"richie" poems
We were in the fourth grade.
Richie Ackerman was having
a birthday party.
There were the two twin sisters
so exceptionally cute
blonde hair in dresses.
We played spin the bottle.
First kiss was regular mail
kneeling or seated.
Second kiss was air mail
standing in place.
Third kiss was special delivery
in the hallway.
In the circle of players Richie spun first --
his birthday after all.
Must have been my tenth time around
before a regular mail kiss
with one of the twins.
She smiled a welcome.
I was shaking.
Right on the lips
very short
very soft
she smelled so good.
The game proceeded
we experienced more kissing
yet that first kiss
lingers on.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
In a strange mood - see/write art
in a strange way, disorganized but straight on,
light tinted magenta, issuing, in frothy large pours, from my mouth,
knowing what to say, and the meaning too,
I can more than walk, can write, on water,
where all can read weeping, Mary-miracles of seeing, living words,
themselves, on light waves lapping in a
shifting rotunda vision, color reorienting spatial senses.^
in a strange, strange stitch, seasonal spirits and witches,
Chagall, Baez, Dylan Thomas, Donovan, Richie Havens
doing their knitting in my brain, from Montmartre to the Midwest to Monterey,
painters and poets in lockstep head-messing with me,
imperfect clarity but still one voice,
see/write art,
so went and caught the wind, going gently into night
to banish the hodgepodge of uncertainty from inside out.
knowing well you don't understand fully, but jumbling tumbling
verses are sliding off my rusted tongue as fiddlers fly above,
roughened words, hewn from a paper cup, spilling diamonds uncut, imported from Sarajevo, Montparnasse, the Lower East Side.
wretched me, in the hour I first believed, this amalgamated conception conceded,
seceded from my mind into your palate for a tasting,
tho neither drugged, nor deaf and dumb, just slammed poetical-like, this write is
all I have to portend is your affections, your attentions, to yours, am beholden.
a ***** well respected man in daylight,
the hidden references accuse,
woke up to see Wednes-day Caesarian born,
askance glanced at the prior passages of the night before,
when my palate clefted,
when eyes chose not to distinguish
between right and lefted,
in the nightlight,
a ***** man disrespects language convection/convention,
and lays before you activating stanzas and his mind, prone,
but always the truth, speaking,
the visions, leaking, mind to eye,
recombinant, into our minds eye.
^ http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view/james-turrell
Rather than write extensive notes on the many references, inspirations in this poem, if there is a line that intrigues, ask me
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
A baby clutches his mother’s dress
Unaware of how it will save his life
Unwary of the saving grace that will come to rest
The child is soft and clean
His name is Eugenius, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a babe, no bigger than an infant can be
A toddler clutches his mother’s dress, the hem
Unaware of tragedy
Unwary of the Horror that awaits him
The child is frightened and shaking
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a little one, no taller than Mama’s knee
A child clutches his mother’s hand
Unaware from behind her skirt as they are herded
Unwary of the disaster to come from the cart
His name is Genie, the second of three
Before Mikey, after Richie
He is just a child, no higher than Tata’s knee
A boy holds his brother’s hand tight
Unaware of the danger he is in
Unwary that the coin from Mama’s skirts will save his life
The boy is healthy and strong, though not for long
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Michal, after Richard
He is naïve, but soon to grow up prematurely
A prisoner holds his own shirt, unsure
Unaware of the pain that is coming
Unwary that he shall walk away nevermore
The prisoner is hurting and ******
His name is “Gefangene,” the second of two
After Richard, before the crimson mess
He is crying for a ****** towel carried by
A handicap clutches Mama’s leg
Aware that he cannot cry as she shuffles him out
Wary that outside her skirts is the hunt
The handicap is hurting so badly
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before the new bump
He is unwilling to believe
A kaleka holds tight to his brother’s back
Aware that he is a burden
Wary that he is a load
The kaleka is waiting, waiting.
His name is Gene, second of three
After Richard, before Theresa
The kaleka is ready for release
The dziecko holds again to Mama’s skirt
Aware that he is now free to leave
Wary that he will never be independent
The dziecko is elated and mourning
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Theresa, after Richard
The dziecko will never be the same
Sixty five years later
Gene holds Rosie’s hand tight
Aware that he is old now, having lived fully
Wary that death is imminent at last
The great-grandfather is peaceful and content
His name is Tata, Grandpa, Gene, husband, and more
He is the last one left of his war
The survivor is ready to reunite with his family
He gives thanks to Hattie’s skirts
That kept him alive though the hurts.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
2003, where did you go?
