I hear the electricity fade
The room is lit with the TVs black haze
My body in your arms is no game
But now I'm all you want to play

I'm so lonely and it feels like there is nothing I can do about it.
How could I convince myself that it would be ok to find someone to be with in a physical way, knowing that I am just using them to make these miserable loneliness feelings go away?
What am I doing wrong to cause these feelings to relentlessly incinerate my mind every night?
Why does my desire to be close to someone else override my instincts, dull my sense of priority, and numb my enthusiasm for life?
What kind of person am I if I am ruled by pleasure-seeking cravings that probably can only be temporarily satisfied anyway?
When will the time come when these lustful alarms ringing in my mind calm down enough to disguise themselves, allowing me to pretend to not be a desperate love-starved clingy loser who can never escape the top of my own priority list, no matter how many other things compete with being close with women who I am attracted to?
When will I live and breathe through a day without thinking about ways to find myself in situations with women who I am attracted to, knowing all the while that my toxicity stands a more-than-fair chance of either running them away or misrepresenting myself to manipulate until I can no longer hide who I disgustingly am?
What will it take to quell my constant need for approval and attention?
How will I ever satisfy this desire, anyway, since I am consistently attracted to women who have no interest in approving of who I am and humoring or ignoring women who see me as a good person?
What am I doing chasing women who don't want to be with me?
Why do I think that if I keep texting, complimenting, or joking with girls who I am attracted to, they will suddenly find me completely attractive, even though they clearly don't?
How low would I have to go to be more interested in unraveling a girl physically instead of thinking about getting to know her, understanding her mind, and prioritizing her own interests and well-being above all else?
Why does my lustful and obsessive nature have to so strongly contradict my ability to behave in a way that makes me sexually attractive?
Why do I selfishly choose to express myself even though the only person who benefits from it is me and everyone else either laughs at me and thinks I'm a fool or decides to smile and walk away since I am not giving them any benefit?
What kind of person would be attracted to a passive reluctant caring individual such as myself, and then remain attracted to me when they learn that I am truly a passionate aggressive obsessive over-the-top unstable rambler?
What am I supposed to do if the years go by and I keep adding questions to my list of insecurities and my perseverance in this constantly losing battle fades away?
What am I supposed to tell my family and friends and grandparents when they ask me if I have been meeting any girls?
How can I try to sell myself to girls knowing what a toxic mess I am?
How can I try to sell myself to girls knowing how frequently girls who get close to me no longer want to spend time with me?
Why does everyone look at me with pity?
Why do I keep chasing girls who don't love me, or like me, or think I am sexually attractive, at all?
Why do I think I deserve that?
Why do I tumble around with fear in my head instead of getting up and doing something about the lust that I feel?
Why can't I participate in hook-up culture?
Who would really care if I did?
Why can't I go into it imagining that I will just ignore the person I hookup with and hope that they reciprocate and ignore me so that they don't have to realize how dumb I am?
Why can't I be charismatic enough to at least have some friends with whom I have ****** relationships with and not get carried away with?
Why do I take everything so seriously?
Why do I still feel like I did seven years ago?
Why do I still have the same obsessions?
How am I so mature in some ways and so stunted in others?
How come I excel in areas of my life that I don't care about at all and I can't even come close to being successful in the ones that I really do care about?
Why does being sexually attractive mean so much to me even though I already reject girls who find me attractive?
Why am I so shallow?
Why do I question and mourn the decisions girls who I am attracted to make when I hypocritically do the exact same thing to girls who are attracted to me?
When did I become such a hypocrite?
Why am I so happy and joyous and optimistic for the people I love when I don't have what I want?
If I got what I wanted, would I just take it for granted like I do everything else and then just want more, or want something else?
Why are we so greedy?
What am I going to do with my life when my lust declines and I no longer have a humongous problem to obsess over?
Why is this problem so consuming that I can't just ignore it and try to be normal like people do, and like I usually do?
Why do all of these thoughts form during the day and then explode all over my perception at night?
Will I ever be ready to love someone?
Will I ever be ready to love someone and not be selfish?
Will I ever love someone who loves me back?
Is love just mutual ****** attraction with linguistic agreements and complacency?
Will I ever love someone who doesn't eventually hate me?
Am I made to do everything but be a romantic partner?
Is there something absolutely wrong with me that I am in denial about?
Do I seriously need to become more self-aware? I doubt it.
Will I ever be enough for someone who I want to be enough for?
Could I maybe even be more than enough?
Can I increase my worth to make these problems go away?
Do I constantly put myself in these situations and relationships to torture myself?
Will I eventually give up?
Would that be good?
Will I ever learn?
Will I ever change?
Does doing stuff like this hurt me or help me?
Does it help you?
Hopefully.
I am on a roller-coaster of fear, insecurity, loneliness, lust, and depression and I can't believe how many emotions I have.
I'm so lonely and it feels like there is nothing I can do about it.

Today,
I promise,
I will finally write.

I'll write about the first time I tasted plums,
(Cool and wet and biting)

Or the soft euphoria of house parties and hookah smoke,
(Like cashmere and night in the blood- already heavy with *** and promise- while grinding out hallelujahs to bass and rhythm and cheap liquor)

Or the feeling of my father’s calloused palms when he took my tiny hands in his, my feet atop his own, and sang to me- riotously off key- the chorus of ‘My Girl’ in a tiny kitchen in Camden; Me laughing, hyena howling, and shouting ‘AGAIN! AGAIN!’ echoing until dizzied by the happy noise.

Today,
I promise,
I'll get it out.

I'll take pen to page, and tell you why I sometimes feel oddly bereft at the sight of a trail of some long departed snail or slug, iridescent in moonlight.

