?
Who stands by then until their fate of consequences comes.

Yes, one group leads to the challenge of bigotry.
Explored it more for the world to see.
Remember, news once avoided confronting it.
Well, except for various black press.

None has to this day explain the four beautiful youth killed in the Alabama church.
A house of worship for people.
So what GOD?
Did these weak white males serve?

We know with all white juries during the sixties that justice wasn't served.
Why?
Who had to live among the bigots but them the most.

It's wasn't Trumpy that showcase white hate.
It came more to light when Prez. Obama led the government and it slowly came back into view.

One thing all minorities are aware?
When push comes to shove?
They the first reaching out for love.

And get more enraged when minorities treat them in the same way.
With an evil for evil reaction.

Remember, to challenge racism?
Don't downplay it.

For sickness get worse when you avoid the medicine of love.

She downplays my emotions
I may be sad,
But she's depressed.
I may be stressed,
But she's been running around all day.
I had a long day,
But hers was even longer.

I am unhappy,
But my emotions aren't as important
As hers.

you say fifty people
I SAY FIFTY GAY PEOPLE
you say nightclub
I SAY GAY NIGHTCLUB
you say the shooter was mentally ill
I SAY HOW DARE YOU PERPETUATE THE STIGMA
THAT MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE ARE SOMEHOW DANGEROUS
WHEN THERE HAVE BEEN COUNTLESS NEUROTYPICALS
THAT HAVE DONE HORRIBLE THINGS OF THEIR OWN VOLITION
you say this was isis
I SAY HOW DARE YOU CONTINUE TO SUPPORT THIS ISLAMOPHOBIA
THIS WAS THE WORK OF ONE MAN
ONE MAN WITH A GUN
AND NOW FIFTY OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD  
SO I SAY HOW DARE YOU
TRY TO MAKE THIS ANYTHING ELSE THAN WHAT IS OBVIOUSLY IS
THIS WAS A HATE CRIME
AND THE WORST SLAUGHTER
-BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT IT WAS-
IN HUNDREDS OF YEARS
AND IT WAS A HATE CRIME AGAINST THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY
SO HOW DARE YOU TRY TO DOWNPLAY THIS
TO A MENTAL ILLNESS AND AN AFFILIATION WITH ISIS
BECAUSE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD
AND YOU SAYING well this happens to other people all the time
ERASES THE FACT THAT YES I KNOW THIS HAPPENS TO OTHER PEOPLE
BUT THIS HAPPENED TO GAY PEOPLE
AT A GAY NIGHTCLUB
AND NOW A PLACE THAT SHOULD BE SAFE
FOR MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS
AND FOR ME
IS NO LONGER SAFE
BECAUSE A MAN WITH A GUN DECIDED THAT
SINCE WE ARE DIFFERENT THAN HE IS
WE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO LIVE

They say the ties that bind, wither towards the end
Their witty mottos downplay the love of a friend
“The blood of the covenant,” the adage remains still frozen,
“Flows much thicker than the water of the womb.”
And therefore they deduce: our loyalties reduce
And family only matters when it is chosen.

But the blood relations between man’s nations
Groan under the strain of their bond
For who would have thought that brothers were not
By long and far man’s best creation.

It’s simply amazing what phrases pop into one’s head and stick - and as they stay there they develop, and as they develop the inner life takes over and what started out a superficial bit of twaddle turns into poetry of some substance, proving anything can become anything with a little bit of reflection.

      I Am A Housewife

I am a housewife.
Organize and deputize,
Buy and cook,
See that everything’s delicious,
Making dishes at my best,
Matching wish of man and guest.


Preserving and conserving, I economize,
Hunting down the clever buys
So there’s savings at year’s end.  
Mix and blend creatively,
And when I shop
I stop and hesitate; contemplate
And seldom buy on impulse.
That said, I occasionally fall and do.

But mostly, shopping for our food’s
A yoga.  So’s the
Washing, cooking, dusting…more;
The most and best health giving chore:
Hands cleaner in the water,
Waistline smaller, reaching up and for…

No breadwinner,
But a winner baking bread.
Cakes and cookies all included.
For, of course, the friends and husband
Whom I feed,
Try to supply each need
Not because it is ‘the done thing’
But because it is the fun thing.

