Shreds of newspaper and pages from magazines
zigzagged toward the earth, feathering from the
high apartments down to the obsidian street.

Someone signed the treaty.

A brass band played behind a closed door.
Women, women, women.
More women than I'd ever seen in one space
shuffled or danced passed, twirling beads,
blowing kisses.

I was still ***** from the trenches.

An old man patted my back. A wordless, knowing nod.
Knowledge he understood and seemed to express, with time,
I would too. But in that moment,
in cheery Paris, all I felt: parceled and sold.

My body had become a vessel. This is something
you hear people say, "The body is a vessel,"
but I learned it, knew it; it was real to me.
I saw landmines and bullets have their way.
Boys, eighteen or nineteen, covered in ****
and puke and bile. I knew what bile was,
really knew.

A waiter outside a restaurant rushed over to me,
handed me a glass of wine. He looked at me like
he wanted me to say something.

It's just a vessel. This wasn't defeatism. This was.
The first time I got shot that's when I really
knew. I took one in the shoulder, went out the back,
shattered my collar bone. Pieces of me were missing.

A little girl, mousy and brunette, much like my own
niece, wrapped her arms around my leg as I walked down
the street. Eased her off. Set her feet back on the ground.
She curled her thumb and forefinger together with both hands, a pantomime of a pair of glasses. I did the same.

She lived entirely in her body.
She's endlessly fascinated by how her fingers bent and straightened,
by how far and fast her legs could carry her, the uncompromising
world, a child's ownership of time.

I wasn't floating above my body. It wasn't a bird in a dream.

When I returned home I was always off to the side, suffering
each sensation and conversation obliquely. This wasn't negative.
In a way this was a freedom: I was not a body; I was shapeless,
shifting, liquid in the hands of perceived reality and aging moments.

The girl took my hand, led me down a series of alleys until we reached
the Seine. She pointed. Men lit fireworks on the dock. They ran a safe distance.

Lines of incarnadine light shot upwards. One stream, however, fired crooked, almost a forty-five degree angle. When the fireworks sounded, all but the stray erupted invisible to the viewers, tucked away within the grey clouds. The rogue, much to the crowd's delight, exploded and scattered just above the water. A collective Ahhh. A soft fizzle.

Bring me the men, said Bettina,
bring me the men of passion,
bring those of high class, those
whose purses are overflowing,

those whose mothers spoilt
them rotten. Send me the men
of lower classes, bring me those
whose voices scratch the ears

of the well bred, send me their
hearts in jars, carry to me their
coins gripped in hands. I am a
lover of men, I soak them into

my being, I smell them in my
dreams, their hands are my soft
saviours, their tongues are my
snakes of satisfaction. Let loose

the sons of shallow mothers,
unloosen the tame of heart and
loose of tongue, let me embrace
their bodies, hold their penises

with tenderness, kiss their lips
like one possessed. Men are the
bane of all women, said my mother,
her eyes were undone by my father’s

ways, his heart was of ice and his
body of iron, he cursed me with
his dying breath, his torments I
boxed away with the dried up

flowers and cast off underwear,
he dwells where the heartless
reside, **** his soul and hide
and eyes. Bring me men of a gentle

disposition, those whose skins
are yellow, whose hearts are soft,
who shudder at the thought of a
good ****. I am the daughter of

pleasure, a niece of hot sexuality,
a sister of the free and untainted,
unspoilt by the ways of the ones
in charge. I see men in my nightly

bed, in between the sheets of plenty,
on the mattress of my desires; they
are the lamps that burn my pleasures,
my lovers, my treasures. Bring me

the men of the cloth, the God lovers,
the ones waiting for the last salvation,
let them loosen themselves on my
desirable flesh, bury their holy noses

between my plumpish ****, their tongues
upon my skin, their souls free of the
maybe promises. I am the granddaughter
of Venus, the lover of men and life,

the keeper of the long ago wishes,
I am the one they think of on their
bended knees, the one they lift to
their heaven in their daily prayers,

the fulfiller of their deep down desires.
Bring me my comforts and my gentle
end, my last good kiss, my final ****;
bring me the echo of them crying or

loudly laughing, the last farewell,
the good time lady, the last bad belle.

Before corona, nursing homes residents were being killed,
naked elderly lying in hallways unattended to for hours,
staff watching as resident says they will get out of bed,
can't and does anyway only to fall straight to the floor,
medications being placed on the floor before being put into
resident pill caddy dispensers, medications being put into
resident drinks then those drinks given to other patients,
food trays delivered on he laps of residents, so staff can do
two things at once, for other residents, food trays dispensed
from a few inches off the ground food tray carriers so
pestilence must get into food, staff continually not doing
their jobs or abusing, lying about residents in any way they
can think of, medical staff purposely lying to and not
treating residents, on and on, residents not being allowed to
see outside doctors in order to actually get treated, staff
physically abusing residents during medical treatments as
retaliation for complaining, medical treatments and drugs
ordered by doctors not administered.  For the N.H. makes
most it's $ on intake and when the resident leaves, so staff's
job, to **** them as quickly as possible to increase turnover.