Or try to explain why the scent of lilacs remind me of my mother, that the taste of honeysuckle blooms and the feel of summer warm dirt in my hands makes me feel closer to her, and sometimes a taste of **** cherry pie will ease the gnawing ache of nostalgia and wanting of her more than any simple phone call ever could.

Or tell you how I feel scared and angry so much of the time, (Poor thing that I am- all brown skinned, fat and too loud- in the thin white crushing silence that hangs like a humid fog in streets and office buildings.)  How I feel so hunted in a world of poachers determined to use my teeth for piano keys, pluck my plumes for gaudy decoration, and consume me, a nameless  milk soaked calf, only to complain that all the bleeding I’m doing has soaked the plate and my tears have over salted the meat.

Today,
I promise,
I’ll make it plain.

I’ll be inspired by verses written on the thin onion skinned pages of a Bible my grandmother gave me,
find beauty in crushed glass sprinkled over cracked asphalt and potholes, and taste love – young and sweet – when biting into the soft, ripe flesh of a mango.

I’ll tell all my secrets to you, re-name you lover and villain, and share my most intimate spaces; crack open my rib cage and let you nestle in the pumping chambers of my heart, sustain you with the air of my lungs and food from my own soft belly; invite you with open arms and closed eyes inside of myself to read all the words I’ve scrawled in miles of veins and on sturdy spine.  


I promise,
It will be today.
And yes,

The dishes must be scrubbed, my winter coat needs a new button, and the cat must be fed.
These things will happen, like all things of daily realities: new socks and defrosting chicken and late student loan payments.    

But,

Today
I am searching for divinity in between the pages of moleskin note books and falling in love that tastes like honey and lavender and sweet raisin challah bread.
I am mapping out dance steps in hookah smoke and tiny kitchens.
I am lifting **** cherries and warm summer dirt in shaking palms as a ward against poachers searching for all the ivory and meat in me.
I am tracing holy verses across my grandmothers soft, thin skin; the scent of mangoes about the words; keeping her safe in soft spaces of my marrow.

Today,
I promise,
I will write.

No, I do not have
a circle of
wavy-haired
blue-eyed
dime-a-dozen
friends
who will
squeal
as I pop a bottle
of champagne,
and wear a sash that
says: "Same ***** forever."

I have never been comfortable
in groups or embracing memes
that are sadly, true.

Since I was a young girl,
I knew
I was different.
I never attracted
a consistent
group of girlfriends
as much as I wanted to
be accepted,
they eyed me with suspicion,
as I awkwardly attempted
to discuss lipstick shades,
as if it were the end of the world
should they chose incorrectly.
I never actually learned
how to apply lipstick correctly.
I still **** it up.

I wore athletic pants
everyday,
but I was not gay.
Their denim and tight
shirts just felt restraining.
When they talked
about ***** or ***
or periods, I just shrugged.
I didn't have any of those things.
I didn't beg my mom for an overpriced
prom dress,
because that's fiscally irresponsible
when you only where it once.
I didn't playfully avoid the boys flicking
cheez-its down my cleavage,
because I didn't have cleavage for boys to
flick cheez-its down!
I wasn't joining a sorority
because I didn't subscribe to
that version of sisterhood —
spending money I didn't have and
doing ******* I didn't have time for.

I was taught
as women
that our
mutual quest is to
waste each other's time
and money.
To make posters
and cookies for people.
To look and feel anything
but ourselves.
To strive toward
mediocre accomplishments
related to our wardrobe
and appearance.

There was no place for my
pragmatic contrarianism
as a women. I was supposed to be
overly concerned with the next concert
I was going to and dying my hair
a new shade of pink.
But whatever if I fail Spanish because
our teacher was a ***** anyway.

I hated being a women.
I didn't feel like a man,
but ****** if I would
be cajoled into a cult
where in order to gain respect,
I had to make myself small, less.
Even as I wrote this poem, I hesitated to
describe myself earlier,
as pragmatic,
because as a women,
I'm not supposed to define myself.

I was the most cliche misanthrope.
My outlook on humanity
was pretentious,
an amateur armchair
philosophy major:
They were the herd,
and I was a lion
with no interest
in chasing them
in their brightly
colored t-shirts.

It was late in college
that I started to realize I was wrong.
That there were plenty of
women who weren't the girls
from high school.
There were other outsiders like me.

But it wasn't until my mid-20's that
I didn't hate myself for being a women.
Hating my curve-less
body, how unfortunate
I had to bleed each month
when I didn't even feel like
I belonged.

It wasn't until I respected myself,
that I began to respect other women.
It wasn't until I stopped hating my body,
that I stopped prioritizing my intelligence
over others, especially when the men in my life
told me I was one of the smart ones.
It wasn't until I respected myself as a women,
that I could cultivate
deep and meaningful friendships
with other women.

I still hesitate to say
I have found sisterhood.
I still feel like an imposter sometimes.
But don't worry.
I will have bridesmaids.
See, I have friends.
They just aren't the kind
that make me wear a sash
gleefully declaring
my ***** prison.
They know me better.

Dear God. i hope You’re listening, i need to get close. im steady running in the same position.
i can’t get close.
my fingers hurt because i’ve been trying to pen down a letter to her & me & You for me.
im trying to be good.

these past few days i’ve been trying to get my thoughts in unison. working on harmonizing my processes & prioritizing my priorities.

im going to be raw.
i wrote letters to her but every single time i think of sending them to her, i remember that i won’t get much weight with my actions. so i throw them away.

im steady running in the same position.
she’s been thugging lately, in a good way.

i won’t even try to make sense tonight, i’ll let words flow.
****** of the youthful mind, hold me.

play softly, the strings at the back of my mind. be attentive, this tune will catch you.
she’s stroking my medulla oblongata, painting vivid images of passion.
steady running in the same position.

ever looked at someone and feel a conversation going on between your souls? no verbal action, just distance & the space between the two of you.

im steady running from nymphos of the youthful mind.
Father, hope You’re listening. help me to not bend Your will.
i’ve been good. dry cleaned my suit, im ready to walk with You.
i need to get close. but i can’t get close to You.
but im steady running in the same position.