Then there’s me.  Filled with creativity.
Actually, a private soul
With my own needs to feel whole.
I do not underplay the housewife role
As many in society
Who downplay tractability and duty.
For to me it stands for beauty,
Not for slavery.

I am a being who serves house,
Deserves the house,  My house!  Our house!  
No mouse by any means
But combination heroine
And superstar,
Dishing out the wonder
Of existence
With insistence and persistence
For a comfy coexistence
Dishing out the dishes
And a family’s wishes.

I Am A Housewife 12.23.2018 Circling Around Woman II; Arlene over Woman II; Arlene Nover Corwin

So many people seem to insist
On hurting me more than I can take
And the regret that I feel every day
As all I can do is attempt to resist
I try to improve for my own sake
But they always manage to downplay

So here I am just cutting away
Because I have to make myself pay
While all they do and all they say
I know is my fault in it's own way

The burns that scar me deep inside
The hurt that I can no longer hide
Because day in and because day out
Hateful words they always shout

I need to find a way to survive
As it cuts and chips away at my hide
I wish that I could find a ride
To take me where I don't have to abide

People will always have hateful words
Many I wish that I hadn't heard
Maybe then I'd know what to do
To help out me and to help out you
With this hate that I've always known
Then there'd be no scars to be shown

So tell me how am I to resist
The hateful words that always persist
From hateful people who mostly insist
That I don't have the right to exist

Gunmetal Christmas socks pulled
past the calf like go-getter high school
girls "rocking" rainbow ******* below
the belt loops. I never went a day
without seeing short shorts and socks
replacing pant legs with a gap at the knee
to breathe. Downplay X-mas with black
jeans thinning 'bove the knees. I guess
it's payback for all the surly Santas
paid per nervous child lapdance
that got ******* out of $1.50
because I walked away.
For all the St. Nicks breathing pressurized
bourbon on little kids' wishlists.
Thread through a burgundy belt frayed
by the buckle teeth. And I'm sure this is really
burgundy, probably the only burgundy I never
questioned much, unless the manufacturer's
lying to me. Unless it's really a flexible case
for wild circuits and tiny open mics in bars
going on 'round the clock. Not just Tuesdays.
Fiber optics around my waist transmitting
telephone transmissions and cybernetic ****
monitoring my hips and what my **** does.
And my thoughts; they're ******* taking
my thoughts. Precious poetry lines lost
to the scarcity of pens in my car, when I'll
shave next, whether or not I want a burr grinder,
if I'll break glasses at work and have to drink
the glitters like iced tea from the hardwood floor.
Maybe I'll cut my gums. Maybe my tongue'll
become a chandelier butterfly and carry
me to Coudersport or Elmira or Nowhere
to watch pregnant teenagers push flat-tire
shopping carts ******-shaking in the newborn
section. Their babies are spitting up Gerber plans
Mom has never considered. Baby's just a rock rolling
down the birth canal that may someday end up
a boulder in a state park.

Funny how when the danger oughtta be respected
the fear-mongers downplay it.

Procrastinating

At least it's with writing

Over a period of two days,
I had two inquiries of my own relational status
I also forgot milk, chicken, and various meat products
shoved together, shaped like tubes.

I switched my ring to my right hand
After that

Maybe people will get the picture
I'm not committed
There's no "other" to this significant

That sounds prideful
I don't mean it as such
I just know that I mean something
I'm here for something
That's more than I'd normally say on the subject
Downplay

I switched my ring to my right hand
Right before I got back all my various foods
I sit now, in a dimly lit living room
Illuminated with nothing but a distant light
And this computer screen

This poem has schizophrenic meanings
I hope I'm not committed.