So covid's also a cover-up of that.  Like before pandemic,
Nursing Home residents, and now staff, are genocided,
42 % of all virus fatalities occur there.  This is also a
Hitlerian eugenics program.  Also healthcare facilities, meat,
poultry packing plants, prisons, densely packed businesses,
are concentration camps, workers are forced to work, catch
covid, give it to others, die, our schools are the same now,
genocide of kids and staff, all for ****'s re-election effort.
For, still, the purposeful non-use of the DPA by **** of
Utin, not nationalizing the manufacture, distribution of PPEs,
good testing, which would save taxpayers 100's of billions of
dollars overspent now on gouged prices, 100's of thousands
of their lives, continues, as he preaches his 'covid schmovid'
policies at his super-spreader of disease rallies, murdering
repubs.  Yet, again, ****'s Admin. is trying to steal food
from the mouths of babes and give it to billionaires, cutting
food-stamps, S.S., giving handouts to wealthy.  Now, Utin's
****, head of the republican bi-polar global conspiracy of
unpowers that unbe, is paying Utin, head of the totalitarian
conspiracy and the global oligarchy, with Russia's inclusion

in the G7, etc., for Utin's paying bounties to Taliban to ****
our military.  Grandpa, dad, brother, son, all military except
me, a military family, can't believe ****'s such a traitor,
instead of a Commander-In-Chief.  Every minute another
citizen perishes from pandemic needlessly, why? Why in this
land of American dreaming, where we put men on the moon,
have Space Forces, are we not able to mass-manufacture,
distribute masks and to accurate testing to limit the spread
of virus?  How can our businessmen, politicians not solve
this now?  "...We(e),...", can't beg, must we in 2020?  Also,
the 'Bob Woodward interviews' with **** prove he knew
about how serious covid-19 would be in 2-20, and said the
opposite to staff, country. He calls our military "suckers",
"losers", he called John McCain "not a hero".  Recent reports
by our intelligence community, FBI, reveal that Heir Mueller
should've declared that the **** international crime family
"had colluded in the Russian conspiracy to steal the election
of 2016 for him", that, "Heir Mueller failed to follow the $
trail of ****'s, which would have proven him and his crime
family did many more crimes than were investigated", that

"Russia's doing the same, and will worse, now, during the
rest of the election cycle and the **** Admin. is not just
doing nothing to stop Russia, they're actually aiding the
hacking of this election".  His niece, Mary Trump has stated
that, "all of what the public knows about him and his
failings is accurate, and he's even much worse".  He's been
keeping security, other Gov't staff at his hotels for months
straight, even when he's not there at the cost of 100's of
millions of your tax dollars.  More victims of his **** and
****** assault history are coming forward to report those
crimes against them.  He invited the Taliban to have a Gov't
Summit at Camp David right before the 18 th anniversary of
the attacks on 9-11-01, that were purposely not prevented by
king george and his ****, cheney, like **** purposely didn't
prevent the corona virus from becoming a pandemic here, it
was canceled by his staff at the last minute.  He just said,
upon hearing we've over 200,000 dead from covid, and over
6 million cases, that, "we should test less, then we'd have
less cases, we're doing fine, the end of corona's just around
the corner.", while he effectively does little to less.

Now, the deaths top 230,000 and over 7 million cases, we've
4 % of the world's population, yet, 25 % of virus cases, why?
**** just told the country a week ago, he "may not accept
the outcome of our elections in a month, 'cause mail in ballots
are a scam, if he losses, election was rigged by democrats".
His admin. are already talking to States where republicans
control the State Legislature and can choose to dispense with
the popular vote by replacing it with a set of electors they've
chosen in advance, and will say "they represent the will of
the people, instead of the elections results".  He also has
threatened that "there will be violence in the streets if he
doesn't win", etc..  The candidates for President just had their
first debate, a one ring circus, made so by the carnival barker,
****.  He refused to follow rules, continually interrupted
Biden, pathologically lied as usual.  'Time is longer than twine',
and 'to err is human, to forgive, divine'.  It's unforgiveable,
n'er forgettable.  Joe's not only persisting in reminding our
nation who "..we(e),.." are and can be, also that we're citizens
of a great Union. Inspiring, Biden's campaign rises, uplifts.
We all can, must stop this madness now, vote early, GOTV.

Kung walked
        by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
        and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
        and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
        “Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
        with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
        after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
        “The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
        And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
        “Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
        Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
        be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
        “You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
        And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
        Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
        If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
        And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
        “Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”

And they said: If a man commit ******
        Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
        He should hide him.

