twelve

         If i could write a letter to my twelve your old self, i would mention the pain your about to face, with self loathing and mental health is far worse then the years before. I would mention how when you wake up wipe the sleep from your eyes and read this letter and find two people you loved gone from your life forever. When you leave your plastic car framed bed you will find an empty room in the basement. The first loss is not death but abandenment leaves no answer to the sting a heart can feel when your older sister meant to guide you has ran away.  She has left, and to what you shall soon find out, left you to your death. The second loss has less thought to the idea of why? but still i did cry. It was my great grandmothers time. Her slow pace death lead to suffering till one week to the day after i turned twelve.  Emotional asking questions why, three days later i tightened my silk tie putting on a suit and ending the night seeing the casket of one of you. To think of you as dead eased my head for a while but still have to replace my frown with a fake smile. After all i lost a sister, when i needed someone to talk you were never there. Instead i just found myself cutting and dyeing my hair.  This is the year you feel your fathers strong hand as you tremble below it. This is the year you tremble in fear this is the first year you want to die

Thirteen

      To my thirteen year old self, im sorry life doesnt get better. im sorry that this is year your parents admit they don't care.  Im sorry this is the year you hear the three words no one wants or deserves to know their pain. Even though the words "I hate you" Were uttered in vain. Im sorry no one was there to hold you in there arms, im sorry of how when looked in the mirror every morniing after you showered  telling yourself its a new day and the pain is past. Im so sorry of how you found out how long the pain really lasts. Look at what you have achieved though, this is the year you win first in all categories invited to Kick Canada to again win. You achieve a bronze as a group, silver in your weopons, and gold in kickboxing. With you feeling weighed down your still weightless, with your amazing place and the smile on your face to look in the croud hearing the aplause. Somethings missing though your parents no where to be seen. Im sorry they wernt there to say good job im sorry your dads hand still strikes strong. This is the year you say enough though, you say no and strike back your foe. He stands stunned for a minute and walks away, the bruises faded away from the surface, but inside i still see them.  It is the night of my birthday i fall asleep praying tomorow will bring a better year.

Fourteen

     Im sorry this is not the year it gets better, your father never lays another hand to your dismay doesnt matter for his and your mothers word fly freely. This is the year they make you cry, only to insult you further "your nothing, your trash" there tounges did lash me. Til  i crashed under hate to my untimly fate, your mother is sick and you walk into the room as she slashes the blade across her wrist, you watch her bleed amd scream for help but she pretends u dont exsist she  spends the next year and eight monthes in psycitric care. Left in a house with nothing fair in the air my invitation ti nationals came and past i did not go in fear of leaving my mother would effect her more vast, past her yelling at ke eberyday i walked in the light blue room with the curtains always closed filled with gloom . While my mother on her last heartstrings looked for strength from her groom . Only to be filled with hate she saw me as a reminder he exsists and how he doesnt visit but i did. I walked the long path every **** day to see my mothers face still i wasnt good enough but that is just my luck. It is my last night of this age. The house is empty amd quite but still remains okay just praying thiis new year brings joy to the now broken boy.

Fifteen

     This is not the year it gets better neither, but this os the year your mother is released. It took a week for the smiles to wear away. Then i saw once again the skin tare from her flesh. Soon hate took over the tone under her breath and malace mixed with spite is the only thing left of my mother i once knew. This is the year you once again face death, you and your mother are in a car driving counting breaths singing along to eminem, reciting robert frost. when suddenly a car passes us and my mother is crossed the mid age lady on her phone swirving around, not paying atention to anyone or anything i still see her frown. She ran a stop sighn without a thought hit by a garbage truck in front of our eyes now i know the cost of when her cellphone conversation stopped. This was the first time i watched someone die. Still shocked  my mother had to call the abulence as i and the garbage man saw the damage in case she still did breath. In the end blood filled the scene as me amd the garbage man covered the front window with a sheet to protect what is left of this womens dignity. This is the year you fond a little blue pill that not only eases your pain if snorted aslo goves you a thrill. This is the first year that you almost sucsessfully kil.l... yourself going to sleep for this living hell praying next year could be better aswell.