My Scene dolls and All Time Low
Red Jeeps and glitter cheeks
Thirteen and hip hop beats
Tube tops, pop n lock
Don't forget your frosted lipgloss
Butterflies and Blink's First Date
"Forever Yours" on a silver keychain
Belly rings, snorting pills stings
Tiered skirts and ankle bling
TLR, Summerland
South of Nowhere, Degrassi: The Next Gen
Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton
Travis Barker and Ashlee Simpson
Fall Out Boy and Timbaland
Pete Wentz almost ended it
Promiscuous, Grand Theft Autumn
Jeans hung low, and girl you got em
I wanna live there over again
Everything was better then
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Cold sweats and shower heads leak into the seams of our worst fears and dreads,
Momma didn't raise no fool,
I'll be good as dead when they finally show
Relapse,
Relapse,
Relapse
I can feel it again,
The existential dread,
Crawling through my bones, out of my skin and into my head
My best friend is my wall,
I drink to numb the feeling,
She don't love me, but she loves my mom
Tonight we are leaving and we are never coming back the same way
Relapse,
Relapse,
Relapse
I've got a feeling,
A feeling of the cold and hazy blue,
I can feel you, I can feel you,
I've been thinking too much of you
Relax,
Relax,
Relax
I'll keep hitting it, I'll keep taking it in, willingly,
Because you asked me to
Your love of the yellow rose,
My cuts and the yellow thorns,
I'm torn and you don't feel it,
It's okay, I would never ask you to
If I could go back, if I could change anything,
I'd change the way you looked at me,
Only heaven knows the way I look at you
I've been dragging the lake for my friends,
I'll never find any because they're all dead
Relapse,
Relax,
Recompose,
Rot,
Decompose
I've been thinking too much of you
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
Uncle-
13 years-I miss you
Crying this year seems to make little sense-
Rejoicing in your life seems to be a little more relevant-
This heaven sent feeling of remembering you has so much meaning-
I always check in with you to let you know I love you-
That your grandson’s are growing and becoming men of there own-
Your daughter is wonderful and still maintains her home-
Your son is brilliant and the best friend I have-
His heart is like yours and everyday he becomes more of a man-
Your brothers are well, up to the same old-
Your mother is sweet and dear-still as beautiful as gold, her soul is amazing-
With the thought of you and Zadi-I grab hold and remember how you helped raise me-
I will raise Brooklyn the same way you helped teach me-
To be open and honest and free-
If you could only see her she would amaze you-
One day when I see you, we will talk till time is through-
I miss you Gabi, Itchy, I miss you very much-
I will smile today because of your love-
I can see you both smiling down at us-
And I am grateful man for a family of love-
Rest In Peace-
Be easy-
Your favorite nephew (your only nephew)
Richie
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 10:41 AM UTC
These are the songs I listen to while I cry and think about my beautiful sister and friend who I lost in July. What are your crying songs?
1. Consequence, The Notwist
2. Stuck on You, Lionel Richie
3. Hear You Me, Jimmy Eat World
4. Silence, Matisyahu
5. Drive, Ziggy Marley
6. Asleep, The Smiths
7. To Build a Home, The Cinematic Orchestra
8. Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
9. Worry List, Blue October
10. Take a Little Time, Josh WaWa White
11. Ghost Towns, Radical Face
12. Kettering, The Antlers
13. Santa Monica Dream, Angus and Julia Stone
14. No One's Gonna Love You, Band of Horses
15. The Scientist, Coldplay
16. Fire and Rain, James Taylor
17. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight, Birdy
18. Yamaha, Delta Spirit
19. These Waters, Ben Howard
20. See You Soon, Coldplay
21. Unconditional Love, Tupac
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
WOODSTOCK
They came from The South, The North and The West Coast
450,000 together for peace and music, half a million at most
Richie Havens inspired all while singing his "Freedom" song
Country Joe McDonald dropped "F" bombs his whole set long
Carlos Santana amazed us, as he gave all and sacrificed his soul
Arlo Guthrie with Woody's **** packed his pipe and smoked a bowl
Canned Heat and The Bear asked us to work together united stand
Levon Helm pounded skins and sang "The Weight" with The Band
Joe Cocker warned us more than once that he might sing out of tune
One after the other, CSNY, Alvin Lee, Sha Na Na midnight 'til noon
Janis gave a piece of her heart along with a "Ball and Chain"
Jefferson Airplane sang about Alice out in the pouring rain
The Fogerty's sang about where they were born and two girls one proud
And for the life of me I can't figure out why The Who played to this crowd
Jimi capped it off with The National Anthem and "Purple Haze"
the perfect ending to four long daze of rock and roll blaze
So if your travels take you to New York Up State
Stop at Bethel Wood, the place where Rock History was written in Slate
"1969, when music was grooved in vinyl and carved in Rock"
inspired by the song "Woodstock"
written by Joni Mitchell
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Berlin, Berlin, it was love at first sight
All senses synchronized, bass to the heart.