****** of the youthful mind, tell me what do you want me to do to help you, help me, help you. she’s been straight thugging.

ever been so close to a beautiful conversation yet words halt at the opening and you’re left stuck with regret? days later, you remake the scenario and polish on what you could’ve said.

i wrote a letter to her & me & you for me. but i threw it away. wouldn’t have made a significant change anyway.

****** of the youthful mind, i need to get close.
but im steady running in the same position.

she’s been thugging. hat low, sweatpants low, afro hair, smooth skin, smooth **** dancing under the moonlight.
scorpion eyes, deadly eyes. i need to get close.

****** of the youthful mind, my gangster, i need you to stroke my medulla and play a thousand songs at the back of my mind.

im not trying to make sense, i was just trying to let thoughts flow.
Dear Father, can i run away? i want to run away with her, to a place nobody knows. us.
but please help me not to bend Your will.
send me to a golden forest, to the Garden of Eden, so she & i can be Adam & Eve.
we will be good. before then, i need to get close.

******, sing. sing me to sleep, sing away my troubles. i will run away with you.

Father, hope You’re listening. i need to get close, help me not to bend Your will. but i can’t get close. to You.
open the gates for me, im outside.

i need to take control of me and pour out vibes so hard the universe capsizes. ****** of the youthful mind, run away with me.

i wrote a letter to her & i & you for me. but then i threw it away.
don’t even try and make sense of the words i wrote.
don’t ask me how im feeling, just keep your eye on the poetry.

TeddyBearTribe.

The day is overcast
From an ogre blast
Of the covert class
Giving a motor mass
About a potent past
Building a molten mask
To avoid the token task
Of fighting the coldest clash
To break our coated cast

They only help
If it's for wealth
Then they stealth
Once it's dealt
Until they melt
Into their belts
Providing welts

Prioritizing financial impunity
Over helping their community
Then asking for social immunity
After all they do to me
Being so rude to be
Hopelessly glued to greed
Until we are blue and bleed

They kick up dirt and flee
Into sandy eyes that plead
But as far as I can see
Vultures are flying free
Over the uprooted trees
Conquering overseas
A manifest destiny
They claim is for me

They won't take a leap of faith
Life for them is keep and take
Saying let them eat cake
Over the bones we break
Because the serious stake
Is our entire life's fate
Yet they can't relate
So we live in a state
Of being an inmate
Of their opulent hate
So they can feel great

Clouds cover the sky
As clowns suffer and die
Because we suffer from lies
Of the ***** drawn flies
Blocking the sunrise

No latte
no "three men walked into a bar ..."
no sun salutation
can give me that reinvigorating boost

no melody
(and for that matter no harmony)
no pedicure
no crisp fall walk
can ease my anxious state

I am unsettled, trying to find a surface to settle on
so I settle down to the lowest parts of Maslow's mountain
searching for comfort in edible bites and physical bits,
deep in the valley where I should not be

"How  ya  doin'?"
"OhI'mgood!"

Ain't got time for the real answer
Ain't got time
Ain't got time
  cause I won't give it to myself
     I was never good at prioritizing

Cause if I knew my priorites
I would remember what a priority it is
to bend to my knees
sink into the ground
and reverently gaze UP

I have not imagined the answers and peace I have recieved
You have to open your mind to see His work
He is visible
   in earth and sky
Sometimes He has to remind me
but when He does ...
well, I can enjoy the melodies
and lattes
and jokes again

P.W.C.

The chime of a bell and the tick of a clock
Time was invented by man but is god
Too much on our hands; too little too late
Our worlds all revolve 'bout our linear fate
Too much variety made world trade broken
So we regulated it gave each land a token
Of time they relied on to go 'bout their day
Slowly dissolving old lifestyles away
More loyal to chimes of a bell than the rule
Of how each culture functions, went far past a tool
"Your prioritizing is a big disappointment--"
"I'm so sorry sir, do you have an appointment?"
Schedules and calendars grew into the law
And soon the repairs became the new flaws

From daybreak to lights-out, at home or at desk
Lit screens bearing numbers define when I rest
Constant competition, endless applications
Upcoming interviews of unending durations
I spend so much of life prepping for the next step
Preschool to pre-K to K to grade school to Next
Then middle school grades prepared us for high
Since that's prep for college, where the end is nigh
But college just primes us for jobs we'll have someday
Tomorrow comes for us disguised as today.

Don't even get me started on earning promotions
Since the day you start work is the tip of commotion
To the top of it all with your assistant and office,
accountant, and ***-kissing levels of cautious
So perhaps one day you can have the cell in the corner
And dish out the rat race for its future owner
God knows you're too busy to appreciate now
You have children and a 401k on the Dow
Your mortgage and loans haunted you before you were hired
And terror they'll stay till the day you retire
So that's when the madness concludes, you would say
Tomorrow comes for us disguised as today.

We dream of a future where our present would do
A life we believe in where 5pm, we're through
Free to go home and watch our TV
Where someone can promise a product will free
Evidence of our stress from our skin and our tress-
-es which now grey with fear of outdated-ness
"Cause you're not young forever," goes the sickening cliche
Tomorrow comes for us disguised as today.

