Category Archives: Personal

mother

mother
walks but is dead
been dead many years
even before her eyesight started going
blaming blindness for her downfall

to her entire life from birth to a walking death of 97 years
she waits
nothing
no expectations
nothing to make her whole
and so it is with her children
two unformed worthless lives
i am one of them
nothing

i, the epitome of nothing
wish i was in the womb and aborted

     


September Stickball

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Along the sidelines they stood,
while the sticks flailed wildly,
boys running screaming round the sidewalk-chalked bases.

We were only girls, unwelcome to the rhymes and rhythms of the male psyche,
as testosterone rode high in these ten-year-old men.
We cheered and screamed, blew kisses and taunts,
giggled madly and pulled down skirts,
afraid to be noticed
yet afraid not to be.

Our fathers soon came home
some in high spirits, others in despair.
Soon words registered–angry, sad, laughing,
Then mothers called us to dinner.
Sticks and balls dropped,
arguments about who won and who owed what,
while we picked up our school books, and ran down the street,
to set the table and serve dinner,
while our brothers boasted about their prowess,
taking their princely places at the table.


dark nights, dark dreams

crowdblog
Down, down, and down
down
sewers
black holes with fetid water
the wine of a city
blinded by cheap lights
cheap thrills
too costly to survive
only in dreams.

On clouds
dreams ghost by
the gold ring beckons
horse heads break
ancient wood, brittle and neglected
your forgotten dreams
misunderstood
when horses ran round and round
and laughter was the only sound.

Now grown
decapitated and dethroned
you shuffle back and forth to work
down subway steps
towards black earth
and rats that scurry, finding death
anticipating you, along the way
will find the fall
complimentary.

You casually accept the entry
the underworld so grim
there to find your long-lost kin.


time past

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In the boarding house across the way
Youth and age had made their way
One begins, one ends
For both the years did terrify,
Hours torment their minds away
Unpleasant days filled with fear
One enraged, the other in tears.

Remember time
Remember me
Remember how life used to be
Before we felt that cruelty
Was common to our every day
And conversations turned that way.

How was it then
When we were young
How fanciful the days begun
Bright sun and moon, a crystal sky
Snow flakes that made you question why
The world did spin and spin and spin
And dance around your every whim.

It comes together, this season called
Winter, cold and uncommonly hard
To pass without sheer agony
Settling in this timeless world.
Leaves truth behind,
Behind it stays
While trudging, we make our way
Bent, broken, all from birth
So lacking to the core, our worth.


Deterioration

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When I awoke
The day just lay there
Stagnant.

Which dream was real
No hour longer than this day
Under cover though I stay
Tangled mess, my sheets tell the tale
of distress.

Never comfortable
The next awaits
And never arrives.

I wait
When darkness overcomes
To hide has just begun.


In darkness

Ghosts
Choking as the phantoms grasp-
It never ends.

The memories
Damn the memories.
Heart sickens at the time past, the future narrowing.

Enemy and friend.
Mind blanks and then retrieves convoluted queries
All answers unavailable.

He was the most handsome.
Not I, but you said this.
I, who watched his growth
His muscles swell into a well seasoned athlete
Honed by meticulous care.
Yes, I did this.
With only memories left to console.
This I have done to myself.


Winter’s Holiday

lamb blog
In winter’s white
The open field is swallowed in a foot of snow
Another and another falls
Till nothing on horizon shows.
Then antler disappears, though buck stands six feet tall
And bull a breadth beyond that height–
The world outside is very white.

Then quick return to hearth and home
The blankets beckon, no more you roam.
Till spring melts in a river flow
And summer flowers bow down low.


can you stop the tears?

i cry
eternally I cry
deep inside of you
tears flow
tears I know
long each one wept
we wept, through heartache
through life’s end
now we cry
past these
past every event
we cry for our end
finality it brings, loss eternally.