People of all walks of life danced to the beat,
Tresor was on fire, I can still feel the heat.
Since then, it is electronic music
That fuels me; provides the everyday kick.
Hours of tech house, minimal and techno --
Never a day without, I'm always in awe.
I need Ibiza every summer,
Cocoon each time; Hive, never a ******
Richie forever! The great Papa Sven!
It is falling in love, again and again.
So electronic music doesn't care much
About image or status; petty things as such
You have to lose yourself in the music
That's all that matters, soul and rhythm that click.
The ones who really know, they understand
How I feel is unique: my horizons expand.
It's crazy how it has shaped my being,
I'm thankful for it, you're my everything.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 4:38 PM UTC
Roses spices and onions skins off
Richie ride me back home
there's nowhere to hide from your love.
~~~~~
I thought I could find a place not to think of you for one day, so I went to the kitchen for a soup there was nothing to eat but pasta sauce and there you were
in front of me up in the spices
I had to use in place of meat on bone for boiling a soup.
Heating up battled water added cento tomato and the sauce
all kinds of spices; parsely real sea salts garlic pepper a pinch of taco spice wild cilantro, a garlic squized and cloves
(no basil)
cayene pepper did the magic
lemon juice added the final punch for my Mexican soup;
added a few granes bazmati rice found, added a white onion slice and blessed as I felt
"I cried me a river for you" and
The White Cliffs of Dover
songs came to mind to console
me as I broke shrinking down
the stinking onion was me
and noone to share my soup
I turned stove top off to go
wipe face off and
entering the bedroom I tripped
knees on the red floor unconsolable crying.
Yes the room was filled with
roses wild and roses red!
and again you made my day.
I felt so blessed to have
held so many of your treasures
in arms to see my hands half full with roses
and half full with bittersweet spices beheld.
Upon my bed a heart was carved
inscribed in tiny little
red rose buds and purple hearts
in your words "I love you"
I craweled to reach the bed careful not to disturb the million roses nor bleed feet with their thurns as they layed artisticly everywhere room full of roses,
I wept there caressed by your roses spices and songs
hugged all night long.
by insomnia bug
Oh please my darling Old Richie "ride me back home."
there's nowhere to hide
from your love.
~~~~~~~~~
Karijinbba-03/2020.
Copy Rights
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 7:59 AM UTC
Simon “Hurricane” Hudson prowls the snooker table
Like any good mixed metaphor would.
A modern day Pythagoras
He triangulates his shots.
Meanwhile his rival, lion-heart "Rocket" Richard,
Not to be confused with Lionel Richie,
Is on his mobile Googling
How to play the perfect “snooker”.
And the two Perfect Pauls
Discuss the latest football,
While “Whirlwind” Wendy sits in judgement,
Knitting the night away.
At long last Simon plays a stroke!!!
And rattles those unrelenting jaws
Of that elusive pocket yet again.
The game rolls on.
But where the hell is Simon?
The clock on the electricity is running down
But where is Simon?
Where is he?
He’s at the bar
Telling barman Nick how Rochdale
Will win The Cup one day.
Hurray, he’s back to play again.
Cascading planets collide into new orbits
As they did in the Primeval Solar System.
We play on,
Safely keeping those precious *****
Away from those black holes
They call the “pockets”.
We try to pick our shots
(At those pockets lol)
But all we keep potting
Is that white one.
Maybe we should switch to Billiards,
Or *** some plants instead.