We feel what we feel and we fear the unknown
Too braced for the days we consider us grown
It doesn't mean we're inclined to give up our lives
To where relaxing's a thought that induces hives
"I'm just too stressed out!" We're not feeling okay
Because tomorrow comes for us disguised as today

So please do not tell me that I am too late
Please do not say I'll "regret this, some day"
For I'll break your laws with a snap of glass
Cogs and gears suddenly mangled and mashed
What will you do now?
Do you even know what now is?

What if,
the moon and stars appeared on sunny skies
well, i've seen God's wisdom, they're fine the
way they are, their time, their distance, their
glittering presence.....their habit of twinkling
at night, not day, is  justified, they're lovelier
more dazzling on a darker  blue sky.....i gaze
at them in awe, no words uttered...just sighs.
also, i've
seen God's wisdom about life's many  roads.
i'm fine, i have survived......earthly existence
is decked with many paths........busy, or less
traveled...always lead to new ones, after the
other, then to another......life goes on.......it's
where, it's when, the day's challenges start.
so....
i leave the house...start my daily trek in life
prioritizing familial  and  personal errands
i walk right  to the corner.....to where noisy  
turkeys turn so red, when i get  close to the
fence...to my left, the open road.....peopled
noisy...busy, humming with activities...my  
connection to the world outside the village
rain or shine, day or night, if i need to hear
breaths of life...of noise,  a tad of change in
atmosphere, cups of good coffee, a bowl of
soup and crackers, bond with good friends
bond with my  Creator  in a nearby church.
when
not too tired...i retrace my way back home.
God guides me....through long  and  faded
red unscrubbed sidewalks, grasping mossy
fences, lest i fall on slippery concrete...lest
i miss my quiet, my sacred space for good.
it's
never easy, finding God's wisdom, in pain
and suffering.......yet after each road taken
i gaze at the dark blue sky.....tell the moon
and quivering stars................"i'll  be  fine."


Sally

Copyright October 18, 2017
rrab

How many of you serve the world?
You know?
Your friends?
Your REAL friends?
Prioritizing your time by your wants.
Self over family and friends.
Partying over School.

If so, Raise
Your
Hands.

COME ON RAISE YOUR HANDS!

No?
Well how many have lied?
That teeny tiny white lie?
It never hurt anyone.
No big deal!

LIARS!!
If you're not raising your hand,
You're lying.

Want help?
Try to change your ways?
Sorry.
Because I know
That this side has a gravitational pull
Too strong for you to deny.

And no need seekin out the big guy.
He'll just tell you what you don't wanna hear anyways!
Still wanna reach out?

Okay.
Go ahead.
Raise your hands in song!
Praise his "Holy Name"

But you'll be back.
I know it.
YOU know it.

So why try?
You're just gonna keep walkin back and forth between this line.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Why do you walk the line?
Scared to commit?
What's stopping you?

Oh yeah.

You.
YOU'RE stopping you.

Why?
Because you're so easily distracted.
Swaying from side to side.
Never really committing.
Doing what you believe to be just enough.

So tell me.
If I own this side.

And HE owns THAT side.

Who owns the line you like to walk on so much?

You decide.

The ticking clock, a symbol of time moving forward, leaves me in a peculiar paradox, wishing time forward and also fearing the night...

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. But what choice do I have other than to trudge on like a quivering, jangling, empty cadaver, shuffling slowly and quietly in the dark, flinching at shadows, caught up in the cluttered mishmash inside my mind. I ache and I throb with exhaustion. I am fearful and crazed and the machinery controlling me continues; whirring along, shifting gears frequently, and causing my words to become disjointed. As my heart beats it sends something blistering and rancorous coursing through my veins. The sadness of the past few days has given way to an acidic anger that I am having trouble harnessing at the moment. There is no prioritizing the distress. I have attempted to alleviate the pain but seem to have lost the ability to soothe and pacify them today. It is not possible to mitigate or ‘make space’ for the parts of Nita right now, and the fear of the familiar internal hostility is hanging above me like a looming funnel cloud.

The clock ambles on…slowly…leaving me in bizarre paradox as I seek to wish time forward and yet at the same time I fear the darkness of the night. This constant battle within myself stretches me to the threshold of my very existence. So many nights I find myself here, in the early hours of the morning, trying to write out the congealed sediment of my mind just to keep myself from dying. I realize that sounds dramatic and theatrical, but it’s how it feels – as if at any moment, it will finally become too much and my heart will simply stop beating. It’s like somehow I believe that if I can just purge all of these thoughts, memories, feelings…if I can somehow allow all the parts of myself to write out the pain and the anguish that is rooted into the innermost part of my being, that the lethal depression will dissipate and I can salvage what is left of me. Metaphorically speaking, I want to dig deep and wide until I pull all of the shame and pain out by the very roots that continue to allow it to grow like a **** inside of me, smothering me, taking away my oxygen, until I can no longer breathe and I just wither away… and I’ve tried. The struggle of putting it out there, on paper - words that I have been unable to write, or speak, even to the one who knows more about me than anyone else, still feels like too much, and my own fear of judgment and ridicule, disgust and abhorrence, prevent me from exposing too much of myself. I cannot permit those parts of me to be seen, taking the chance that anyone who may read my words might see the true me, the real me, as I often see myself~ bad, *****, worthless, unlovable…disgusting and ugly.

Unable to purge all of this shame out of myself, like arsenic, it continues to poison me, as each night I find the different parts of myself thrashing and straining, fighting each other until every muscle in my body aches and cries out in pain and anguish. They carry me away to somewhere so dark and desolate that each night I fear I may never return. And each morning I feel even more battered and bruised from the battles of the previous night and each night I struggle to make it till morning.