And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
        Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
        although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
        “In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
        “be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
        “blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”

Its not where you are or who you are...its the hours, the minuets and the seconds you have in life...they might be the scariest times or even the happiest but I'm sure of one thing you have to make em the most exceptional times...being in hospital having people care, after they saw I was knocking on deaths door!!! Maybe I do have something to live for...I can adapt to the new surroundings, I will not perish...but then again all good things don't last forever, and life isn't as good as it seems...not when you're me anyway, I mean I lost the girl of my dreams, the only person that knew me and the only person I can be real with, I lost my niece who still had a long life to live which was cut short by a driver...and I missed 2 weeks of school! Today 11 May 2015 @ exactly 14:13pm I'm sitting in my room, which looks like the atomic bomb that hit nagasaki paid a visit!! Everything is different now, I miss Caitlyn even more, I wish I could turn back the hands of time, I wish I could have gotten my niece and nephew off the road, I wish life was back to normal...but I guess that's all those are...wishes! I wonder if she thinks about me or even misses me....I wonder if my niece is smiling with the lord Jesus up in Heaven...those two changed me! I was never the same again when they walked into my life!! Anyway, that's all I have right now #StayCool

Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
Thousands in numbers for a meagre few to ****,
For the injustice meted out 1400 years ago,
To enforce allegiance  and satisfy their ego
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
For the innocent who had done no ill,
Where Hussain stood against injustice and oppression,
Against undue aggression.
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
Tears of blood my eyes fill,
Where Hussain's seventy-two kinsmen were slain on the scorching sand,
Hardships and cruelties they were ready to withstand,
Denied food and water for three days,
Ready to die in Allah's ways.
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
My tears continue to spill,
When I listen to the orator,
How Hussain's six month son was denied water,
Instead pierced to death with a three headed arrow,
Which a father from the neck had to withdraw.
How Hussain's brother's hands
were severed and he was killed because he took water from R.Euphrates in a *** for his niece,
A brother who emanated love and peace.
How they battered to death  Hussain's eighteen year old son, an exact resemblance of Prophet Muhammed(SAW),
Prime in his youth,a great sorrow
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
My tears continue to spill
How Hussain was slain,
On the scorching sand,
Without food and water,
With 999 wounds,blood splurting
out of all parts of his body, to be slaughtered,
Forty thousand army raining arrows at him from all directions,
Blood blurring his vision
He, Hussain alone, unable to move a limb,
A target to satisfy their whims
Some threw stones, some pierced spears and others wounded him with axes,
The leader kicked Hussain and tried to slaughter his neck with a blunt knife,
Not that way, you cannot take my life,
And Hussain said,"Let me prostrate before Allah and pray for forgiveness for my people,
Wounded and feeble,
With an inner strength Hussain heaved himself and gave the last Sajda(prostation),
The enemy severed off his head from his body without hesitation.
Hussain kept his promise to his grandfather to sacrifice his head for Islam,
That day the skies, earth and nature wept bitterly for Hussain(Alai Salam).
Who would not?
The tragedy of Kerbala would evoke deep grief even in the heedless.

This thing—unsanctified, uncertified
(Reminiscent of an old, familiar sweater
Comfortable, perhaps a bit threadworm here and there,
Yet wholly functional)
Has become unwound,
Not in some spectacular supernova
Replete with shouting and finger-shaking,
But slowly, almost imperceptibly becoming patchy and care-worn
Until such point it no longer provides much
In terms of comfort or warmth,
A failure of evolution more than an excess of passion,
A matter of recalculation as opposed to recrimination.

Let us proceed onward, then, with as much decorum as we can muster.
Parse the checking statements, divvy up love seats and ottomans
With an emphasis on equity rather than enmity,
Leaving the plates and cups intact
Passing them on (a bit dewy-eyed, perhaps)
To begin anew in some niece’s college apartment
Or with other friends who shall gallantly attempt
To complete and compute what we could not,
Divining some math which leads not to our own aftermath
Of reasoned rumination in search of some cold consolation.

So many hoops to jump through and you are only 9 years old
already you ask me," was I any good at maths", and I tell you that I found it hard to connect what was being taught at school to everyday life, and this you agreed with, and you are only 9 years old. And you have years of being taught what you consider as being completely irrelevant to your world, so many hoops to jump through, and your only 9 years old, unless your teachers have the imagination to apply what is taught in the classroom to the world outside the classroom , but I advise you not to hold your breath, you are only 9 years old, only 9 years old.