Homage to the blogs I follow

On the way to Mount Snowdon
I met a Slate Quarry.
Though not the one to err
Yet I found deep thought
In the passing of memory
Far under a tree
So Dark,
and dog-nab-it,
in the trolley garage.
Then as we retreat
you may vent, as you please–
But not to neglect,
to Canada we photo
And while Easy does it,
He’s my favorite by far!
But do not ignore
Doggystyle, yes, there’s more–
Thundering Herd, not absurd;
And we speak of adopting a little bit more!
So here’s to my minions–
In them I do reckon, with Brevity, tis true,
A soul’s walk will do,
So splash a little paint–
my words shall remain
with Margo’s Notebook,
and Sage’s misadventures
a source of real pride,
at night by my side–
Love those dogs, I confess,
Can’t get enough of you, I guess!

Stanza #2
It should so please me, if you would just see,
My newest companion–
It’s Zack, he flies free!


It’s party time!

Eleven p.m.
I’m sure you must know
I’m never this late
I’m usually asleep–
I live in the woods
With nary a peep
From fish or from fowl
Though they usually don’t howl
Like the coyotes do
Or the resident screech owls
That lurk very near
Yet rarely appear.

So I’ll turn off the lights
And tumble to bed
I’ll say my good nights
And sleep pretty tight
Till the mice start to party
At 4 in the dark
And I pull up the covers
And wait for daylight!


2 Sleep

Sleep 1
It’s very strange
That once or twice
I come upon a thing that’s right
For most of it is very wrong
And takes you on a path that’s long
And far away from everything.
It brings you grief and nasty things.
But when you find a thing that’s right
It makes you sleep quite well at night.

Sleep 2
I sleep and sleep and sleep at night
And wake when it is very bright
Perhaps at 10, 11, or noon
Even 1 is none too soon.

I need my beauty rest, of course
There’s nothing worse than having lost
That beauteous glowing, silky skin
That ageless patina that’s akin
To Venus of De Milo fame
Or David, Michelangelo’s creation.
So let me rest till I decide
To rise and take myself outside!


Rue my heart

Upon my constitution, around the house I strode
And saw with much disturbance, the stone ’twas cracked, and more.
I followed it for long it was,
No rest was to be shown
How came this crack unto my home
and why so very long?
Are there not better things to do
than break my house of stone?
No answer came my way
And none did I expect
For rue my heart the crack did show
To break my own sweet breast.


Missing a Life

To say “miss” is to imply there once was, but I assure you there was not.
Growing up in a morass of mediocrity, accomplishments were relegated to others, and ours was a life marked by others’ needs, a turning of the lamp before dawn, a turning off at night. What happened between was of no consequence.
Nor did it provide satisfaction or mere contentment.
It was but a passing of time till sleep. Sleep, less and less each day, and time grows burdensome.
Fragments of contentment appear and disappear, so subtle that their remembrance lasts not long, insufficient to be recorded.
Which yesterday revealed a moment with the possibility of renewal, satisfaction, meaning, continuity? If there was, it is lost, intangible.


from within

Knocking from the inside.
I have never noticed this
Nor known I was closed.
You could not see
Nor hear me.
Only I hear, the ramblings, deranged.
Laughter and sorrow, wound together
within.


Dream/Wake

Pain

Last night I sent a bus careening, with people calmly going to their death
In my dream
Wrapped in plastic
But that was the second bus
The first hurtled out of control by itself
The first was a ghost
A foretelling of the second
And a third, split in two, suspended in air
And shrink wrapped
With damage control emblazoned on its side
Spun down the corridor after the two.

Then I woke.
Unscathed.

Later.

At 4 in the morning you wake, depressing yourself
At 6:11 it’s not the same.
Two pots of coffee, and you’re almost sane.


Woke Up…

Here I lay thinking

And you say I should

It’s 9:52

So misunderstood

But not by you

It’s myself out of touch.

Behind pillar and post the nightmares collect

Dream on you say

But soon I regret

The stomping, the yelling

The howls in the night

If I don’t wake up soon

I’ll have such a fright.

Well, life is just that

To hell and then back

Yet the sun also rises in spite of this fact.

 


Oh my, sigh…

Brought to tears

my heart does cheer

and thoughts of how you  appear

to mellow my response

in ways I may enhance

a quality of life

so often rife

with war and woe

though this I think you  know

my feelings are sincere

I must reply

I am not tied

by land or sea or sky

and will admit

with fitting wit

I’d rather live than die.


