Poem: Altered Reality

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I wrote a poem today...




it feels too easy to fake perfection these days
photo shop ourselves into an alternate reality
make everything ugly beautiful
make everything beautiful ugly
we have assigned a new paradigm
but is it really to our benefit

to alter the reality that eventually
we will have to deal with

this wasn't supposed to be about drugs
but about internet memes passing my eyes
then my mind realized the correlation
the connection between fungus and fate
the link between herb and existence
how a horse can race through veins sometimes
and how we swallow the lie of liquid courage

I feel friends all over the country fighting
inside themselves with what they once were
each day a new victory or a new struggle
fallen angels scratching out 3rd eye images
in favor of what seems to be an easier road

I won't pretend to understand their situation
the deep falling into the place where numbness rests
the disappearance of time into the folds of space
how bright things shine brighter
and the darkness falls deeper than infinity

this new bird in the skies of twisted vision
has downy near feathers that can only glide
I have not worked wing muscles to strength
have not used food or rent money for a fix
do not know the dark thoughts that push
over edges that only meditation can cure

who knew stillness could be so hard
to look into that abyss and face oneself

I slid down an acid road into it once
even then I did not face the pain
I only braved my own closed eyes
called visions of sarcastic unicorns named Gary
and pink crowned Haclyon double rainbow summers
they comforted my passage over Styx
as I returned from my inner Hades

I don't have any answers
no way to fix reeds bent by the wind
who don't feel strong enough
to stand straight on their own

I am hoping that somehow
this prayer in poem form can be heard
sent via my spirit to them all
and that right now today
they can feel their own light
and be well
♥

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On things that should not be... (thoughts and a poem)

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First, read this article: http://therumpus.net/2012/08/explicit-violence/

Once you have read it then the rest of this post will be even more clear... 

This: "I didn't tell anyone. In fact, later that year? I went home with him again. On purpose." was the part that for the first time in nine years opened the "I'm not alone" door in my soul... it also made me realize that my nine years of NOT telling my story have robbed so many people of that moment they may have needed. I *still* don't feel strong enough to speak about it from a stage, but I will whisper it like right now... hope whoever needs to know will get this message in a bottle. ♥


COMING UP NORMAL...

she only has one infant memory of it 
a shout
walk away
attack
defend
parental disagreement
diaper baby fear and tears

but then came the step
and the witnessed sex
then later 
more shouting
sometimes with bruises
or hits with no leftovers
mother's issues seen

the little boy
on the playground
hits her arm
runs away
"It's because he likes you"

she wonders about the brokenness
of boys who show love with fists
who don't know how to be kind
the deficiency of heart space
when it can't softly touch
to show affection

why are we this way?
she thinks
why can't we just love?
instead of boys who become men
who's throats close at the truth of it
somehow crush
is a better violence 

it stays this way
boys hitting and running
men hitting and running
but she is grown now
runs too
flight over fight
not wanting 
the badges of honor
her mother bore

once bitten
twice shy 
is for fools she said
once hit
is once gone
out alone rather than stay
rather than be broken
with the boy man
who still can only love with his fist

she does not take discipline 
does not want a father figure who hits
daddy issues aside
she has her pride

but some harm other ways
start out soft and beautiful
like she feels it should be
so she trusts
but then retreats
or tries to
only to be forced
to feel a different kind of violence
a word she still finds hard to say:
rape

"date rape"
"acquaintance rape"
words that mean 
her mind was not allowed 
to change at the last moment
that arms and legs were held down

she blames herself of course
we all do when it is so close to us
what did she wear?
where did she go?
how much did she have to drink?
how far did she let it go?
why didn't she scream?

why didn't she?
somehow experience
did not push down naivete
"this can't be happening"
"he wouldn't really"

Now she looks back
at all those boys
those men 
who loved with fists
echoes their error in her heart
choosing the wrong ones
over and over
quietly pushing her pain further

she thinks about it all
how normal it seems
to be this way
she came of age like this
up and through male violence

decades into adulthood
she wonders
how do we change?
there must be some way
to stop this



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"she came of age like this / up and through male violence" taken directly from the article
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poem: HOPEFUL

2011-01-23 17:15

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HOPEFUL

there is a space in the corner of my eye
that still watches for the hint of delight
the speck of approval and like
the place where the longing lives
there and at the edge of the lips
speaking a smile in hello

the outer sides of the heart
tingle in strong optimism
palpitations of enthusiasm
lungs and muscles on ribs
expand and contract
in ever so hopeful breaths



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speaking of having a dream... a poem inspired by a friend and the movie inception...

2011-01-17 17:54

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WAKING IN THE DREAM

It may seem insane from the outside
this sweeping falling gesture
the delicate fingering of the edge of a scarf
but don't you be fooled
don't think for a moment that I don't know

I know that this is illusion
that I am only dreaming
the top spins without falling
it is the cue of my existence
and yet I choose the dream
not to see the evidence to the contrary

so I roll with this ride
find tides in your eyes
so that I can float on that current
to land on the beaches of my own mind
the shores of my subconscious

maybe it was a dream
where I found you next to the familiar
and heard sad stories from your past
that I used to make this world
the place I house the thought of you

you are the new thing
the idea placed in the back of my mind
and I know I am not placed in yours
I am a wisp of a memory
a faded dream and you are now awake

I know that all I am is distant friend
hoping for at least this to be real
for the ties that brought you
to be the same that keep you
and that no matter what
I will be that pleasant space
in between the words to the happiest song

so I build futures with hope
wondering if love will come back home
or will you let her go for a new day?
who will be that sun that rises
on the horizon of your heart?

I know it will not be me
although I am the east
I do not think that I will rise
only be the transition
the lighting of the sky
before the sun takes its rightful place

until then
I will enjoy the view at the horizon
and watch you quietly and hope for the best
giving wishes to shooting stars and fountains
so that the blessings will multiply
into genie armies
that will, if not shelter you from harm,
at least keep you strong enough not to break

and in the meantime
I will continue to dream



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poem: thinking of you

2011-01-13 10:28

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I remember you
a pleasant memory
that brief time we shared
a day of beauty
you and I
strangers' company
paths that crossed before
but now seem far away

like a shadow goes
sometimes you cross my mind
I should seek you out
to see what I'd find
a friend indeed
bond loosened over time
will we cross again
I hope we do someday


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for a friend back east whose name came up on my contact list when I was looking for something else

the rhythm of it was directly influenced by listening to Erykah Badu Orange Moon playing in the background



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poem: 1/1/11 1/365 ~ ON TURNING 40

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ON TURNING 40:
this is the next phase
another day
to evolve more
be more
...do more
I AM MORE
hello new era!



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