Beware

I’m a dog barking in the night

at things you don’t know are there

A moon shining in the day

on the horizon but so vague

I’m tired of people and the way

along the natural pave

So I sit in the dark

just me and my dog’s bark

Think I’ve lost my nerve

’cause at every noise I stir

Welcome to my nightmare

now it’s you I’ve got to beware

Albatross

“There is love of course. And then there’s life, its enemy.” Jean Anouilh

albatross

Fingers brush through your hair 
your leaving me there,
Floating on my ocean dream.
Feet run to your kiss, I say farewell to bliss, 
Crashing along the windy cliff.
Eyes transfixed on your stare,
of you I must beware, 
Chasing me on the rocky edge.
Mind searching for a hint,
your affection leaves no imprint, 
Leaping off to fall free.
An albatross on a long flight,
a blind journey with no insight, 
Asking “Where will I land?”

Also published in Broowaha 

Also published in Wingposse, June 2012 

12202011 

Imperfect

“I realize the imperfections in this composition, and I left it so because we’re all imperfect and need to accept the message of who we are and not what they say we are.”

I wish I were clay
then I could change myself
everyday

Today I should be this and
tomorrow I should be that
and for the moment
society says I’m fat

But not so long ago and
in other royal cultures so
this was a good to go

But merely because times
have changed and lenses
have different colors

I’m resigned to serving
like slaves in chains
I’ll be your skinny mistress

I am whatever you say I am (Eminem)
and that, by the whims of
a psychotic society

And even in writing if I forget
to dot an I or a comma I relent
of that you’ll never forget

I’ll be forever judged and that
it’s a fact of this life
YOU WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTED

Except by those who understand
that hats turned back and
hats turned to the side
are all a part
of the same ride

Alone –

 Imaginary lovers
Never turn you down
When all the others turn you away
They’re around
It’s my private pleasure
Midnight fantasy
Someone to share my
Wildest dreams with me” 

 

DreamWind

I’d do anything to keep from being alone, pay any price, be used to the “nth” degree and never say a word. Being used is better than being alone but it stings knowing the object of my affection will hurt me, maim my spirit, and destroy my forward progress. Still, I follow hard after her, giving all to maintain that relationship and avoid the terrors of being alone. What compromises have I willing conceded to? What violations of my self-esteem and personal space have I allowed for unrequited affection? What tortures has my heart been through, my body feeling the wretch of emotions that sets my nerves on fire? Being addicted, not to a substance, but to a world of egocentric affection that I’ve created by taking the object of my affection and embellishing her to a fantastic degree. I should know better, I do know better. The voices of friends and family, concerned that I am “being used”, try to slap me awake. Ignoring their advice, pushing away the voice of truth, I continue to live a world that only I see. Go away you bearers of truth, you wreckers of dreams, this is my world, I will not see it in your light! I take my script and apply it haphazardly, patching up the holes in the dike containing my empty dreams. Eagerly lapping up my lack of self-control and willful delusion, the protagonist in my play continues to feed my world of facades with empty compliments, cool affections, and eyes empty of love.  One day I’ll wake up and grab hold of myself, one day I’ll acknowledge this self-imposed hell, one day…but for now, I look at her and imagine how she loves me.

Also published in Broowaha

012112

Yet I Live

“Nothing is better for self-esteem than survival.”
moluscators
If not for the Lord, my life is lost, my soul buried beneath issues and vanities. In my longing for a father, I find it in Him. He teaches me wisdom and picks me up when I’ve once again skinned my spiritual knees. When I make mistakes, and they’re many, when I choose the wrong road, and that’s often, He forgives, directs, and provides for me. This is my testimony that thus far, I shouldn’t have made it alive, much less profitably, and still I’m here. My way is full of enemies who hate for no reason, other than color, or jealousy, or because I refuse to die. I’ve seen them tapping their foot, looking at their watches wondering, “When will he fade out?” For that I’ll give thanks again to my Daddy, my heavenly father, who puts light back into the burnt out shell of me. The devils know me as I walk past, whispering “Thissss issss he who left us and yet lives!” Yes, I live, at times only a breath away from crossing over to the evil camps of malignant foreboding that shudder with anger at my betrayal. My body belongs to that camp but with the help of my Father, I’m able to choose whether or not I stay there. That choice is my everlasting evidence that God is real, for where He to be my fantasy, surely you’d read of the savagery of my soul and the punishment of madness that overcame my mind. Thank you Father for the self control you give me and teach me to use. Those choices are hard, and as with all discipline, painful. I press on, with no turning back, to see what things will be revealed in the blasted lands of my life.

Can You Fix It?

“As much as I live I shall not imitate them or hate myself for being different to them” – Orhan Pamuk, Snow 

“The world is not ready for some people when they show up, but that shouldn’t stop anyone.” – Ashly Lorenzana
briawanderlust
The conversation started normally, casual chit chat, but then they noticed my appearance. I look fine but when I turn you can see my deformity, and this prompted them to ask why don’t I fix it? I gave my standard response that all of us with defects give but in my mind an angry conversation ensued. Why do you think I need to “fix” me? Is it because you think I’m embarrassed because you’re embarrassed for me? I’m not embarrassed, I accept it as who I am. Is it because it makes you uncomfortable? Society sucks, and people gather in their little comfortable niches where they pet each other and console themselves about how they are better than those on the outside of their circle. We’re all different and it becomes a strength that binds us rather than separates us when we accept ourselves and thereby are able to accept others. As much as this rant is focused on physical differences I’ll point out that there are mental and emotional differences between as well. It may not be easy for someone else to go through the day with a smile, or to look in a mirror and feel good, or for that matter to even get out of bed in the morning. They may not be able to enjoy a shot of liquor with their friends, or be able to put down whatever drug your experimenting with. Relationships may not come easy to them and love is nearly an impossible feat. Accept yourselves, grow the best you can, and don’t outcast people because they are different. Try to understand, then you’ll ask me how you can be like me rather than why I don’t fix it.

A Death Called Dove

“What a short time I had been given to experience love. I felt as my life had only recently begun and now it would surely end at sunrise.”
Meredith Taylor
sweetesttootsieroll
Found then a little dove cowering in the birth of new
A blade came near and scant to miss
only a hairs breath relinquishing bliss
Flying before her time with wind both a friend and foe
Thinking to see, her wings grow tired
Blind fear rushes never more inspired
A shy grasp at what becomes a mysterious fateful lore
Trying but giving away the hidden life
Reduced to nothing and shut in by strife
Again the hungry clock stood its watch over gentle dove
Only to alight were she would never to fly
Wings fail to carry her to comforting sky
Talented feathery quills of reaching passion stoned to silence
Will giving her gifts to the clouds that call
Only create little pieces in the memory of all
Just dreams of doves laying torn in dawns fading embrace
O fragile dove you’ll ne’er see forever pain

Walking in silence ’cause your wings are maimed

Also published in Broowaha Citizen’s Magazine