ey yo if you think that 9/11 **** is crazy, take a closer look at jfk pushing those daisies, you could mistake this for the facts of life theme song, sticking its head up the rabbit hole and now you just seem gone, but if you grab on tight and then you pull it, up comes boundless theories of grassy knolls and magic bullets, wheres the love when a 10 year old can a spot a liar with his vision, swiftly points a fat finger at the entire warren commission, what happened we all forgot how to ask questions? lips tremble from a holstered police smith and wesson, never stopped to think if its just water their testing, scapegoats getting arrested, and then promptly murdered, just to take this trip a little further, leaving a **** taste in your mouth like ******* down an entire bag of werthers,
people laugh at 9/11 **** and downplay all the evidence,
but would you put it past a country that murdered their president,
for political gain, theyll put 4 shots through mine and your brain, keep us detained, for days, chuck us in guantamo bay, and then one day we're on a plane flying towards some towers, or wait no we're picking out flowers, bang flash, for my wife, shroedinger's life on the end of this knife, so stop you ***** just listen, this **** may seem sick and twisted, but please wait there is absolutely no reason we live in a police state, thats just what you've been told needs to be done, had consumerism forced down you, and you're told to have fun, and you say thank you and walk way, i'll take my stand another day. and yeah that farmer was an ******* i loved when he got overthrown by the pigs, but we'll wake up one morning and want bacon for breakfast ya dig?
quis custodiet ipsos custodes

You're just as important to me
As I am to you.
So don't downplay yourself
As if you're nothing.
You are my everything.
You are the face
That I want to see when I wake up.
The voice that I want to hear say,
"Good morning, beautiful."
I listen to everyone's problems,
But yours are the only ones
That don't annoy me
Because they are my problems too
And I guess I just accepted
That I want to be with you
For a long long time
And I love that idea
Of us

As your precious finger slowly traces the shape of my lips, chills shoot through my spine faster than a nervous cop.

Your touch is only comparable to perfection, each second felt is another second I fall harder.

Your smile is something I have never seen before; and how is it the smile you hate is the exact thing I cherish?

Your presence carries the ability to take me off the ledge and make me feel euphoria; a word not well known, but perfectly appropriate.

How is it you come into my life and save the day, but at the same time mess it up?

Just as I feel I am ready to spread my wings and enter the next chapter of my life, you remind me what it feels like to love.

When I look at you, I can see the emotion carried in your eyes. You put on makeup to cover your unwanted scars, but its those scars that make you who you are, the girl I fell harder than the deployment of an airbag for.

When you catch me staring and you ask, "what" while you shake your head, smile, crinkle your nose, and push me.

I always respond with the standard, "oh nothing" as I smile and carry on. You must wonder why I always stare and the truth is, I can't help it.

The voice you make while you try to be nice to be never ceases to entertain me. You constantly try to downplay your words by changing your tone of voice, yet I see through you as though your a window covered in gold.

When you set your mind to something, I am fascinated watching you accomplish your goal. Your ability to conquer what you set your mind to is inspiring, yet you let the doubt of others get in the way.

I'm nervous this whole thing is moving faster than a train because I want to embrace every moment, yet the speed makes me feel alive.

Don't go anywhere, or you might miss the ride.

I
Your friends here think you have it all:
and on a secret-sometimes
(mornings when the wind is
blowing the perfect amount
of sea-spun and menthol crush-)
you might agree.

You’re smart; if domineering,
and funny; if a bit cruel.
You throw your body against doors,
announcing yourself to whole
buildings with small heaves and breathy hellos;
always dumbly surprised by the hollowed out fiber
of your upper arms but refusing to acknowledge
the irony that in the months since your muscles
quit feasting on themselves
you have only grown weaker.

These friends let you talk.
You talk and talk.
They marvel at the stampede of your
stories; unnerved by the way your voice digs
into the room like a charging foal and
spins dust rising across the tabletop.
With struck lids and no warning
they blink stinging eyes clean
while stacking your bolting, blocky words
straight to the ceiling,
a reverse game of jenga.
You don’t make sense,
Alone you built a tower of babble.

II
In class you learn to speak like it’s the first time;
you chew on diphthongs and expel plosive consonants.
You pitch crude phrases high across the room
and discover the implications of each single breath.

In trucks and diners you learn to love like it’s the first time;
you kiss with your eyes closed and let fingers wander.
Your hands have a habit of tangling into his and you throw
your head back when you laugh,
(your palms are sweating
but you’re dauntless in this twilight-
go ahead; bare your throat.)
When he suddenly; fiercely,
lifts your body off the ground and into his
you no longer apologize for the weight of it.
You’re pretending to have made peace with gravity.

