Ancient Offspring.

How many distant stars,
have we pondered in all,
with your eye from afar,
for your mind to recall,
In search of a meaning,
When our earth is bleeding,
And it never stops seeming,
to be ready to fall,
How many soldiers attacked,
for the voided sake of it all
Desert Storm, the Gulf, Iraq,
Our veterans come home to Hell,
Walk it off with the whip’s crack,
brainwashed to think all is well,
Nobody seems to consider how,
It’s our own liberty under assail,
We like to throw our weight around,
We chase around after our tails,
Its great, a truly amazing thing:
The way our melting pot,
Has become a brew of slop,
Along the way, I think we forgot,
To keep a common identity,
Because look at us now,
Bitter and segregated
Unsure, full of hatred,
of the differences in things,
Defined in the lines between,
The Black, the Red, Brown or White,
The price of the filthy green,
Lets take back our ancient offspring,
We’ve let it slip too far from our reach,
We are supposed to be human beings,
We represent a global family,
We need to somehow learn to see,
That every face is a precious thing.

Bad Seed.

What were you expecting
by reaching out to me?
a disapproving stranger
without any sympathy;

I have nothing left to give you
you’ve stripped my being clean
Put that red hand back in your pocket
when you’re in my vicinity;

Your struggles and your sadness
are not lost on what I perceive
The creature you’ve turned into
was somehow born to me;

Yet, in spite of such genetics
you remain a foreign entity
I may be your mother
but my daughter is deceased;

People blame and name me
pass judgment cruelly
And perhaps, I am a failure
I don’t deny these things;

Whatever I stand up for
in the end of such tragedy
I will not be standing
for what you’ve grown up to be.

Line in the Dirt.

To shelter you in true security,
to laugh with you at funny things,
to cover you when you fall asleep,
to comfort you when you’re in need,
encourage you to do the right thing,
push you ahead when you’re faltering,
keep you tucked away in secrecy,
wrap you inside warmth for eternity,
to take you places that you like to be,
show you a world free from captivity,
to emphasize your own worth individually,
to make you understand all of this, finally,
to demonstrate the big picture clearly,
to express with a most thorough accuracy,
hold you close to the broken heart in me,
until the day that the thing refuses to beat,
to let you know of the alternate way it could be,
in the place where you have abandoned me,
to sit you down and show you the hard reality,
the line drawn in the dirt that will kill us both, eventually.

Cyclical.

Throughout so much of the apparent bullshit that goes on with each new sunrise of my cursed life, I’d like to share the fact that there are NOTHING but vastly reaching tentacles of even more bullshit that belong to the variants attached to that same fucking existence.
For even when things are on the “upswing” for me (which never consists of anything more than a few not-so-bad things happening), my heart is ever struggling to simply remain above the ring of that proverbial drain; I am not throwing a pity party – anyone who really knows me at all will have no choice but to agree with my longtime proclamation of purely bad karma…it IS NOT “perception” or a matter of any “law of attraction”; it is TRUTH.
1) When my health gets to a point in which I have any room to move freely, my car breaks down with some fucking random, yet very expensive issue, and I get stuck until I become ill again;
2) When I become ill – nothing else matters besides getting better and it is always a fight that exhausts me to the point of near-submission;
3) By the time I “feel better”, I am so tired of fighting to feel better that I am at my own wit’s end with everything;
4) When I finally get my car repaired (a solution that attaches itself directly to MONEY), I run out of money and am again stuck until I get more income;
5) When I am sickly, it becomes all-too-often impossible to work for income;
6) When I get some income, it is already spent because I have been stagnant at home and have had to borrow from someone;
7) When I finally get back to feeling like I can possibly conquer even the simplest of steps in this horribly vicious cycle – my car breaks down again.

Granted, I am lucky to have people who help me, and my step dad loaned me his “spare” car; my own car is very close to being “repaired” once more (with the exception of brakes, which I was set out to pick up this morning in order for my nephew to change them today) – and of course there is no way in Hell that the Gods would allow things to go so smoothly for me, in my own fucking hell-hole life…my step dad’s spare won’t start this morning.

“Don’t freak out, I’ll pick you up and take you to the auto store to get your brakes…”

And nobody gets it…I don’t want a fucking ride to the fucking auto store to get the fucking brakes that I don’t even have the finances to buy right now!!! I don’t want anything from anyone who finds it funny when I can’t start the loaner car I’m forced to borrow because my own bread and butter has failed me once again!!! I am sick and fucking tired of the heavy weight I am dragging around by my ankle over the dread and anxiety of vehicular failure – and I cannot deal with AGAIN it today (with the car that I’m using while I have no car)!!!
I just want a single, fucking break!!! It never comes….NEVER.
The cycle of my existence is what is going to kill me eventually, not anything or anyone else. It will be the long-lived and suffered anxiousness and worry and dread that will finally stop my blackened heart. And to be honest, I can’t wait.

The Destroyer.

The sun ceased to rise
on the morning that followed,
the curse of Her figure amidst the darkening skies;
hearts began to crumble
at first glance of the very same sight,
a darkening of any light against Her Banshee cries;
Her shape only grew and shifted
as She wound her impetuous impositions,
stitching threads through every pair of lips and eyes;
silencing the dumbstruck crowd
unwilling to do anything that is right,
cutting down anyone who counters Her Army of Lies.

The moon has never hung again
since Her forces invaded the heart of man,
in a final stand against what Shiva plans to realize;
the stars have faded notably
to see one twinkle has become rare to behold,
in a black sky where a constant shimmering once occupied;
and it is Her, who has done this
bled the red of my heart into a dry wasteland,
and left the most sacred of ancient divinities all but demystified.

The Destroyer arrived in 2007
to eat both of my arms as they cradled my Boo,
She never made me any indemnities, never tried to compromise;
a wake of hellish destruction follows
closely on the heels of Her stinky, filthy sandal-feet,
leaving the likes of me lucky to be hardly memorialized;
and so the show goes on today
Shiva the Destroyer still reigns highly,
I bow my head out of necessity as she passes by,
so I can keep it on a little longer and plot Shiva’s final demise.