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

 

 

 

 

 

Privileged American Floors

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
see all our neighbors thru the windows
because nobody has decency anymore

and that same recipe calls for the two kinds of cake that everybody wants
so they can eat and have their food fight live

some eat with their hands

and some eat with their knives

and some just starve on their hamster wheels

quickly spinning blind

 

and me and all my neighbors

are Living on the grid of a hard wired hangover

and a stimulation high

of a sensitized extravagant soul

and zombified mind

wishing and hoping our cake gets its prize

and all the tenants run for the same door

but not till the shit gets tracked all over this

privileged American floor

we listen to music from paper mache singers
and we read stories about other zombies
and fall in love with vampires
and we think of Mao fondly

because we cant stand being alive
and the effort it takes to breathe
but we sure don’t want to die
and we clearly dont want to leave

our foreclosed house
funded by our virtual needs
and we keep watering
our rootless trees

and we just keep

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
and the curtains are waiting to be hung
because nobody has in decency anymore

and in our desperation we cant seem to get through those doors

without leaving shit on our privileged American floors

 

 

 

 

Yellow Butterfly/A true story

That love of mine

he loved the butterflies

floating off to the other side

that love of mine

was trying so hard

to get his wings

and in the months later

I kept asking why
why my love wouldn’t tell me bye

was there nothing for me
and I kept looking for my butterflies

that love of mine

Walking along the side

and there was this yellow butterfly

working its way across the concrete

crippling along it’s way

I let him in my hand
and cried about what to do

where to place him for his quiet struggle

and like a miracle he took off

in some beautiful flight

oh… I remembered

and laughed for the free light

of those yellow wings

that love of mine

he loved butterflies

and talked about the next turn

the next life

the next flight

and so my love flew

but not before being in my hand
and thanking me

for the lift

on the next flight…

 

love song for God my creator

In my darker moments

it times of anxiety and despair

In my loneliness

exhausted anguish

My God remembers me

if He does with the birds

that land in the trees

So He does

He does with me

In the nights that get to quiet

when my soul cries for steadiness

unknown

My spirit reaches

the deep to the deep

Trust me

with your time

your gifts

your loves

your hopes dreams or just wish

the authorities

and darkness of this world

can never hold my kind of free

I sit in the hands of my creator

who has never forgotten me

The angers stirring their own kinds of war

shall not phase me

I take no part in Babylons whore

For I know who has made me

what He’s given me

and how He’s saved me

The chess pieces playing their turns

beckon for my hand

both sides revealing in part

while each player hides their own monsters

all players darkened in their hearts

shells of people

inhabited by what they’ve sold out for

Redefining their own creations

and natural rules about life

calling love and tolerance

what I call confusions and strife

distracting with talks about self made stars

and feelings and pseudo realities

Like I should be impressed..

But I’m a woman

human created by God
and

I’m no part of the game anymore

Resettling ,breathing in

My peace

My free

I trust my creator

with me

 
“do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread.”-Isaiah 8:12

Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near.Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.”-Phillipians 4:5-9
psalm

 

 

Keep Your Alive

Taking time and time taking me

clinging so hard to what just wants to be free

knew I couldn’t hold on forever

but we’re never ready to let go

even when we say we are

even when we plan the parting

So I opened gifts given by associations

and sat in the shadows cast by memories

felt sparkles filling those hollows

like the feelings diamonds have

when the light hits their faces

That burning and life says

keep your alive, alive

keep your shine, shining

see that, see that

that power in you

that sparkle that sparkles

its so so sweet

where magic and intentions

something about being alive and just being meet.

Sitting in the leftover of eternal memory

Feeling the gifts that memories bring

hearing anecdotes and inflections

of voices and conversations

bringing at the right moments

lessons and times

that were yours and were mine

no matter what the explanations

no matter the write offs

or miscommunication

some things can’t be undone

and some things shouldn’t be

Remembering the sparkle

starts to shine in the void

like the feelings diamonds have

when the light hits their faces

That burning and life says

keep your alive, alive

keep your shine, shining

see that, see that

that power in you

that sparkle that sparkles

its so so sweet

it’s yours to keep

 

sparkle

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

Transitions Hurt Sometimes

“Transitions must transist” a dear love of mine once told me. He meant to tell me that we can’t hold on to everything and every moment as if it will last forever. Things change. Circumstances change. Go with the flow. Fly. After all, transitions must transist”. His word. This never became more true to me than in the beginning of this year. The year of the Fire Monkey. The year where things were not going to calmly move along, or wait on me to make decisions. The year where if I don’t take the hint and move then I’ll be pushed. Sometimes transitions can hurt like hell.
There was something different about this year from its beginning. As if the usual routines just were not going to cut it anymore.There would be no more comfort levels, security blankets or self sabotaging excuses. The revelations of the past two years, were ready to burst into present reality. No more hiding to keep peace. No more silently dying. It was like my dear loves words were watching over me “transitions must transist..it’s ok”.
   After personal losses in the end of 2015, I went through some personal transition where I had to answer many questions about my being. This was a transition of healing and moving forward. After this I was scared of the actual movement of transition. I had been trying to force myself into a mold to succeed at my job. That was not working. My finances were in a wreck and I had thought about bankruptcy. The most minimal things became disasters, like a vacation that found me wrecking my car and losing more money. All attempts at maintaining comfort failed. I was on the crossroads of new beginnings or trying to numb out to survive. Somewhere in the wreckage I looked towards the Heavens and said “whatever God, whatever you want”. Be careful what you pray for.
    Withing a two week period after the prayer, I lost my job. My pay was cut and I was forced to make decisions and to actively look for other options in life. It was a push. After the immediate shock and hurt of the unfair treatment I had received, I realized how free I now I was. Free to have time, time to think, to write and to stretch my limits. I had a new job in a matter of days, with new prospects. I made five writing submissions, whether they are published or not is not the point. The renewed sense of creativity that is flowing is it’s own transition. I paid off a small portion of my debt. I stopped smoking, this time with very little effort. It was just time. My body wouldn’t do it anymore. I enrolled in a Master Degree program, and am active in own life. Like all transitions, when the time comes, they must transist, here in the year of changes. That fire monkey stuff.
* Note* I understand that “transist’ is not a literary word for transition. This was truly a term my friend used and one that stays with me.
life-transitions