Every night, as I wait for the cocktail combo of drugs and alcohol to take away some of the pain, I listen to the clock ticking away the minutes, the minutes turning into the hours, as I face the East, awaiting the first light of dawn, a sign that I made it through the darkness of yet another seemingly hopeless night…

I wish you wouldn't feel any regret
Regret because you follow what
the people around you told you
what to do so

I wish you wouldn't feel any emptiness
Emptiness because you think prioritizing
others first than yourself is okay

I wish you wouldn't feel any pain
Pain because you always choose
to shut up when your significant other
hurts you

I wish you wouldn't feel any anger
Anger because you can't accept the
fact that your ex is happy with your
best friend

I wish everything I said will remain
just a text and will not happen in real
life

I knew it would not last forever
But the future was unseen
Watched it slip out of our grasp
Before we could intervene

Season after season is passing
Golden transforms to white
Misty mornings exchanged for snow
While I wait to feel alright

Rose up through the ashes
But my heart's still burned and charred
And fear has formed an armor around
Every place it has been scarred

I search for symbols on my body
Yearn for meaning to be revealed
To understand length of our relationship
Yet answers all remain concealed

Shoulder the weight of rejection
Through time though tough to carry
Heaviness a consistent warning
That of intimacy to be wary

Like a little alarm silently blaring
Begging me to stay alone
Prioritizing safety over company
Love is hell unlike anything I've ever known

Portal straight to madness
No one is exempt
So if you want your sanity intact
Don't bother making an attempt

Desire turns willpower to vapor
As you steadily lose control
Until you cannot function in their absence
Need their affection to even feel whole

But when the flashes of electricity
Vanish from your partner's skin
But for you are stronger than ever
That's when the real torture begins

Color disappears from sight
The whole planet fading to grey
Happiness drained from all you touch
As you desperately clutch onto yesterday

Now waking up is a daunting task
Try to avoid facing reality
Solitude stings like a salted wound
Haunted by what we will never be

Then I stumble across your photo
For a moment don't feel so sad
As nostalgia rushes over me
I escape briefly into the love we once had

I close my eyes and block out the hurt
Memory tasting bittersweet
And when I finally open them
Feels like I'm falling to my feet

Desolation has become my home
Misery my only friend
I've learned the hard way caring is pain
So I swear I'll never care again

Everyday, A New Person

Stop!** Lest you think,
This is some poem, of a nature serious
I warn you with supercilious contempt
This is a mischance, a contretemps,
This is a dumb poem, like Suntan Lotion^
Inspired by that silliness's Broadway success,
About how everyday, I awake,
A New Person,
With a new designer hair styling

O Yeah, I gotta grip the sink counter,
When I see how my pillow friends^^
Have revenged themselves the night prior,
Upon awakening, I contemplate suicide by pills
But more labor saving for the undertaker I usually choose
Setting One's Hair On Fire

It be awful, it be ridiculous
That my hair defies gravity
Standing straight up,
After a night of lying down,
This is the product of rocking out to the
Hardest of hard rock n' roll.

Now I am a man,
Re hair and grooming I ain't usually
Prioritizing and swooning,
But get this,
It takes a tube daily,
Of alcoholic gel,
To get my pop,
To do the 'lie flat down flop'

When my woman strokes my hair,
She doesn't think I notice,
How she subtle slides her hand down my shirted arm,
To dispose of the newly acquired kitchen grease,
I sometimes, on really bad hair days,
Need to employ to encapture my Grayed Fleece

No faking joke, my mind out strokes
When I look at what handiwork
Has worked me over,
Multi-directional, punk sensational,
I swear it also has changed colors!

No unrequited love, just requited hate
For my torqued, drugged, twisted hairy fate,
Two minutes to write this idiotic ditty,
Ten minutes to nerve to open my eyes to look twice
At what the hairie fairies mischievously hath wrought,
Is unbalanced, demand a recount, a fair fight sought

Soon it will be clear, if you think this poem amusing,
Be in readiness for an Ode to the Haircut upcoming,
Be in readiness for an opera, entitled naturally,
Get Thee To The Barber of First Avenue
As soon as I get the nerve to leave the bedroom.

If I were to elicit success's embodiment
And to feel it's enrapture, like sin
It's touch, coarse as salt to the fingertips?
Would it smell like a rose on the wind?

To risk, for a shared surreptitiousness
That very boldness independence empowers,
to instead announce allegiance to the flock of the age
When drinking after hours

Should it matter on the stage...

As a coy rebuttal to loneliness
In prioritizing what you need,
by finding "circuitous" after a dip in the thesaurus
for describing a sentence about trees
("When, obviously, it's actually describing something...far more potent...than any mere tree.")

...what fails to show up on the page?

Such is the world that Art wanders into
All big gestures 'round a clattering din
....but instead, "Success" has meant to me
A home in my arms
And she feels like a world
resting beneath my chin
A thought that cancels out Art's disappointments
...And her breath is a rose on the wind.

Every evening at dinner,
My mom would tell us about school.
She works there
In fact, the same one my sister and I attended.
She now tells us about education reform
And how it is ruining her classroom.
You see,
She works with special needs children
And teaching them multiple methods to do a math problem
When they understand the first one
Is like thrusting them into the middle of the ocean
Telling them to learn how to swim
And wondering why they are drowning.
Having seventh graders who read at a fifth grade level
Take the same standardized test as other kids their age
Is like putting a dachshund in a cage
And telling it to fight a pit bull.
These students are being set up to fail
And yet, the schools and the government are asking
"Why are test scores dropping?"
"Why aren't they up to par?"
"We're going to lose our money"
What quality teacher signed up to be an educator
With the idea that money would be more important
Than the children in the school system?
Who gives a **** about dollar figures
When you are pushing kids to the edge of the cliff
And getting angry when they fall off?
The game doesn't change until the directions do
But the people writing them are prioritizing the end result
Not the players.
So tell me,
Will anybody win a game that is this corrupt?
Will anybody win this game at all?
People like my mom, my English teacher
The students
Did not agree to play this way.
But if we do not set these kids up and place them in a position
Where success is possible
The future will go up in flames.