I carry my mother wherever I go
and I am my mother the more I grow
she is a lady who never quits no matter the hurdle
a perfect example of endurance I've seen since my cradle
till now that I'm Journeying to the Grave,
she is wonderfully made and brave
a proof that true love exists, yes my mother
she loved Justus, she loved Ezra, she loved Cornel,Olive, Lucy,I & my father
the praise the Pacific receives is because the world isn't aware of the vastness of my mother's heart
she is a firm centrepiece and her family's close even when set apart
by the Sea that hides cornel out of sight somewhere in  Turkey
by the fresh responsibilities that blanket Lucy in Nairobi
by Destiny that holds father captive Home by the Countryside
Work that's keeping Justo and Oli dancing to the tune of Mint,
Ezra working his fingers to the bone
for my niece Shanty to spring up to a brighter dawn
Hustle that often keeps Mama a far toiling so that we become
who we are and who we will be tomorrow
and Education and future that manacles me in this city
Mama's the best student of the family
for she learnt all our
Weakness, Threats, Opportunities and Strength
weaknesses and helped us overcome
our threats and dug them out even when it meant whipping our *****
the opportunities she opened our eyes to
and our might, she is the reason we all know where our strength lieth
Mama'll always be the law that I follow
the woman I trust most and the best thing that ever happened to me
I carry my Mama in my Heart, I carry my Mama in my Soul
my Mama is my face, my Mama is my character too
she taught us to spread love wherever we go
by loving us unconditionally
she taught us to make the best decisions
for she chose for us the best Papa in the Stellar
she taught us to endure from her persistence
and today we stand for the people because from her resistance
& fight for what's right, truth defines our existence
I'm proud to say I carry my mother wherever I go
I carry her smile, I go an extra mile
I carry her heart even if not in the same measure
I carry her Soul, world's greatest treasure
And I carry her person in my Heart everywhere I go
Call me young, but I will always walk
with my Mother and pieces of my father
if I am an art piece of clay
the two are responsible for the pottery
and being moulded in such warm and caring arms
feels better than winning any lottery
or accidentally finding oneself in a treasury
I love Mama not only because her womb was my safest sanctuary
but also because she's the best player in the siblings I have & love
the baby and boy I was yesterday, the young man I am today
and the success of the person I see in my tomorrow
she's responsible for the art in my Heart
the upper in my cut and the purr in my cat
I love you Mama, World's most wonderful woman
Sending you this message from Stars away
Simply to Say
I love you Mama and
Happy Women's Day

Thank Goodness Santa was exempted
From Covid Travel Rules,
So he could go and deliver
All those presents and shimmering jewels.
My great nephew and niece all smiles:
Look at their happy faces.
Santa did all those miles
And got to so, so many places.

He even brought me mine
Disguised as mail delivery.
Giving his reindeers time
To rest, for a while,
In their Lapland livery.

Top of the Pops at noon.
It was on so very soon.
Some nice tunes and jingles
Like a box full of Pringles.

Not quite Rock and Roll,
But still a hint of Soul.
Meaningful lyrics
And some atmospherics.

The Queen gave us Hope
With her speech at three.
No time to mope
Here in the land of the Free.

Trust you all enjoyed this festive day some way.
And let us all pray
That things get better
From New Year’s Day.

It’s time to conquer Covid:
About time I hear you shout.
It’s DNA decoded,
Vaccinations all about.

So twenty-twenty-one
Is coming very soon.
When this year is all done,
Let’s fly up to the moon.

Let’s fill the world with Love,
Holding hands again.
Goodbye to twenty-twenty,
Goodbye to all the pain.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\12\2020.

(Last two lines changed at the suggestion of Norman Stevens 27\12)

(Original final two lines were:
“It’s not a matter of whether,
Only a matter of when.” ).

This journey I have been on has taken me to many places
some just being a state of being in my mind.
A few months ago the thought about turning forty terrified me
but here just recently I have been thinking about it differently.
Forty is no big deal and with it comes some perks I must say...
I no longer have to prove myself to anyone anymore ~ if you haven't liked me or anything I am about in the 39 years before I hit this number then odds are you still will not like me or anything I am about and I am okay with that.
I know who I am and what I want ~ I am a mother and a wife and I am a loyal friend for life. I am a daughter, a sister, a cousin and also a  niece and many many more. I like to be called a writer because that is what I am. I am a comedian at heart who loves to laugh and I am a nature lover who is a sucker for a good sunset.
I now do not worry about making friends ~ I do not have to think about going out and meeting the right kind of people or if this person likes me. I am already surrounded by the people who want to be a part of my life and have made it clear they want to be there.
So here is to me turning Fabulously Forty  ~ I am good with it and I am just thankful for being here!!

My dad talks in his sleep.
He says the wackiest things.
My mom and my brother's fiancé  are on the back porch drinking.
He's asleep.
So is my niece.
She's on the couch next to me while I'm watching Louie.
This all after coming home from a party where the singer of my band tried to ****** me.
Before I drove home I did some drunken text messaging.
Sometimes, I swear,
I don't know what to think.
It's all so absurd,
yet charming in a way.
I fear I'm bound to go crazy.
I've got to get away.

You need to know,
Darling Girl
That you will always be loved

And that those beautiful blues
Aren't blessings from above

The world's wolves
Won't be able
To see what's beyond them

Say "I'm smart, too."
When they're commenting on them

Sniff out
The true people
With your intuitive nose

Feed your big heart
So it constantly grows

Don't let those
Mean comments
Be a part of your life

Always say
"Wow, that really
Just wasn't so nice."

