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

 

 

 

 

 

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To All the Men I’ve Loved

To all the men I’ve loved. Because love is a complex things and there are many different levels, or kinds of love.

To my father, my first love. Thank you for calling me a princess so I’ve never forgotten my place in the world. Thank you for passing on your genes of being hard headed and stubborn, which has gotten me far in this world as a single female. Thank you for making me paranoid, yes even that thing that many may fault their parents for, I thank you for making me paranoid about the intentions of men. I know for a fact it has kept me in check and superseded what could have been fatal attractions. Everyone has dad issues, or parent issues, but overall…you were one of the good ones. Even with your issues. I miss you.

To my Grandfather. The only Grandfather I knew. Thank you for your dramatic, impromptu and inappropriate humor. For your debonair suave. For your love of reading, which was passed on to my mother. For your switch turn anger that scared me to death as a child, yet I recognize in men now and wont tolerate. Thank you for doting on my grandmother and for epitomizing all that is great in young to old sweethearts. Thank you for demonstrating  in your family, the art of gifting. Miss you, Grandaddy.

To my favorite uncles on both sides of the family. To my uncle on my dads side, with your righteous anger that actually was wholeheartedly unrighteous and I would never have actually agreed with you on, man you had tenacity. Thanks for being proactive in researching genealogy, I’m inspired to do that with the other side of the family. I always admired the nieces that came from you, who led their lives in such a strong manner. You may have had your angering prejudices. Your biases and weaknesses to and for the opposite sex, but to me you were a veteran and older bad boy of the family. Maybe the archetype of men I loved in the future. And your carpentry skills, why don’t men create anymore? I miss you too.

To my favorite uncle on my mothers side, my uncle who played with me as a toddler, under tables. Who did magic tricks with me and my brothers until we were old enough to know better but you made it so convincing, thanks for always being magical. For being cool and for being the humble favorite. I’m forever scarred and ruined by men with motor oil under their fingers…Who love to get in engines and see how they work. Who can fix the car or tell you whats wrong with it. Yeah, I see you in everyday mechanics. Whenever I see them.
 

To my second Uncle on my mothers side. Thanks for caring enough to tell the truth. Because you know you are right. Because you know the facts. Because you love to research. Because you care. Thanks for being suspicious and inquisitive. Thanks for making me question everything.

You two are the standard I hold all men to.

To my ex husband. You got me at a very green age. You were older and seemed so much more experienced and educated. You weren’t. You just seemed that way. Ultimately you were just as green as I. You taught me to be tougher than I should have had to be, You taught me to see when I was being lied to. You taught me to spot an insecure man, who despite being talented, would never allow himself to reach very far. You taught me to take what all the other men had taught me and use it. I had to, in order to mentally survive you. I may be fifty percent of why we failed, but I don’t miss you.

To my pastor and stepfather. Thank you for showing me that there are educated men who admire women physically and mentally. Who want their partners to excel in life and succeed in their dreams. Thank you for the counseling and advice, and guidance. I may not be getting my Masters if it were not for you.

To my best friend. Thanks for proving that yes, a woman can sleep in the room next to a man a that man not try to jump her bones. Thank you for being present and willing to help in so many situations. Thank you for seeing me at my worst. Thank you for the willingness to attempt to be a balanced view point. At your worst and your best you have always been consistent. I owe my best self to you. One day I might be able to give that.

Lastly…
To the man who saw what no one else would call out. The lover to the wild in me, thank you for giving me the space to run free. Thank you for making me speak my own thoughts and teaching me how to articulate my own mind and need. Thank you for letting me in your world and for coming into mine. Thank you for honoring our disagreements and for touching me so deeply. There is nothing I will ever write that I cannot thank you for. Because you were the first man to call me a writer. I love you, I miss you. Thank you ..
Thank you all.

menshands