Paul Butters
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
My mom was physically and sexually abused for
Eight years of her childhood
His name was Richie, the boyfriend of her
Mother, she kept him in the
Picture for eight whole years
And let her three young daughters have their
Childhood stolen for a man with
Too many belts
My mom was six when he entered the "family"
And fourteen when she left with a plan,
Never to talk to her mother again, but
Today my mother told me why we always
Visited Grandma when she became sick,
She told me
God made us to be forgiving, so she turned her
Hate into sorrow and
Belt marks into
Scrabble games around the dinner table
Every night we say a prayer
Hoping Grandma is in a better place, but
Tonight I can't help but stutter over
The words I barely mean because
God made us to be forgiving
But eight years is a long time
Lost
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
Richie Richie
Itchy and
******
Richie Richie
Never was
Twitchy
Richie Richie
Chose the
Bad Missy
**Richie may have been
Itchy, ****** never twitchy, and chose the bad missy,
but guess how he is now.**
***A fishy hippie
who became less ******
not to forget, always twitchy.
Got a good missy and
now, is sixty.***
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Dennis watched
as Miss Richie
slapped your face
and then stormed off
what was that for?
Dennis said
you rubbed your cheek
fire hot
I guess she didn't like
what I said
you replied
what did you say?
he asked
I asked her
if it was her face
or was she breaking it in
for an ape
you said
Dennis laughed
his green/blue eyes lit up
like pinball lights
what made you say that?
he said
because she would me up
and said I had a discarded look
you said
maybe you have
he said
maybe I have
but that's my face
not hers
you said
the bell rang
for morning break
and so you went down
the back stairs with him
and into the playground
and took out
your football player cards
and set down
by the far wall
and joined in the game
of flicking cards
nearest the wall
but Derek won
the first lot
and you lost
your favourite
and watched
as he handed them
into his winning pack
over in the other corner
plump Miss Richie was standing
arms folded
glaring at you
any more
for any more?
Derek said
count me in
you said
taking more cards
out of your jacket pocket
and along with Dennis
and Derek and Richard
you flicked your cards
and the game
was in play once more
Dennis's card won
and he collected the cards
on the ground
by the wall
that's me out of cards
you said
and wandered off
to where Ingrid
sat alone
by the playground steps
hair pinned back
with metal grips
her grey skirt stained
her cardigan holey
with missing buttons
her eyes brightened
when she saw you
saw you lost cards
she said
yes not my day
you said
not mine either
she said
what's up?
you said
I lost my dinner money
she said
and dad will **** me
when he finds out
where'd you lose it?
you said
don't know
I went to get it
from my bag
and it was gone
she said tearfully
you put your hand
in your trouser pocket
and took out a 2/6d coin
here have mine
you said
I can't
she said
what will you do
about your dinners?
I'll tell my mum
I lost it
you said
but she'll get angry
with you
Ingrid said
yes but she'll not **** me
or harm me
unlike your old man
you said
she took the coin
and put it
in her cardigan pocket
thank you
she said
no other boy
would do that for me
they don't like me
and call me names
she said
I like you
you said
and walked up
the stairs
to the boys' toilets
wondering how to tell
your mother
you'd lost your coin
on that Monday morning
on your way to school
as you opened the door
and entered the stall.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
They lick their lips to the sight of my downfall,
The sinner, the saint,
The meaning's the same,
We can't get away from meaningless things and we spend our days just wasting away
Make love,
******* take drugs,
******* hate love,
For all we know we're gonna die young, so let's get ****** up until we're all numb
The venom is watching your every move and it is licking its lips just waiting to get a taste of your bloodstream,
Headstrong paradox,
Chatterbox chatterbox,
You love to talk **** yet you hate to live it,
I'd hate to see the way your neck pivots when those vulture eyes give your weary veins a place to rest,
Lie with them and die like the rest, get a glimpse of what ever after looks like,
We're all sick here, get used to it
If the devil's in the details then consider me satanic, I make my way into every crack and crease and turn your nights into days,
Angels weep for us,
The demons sweep us up and dump us out into the cold and empty roads and tell us to fend for ourselves,
So we spend more time driving aimlessly with the radio waves set on heaven than we do with our friends and family
When she died she took bits and pieces of us,
They're stuck on spiderwebs and bad intentions and they're not ever coming back,
We're not ever coming back,
But we love this,
We live for this,
We would be nothing without this,
I'd sell my soul if it were worth anything, trust me,
I kept myself away but I'm starting to like the pain
I met God and He shook his head at me,
I met the Devil and He handed me a bouquet of flowers,
Maybe I can grow my own garden of Eden using them and maybe this time we'll keep the apples out of it
Until the day comes when I feel I belong,
I'll keep singing the serpent's song,
I'll keep singing along,
I'll keep the covenant ****** and I'll set my pages on fire,
I'll keep pretending this matters and that I'm not just wasting away,
It's hard not to feel any other way
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
Living now only on prior imagery I summon them up from their bed
Visions of how they looked to me when they were dead
Thinking of how they must now look their filling my head.