When you do something hurtful
Take no shame, say I'm sorry

Because delicate feelings
Are the reasons we worry

Connection and friendship
Is why we are living

Choose well
Whom you want
To be constantly giving

Always
Make sure
To express
How you feel

Your instincts have reason
And that's a big deal

Little One,
I sure do
Hope that you
Have been listening

Now take your eyes
Off that phone
Cause this life's
What you're missing

-E.Poe
To her niece Mia Jasmine
*October 2013

She screams. Again.
Her mother runs from the problem.

And I deal with her.
Because that's what I do.

22. Nothing to do.
She cleans the sick.

And once again goes to play
Her games. Video games. Mind games.

I adore me niece.
5 weeks. I could eat her up.

But her mother?
I could ****.

Strangle her with my bare hands.
Get a knife to her throat.

And soon I will.
I will **** my own sister if I have to.

To save not only her daughter
But the family.

To transition is to attend your own funeral time and time again in hopes of allowing yourself the delicacy of being truly known
Identity becomes a public affair and day to day life reads like a eulogy
Imagine you are the corpse, the coffin, and the church your body rests in
You haven't lost yourself just, killed that version and put her inside a box for only her dearly beloved to see
You now become the house in which they’re prepping her body for eternal sleep
You are the final destination
The one stop shop for little girls who become boys overnight
I became him over night and the next morning i wrote her eulogy
Its been almost five years since girl became boy and i am still giving her eulogy
I am speaking of a little girl to people that only know the grown man she died to be and i am so incredibly tired of doing so
I see family and the remnants of the little girl i was believed to be and i am forced to take part in their mourning
Every day feels like the day after you lose someone you loved
There are bits and pieces of her around my house, and my mind, and even my body but she is gone
She has been gone for almost five years and i am still attending her funeral
There is no longer a corpse, coffin, and church just a man her memories rest in
I am the man her memories rest in yet i put her to rest long ago
I need the world to do the same, for my dearly beloved to do the same
For we are gathered here today not to mourn the loss of a daughter, a sister, or niece
We are here to celebrate the gaining of a son, a brother, and a nephew
I am celebrating the birth of me and giving her eulogy in the same breath and i am tired of doing so
See i am left carrying the grief of a person who still exists
I exist
Changed but still present, still breathing
There never was a corpse, a coffin, or a church
There was only ever me, my body, and the world around me

Thank you for following me.
Now I will use you as a target
At which I will violently throw my worst feelings.


I am at a crossroads
Every minute of every day I am at a crossroads
and I see that
(most of the time, I sometimes forget)
but today I am at a crossroads of particular significance.
Today's crossroads branch in a million different ways:

Half of them lead to my death

One of them leads to a great life

And one of them maintains status quo.

Some of the ones that lead to my death involve helping one life now:
my girlfriend, a shy, naive girl who lives the normal life
the life of normality
and status quo
and cattle

Others involve remaining in the dark corners of my house.
I find it hard to be alone
because I cannot see the light of life on my own
and I never share that with anyone, because. . .
I don't know.
I have found that knowing hurts sometimes,
but I can bear pain.
I am of it.

The path that can lead me to a great life is unclear.
It might involve me burying what I know
so that I may spare others the pain.
I dream of having a niece or nephew,
but I see the narcissism and selfishness of that,
and I will explore that in detail later.

The path that stays on track,
the status quo,
is the one I truly fear.
It involves staying at home for a while,
working a day job
and hating every second of it
waiting for an opportunity to present itself
for me to get out of this horrible horrible place.
I think normality is the worst hell.



I think that in making this poem,
I have started on one path
and I will start another path
when I write another poem.
Is this poetry?
What is poetry?
I am going to stop this right here because this train of thought
leads to darker places than you can imagine.

Thank you, The Demons Within,
for being my unwilling, unwitting target

I touch the soft, battered
photograph of me, you, and
him
of you and the man you loved
and me, your five year old niece
you were completely and honestly
my best friend
but a cruel world
took you away

i now laugh in the face of death
as if it is noting but a mere
dream
i believe i still do not
understand the problems with being so
closed-off

i love you, my sweet uncle mike
those pills that took you
were filled with a sweet medicine
a nice mixture of hate and love
of dreams and reality

but, in the end, they still took you away
they still killed my perfect
artistic and loving
uncle mike

They married in secret,
perhaps in some haste.
They longed to be one
having tired of the chaste.

Donne's employer was furious
and he threw them both out.
Donne did his niece
but neglected accounts.

The two lovers suffered ,
due to tightness of purse.
When you marry a poet-
plan on better or verse.

