Undressed

I’m so tired
here at the end of this year
this year of mourning

denied and repressed

until I cried alone

and alone I undressed

I’m so tired
the end of this year of failed starts
classes that were endured
in a high healing smoke
friends and family  that isolate me
in their righteous fist waving
look me in the face and call me those names

I guess the more we try to prove

the more we stay the same
becoming what we hate
and the hate just breeds more hate
and accuses the other of the same
and it just gets louder
until alone you cry
and alone you get dressed

and we can put on faces
and we can take up causes
but in that mirror of our anger

we still face the last laugh
in our sad but true nakedness

as we raise our righteous fists
and rot in our pride

and hang ourselves on our lies

I’m so tired
tired of these petty sins

that get shoved in our faces again and again

give me my pipe and my paper
and let me see my friends

take your arguments
for they will always be there

take your words that cut

because one day you’ll see the people in between the lines

take all the support only love could give

and then slap me with the time that remains

like some kind of retrograde

take all the support and use it like a soapbox

point your finger and preach
yes…because we become what we hate
and eventually hate what we become

and one day you will be alone

while you are coming undone

and I’m tired

at the end of the year of transitions
I didn’t even get to welcome the change
since all the anti shame warriors then felt the need to shame
so go get on your soap box and leave me be
hand me my pipe and free the weed

because in this circle the real life doers are still getting along

understanding life and love and peace

and we don’t put on faces
and we don’t take up causes
that mirror nothing but the oppressor

and we know who has the last laugh
on the last days of all of our age

when we mirror what we hated

when we face what we run from

when we undress
alone

 

 

 

 

 

Run

and She woke at some five in the morning
realizing the personal loss

Of 
those conversations that could never be had

with someone who would never understand

whether drunk or sober

heavy or light

angry or stable

left or right

in those tears of unwinding

And fierce cries in the night

From repressed visions

And liberated art shows for one man

whether plays of the sexes

or psychological unties

Boundaries we cross

Sounds of Breaking free

Sounds of Breaking time

Either way

She was never going to hear them again

so the mare stares at her old gateways
trying to decide

should she just run free alone

or go back to rails

and security

knowing those times and memories

will never be the forever

that set her free

he that opened her gate…man

he let her be
he set her free

then he left her alone
to tame her own fires

and be her own song

and she woke at some five in the morning
feeling that loss

and who would understand

except that type of woman

to that kind of man

and only the tears that cry for no reasons
running traces that burn

explanations that explain
but never learn

so the mare stares at her old gateways
trying to decide

whether to keep running

or to hide

Pain

Waves come around

and push through my eyes

and in those times

those kinds of tears wont be denied

push through the corners

and my lids are forced open

hell I’ve been authentic and real

why stop now

and I stare at some superficial

and dramas about supposed hurt and pains

hurt feelings and entitled gains

and wonder about what it is in the world

that people think are so important
and oh I know

I know it will pass

but the passing seems a long way away

I’ll get through this and still stand

as we all must find our ways

through our losses

and our heart aches

but strangely there is no heart ache to say

just a missing

a missing that no one can explain

so I let the waves come

and give no explanations to those
who really couldn’t care less

like in the beginning with laughter

here in the end those tears are mine

and they need no reason

or rhyme for those

who will never know that kind of song

Thank You

To the man who heard my voice

and let me in his world

Thank you

For the late nights

talking about nothing but everything

and all those lines

all those lines in between

Thank You

In this world of definitions

about whats real or beneficial

baby you were real and beneficial to me

for all the involvement and authenticity

for saying your own thank you

when it wasn’t necessary

for all the grateful times

thank you
for letting me unwind

after small disasters in my life

thank you

for just letting me in
giving time sensitive advice

from a fully lived life

thank you

for the love and muchness

that was ours in our moments

thank you

for allowing this creative woman
to be creative
and act out in rare forms
outside the box

and outside the world

Thank you

for always thanking me for being me

Thank you
Thank you for being my friend
being a kind of lover
and being a man

 

Certain Things

I walked into some stores the other day

lined with music I used to escape in

but there is some grievances

that no escaping can find

Used to be some buzz

to numb certain aches

but there are certain aches

that fixes in there many forms

will search but just not find

so I left as I came just empty handed

and no alter egos to blame

There are certain losses

that cant be made up

cant be discarded

cant be written out of mind
like some exorcism of the soul

veiling out a bunch of hyperbole
that no one understand or

inquiring minds even care to know

no artificial fills
will make up this hole

sometimes its going through it

or so I’m told