Waiting for the day when I can make my life complete
Exhuming his bones I want the bag back that I put at his feet
Inside you will find trinkets, pictures and also a devil’s treat.
Opening your casket because you’re inside and I want to see
Giving you a fresh breath of air like the times I refilled your A/C
The crypt keeper they say I was dog dollar and you Richie Rich to me.
I remember the song when I was told you died at 45 years of age
To the hospital drinking in the back seat I’m angry and need to rage
Turn up the volume please so I can hear Bob Segar’s Turn The Page.
If I knew then just what it is I know now you brother would be proud
Keeping you alive I tell everyone about you I say it clear and I say loud
I love blending in public places like a chameleon I hide in the crowd.
Happy Birthday, Rest in Peace, See you Soon!
(SirCARSr 4-21-12)
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
criss·cross (krĭs′krôs′)
~~~
verb:
criss·crossed, criss·cross·ing, criss·cross·es
1. To mark with crossing lines.
2. To move back and forth through or over:
noun:
1. A mark or pattern made of crossing lines.
2. A state of being at conflicting or contrary purposes.
~~~
Oh Steve,
you nailed me
one mo' time,
to this cross of mine,
it's composition,
wood of linear mish mash, and the
nails, of a clear liquid substance,
drops of contradictory emotions
insight inside,
your practiced spécialité,
disarming the self-arming, harming,
we let our minds assemble reasons why,
in order to ourselves
dissemble
I keep hammering myself
unsure why, unclear the charge,
unknown the inevitable outcome
but the lines are continuously crossing, indeed,
but the intersections dissatisfying, in deed,
which is why theses words sores,
seeded by your words,
both burst and languish,
taking to the limitless limit,
of deep water oil exploration
unsure if I want to discover,
unknown if I want to uncover
the essential oils,
the caustic causing lyes,
that anoint these graying hairs,
blind his eyes,
both resting upon a furrowed, burrowed,
a puzzled forehead expression of
confusion about such simple line items as
life everlasting
out of bounds,
out of town,
writing poetry,
down by Richie Haven's San Francisco Bay,
listening to Norah Jones, wailing plaintive,
another Pandora perfect choice
"Don't Miss You At All"
am I stuck on an endless, repeating rifle
firing blanks of repetitious, line life patterns,
or worse,
forever trapped in the colorless
spaces between,
wondering if I can answer-handle
Stevie Nick's pre-vision precsion
pinpricking, questioning,
about the seasons of our life
*" but time makes you bolder,
even children get older,
I'm getting older too...
and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,
well, well, the landslide will bring it down*"
so in this out of state, out of mind,
drinking up these meandering ramblings,
experiential wondering not,
if
the summer sunshine,
only the
when,
it will return,
and the lines drawn upon my face
sun burnt,
cease their
meaning meandering
re life's line items such as
life everlasting
~
Market Street
San Francisco,
two thirteen two thousand sixteen
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
AS TIME GOES ON-
Grandpa-
Born: May 15th 1925
Passes: August 11th 2005
As time moves on my heart stays still-
As I reach for your hug, I just try to imagine the feel-
Feeling your warmth that could cure my weary soul-
Hearing you tell me I can achieve all my goals-
I miss your laughter, your smile, your walk-
Your beautiful wisdom, your blue eyes, your broken talk-
Now I am on a journey and I think of you each day-
As I raise a daughter I think of what you might say-
I feel you would be proud of me Grandpa-that I haven’t let you down-
That I am the man you hoped-I’d be standing my ground-
And now-
I could use your wisdom-
Your beautiful way, it was so G-D given-
But I can’t be sad-I have to be proud-
That you passed along your beauty into me now-
I am a good man and that I learned from you-
So I say Grandpa without you I would be just a fool-
I miss Grandpa-
I love you more than you know-
You’re not just my grandfather-
You are my real life superhero-
Rest easy because I am here to carry you on-
I love you-
Richie
As each day passes I miss you more and more, they say time heals these wounds but they are still so sore-as I close my eyes tonight I hope to see your face and night after night I hope to feel your grace-
REST EASY
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 12:06 PM UTC
This life brings me angst
But in the gud or bad
I want to gives thankes,
This life gives me apprehension
Seeing yung boyes on DA block
Getting sidekicked and chopped
To DA coppers inventions.