III
You’re the girl who seems to exist as an anecdote.
You are bits and pieces of a weird,
rambling journey assembled into a crinkle-*****
Raggedy-anne body who has giggled in a thousand accents
and crushed a million cigarettes butts
into the earth between a handful of
state lines and boot soles.

You’ve become an idea that people like;
a girl who is endlessly creating and curetting,
exploring and groping bits of everything across
years and maps and daydreams.
Her resume impresses-
she has no roots.

And you too like the idea of her-
She walks lightly and smiles.
She marvels and hums,
she is quick downplay
her own electricity.

She’s all short dresses and motorcycle boots.
She tumbles into splits down the hallway,
she’s long hair flowing behind a gush of
dark humor and kind words.
She feels it all and deeply
but the way she lays with hurt
isn’t sticky or scalding,
She simmers quietly. She ***** in her cheeks
and gnaws at her fingernails; grinning.

IV
She is an enigma;
the salty girl, eyes raw, with the pocketful of poems.
She's the girl who takes her dark days and catalogues
them into sepia stanzas. She soaks them in
hindsight and hangs them up to dry
along a string of Christmas-light-twinkling
words and confessions. She watches closely
as they develop into something she can begin
to understand. She waits expectantly
as they bloom into a blurry portrait
of who she might really be.

Because the girl you’re left with when the
people who like you so much have gone home
and your poetry has receded from the homepage
of publications to dusty archives-
this girl isn’t so definite.

V
You vaguely know her.
You haved walked together. You sometimes nap inside her.
She likes to wear your face.
You’re working up the courage to introduce yourself.
You don’t mind knowing this girl, she’s fine. She’s trying.
and maybe one day you’ll start to let other people know her too.
I mean, we’re all just trying.

I'm not always honest about how I feel
especially when the feeling is intense
I downplay it, it's not a big deal

I don't want to make you uncomfortable
I don't want you to think I'm crazy
I love you

If you would like to run a country
And run it with an iron fist
While thumbing your nose at democracy,
Then keep in mind the following list:

One. Once you're in office,
Defy the voters that you'd been wooing
By doing some of the things that you
Criticized your opponent for doing.

Two. Demonize the media.
Accuse them of grossly distorting
The truth. Call them the enemy,
And give no credence to what they're reporting.

Three. When matters don't go your way,
Resort to alternative facts and choose
Disinformation as the best way
To strengthen your base with far-fetched views.

Four. Give alt-right nationalists
Top positions on your team
And then belittle those who say
That your advisers are too extreme.

Five. Meet with the FBI
To clarify your expectations.
Tell them that they should knock down stories
And change ongoing investigations.

Six. Pressure heads of intelligence
Investigative committees to call
Reporters to tell them to alter reports.
Tell them "To hell with protocol!"

Seven. Downplay the roles of foreign
Countries in helping you win the race.
Discourage further investigations
By saying they're totally out of place.

Eight. Follow the expert advice
Of Vladimir Lenin, who would say,
"A lie told often enough
Becomes the truth." That works today.

Nine. Belittle judges and courts;
Belittle even allies and friends.
Stick your foot in your mouth even more
When you try to make amends.

Ten. It helps to criticize
The CIA and FBI.
Intimidate and discredit them,
And hang the agencies out to dry.

Eleven. Chip away at people's
Rights. Try to make them believe
That what you are doing is for their own good.
Remind them that the press can deceive.

Twelve. Continue campaign rallies
To stroke your ego; to prove you're liked.
Cover up the fact that your
Disapproval ratings have spiked.

A master con artist will know
How to take information and spin it.
He needs to find a gullible mind,
And "There's a sucker born every minute."

- by Bob B (2-26-17)

Don't you think I want to be able to
have a drink with him
without the panic setting in.

Don't you see that when I say
my ex was an abusive alcoholic,
I mean that I'm still recovering.

Don't you feel my panic rising
with every sip of liquor
that flows down past his lips.

Don't you realize that when you
downplay my worry
your words are a vicious slap.

Don't you think that I do want
to get over it, but that I just
can't help but remember.

Don't you see the impact
I still feel from the squeezing
of his fingers around my neck.

Don't you feel any sympathy,
or are they just words to you,
"abusive ex."

Don't you realize that to me,
that was years of expecting death
at the hands of the one I loved.

So please, just. Don't.

I'll resign, I will

no longer bear and downplay --


what keeps happening!

The girl in the mirror said more in her silence than anybody has ever said in words.
Sometimes I honestly don’t know what to say…. I don’t know what to say to you, to say to the world, to say to my friends, my family, to say to myself. Sometimes I’m just speechless. Sometimes I can’t say anything because I forget how to speak; sometimes I even forget how to breathe, how to sleep, how to eat. Sometimes I wake up and I can’t remember my own name. I realize all this is because I've been living so long in the shadows of the girl I once was compared to the girl I am now. That girl I was… she was great. She was the honor student, the responsible one, the one who treated her friends with kindness and respect, and stayed out late occasionally. But the girl I am now… she’s the extreme version of that. She laughs louder than anyone in the room, she smiles more genuinely than the happiest person in the room, she loves to spend time with her friends and she treats them like her equals, her family, her soul. But she stopped caring about school and she stopped caring about her feelings, and she stopped caring about how she was being treated, all simply because the moments she shared with the people she cared about were just those tiny bursts of happiness that she can’t muster up when she’s no longer with them, when she’s no longer busy, because she has to face the girl in the mirror everyday who looks at her with judgement in her eyes, disdain on her face, and woe in her soul for the person she’s become because she let the world tell her who she was supposed to be, how she was supposed to smile and breathe and pretend everything is okay. The world told her how to live and she depended on that, because she had never trusted herself to do the right thing, to do what she needed to do.That girl in the mirror stares back at the new girl and shakes her head, points her finger and says “Girl, you need to look at yourself. You barely sleep, you barely eat, you think you’re breathing but you’re really just dreaming. You’re walking through the world like a robot, laughing sincerely, smiling genuinely, and doing  everything for everyone and nothing for yourself. You try to downplay the seriousness of the fact that you fall asleep at the wheel almost every night because you go into work early, stay late, and then go out with your friends; you pay for them when you got nothing because you claimed you ate earlier when you didn't because you don’t like spending too much money but you know that you get paid more than they do and you feel like it’s your duty to the world to take care of the people you care about. You step up to the plate and hit what could have been a home-run, but you forget to do the running. Your body is shutting down on you and you won’t do anything about it because you’re too busy trying to be everywhere at once instead of being where you are when you’re there. You worry so much about the future and forget about the present, you forget that this life is a gift and you let people take it from you.” And sometimes that girl in the mirror won’t say anything at all, because I won’t even look at her. I stopped looking at her. Then one day she just disappeared. I look at the mirror now, and she isn't there. She left me too. When that day came that she was gone, I realized the severity of the circumstances in which I’d been living.

And I finally decided to change. I go to bed on time and I wake up early, I look in the mirror and though that girl is gone, I can see the outline of another, because she isn't real yet but I’m going to make her real. I walk outside and I feel the sun reaching for me, to lift me up so I can see the world and I can see why it’s beautiful, and I feel the wind caressing my skin, pushing me onward because the birds and the bee’s are waiting for me to succeed. I feel the ground clapping at my every step, encouraging me to make my move, to mark my place, to tell the world I am here to stay.

And I changed. I smile genuinely still, but I smile because I actually am happy, because I can feel it in me now, I can feel my soul coming back to me again. And I realize I owe it to the girl in the mirror who left me, because even my reflection saw me crashing; but she did more for me than I ever did for myself, because the judgment in her eyes was really just her tears, the disdain on her face was wrinkled skin from worrying too much, and the woe in her soul was really just love, love for the person she was forced to watch tear herself apart at the seams, standing by and doing nothing because what can a reflection do?

But she changed me. And as crazy as it sounds, I owe it to my reflection for making me see how unhealthy I was becoming, how I was living for others instead of living for me. And her silence is what got to me, because for a while, all I’d ever thought I needed was silence, but when the day finally came when the world fell silent to me, I realized I needed words; I needed words to say “I need help” to say “I can’t breathe”, to say "I can’t remember who I am." And the day I admitted it was the day that she left, and because she left.

I see her in my dreams now. And last night, I finally saw her smile again.

It took me some time to realize that the girl in the mirror was really my soul, stuck in the reflection of the girl I had portrayed myself to be.

And the day she left was the day I had finally set her free, to let her be who she had always been, to let her bleed when she was bleeding instead of covering up the wounds and pretending she was okay. My soul came back to me, and that has meant more to me than anything else ever will.

They say "The conspiracy theory is... "

I say "The conspiracy is... "

They try to downplay it

I see it

They say people are just talking crazy... well, maybe we are

But I can smell their *******

I smell it from afar

It starts small, this conspiracy thing... right in our back yard

A fallacy called 'freedom', they dictate quite hard

Alot do not see it though

Or chose not to do so

Ignore a wet floor, you will only slip again

And bruise more

Maybe I'm eccentric

But I just could be right

Secretive society, with secret societies

Incognito, they operate

Like shadows in the night

We have the local equivalent

Then

Cross over our border

We see suits pushing forward

For a 'new world order'

When?

Nobody wants this but them

In my opinion that is...

In a nutshell "**** them!".

practice the utmost care
form a vigilant style
peep around corners
be alert to possibilities

develop awareness
study what lurks in shadow
prepare for surprises
hone your senses

visualize potential scenarios
pay attention to the probable
spy through keyholes
listen through thin walls

dis-believe dormancy
list your suspicions
weigh all prospects
refine distrust

cross examine sincerity
swim in the sea of mistrust
suspend all gut feeling
deny altruism

question fact
support skepticism
increase misgivings
keep eyes wide open

bet on failure
indulge at peril
compile odds
rely on doubt

push a fuzzy brand of cynicism
label everything
marginalize what you don’t understand
be conscience of fraud

perceive through narrowness
downplay experience
recycle ancient lies
apply rhetorical loops

reduce all to the absurd
promote jealousy
revel at weak spots
blame impossibilities


design decision trees
ferment rebellion
create false alliances
initiate rumor

draft complex plans
generate half truths
produce unreachable ideals
fashion anger

establish favorable ground rules
start a corporation
coin a catch phrase
invent an argument

launch a promotional campaign
confirm nothing
invert the discussion
determine outcomes

verify the enormous
market greed
prove conflicting arguments
ascertain needless worth

uncover falsehoods
locate the correct word
detect limitations
counterattack always

deliver disadvantage
attack any and all flaws
educate with nonsense
promote vulnerability

assign bogus titles
fabricate counterfeits
rely on fictions
deceive the masses

compose a reason
construct pain
assemble wild games
dismantle the individual

move mountains
consume independent thought
cause penance
gestate chaos


nurse turmoil
outflank righteousness
muddle the message
confide in darkness

plant upheaval
nurture vanity
ignore any mayhem
misname disorder

cultivate hesitation
praise ambiguity
rejoice for indecision
celebrate vagueness

dance as a marionette
venerate a suckerpunch
insult pride
pay tribute to silence

bend any principle
admire baseness
respect behind closed doors
award deceit

erase distinction
cook up conspiracies
diagram secrets
format the unbelievable

lust over possession
outline an escape
draw excuses
strategize sin

parcel desires
aim toward the crass
object to feelings
target the sordid

commit to the improper
corrupt all souls
mock religion
root out the wise

increase loneliness
pigeonhole solidarity
rupture the will
insert schisms

shout down dissent
pound out inferiority
supply sadness
stand toward folly

seek out dependency
crush mild opposition
carve a new standard
delay action

We call ships 'she'.
We call our war machines 'women'.
We compare women to black widows and vipers.
And you're going to tell me it's not "lady-like"
To scream, to take up space,
To fight and demand respect
And do whatever the hell I want.
You've looked at nuclear bombs
And have been so in awe,
That you could only name them after women.
Don't try to downplay my power.