Sixteen

     This year is a self medicated blur, this is the year you forgot who you were. T3s replaced with perks and shots only to be soon replaced with oxys in your black box crushed and lined one at a time up your nose the powder glides. The first night you try an 80 you overdose nearly comitoce as you spew a frothy white  fluid from your mouth but my freinds saved me to this day i dnt know how called said i passed out and cant drive home so my parents could never figure out how i lay on the tiled floor back from death after this a pill is never again accepted that is your debt 2 days to your birthday that cursid day your sober but that was just babby steps and i promise little soilder babby steps you would not regret.

Seventeen

      This is the year you stopped praying for help thinking you did this to yourself i promise it wasnt you. How could it be your still just in youth. This is the year you watch your father fall. You find the trail of debt 100 thousand dollars owed mine aswell of been a million for we can barely live so how would you like us to pay it back i finfd him stealing money from my backpack. This is the year you find out your dad is the same worth of a rat and you dont have to take his crap. This is the year he snaps and instead you help him back up. He was in achoma five days as you stayed never slept jus sat beside his hospital bed praying this did not mean death. Death came in a different way with your cousin brit stabbed to death by her husband on febuary fith.. this is the year you wished you diddnt exsist.

Eighteen

     This is the year.... you found the courage to see you will always be...good and thats enough for me.

There exsists people
who live on the bread of
Inequality
Injustice
Hypocracy
Prejudice
Dear those people
I must say
you are really poor

A girl is borned
tangled in so many boundations
and these restrictions
are right from where
their lifecycle begins
to their deaths

Belive me these chains
which grab them
weigh them more than
anything
Some die
Some struggle
Some protest

These activities
are all variant
but why only girls
need to do all of that
why they have to beg for their
FREEDOM
why they are so desperate
for education

There is only one life
to live in this
beautiful world
let us not waste that
lets unleash those chains
lets break those cages
lets remove that handcuffs
and make this world more beautiful

hollow pointed flowers
litter,
the war torn fields,
watered,
by the blood from human
carcass's

left,
after the battle.
now,
become mulch and food
to toxic soil's greed


the children
play
among the dry, white
bones
building clacking, castles
high
and scavenging the metal petals  and kahki cloth
for with which,
they haggle, for food to buy.

their world of
decrepit decay,
exsists.....
under a cloud of grey
and with only the
memory of parents,
they make their own way...

what once was green
is now brown
and what was was steel
is now rust, upon
the ground.

but not the hollow flowers,
somehow,
they retain their gleam
and they glitter,
like diamonds,
in the harsh daylight.

they, the children,
the keepers of this world,
know not how
to smile or cry.

they live to survive
to them simple things,
like joy and laughter
are myths.

they have no time
to ask why...

but they love,
the little flowers,
that sit upon the sands.
the hollow pointed flowers
that feel right, within small hands.

and the songs
they sing, are murky
as to the prayers
they say,
before bedtime....
just, undefined mantras.
taken from the before.
when the gods,
were advertisements
and everybody suceeded.

everybody was needed,
everybody was blind,
to creed and colour
and the world was
fine and dandy.


and mothers loved
their children,
fathers walked beside.


this, before the sundering
before the parents,
fought and fought
and died.

leaving just dusty bones
in toxic fields
and bullet blossomed
flowers
to mark the loss
of life...
to mark the loss
of living...
to mark the end of
fighting....
to mark the end of
destruction...

after the dying was done

there is a medium of loneliness
where I find you on sulken days
damp like thin paper
subdued in hues
your eyes run down my paintings
like a oil spill engraved on the face of the universe

morbidly beautiful I cast you on my bewildered
kite
I stare up at you
with shattered eyes
I reach for you like barren agony
and you come down to me

we meet in our empty land
we prance it like skipping heart beats
we cut it open like red meat
while the rest of the world is beneath our feet
we retreat

into forelorn seclusion
the place we loved after all the defeat
and to myself I repeat
and I repeat

how are you so stunning
that you casted my fixed gaze from the stars
brung my world to a standstill and everything
I held onto now falls
when I hear the beckoning of your gazes call

and I know that love though dark and endless
beautiful and agless

exsists after all

Waking up is the hardest part.

Opening my eyes, only to realize that you're not here.
To realize you probably wont be again.