I miss DA streets I once knew, where da boyes treated yuos
Like a girl in fifth sax. I don't care for dose materials. Or da purses no more on ma backe,
J just want to be treated like a human being for once,
Hopeing for like a woman. I don't need the high class Richie Rich, or da poore boyes thuggin. I'm so sick seeing dat bloodin and crip-out. I just want a blood that will be bout da love, not da colors on his house.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
A hero
Who talked people out of suicide
At The Gap
A Cliff known for multiple suicide attempts
He served In the navy
And particularly a battle that ended the war
His family claim that he saved over 500 lives
They called him "the Angel of the Gap"
I just found out that the ******* was a life insurance salesman
Check your silver linings for clouds
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
rich person my grammer is poor
where your heart.
an soul on the money.
i see on money i see.
i have a heart of gold.
i try help people.
to see the light.
but my grammer poor.
i'am so sorry i'am not
smart . sorry i'am poor
sorry i'am poor.
some time i wish iwas evil
but love people for who they
are .but thing remain
my grammer poor .
have no mind because
i'am slow. i try do my best
but people say grammer
poor . that truly hurt
mead me cry once again.
i want to be normal but what is normal.
have big bank account.
or heart gold that care about people.
because grammer poor an i'am poor
sorry richie person i'am so dum an poor.
ownly blank with poor grammer.
that it poor grammer i poor man spoken
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 1:01 AM UTC
Invest,
Reinvent,
Pull back,
Pull back,
Pull back,
Unzip the baggy of needles and inject yourself with sunshine,
Steal the knives out of the backs of your enemies and put them in your collection of memories you aren't too fond of but need to have so you stay grounded,
Stay grounded,
Laying on the floor dripping in blood, fighting your own head to understand why you feel like this
I love you so much that it hurts my head,
I let the bad parts in, I forget the good parts exist,
It's hard to exist when you're in a fistfight with your bedroom walls, like you're fighting something that will never fight back,
I'm fighting for you and you will never fight back, but I cannot stop,
I must fight and fight and fight until my knuckles are numb, I will drown for you,
I will climb every tree to reach for you,
I will dig deep into the graves of your worst fears to fight off the demons that haunt you,
I just wish you did the same for me
All of this is a grieving process,
In the sense that I am dying for everything and everything is looking at me and never talking to me,
Never giving me the attention,
Never giving me the satisfaction I so desperately need,
I cannot function,
I AM LIVING, I AM LOVING
I AM LIVING, I AM LOVING
I AM LIVING, I AM LOVING
I am INSEPARABLE
WHY AM I LIKE THIS
Why do I worry,
Why do I care,
WHAT IS HOLDING ME BACK
It hurts to have to be honest with the ones that you love,
It hurts to give and not receive,
It hurts to look at you,
It hurts to feel like this,
Everything is hurting all of the time and everything is looking at me and everything is laughing and everything is spitting at my face
I just want to believe
I just want to see you fight
I just want you to want me, ********* is that so hard to ask
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
16 Years Ago-
I was sitting in class when that note arrived-
I looked up at my teacher with a tear in my eye-
He said “Richie, grab your stuff your leaving for the day”
I knew at that moment I would be out of words to say-
I walked to the parking lot and there stood my Dad-
Leaning on his white Volvo looking so sad-
We didn’t say much as we made our way over the hill-
We both knew what was coming-I didn’t think it was real-
We arrived at the hospital and everyone was there-
Your Daughter was pregnant-Your son was scared-
I looked around the room tears were singing like songs-
I reached for my Grandfather’s hand-
He told me “Be strong”-
My dad leaned in and by your bed he was at your side-
For one second longer he told you “open your eyes”-
To look around the room to see us for the last time-to know we love you-
To know its time-
You opened your eyes and I still see them to this day-
You past so fast here are something’s I wish I could say-
I would like to say thank you for all that you did-
Taking care of so much, your brother and your kids-
I know it wasn’t easy and I understand more now-
You went through so much-
I want you to know now-
That everyone is well-
Your son is being a man, and being a friend-
Your daughter is good-Your Grandsons are men-
So another year has come and another year gone-
I’m looking at the sky and because of you I’m smiling all day long-
We miss you-
Richard Itskovich
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC