In one year
I raged, wept, laughed,
stumbled, flew, dived,
like selfish, friend, love,
blind, cynical, hurtful,
became silent, seeking, slippery,
sharp, frozen, cataclysmic,
found regretful, hurt, lost,
pity, lonely, worry
and still I seek
I rage, weep, laugh,
stumble, fly, dive
a prayer to whisper
hopeful for compassion, longing,
loving, faithful, fruitful,
to abolish in the next
uselessly just, intent, fear,
doubt, victim, lonely,
to float, breathe, lift-up,
I write to be free: of an emotion, a thought, a burden, a moment, a dream
I write to be free. So, when the moment takes me and the words spill onto the page or vomit, as the case may be, I am writing to cast off some shuddering menace, some heavy joy, or philosophical nonsensical battle with my soul.
But I write.
And I don’t need approval. I don’t need the clapping and hand back smacking. What I do need is you to hear me, even when my words fail, when my sentences are constructed in a meandering emotionally coded language of my heart, I need you to hear me. If you can’t, if you can’t look and agree to see first the pick you up carry your broken ass to the 7-11 across town to get the cigarettes you need or the tickets to that show sold out on Thursday and realize that yeah, sometimes I didn’t put the words in the order considered perfect
but I showed up…
So, I don’t need you and you don’t need me because I am not the candle giving you warmth. I must be the match burning down your house and I want be that.
I have never wanted to be that.
So go. I give you permission to leave. I give myself the same. Like a ticket to a train south bound to warmer climes take the vibe and the ride and just go.
You know, I told myself long ago, I would say no. Then returned for more of the same. I left thinking how could I change? What could I do? So, determined, I put on new shoes and a new hat, covered my heart in the plastic wrap of preservation to hopefully deliver the left overs of a worn out line better.
and I failed.
However, I showed up
Some how I think that should’ve mattered. But here is the thing – it doesn’t matter to everyone. Sometimes the showing up just means you accept you might get shot and when you put that shit in park, you put the target on your soul to be delivered every blow – whether it was yours earned or not. So why keep showing up?
That is what I am wondering. Why keep showing up, when showing up means I have brought my best albeit flawed self and know it is the monster under your bed. And that when I speak, “I didn’t mean that” you hear “you’re a liar” and believe me.
I write to be free. And now maybe I can be free of you and you me.
slam violently skin
threads of anger
spit strange truth
holy water from a “god”
ashes of courage
false victories for personal relief
the past torturer’s visage
is what is come
it is a choice
Woke up this morning
Wish I could call back
every simple sin
Leaving my heart to break
And seep into cracks in the floor.
Saw you yesterday
Tried to stay away
Lingering scent left me a wreck
Said you can’t compete
Can’t touch me cuz of he
Left the imprint of your kiss behind
But I’m fiiiiiiine
[What will it take? (What will it take?)
To end this costly war (what’s it all for)
Land mines in my soul (never let you go)
There’s no where else to go
I really must let you go
I really must let go]
In my dream I fled
To where darkness was instead
Slipping razor through the bend
Sharp hints of it will end
Wishing you were near
So I could let go of this fear
But only ghosts live here
Only ghosts live here
I woke up this morning
Trying to forget
My sin ….
Come for me
Come form me
I wonder if the stars get anxious
When the sun begins to crest
The edge of a world sleeping?
The moon of course is always touched
And on occasion visits her brother
But the star with no name
Save an account in some ancient book
Has no quarter but with darkness.
Who notices her shimmer?
Who counts the moments she strives to shine?
And should she weep, would even the sisters give comfort?
In briefest moments, she gives light and takes care of a wish drifting by
But twilight comes, as the celestial perfection emerges
So, I wonder, do the stars grow anxious
As do I?
Press against resistance
deliver from moments left on the floor
scattered across the hall
Seething at darkness creeping
into photograph ghosts left hanging
littering walls with pain
Where can I go
Where the images cannot touch memory
and memory not ravage tender heart bleeding?
and so I run
down halls with walls hung with tears.
… over the edge of lips
in your arms I rest
in your arms I fall
ever more in love
though all about lay broken
glass and wood
in your kiss
Thought of you today
As stars breathed life into night
And dusk fell asleep in the arms of the moon
Where sun gladly bid with kisses the edge of skin.
Smiling, I drift to sleep.