Kathy Charmaz suggests that if
Grounded Theory leaves me stuck,
I ought to add an "ing" to all the memos
Of all the field notes of the scratch notes of the observations,
and the transcribed notes of the interviews
That I took a half a year ago,
And so....

I'm creating a list,
Starting with A
Accepting (criticism)
Adapting (to change)
Attending (to lessons)
Attributing (blame)
Attributing (success)

Skipping B
Which seems all alone,
I move to the Cs,
With a heart of cold stone....

Caring (from teacher)
Changing (to learn)
Collaborating (in learning)
Comparing (with others)
Connecting (key concepts, and ideas to life)
Correcting (one's errors in deeds or in thoughts)
Conferencing (to see what the good doctor thinks)
(Guess the Cs are nice to look at in my despair),

And on toward Ds,
Those diffident dogs,
Dialoguing (in classrooms, in memos and calls)
Differentiating (myself from the pack)
Disrespecting (my feet up on somebody's desk)
Dominating....(discussion in class or the hall)
(Careful, Ds, talk it out or you're gonna fall).

Es are Encouraging (the work can be done),
Enjoying (the tasks, alone or with you)
Engaging the students, (not too much to ask)
Excelling (the sense of, and actually, too)
(My sense is that E is a place to be dwelling)

F is still Focusing (on the specifics)
Then jumping to G,
Goal-setting (so needed, and powerful, too)
Graduating (the goal, so I've heard, how 'bout you?)

Then H is for Humor,
Amusing for sure,

And on to the I
Interacting (dialogue is our guide)
Identifying (the needs and the shame and the pride)

J stands with K,
Both empty and alone,

L is for Learning (adjusting in change)

M is for Modeling (Bandura's so proud)

N stands for "none" at the moment,
But O is for Organizing, (homework and my thoughts)
And P is Participating, (profs like this a lot)
Paying forward, (so noble, and so seldom done)
Persisting, (not quitting, as losers have done)
And Plagiarizing (May God help us all)
Praying, (we live through the work set before us)
Prioritizing, and
Finally, Progressing (Can we sing all in chorus?)

Q's pretty quiet just now,
But R is for Reading, and
Reflecting, (like mirrors or a pond)
Resigning, (accepting) or consider this,
Risking (daring to risk)

While S, Lovely S is all about Self,
Self-advocating (students)
Self-assessing, (too)
Self-deprecating, (but not much)
Self disciplining, (cool)
Self-motivating, (how often?)
Self-regulating, (we all should do this)
And last, some Struggling proceeds
Before we find ourselves Succeeding.

T is Threatening, (a sense of foreboding)
Teaching, (is harder under a threat)
Transitioning, (moving on, before we all rust)
Trying, (not tempting, but taking a try)
Tutoring, (If you need it, don't cry)

And U
Is alone with the flu.

So is V (guess it's viral),
But W's Writing, (the goal in this study, of course)

And so far,
X, Y, and Z
Are still hiding, no Ings in their view,
And it's back to my coding,
After I get back from the loo.

In the grand tapestry of teaching, oh what an irony,
Heavy workloads and limited time, a teacher's reality.
The demands of planning and administrative tasks,
Leave little room for professional growth, an ironic mask.

Standardized assessments hold their prominent sway,
Personalized instruction often pushed astray.
In the pursuit of measurable student success,
Oh what an irony, tailored learning becomes less.

Creativity yearns to dance with the curriculum's frame,
But guidelines and standards can stifle its flame.
Balancing innovation and prescribed requirements,
Oh what an irony, creativity often expires.

Assessment-focused teaching takes center stage,
Holistic development may find itself in a cage.
The pressure to achieve desired outcomes so keen,
Oh what an irony, limiting the broader learning scene.

Teachers, pillars of education, yet often unrecognized,
Their impact immense, but acknowledgment minimized.
In the realm of recognition and fair compensation,
Oh what an irony, undervaluing their dedication.

Autonomy, a cherished gift for teachers to possess,
But administrative constraints can hinder their success.
Top-down decisions and rigid schedules in place,
Oh what an irony, limiting their teaching grace.

Work-life balance, a delicate tightrope to tread,
Nurturing students' well-being while their own is spread.
In the pursuit of equilibrium, an ironic juggle,
Teaching others to thrive, their own balance a struggle.

Outcomes become paramount, their value held high,
Yet the process of learning can sometimes pass by.
Prioritizing scores over growth and lifelong skills,
Oh what an irony, neglecting the learning thrills.

In the world of teaching, ironies abound,
Navigating the contradictions, often profound.
But amidst these challenges, educators endure,
Oh what an irony, their passion remains pure.

Dear 2019,
                      Please be kind.
                      The only thing I am wishing for is:
                      to be happy.
                       I am going to take time to heal.
                       I am going to learn( You never quit
                       learning no matter the age ).

2019 will be a year of complete  surrender  to  who I
once  was  and  who I want to be and  this  will  be a
year I  stop putting  off  prioritizing me. I  will  take
time  for myself and that doesn't mean taking baths
and eating healthy. ( but I still intend to eat healthy ).
I  am  going to  start  focusing  on  bettering   myself.
This  means  exercise  in  whatever  form I   like  best,
pushing  myself,  managing  my time  and  saving  
money  for  my  future.

( YES, a 70 year man DOES  have a future, at least this
one DOES and you can bet on that! )

My future is so bright, I have to wear sunglasses at night.
I am going to fall in love with taking care of myself, fall
in love with the path of deep healing, and fall in love with
becoming  the  best version of  myself  with  patience, with
respect for my own journey.

My SPECIAL THANKS and compassion and respect go
to those special friends, relatives,and loved ones who know
me, know what I have been through and am going through
(a war I am still fight in my head ) and how I have suffered,
they all loved me enough  to witness and feel my pain and
get me to 2019 in good health.
(you know who you are).  THANK YOU        Jon York   2018

Sorry for not smiling,
Sorry for not talking,
Sorry for being someone's friend,
Sorry for not liking what you like,
Sorry for being cautious,
Sorry for being simple,
Sorry for being happy,
Sorry for not being smart,
Sorry for having my own opinions,
Sorry for trying to be better,
Sorry for prioritizing myself,
Sorry for being to attached,
Sorry for knowing what I know,
Sorry for being fat,
Sorry for not being funny,
Sorry for being poor,
Sorry for not being cool,
Sorry for existing,
Sorry for breathing,
Sorry for being me,
And sorry for thinking you would say sorry too.

-MCJ

I've been encapsulated with a difficult time and I've had my strength repeatedly put through rigorous test lately and I'm always left alone to suffocate on my insecurities and feel helpless at the knees of the Lord
I can't find peace in my skin or in my mind and my first thought was to sleep away my troubles before I realized the simplicity of bathing in the privilege given to me by God
I pray for a comfort found only in one person and I pray strictly for their repent as one day they'll be forced to face a struggle bigger than any of us
I pray for solitude in my life and in their happiness I so heavily rely on
I pray I can sacrifice myself in the eyes of the lord in exchange for them and their lack of faith and I cant remember when I started prioritizing their prayers over my own but the Lord is just as thankful in rewards as he is in appreciation

The story of their life
is nearing the *** end,
The graph of the health
has a sharp descend.....
The world is rushing
it's own race,
Their lives don't flow
at that pace...

Possessing a rich and gorgeous
past to share,
But hardly find anyone
to give an ear.....
Chicks flew away
in pursuit of their quest,
The elder couple
is lonely in their nest....

Meditation, yoga
and the doctor's visits
Are prioritizing their
"to do" lists....
Waiting for festivals,
when kids pay visit.
Their childhood moments,
the minds revisit.....

Memories fading,
limbs poorly coordinating.
Hearts are weary,
heavy,
yet pulsating....
Unknown emptiness,
deep melancholy.
Splendid dwellings,
screaming loudly.....

Eagerly wait to meet
with other elderly,
To accompany on the walks,
and to talk heartily......
Relaxing and rejuvenating
laughter at the sunset.
The sun sets daily,
the hopes are alive yet...........

the night we stay with Satan\
shore cycles of Karma will swing\
true plink betwix auditorium plunk\
Kin deep wreaking frail grim reap\
Keeping the Peace maker horn\
charmer reborn slumber Sparrow\
swarm base oiling gladness churn\
long face wide zygomorphic burial\
laced golden silence relish relics daze\
tyrance maze efface miraculous Mayans\
fingere lunge literal transliterating Dunya\
          distill animation by God triangulate\
  Panagia onomatopoeia layman infiltratIon\
red writen circuit burnt innocence clipped\
insulant urn of the surgat son\
opening null locking sun in all dials\
primeval mercifulness\
primordial noteworthiness\
may be relieving points for taking\
and giving a flying shackle **** back\
one down pass it around another lie\

shoved down the throat again\
found in the bottomless pit awake it\
() thing worse than being lost when\
it's your Necessities that are looking\
Ain't that the truth although tainted\
Eluding absentmindedly words\
flow retroactively channeling\
purposeful jurisdiction thinking\
actuality is thee meant to be what\

consequently conceptualized where\
attitudes collect pealing aptitude\
manifests inception dictated in\
comforts own skin pretentious\
dictators impose upon Carthage Pillars\
irritatedly prioritizing Pagan fillers\
reflect surround sinners encroach\

exploring Asia Minor capacity inspect delve interest\
coach self linguist design intellect major retrospect\
outspand intrinsically extort distortion awaken\
infernal declarations transmogrify\
straight lines entwine utterance\
embrace praise Raise feathers halo\
  Altitude of the Almighty deity maker\
genuflect bare Manitou provocate heir bait\

albeit Iron Maiden answers prayers fate\
giveth and be not deceived receive\
A divinity Key degree Aleph hook creek\
handling sobbing grief debrief steam decree\
kneeling bleeding evaporate disguised healing\
trees spree free be guarded prophetic maven\
emancipate  to the seventh greet Phoenician Valhalla Heavens\

Today is the day I leave
I'll watch as they load each item I claim and I will try not to cry
It's me again, prioritizing your comfort
Finding a solution to the problem you created
You'll come home and surely feel relieved
And I'll watch as they put each item in a new home that isn't really mine
Today is the day I leave

Invisible people
Figment of my imagination
Borrowed in my subconscious
touching and reaching
grabbing and pulling
whispering and fueling
Fear and doubt
Insecurities and pain
Every second
Of every day.

Their whispers
perforates my self-esteem
withers my self-belief
deteriorates my self-image.

My mind feels like a battlefield
A constant fight of not caring
of what they think
or say.

For there are days
When I set my mind
In to prioritizing my moment
passion, purpose, fun, and life
And not care.

But some days
they encroach into my mind
Seep through the cracks
Diffuse between the synapses
firing terror.

Letting me stare once more
at my own abyss.

its an incredible feeling getting to know everything about someone and falling in love with them, they become your everything, the reason behind your smiles and the reason for waking up in the morning.
everyone always supported me and him and told us we made each other happy but nobody ever told me about the bad stuff.
when things started getting bad, all i could think about from the moment i woke up is who hes with and if hes having fun without me. i wondered if he still cared about me like he used to say he did. I wondered if truth was he didnt think about me at all anymore. I became focused on trying to keep my relationship going as long as i possibly could, prioritizing him over actually important things. i ended up pushing him away without realizing because of how controlling i became. i started to get worried, and lose my confidence, thinking it was something i was doing that he didnt like. he became the reason behind fighting to hold back tears and the reason i didnt eat because i was just too sad. I stopped sleeping because i would wait for him to text me and let me know he was ok or that he was sorry or couldnt sleep without me, even though he never did.
love hurts. it can be amazing and it will be until someone starts changing and stop showing you how much they care or want you. youll feel like youre the one whos in the wrong and might even start to change the way you look hoping to get their attention, but truth is nothing stays perfect forever.
The thing i regret the most was how i made excuses for the way he would let me down or become busy the minute i needed him most just because i didnt wanna let go of someone who wasnt sure about me.

Things to do:
I have too many on my task list.
It seems as soon as I see progress then another one is added.

Working at it.
I'm trying to stay focused.
That's when the distractions start to swarm my head like locusts.

Negligence sets in.
Put the answers in front of me,
There's times I just won't do it if it doesn't sound fun to me.

Scrambling.
Staying up late.
Turning things in much past the due date.

Fresh start.
Need to use my time wisely.
Be productive and stick to prioritizing.

Working at it.
I'm trying to stay focused.
That's when the distractions start to swarm my head like locusts.

Things to do:
I have too many on my task list.
It seems as soon as I see progress then another one is added.

I prefer paper over people
Unwavering in its patience
Never questioning my motive
Seemingly uninterested in my feelings
Requiring no answer or explanation
Content to listen  

And so it goes
One day your words will no longer work
Time spent prioritizing paper over people
It listens but refuses to make a sound

What is a father ?
Is it someone who takes you to a baseball game or to a football game ?
Or is it someone who instills life lesson that last even past his years?
a father is someone who makes sacrifices for the well being of the ones he loves
Being a father means going without just so his family can have
Someone who will give his last
A father is one that teaches his children the importance of prioritizing
The importance of saving
The importance of chasing your dreams and not settling for status quote

How am I supposed to feel?. Facing my own mortality, like an unwelcome stranger. Lying just beyond the edge of my thoughts, waiting.

Will things change so much, or very little? Where is the moment that decides the direction?. Looking at some obscure image on a screen?. I'm trying to decipher it like an MD.

Laughing at the thought.

All the things I'm reaching for suddenly seem insignificant. What's important is now. The people you love, they are the ones that matter. Cherish them. What does it mean to have the world, and share it with no one? Back up..

Waiting…..

Prioritizing. Mortality is something everyone will face. What about God? Was my life designed before I was born? I think so.

Now. That's all I have. My dreams and goals have become most important. Not because I need to accomplish them, but, because they are what defines me. I am a unique soul, with a unique purpose.

Maybe it's decided already. I will let that stranger in...Uncertainty.
I lean in for the kiss of welcoming. Asking for clarity to understand, and accept.

In that moment, I embrace the life I have, and pray to the God I know.
Life will go on after I'm done.
In the end what matters is how well we loved,how fully we lived, and how deeply we let go.

Randy McPeek

“They say everything can be replaced,
Yet every distance is not near”

”I shall be released” Bob Dylan

                            ~~~~~~~

this fragrant lyric,
burro-stubborn, hot burr burrows,
into an old man’s deteriorating brain,
one who spends nowadays, mending,
stretching short hours to feel lengthy,
by reviewing the distances he has travelled,
means/meanings to/for unalterable endings

when time hurries
to shrink distances
tween them points,
of incidents logged,
forking roads, always
wrongly chosen,
safety over bravery,
easy pain over hard love,
miscalculating time
and memory,
prioritizing avoidance
of the unknowns ******* up
the risk of the best laid guesses,
those things that come to be
the chiefest fete of contradictory
ironies, the travelogue nearly done,
what never happened
cannot be replaced.

he sings dirges
for the remains of the day
and other things vaguely recalled.

2/2/2022 ~  7/17/2022

In Fair Motion


It feels good to know things all go according to plan.

But what if something falls out of place?
What if you had to start staring into space
And retrace all you did to make ends meet?
Because good ends meet the beginnings of horrors
And the horror of an out of place thing....

Is a burden,
I'm almost certain
I didn't mean to entertain your honesty with lies,
Honestly,
I was just trying to find a lie and
Got surprised by
The fire in your iris
You like this,
And my blood boils to know you got me in your blueprints

We just gotta keep this plan in fair motion,
Improvise.

I was gonna maybe leave you alone,
And then I realized
I couldn't leave you alone
So I went to the doctor,
I felt a pain in my bones
He laughed and handed me a bill that said,
"Man, you got love Jones"
That'll be $3,328.50

Love is cheap but,
I ain't have it,

So I skated out romanticizing
About my plan to make you fall in love with my prioritizing you.
I'm always gon be prioritizing you,
And showing you that I am someone new.
But what if that don't work out?
And it happens opposite and sabotages everything?
Could I just say anything to comfort you?
Or will life let another man come for you?

Just keep it in fair motion.
Improvise,

And I could promise,
A huckster can barely make it marketing,
I bend the bow like you've been the one I was​ targeting,
I know my inconsistency is startling,
But you organize my part up in your showtime,
A lot of directors don't know their actresses,
So I just show mine.
She keeps me open,
Devotion wasn't in my intention,
And loving you wasn't optional
I thought it would leave me
Broken,
But I learned to improvise
And kept this plan set in motion.