Knowing as I open my eyes, you're opening yours, looking over to your signifigant other.

I lay here, praying that maybe, you just might be here again.

But what is the use of praying to something I dont even know exsists? I lay here, knowing that at some point, I have to get up.
For what?

I have no reasoning anymore.
Infact, I have no reasoning for anything anymore.
I find it quite useless to even breathe.

I dont know what im doing.

When we're tired we sleep
And when we sleep we dream
And lately i keep seeing this dog
Can someone tell me what it means?
He's a little Akita hound
Pointed ears and scrunchy nose
I named him Tanuki
Because he looks like an undersized fox
With no weasels to hold
He's little, tiny and loyal
But only exsists in my head
He loves snuggling by me, apparently
He's loves nodding his head

So why do i keep seeing this adorable dog
As i hover over the cliff of sleep?
So can someone please tell me,
What do my dreams mean?

pulsating and deep

dripping sweat,

and nothing but heat.

hips pointed high,

and eyes to the sky.

In a rocking motion,

thigh against thigh.

while you just lay there,

with your eyes open wide

... never knowing,

you're tearing from inside.



Until you're moving,

moving all about.

And you're bleeding,

so you shout!



And friends come running,

while the boy once full of motion -

just continues lying there.

With no concern at all,

except for himself,

and his hair.



Soon the hours start to pass,

the catheters, the doctors, the glass.

The blood flows, but the heart just stops.

Maybe from the morphine drip,

maybe from the tear,

maybe from the Mother,

whose now standing there.



The one who will stroke your filthy palm,

the one who you'll tell:

you raised a little girl, ma,

who can't choose men real well.



But if luck still exsists,

she'll hold you without a care.

And she'll help to mend the tear

that left you lying there.



Eventually you'll drift to sleep,

maybe out of weakness,

maybe after a good weep.

The suture will come out,

and the blood will cease.

But you, sweet darling,

will awake nowhere near peace.



Know you can clean up the mess, girl,

and you can hide that scar.

But the truth is, it's there,

wherever you are.



And he's not alone.

There's plenty of him.

But maybe next time sweet girl,

you won't just seek a lover,

but a friend.

The promise to stay
is just a lie
that uh wanna delay
the promise to love
is something above

Reality is not just not him
and him not being real
all I fear
is being him with her
and her doesn't exsists
what exsists in him is me
that would soon flee

That separation would be easy
my heart wouldn't ache
and these illusions are all
my heart make

Our love can't be viewed
as there aren't any hands craving
but heart pounding is amazing
that could be felt dude

But these feelings can't overcome
the ****** and ***
that he is responsible for
and he got no score

When the world crumbles and erodes
there are few witnesses who make a call
they wait to recieve a ring
desperately
carrying on restlessly
and like a tree that has fallen in the
middle of nowhere their lack of a voice
makes us question the damage
or if the events have even happend
but internally we are all left shaken
waiting on a hero who only exsists in legend

this patron
no longer exsists

well this is news
to me

i just returned some
overdue books

and wish to borrow more

but nope, not me
I no longer exsist

that must mean
I need not buy
those lambshanks
for tea

Not pay those bills
teeter tottering  on
the verge of overedue

no need to be pleasent
to any one, especially
not you

Rude lady, new
to the system
who has coldly
informed me
of my demise

Who states with
disinterest and haught
in her spectacled eyes
You must not have
borrowed for
the past three years
You no longer exsist
this she did insist
even as I pointed out
I had returned books
only three days overdue
Even as other librarians
stopped to chat, knowing
my name, recommending
new books, telling me gossip
about this and that....

This patron does not exsist
it cannot be true, it is not a glitch
this patron is a patron
through and through
I left them to figure out
the mystery, I did not pout
or get out of sorts and a little blue
I said I would come back Monday
that is if over the weekend
I do not simply fade away

Thinking about pinky swears under old trees
Inscripted with the carving of memories
Do you ever think of me?
A seal of forever brought together by blood from a ***** of a finger
Sisters
Disregarding names or blood and made eachother our own
Because family wasn't always there
Life never left us alone for long,
It dropped you into my lap
And I had always been proud of that
Because in a world full of nothing,
At least I had that

It isnt fair
That life is a game of volley ball and it picked you for the other team
After all the apple juice boxes and scraped knees
I never thought you'd be playing against me
Dropping the ball so carelessly
A score for you, as it always is
It has always been
Maybe I was more of a decoration then a friend- a trophey of loyality
A prized possession for the admiration of a life long friendship
Im another swish in the basket
Our friendship only exsists in a casket
Because it is dead and I cant get past it

It was life long, that was what was said
Under a swing set
Pinky swears and truth or dares
Turned to silence and hurtful glares
Its hard to break the ice when you are so cold
I dont want to hear about the hearts you break,
Hearts of gold
For goodness sake-
But none could hurt more than mine
It hurts every ******* time I look at you
And dont like what I see,
The pain your bringing to yourself and me
Hasnt been so welcoming

But I remember how the class bell would ring-
How we'd run down the steps, how we'd laugh and sing
So tell me, do you ever think of me?
I am alone with an empty swing
A lifetime of friendship didnt mean a thing
When the grasp of a a males hand will always be stronger than me
When we said boys would never be a thing that would come between
I miss when we thought they had cooties
***** me, and sue me
For thinking I had the upper hand
I'll never understand

Being the exception of the rule
You made everyone the fool-
Thinking I was special when the only one who was special was always you
I look into your eyes and I am confused
Because it isnt you
At least thats what I want to think
And what you want me to believe
Out of all the things you held to be so important
It was never me

Only when life was young and free,
Without the threshold of responsiblity
But don't come and say you need things from me,
I won't be made to be
A fool you want me to be

Thinking about pinky swears under old trees
Trees that are wilting, and our intitals will be the only thing
That is ever lasting
And all I can hear is you laughing
Overlapping the time that has been passing
And its time for me to move faster
Away from you,
Because you're a distaster
Because a romance, or a fling,
Will only be the thing that is happily ever after
And of course I will never be that
So I will tip my hat to you
I will no longer be used by you
Or used because I've been dared
To embrace the truth

So **** these trees as I burn them to their roots-
Like my roots came from you
Pinky swears were broken
And I DARE you to tell me the TRUTH
If you were lying when you said you would be there,
Or that you didnt really know or care
If you really dropped the ball,
Or maybe it was me that didn't play fair
So why would you pick me
When your classmates wanted better for the team
And I just didnt make the cut

Linked by the arm,
The Bonnie to my Clyde
Our names always stitched together
Always by my side
Your name was always on my tongue and your home became mine,
Our families knew us by name
And nothing could seperate us
Except time..

The tallys on your wall
In your old house have gotten taller
And thats fine, except its not
It went from smoking ***
And climbing trees
To scraping you off the sidewalk
Trying to get answers
When you're too gone to talk
And I am left without clarity,
Or closure,
And missing you a lot

A ***** pickled brain
Maintains the decisons that you make
The toxicity of your life leaks into mine
Because no matter the distace,
Our lives are intertwined
Blood from the ***** of a finger
Sisters
Where the bond was stronger then blood
When do I cut these ties?
When will enough be enough?
Or will you have me back in a strum?
In a musical hum?

Reaping for attention,
But you haven't been asking for mine
A sunk battle ship.
A game of hide and seek,
Except this time you didn't find me.
A game of hooky,
But I was the one being ditched
A game of truth or dare,
But you ran when the truth hit
You won this game of Clue,
But you have no way to prove it
You've hit me with your bumper car,
And I think its time to move it
We're no longer kids-
And its lazer tag,
Except you're using bullets
I have to except you're out of control
And can not control it

Thinking about pinky swears under old trees,
Old inside jokes, and silly things
Our giggling filling up the room when we were supposed to be asleep
Swingsets and secret places
Happy songs and silly faces
Wishing we could meet back here
In these sacred places
But I don't expect you to pick up the phone

A swingset,
And I'm swinging alone
Initials carved in old trees,
Thank god thats everlasting
In a world that's everchanging
But thats all that will be-
For the path your walking is too scary for me, so I will stay behind

Alone

On a swing

I never was that girl that wanted to marry

After only two months I was already weary

Commitment for me was was too steep

I was known as the girl never to leap

The chances I've taken never really counted

I would rip out their hearts and on my wall they are mounted

I would cheat all the time, then be honest with them

With every new guy, out the door my soul went

Deep down inside I was really just scared

What if I found it, that feeling, that flair?