You met her.
As a girl growing up to be curious,
Growing up always asking question
And the only way to satisfy them
Is to put on your backpack,
Loaded with extravagant will,
And go on to an epic adventure
To get answers.
Every single time.
As a girl who only have herself to cry on--
As a girl who only have her shadow as a bestfriend--
As a girl who only have herself who listens--
Meeting someone who understands overwhelmed.
You're alike in so many ways.
The hardships over people that surrounds you.
Every kind of friend.
Every expectation.
Every pressure.
Every relative.
The kind of person that--
You only utter a phrase,
She then said a cuss
Because she can relate.
She understood.
The darkness of your minds.
The secrets you shared.
The forbidden things you did.
And being with her is just like having your home.
A haven you can run to.
To offer comfort.
To offer tranquility.
Then you never have to be alone again.
She loved you.
And you loved her.
But you can't be with her.
The restraint was within you.
Your principles.
Your dreams--
Well, your parents' dreams that had become yours.
You wanted to be wed,
Be a mother of five.
Not necessarily in an enormous parish.
A court will do.
With the judge-- who was your classmate on college.
You just wanted to be married.
You wanted to see your mother,
Painted crimson lips.
In her Cheshire cat grin.
In her new ivory terno.
With all her wrinkles showing.
You wanted to see your father,
Teary-eyed.
Sober yet proud.
You wanted to see your brother.
Busy yet composed.
You want those pretty niece,
Dressed in cute lacey gowns.
Hairs tied with colorful ponytails.
You want your nephews be in tiny checkered polo.
Tucked in.
Hairs made up.
In their micro sunglasses.
You wanted to see your cousins,
Piled by the banquet.
In their silk gowns.
Made up faces.
Curled hairs.
In heeled-shoes.
You wanted the sound of clanging utensils.
You wanted the bills on wedding gown,
And suit.
You wanted to open massive gift boxes.
It's not just the festivity.
It is what it symbolizes.
The unified clan.
The peaceful celebration.
All smiling.
Offering hands.
No one raises her nose
Because someone's a teacher.
Someone's a school principal.
Someone's a nurse.
Someone's an accountant.
Someone is someone's manager.
And someone's just a farmer.
Someone's just a DH.
Someone's just a housekeeper,
With two siblings on gradeschool and no father.
You wanted all of these on your wedding day,
And all those five baptism.
And all of those won't happen if you choose her.

i. Reasons Why
To seek to understand the self.
To put the scattered pieces
together
to form a coherent narrative of
my life.
To understand what pieces are missing
and how to continue without
them.

ii. First Memories
The first memory I have is
of a high chair,
ravioli,
and an unfamiliar older woman.
Mother working.
I explored the house,
a baby gate with dogs behind.

iii. Paranoid Tendencies
Later, Mom with her pistol,
nails in windows,
doors locked,
even internal ones.
Being hushed
told to hide under the desk
with my nieces.
Terrified of what was happening,
she went outside
to clear the perimeter,
certain,
so certain that people are
after all of us.
Why?
I remember her wild green eyes
and her hair of fire.

Nights of this,
waking up to her shooting outside
my window,
cursing at this alleged person
"creeping around."

Nights she would sit in a
small yellow chair,
only meant for kids,
at the door leading from the back room
to the kitchen.
I'd have to ***,
but she would clear the rooms
before I went.
That's love.
Protection.

iv. Missing Father: **** On You
The first time my father
held me,
I ****** in his face.
So I'm told.

v. Education Impressions
I wandered through the halls,
my first day of
school, Kindergarten,
with no clue where I was going.
Dropped off, late for work.
Always working, the bills had to
be paid.
That's love.
A roof over my head.

Paddled weekly, sometimes more,
in Kindergarten,
age 5.
Apparently I had some disciplinary
issues.

Pulled from this school, onto
the next.
Write-up forms weekly, or more.
I would slip them under the
bathroom door in the morning
while Mom was in a rush,
getting ready for work.
Always being paddled,
coming home to switches and belts
and hands
and a tired Mother.
Nothing abusive,
but that's love.
Discipline.

Fighting, kicking, punching,
pick on me,
try it.
Always fighting.
Their most used punishment was
to walk the fence
during PE.
Needless to say,
I never got my Physical Education.

Moved to another school,
discipline issues
again.
Stopped fighting,
and sacrificed my self-esteem
for it.
The issues continued,
but I graduated and
left.

vi. Missing Father: Formative Years
This is when you were needed most.
I made many poor decisions,
a stupid kid,
with a need for just a bit
of guidance.
I made it on my own though.

vii. Bologna and Ramen
There were special nights,
with an electricity through the air,
when Mom would cook.
Hamburger helper, green beans,
corn, a fresh gallon of
sweet tea, a slice of white bread
to top it off.
A meal for kings in those days.

But, typically, with a single income,
and a house of five,
it was sandwiches and noodles.
I despise bologna and ramen
still.

viii. Missing Father: The Second Time
The second time we met
was in a store my Mom frequented.
I asked you if I should get
a hot sausage.
I didn't find out who I had spoken to
for years.

ix. Control
As a kid I always could figure
out how to make things
go my way.
I would make sure things lined
up
just
right.

Most things are about the order
in which information
is revealed.
You have to see through others' eyes.

It's a ***** side of me,
but I do what I can to keep it at bay.
Still,
it remains.

x. Envy
Family in Auburn,
cousins, Aunts, Uncles.
There was one set in particular.
My Uncle who come from nothing,
as all the others,
and was so determined to have something
out of life.

I always wanted to take his kids'
places.
The nice clothes that didn't smell of cats,
the go-karts and swim lessons and
swing set and pool.
They had it all.

I modeled myself after this Uncle.
I'm going to have something.
Now I do.

xi. Kitchen Floor
I laid in the kitchen floor
at my Sister's trailer
for several hours.
I cried, maybe.
I didn't speak, I just
laid there.
Catatonic.

This is the first thing that
came to mind when I started
realizing the sickness in my mind.
A first clue, if you will.
All of the others fell into place
quickly afterward.

xii. Step-Father
It all started so perfect,
how could there be a demon in
this kind and gentle man?

But manic phases happened.
Regularly.

Usually spurred by alcohol.

He would stay up all night,
with *** after ***
of coffee.
Going through every item
in the house.

He and my Mom would scream,
so late,
she telling him to go to bed,
to get the **** out,
to quit messing with ****.
He would call her names
and throw things and make
word salad in the air of money
and get rich quick schemes.

I would pretend to sleep,
most nights I didn't while
he was manic.
I would sleep at school,
and dread the war-zone I'd
step into every day after.

He would finally be arrested
and committed.
This happened for years,
this cycle.

One of the last times it happened,
he put his hands on my niece.
I nearly killed him that night.

He died in a drunk driving
manic-induced spree
not long after.

He was a great man when he wasn't manic.
But that's love.
Through darkness and light.

xiii. Harm
I went through these years
filled with hatred and recklessness.
Lines on my arms,
and a barrel in my mouth,
but I came out the other side.

I know the dark times are here
when I regret not pulling that trigger.

xiv. Missing Father: Unneccessary Hardships
Things didn't have to be that way,
but maybe we are all better
for the suffering.

xv. Driving
I learned to drive by taking my Sister
back and forth to hospitals
because she was fiending for pain meds.
I watched her toss pill after pill down
her throat
for years.
"Migraines."
Aka, withdrawals.
She would scream and incite chaos
until she got her fix.
An addict.
It was not my Sister.

She attempted suicide multiple times.
Eventually the chemicals were too much,
she had a stroke.

I thought I was going to lose her,
my dear Sister.

She's clean now, and
I've never been more proud
of my big Sis.

xvi. A Final Word
My life was not hard,
no harder than anyone else's.
But it was mine.
I look at this myself and say
"oh boo hoo," in contempt of myself,
but it was real.

Somewhere, hidden in this
half-missing puzzle, is the
answer to the question on my
warped views on love and life.

This is my narrative,
these are my beginnings.

Bel blo mi pen ( my stomach hurts)
My mother isnt there

Bel blo mi pen
only fathers, brothers, uncles, washing public

Bel blo mi pen
village pig is in my stomach

Bel blo mi pen
Ralarlar Village I am

Bel blo mi pen
I stumble to the cook haus (kitchen)

Bel blo mi pen
Bubu Tami and Bubu Peni ( grandmother Tami, grandfather Peni)

Bel blo mi pen
half a teaspoon of salt, half a teaspoon of sugar

Bel blo mi pen
kerosine and flicker follow

Bel blo mi pen
forest and twilight, unfamiliar

Bel blo mi pen
heshen bag, dirt, hole, diarrhea

Bel blo mi pen
she whistles softly, kicking earth

Bel blo mi pen
The sound of you are not alone

Bel blo mi pen
never felt so at home

Bel blo mi pen
photo, me as baby and her sitting on the floor

Bel blo mi pen
never will another cushion

Bel blo mi pen
I wept at the airport after only 5 days

Bel blo mi pen
Years later when she passes

Bel blo mi pen
she visits me behind my eyes

Bel blo mi pen
another year passes, a disguise

Bel blo mi pen
Tami born in Melbourne niece, surprise

Bel blo mi pen
A moment living, never dies

A woman heard a small girls cries. Alone, without her own mothers eyes.

Infinity - The name of the planet where the story takes place.

Eternity - The name of the main Continent where the story takes place.

Darkness - The name of the country where the sins live.

Chaos - The capital city in the country Darkness.

Tranquility - The name of the country where the virtues live.  

Glory - The capital city in the country Tranquility.

Lust - The wife of Greed and the mother of Anger.  Lust is a ******* and a ****.  Her husband Greed is her ****.  Lust has an affair with Hatred and becomes pregnant.  She gives birth to Anger.  Lust and Envy are best friends.  

Greed - The husband of Lust, the older brother of Envy, and the step father of Anger.  Greed is Lust's ****.  Greed is a ****, corrupt politician, gangster, and a ***** businessman.  Greed is Pride's right hand man.

Hatred - The father of Anger and Cruelty.  Hatred has an affair with Lust.  She becomes pregnant and gives birth to Anger.  He also has a fling with Envy.  She becomes pregnant and gives birth to Cruelty.  Hatred rapes Love.  Hatred is a terrorist, an assassin, and a cold calculated killer.

Love - The wife of Loyalty, the mother of Kindness, and the older sister of Truth.  Love is a humanitarian and a healer.  Love is ***** by Hatred.

Loyalty - The husband of Love and the father of Kindness.  Loyalty is a soldier and a warrior.  He gets revenge on Hatred for ****** Love.

Kindness - The daughter of Love and Loyalty.  She is the niece of Truth.

Anger - The son of Lust and Hatred, the stepson of Greed, and the half brother of Cruelty.  Anger is best friends with Ignorance.

Faith - The wife of Truth and the mother of Hope.

Hope - The daughter of Faith and Truth.

Pride - The elected commander who rules over all the sins.

Cruelty - The daughter of Envy and Hatred.  She is the half sister of Anger.

Envy - The younger sister of Greed and the mother of Cruelty.  Envy has a fling with Hatred and becomes pregnant.  She gives birth to Cruelty.  Envy is best friends with Lust.

Truth - The husband of Faith, the father of Hope, and the younger brother of Love.  Truth is the uncle of Kindness.  Truth is a soldier and a warrior.  He gets revenge on Hatred for ****** Love.

D.E.A.T.H. - A terrorist organization created and operated by Hatred.  D.E.A.T.H. stands for Darkness Engulfing All Things Holy.

Knowledge - The younger brother of Understanding and Wisdom.

Understanding - The brother of Wisdom and Knowledge.  Understanding is a teacher.  He and Mercy have a romantic interest in each other.

Wisdom - The oldest brother of Knowledge and Understanding.  Wisdom is the elected commander who rules over all the virtues.

Sloth - The wife of Gluttony and the mother of Ignorance.

Gluttony - The husband of Sloth and the father of Ignorance.

Ignorance - The son of Sloth and Gluttony.  Ignorance is best friends with Anger.

S.O.U.L. -   A humanitarian organization created and operated by Love.  S.O.U.L. stands for sharing our undying love.

Grace - She's a singer, entertainer, and a a performer.

Mercy - She is a member of S.O.U.L.  Mercy is best friends with Love.  She has a romantic interest in Understanding.

Limbo - A country that's in the middle of the two countries Darkness and Tranquility.  Darkness is to the west of Limbo and Tranquility is to the east of Limbo.  The country Limbo has a river of blood running down the middle.  There is a civil war taking place in the country Limbo.

Deceit - Deceit is a master of disguise.   It is a male and and a female.  Deceit is a member of D.E.A.T.H.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum

For as the curtain rises,
So too the curtain falls,
No accolades, no entourage,
No 'Brava!', no applause.

An unrehearsed performance,
By a monodramatist,
A solo show, a pantomime,
An improvised burlesque.

Critics stand in groups debating,
The value of my work,
They gossip in the aisles,
The playhouse now a kirk.

My eulogy their invention,
My obituary the prize,
The best review I've ever had,
A mix of humour and soft lies.

I have played the loving daughter,
The honest aunt *****,
The independent sister,
The true and loyal friend.

The sympathetic neighbour,
I have played the errant niece,
The mentor, guide, and confidant,
The ***** and the tease.

In truth, I am a diva,
Living mostly in her head,
But this remains unmentioned,
In a tribute to the dead.

Once rose bouquets beribboned,
From the greatest and the good,
Now a solitary arrangement,
On a coffin made of wood.

For as the curtain rises,
So too the curtain falls,
No accolades, no entourage,
No garlands, no applause.

But wait, I see my error,
As indeed these things exist,
But not for me to comment on,
Nor as I would have wished.

For my aspect is fair frozen,
I cannot turn the page,
My performance has now ended,
And I have left the stage.

If I were to write a poem tonight,

Would it be about the drink growing warm in my hand, or
The cigarette I'll surely be smoking soon?
Would it be a about the day's labor and ...
Unfulfillment?

Could I write about a niece's laughter and value
Beyond money, beyond time,
In concert with the antics of a duck and a bear?
A laughing child,

Who's eyes are tumultuous seas of frustration
And pride, concealing the machinery of wisdom
Behind a simple facade; her nose
Is running, but

Is an act of kindness,
(wiping a 2 year old's nose) a poem?
There is discomfort and confusion, there is
Struggle and pain giving way

To trust, to care and to love.
And she smiles, and she says,
"Thank you," and forgets for a moment,
And asks for her bottle.

And if I were to write a poem tonight ...