Underneath their nails and on their skin

Clouded brain
Tears welled and drowned this cheek
Live without life
Vanished and vanquished
Years of delusions
Awakening to nothing
A last knowledge of time wasted and wasting away.

Alcoholic stupor headaches vision blurred
Distasteful renderings of a former life
Senseless heartbreak of minds wasted
He stood above the rest
Reason to walk this ground, this earth, this gift of God
Until the end of days envelops and darkness wins.


Love gone, lone death, lost again

I turn and he is not here
Cannot remember
I stumble time, time and again, the memory jolts me awake
He is not here.

So why I, in pain, do I return home?
Is the bother of living worthwhile?
Cannot you see that all is misplaced?
If not for him, then why?
Myself, I am obscure, irrelevant.
Contributions to the face of man escape the scribe’s pen

Will time erase the pointlessness of days passed in dreary acquiescence?
Pain dulled by daily drink
Drunk by noon-day light
Slumbering till morning light
Pretending that day is night.

Why is existence so perverse that life cannot itself erase
stupidity of man’s footfalls
that deemed by others are acquired of gifts and glories
not deserved
And go beyond the grave
Imbued by all to be the virgin’s gift of glory everlasting?

Wronged, wronged, forever wronged!
Downed, screaming wronged!
Break my soul that I should live beyond this day, this time
Knowing misery creeping through life’s decay
of mind and spirit. Of rot and putrification.

Take kindly or not at all
In this, in that
Your mind it would collapse
But for the curtain drawn and closed
The daily play that would unfold
Is shuttered under hasp.


Your name, insane!

Oh Jane!
Insane!
Each time he writes your name
His heart beats out a flame!

A fire in his loin
A flutter that doth spawn
A rare a beauteous morn
Awakening of dawn
A veritable display
Of nature’s way to say
Good day!

But lo!
The day draws quick
The spirits unrestrained
Return to rue the day
That turns itself to night,
And man’s abode abides
With heartfelt feelings more.
This day we have adored!


Oh sweet! Oh soft!

Love, sweet, soft, gentle wind
Swept across my proffered cheeks
Heady love, a sweet, sweet wine
Cloves and nutmeg
A mead to mine
Own love, I do profess
To love and never to regret
That you I held to heart, to breast
That you I loved the very best.


Gone


Oh, Work!

It’s four o’clock

And I’m awake

I run and run before dawn breaks.

The coffee’s made

The dog is out

My body sighs “Shall we not nap?”

 

But on I strive to ready lunch

What’s there to eat? Have you no hunch?

I look and look, nothing I see

I fear that I may starve, poor me

For error grave, I have succumbed

And cupboards bare, I am undone!

 

Ah well, all cheery, smiley me I am

A grand adventure is in store

For me and several others more

Notes to take

Lives to unfold

Tales of winter to be told

Those who found the southern sun

The rest who waited till snow and sun became as one.

 

I know the calendar still says Spring

But just this morn it was declared

September’s date would soon appear

And so I do begin to wonder

Where did I put my scarf, my hat, my gloves from last December

That casually I tossed aside while dreaming

Of August’s heat and swimming pools

Of days where gin-and-tonics rule.


Ode to Work

Oh dear!
Alarm not set
The hour is late
And dare I not to hesitate
Abort all plans! Rush! Hurry!
Turn on the lights and dash
What? Did I forget what day it is and what to do that I so quickly undermine myself
And slip and slide across the floor, rushing to the outside door?
Oh my! Oh lunch! Go back you foolish girl.
Your stomach rules your mind; you’ll lose it quickly when entwined in knots and rumbles, on emptiness it lies.
Oh, hurry, scurry, in a flurry, activity abounds.
For once arrived you’ll never care how quickly you have gotten there
And start the day with ease and grace and fall asleep in your small space!


Every breath is petrifying.

As your end nears
my loneliness increases.

Where am I. One day you will die.
And I will be alone.
This understanding is not yours.
Perhaps you understand how limited time is
Perhaps you understand life is ebbing.

And accept it.
To accept end of life.

Every breath is petrifying.


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