Open up and get hurt? It's a thought I couldn't bare

In a thousand little pieces my whole heart would tare

So I dated in double digits, never just one

If my daddy didn't love me, love was no fun

Until one day, in the room walked a man

Now that day is known as the day my life began

Could it be true. love at first sight really exsists?

Two days went by, we had our first kiss

I couldn't believe it, he made my heart beat so fast

And then before I knew it, my two months had past

It was now time for me to let go

Before any feelings could start to show

I didn't want to do it, I was his new biggest fan

But if my daddy couldn't love me, how could this man?

What changed my life happened the very next day

He caught me surprised, off gaurd and amazed

In a bathroom at a party, he told his feelings to me

What he did next I couldn't believe

Just by holding my hand he set my heart free

I thought, what could he do with a kiss on the cheak?

Now it has been one year and a half

I remember my past lovers as I sit and look back

The longer I'm with him, I appreciate them more

Because they were the path that led me straight to his door

For the first time in my life, I hold nothing back

I give it my all. I want it to last

You've heard the saying, a dozen a dime

This man is priceless. He is one of a kind

is better than going to a fancy restaurant, or a party of people we don’t know

it’s better than commutes on the train with you,

or walking in the rain with you

partly because when your eyes are closed you look so at peace

partly because of your even breathing,

partly because of your love for big sweatshirts

partly because of our intertwined hands passing warmth between us.

It is hard to believe when I’m with you that time exsists at all

that the planet is spinning, and the whole universe is expanding,

and the stars twinkle on the other side of the earth

leaving us so small and weak, laying in the rays of the warm sun

that come streaming through my window

and your chest rising and falling, and you hair spread out on the pillow,

and the dust around us falling more slowly than usual



and

the tick of the clock, and the sound of still air, and the occasional creak

of the wooden floor doesn’t seem real, and in this house,

in this room, I share with you my sanctuary of silence,

for you are my only grasp on reality, yet you pull me

into the unknown

at the very

same

time



I look

at you, and I would rather look at you than all the rock stars in the world

except for maybe The 1975, because their concerts are incredible

but if we went to see them together, I’d have both to enjoy

if I went alone, I’d have fun dancing and singing along,

but I’d rather us be together,

and we’d kiss to the intro of fallingforyou.

I’d rather us be together, I’d rather watch you jump to the beat of the music

and in the comfort of my house, I’d rather watch you twirl around

in my living room to the music in our heads.

or we can just nap together

because taking a nap with you is peaceful, and quiet and soft

and better than everything else

Sinful howls echo from lost scripts written in stone
History has kept breathe into your memory for centuries
                   Quite mysterious you were, scaling your way across flatlands, leaping through the shadows of deaf eyes

                    Strong heart equipped for battle, a lover, not a fighter
Searching desperately for misplaced roots of which you came, a place to call home

The pieces never found, although the script still exsists

I do have a dream
like the good Dr. King
I know that with time
New trials life brings
I dream of a day
where kids can go out and play
and won't have to worry about
waking up in the hospital later that day

I dreamt of a place that is filled with beautiful things
and maybe, just maybe I can make a living with six strings
my mind wandered onto a plane where it's not considered insane,
to love everything and everyone, regardless of color, creed, or even their last name

Maybe this dream will be fulfilled,
maybe while I'm alive,
but I know that place exsists
it's in front of God's Eyes
I dream of that place
with a halo and that long white robe,
that place many call heaven
where the streets are paved with gold,

The buildings made of priceless jewels,
all our hurts and pain brought to the final curtain call
I dream of this wondrous place
where hopefully, once again I'll see you all.

I like your ink on paper perminance
The hard line of intensity
In your hand writen notes
Around the house
Even the grocery lists
And the way your hands shook
When you zipped my dress
I take it you are not shaken often
And the way you hang out
around the kitchen
While i sit on the counter
And look at you
I watch your lips when you speak
Wondering if that passion exsists
In your kiss
And wondering how often
I can sit on your bed
Without you laying me down
I wonder if you can read my eyes
Like story books.
I wonder if you know
I wonder if you know
I see you too...
And the way you look at me.

If threw love i can not speak
Then put me on mute

I have spoken word
Elegance of poetic imperfection
Intermingled with my voice

My voice
What does it sound like.
I think I have a deep voice
One that can boom across a stage
One that can make a whisper well heard

I learnt that in grade school

I say a lot of things in a day
My friends tell me quite blatantly
"Dude, you talk a lot"

So what do my words boil down to?

Are they not more than stationary constructs of pointless interaction

Will not in a year nobody, even me, remember what has been said!

Well

No.

People have a hard time forgetting what people say

In the 21st century we get the curse of picking what we hear is all.

We hear how ******* up our world is on the news all the time

Do we hear about kindness love or compassion?
Not really.

So I am going to speak in love.
There's nothing you can do about it either

Love is why the world still exsists.
Lack thereof is what's causing us to self-destruct

Insanity exsists, in an individual and in humanity. You can get it rare,
medium, or well done. Right now, it seems humanity is ready to order.
Humanity most recently ordered WW I, WW II, The Korean War, The VietNam War, The Iraq Wars (Papa Bush and W), The Afghanistan War
(ditto), Syria, Yemen. ad nauseum. Insanity often results in killings, but
I would argue that it is self-induced, that had there been benevolent,
professional intervention, we could have prevented these mass muder-
fests. But hey, wars, especially big world wars, are money-makers,
and the money-makers are not the ones being killed. And then there are
variations on this theme:  catasphrophic climate change and the imminent
threat of nuclear holocaust. One can get carried away with this killing
stuff, you know. And, what would you like for desert?

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Tonight the evening primrose dies ,
with softer blue and elequent eyes ,
she casts her boat to wider  shores
where she can bathe ,
in lakes as pure .
Where  Lilly white  and Snow White doves ,
bask together  in her lake of purest love .

A place that exsists only in dreams and bygone tales
Where hermits still hide away in caves .
and are never seen except in lillypond dreams of love here and ever after .
A place where only lovers abide ,
and walk hand in hand side by side ,
and talk only in silent whispers to each other
.,

With cherries red such a fruitful bed ,
she picks the fruit in Autumn it is said ,
only to give it to her beloved ,
for she sees a boat  with a flower herein
Where primrose lyes ,
and gently leaves the flower in between her thighs .
And so primrose  opens her eyes ,
as the lovers sail down the river .

And so a tear falls from cicisbeo’s. eyes
for they know not or how or why ,
to comprehend these feelings ?

For a stranger dew ,
hath  fallen .
For a whispy huw of feeling blue ,
has  covered them ,
as falling ash now falls upon the water .

For evening sky’s have now vailed their eyes ,
for  Lilly pond  dreams aren’t always ,happy ever after .

There is no perfect thing that exsists, only the perfection two halves create to make a whole. This is unsurpassed. People completing what's missing in each other. It is not to be understood.
Perfect is, never really seeing the immense universe that surrounds us until we find it in someone else's eyes. All other perceptions of perfect are only a distortion. That is unreal.
And tooth and nail will be forever lost trying to hold on but we must fight to see it. Hold on to it. Lose a lifetime to it. If we cannot open our eyes we are all, eternally lost;
There is no perfect person who stands alone. This is why we are all lost in the crowd, it's a struggle to fight ourselves to see this. An illusion is easier to accept. So do we?
A shallow hungry world that only takes. An imitation of a sun, false and burnt out. Starving everyone as we are none the wiser.
Be gentle and magnanimous and allow it in. We choose. Change. We choose. Virtue.
Refuse the things that are too easily swallowed. Put up a fight. Welcome the true nature of perfection, the only one that's real.

Sharing my poetry with the world is terrifying
It's like I'm showing a part of myself that I'm still afraid to admit exsists
I dont know what it is about having others read my writing that is both thrilling and absolutely petrifying at the same time

When you meet that someone
That touches your heart
So deep inside
That you realize
That true love exsists
I will always be  by your side
Every step of the way
I am so glad you chosed me
To be your husband
Life is not always easy
And definitely not fare
But I know that with you
By my side
Life will always be worth living