Smokey Blue.

An accumulation of grotesque emotions, throttling anxieties, and darkening expectations has built up inside of me over the period of time in between now and the day in early December that my Mama was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

The earliest days of her treatment were nightmarish; the febrile pneumonia, C-Diff and drop in her blood oxygen level that nearly killed her and kept in the hospital under intensive care over the off and on over the holiday season of the 2016-2017 threshold was an experience that left me in motional shock. My initial intentions of being a staunch ally to my mom were tested and tried (and continue to be worked hard on a daily basis).

An emotional earthquake and subsequent spiritual tsunami have occurred in my soul and mind and heart throughout the best and worst of the newly defined existence shared between her and me, leaving perpetual aftershocks and a flooded wasteland in its wake. The inside of my own eyelids seem unrecognizable to me these days, so hideously changed has the world become since the diagnosis. I am 110% detached from my attachments, withdrawn and withered into a defensive ball colored dark blue to mirror my soul.

I am living inside of a new loop right now:

I long to spend as much time with my mom while I have the chance;

yet, she is so broken down and different from the default mom I still somehow envision and recall, that spending time with her is not pleasant and/or fulfilling in the ways I seek out;

This fact makes me feel guilty and awful, so I typically spend time with her whether it helps or hurts my own state of being, which causes the visits to be those of a highly forgettable, even regrettable strain.

The moments passing by feel like torturous slashes and slices; the time feels as if it is laughing in my face. I know that after she is gone, I will hate myself for all of the things I am doing wrong or not doing at all with/for her; I know that I am letting too many opportunities slip by, but I am can’t do any differently than what I am doing. I don’t have any control over her illness, I couldn’t keep her from starting to smoke again either – which has also become huge tension between us, as it symbolizes things to me that she seem blind to.

I don’t have the heart to tell her that going anywhere with her has become something that my anxiety ridden, ADHD, PTSD brain has to build up to being to do because it is always SUCH an ordeal to go ANYWHERE. And anywhere we do get to, we are unfailingly in the way because of an absolutely and obnoxiously un-foldable walker thing with a seat and handbrakes. She has become resentful towards my aunt and uncle (who have been beyond good to her and taken her into their home immediate family, and daily life. Nothing she does is enjoyable to her for the most part; she told me over the phone the other day that she is ready to die.

This statement hurt me deeply, though I didn’t say anything to that affect. The gist was that despite the grueling and miserable months that I have sacrificed to my mom, and regardless of how many things I hold back and suck up in attempt to ease her reality, she still feels alone and burdensome enough to disregard the miracle of her ongoing existence at present (if that makes any sense).

 

 

Flock.

Let’s be like herded sheep, shall we?

and stand in line for centuries,

like in mind to the dullest ancestries,

let’s evolve without changing anything…

now, we all line up without questioning,

spend money on shit that has no meaning,

nothing to show have we “sentient beings”,

besides the bombs we can blow atomically…

we watch the World News from home on TV,

bump our gums about what we’d do differently,

but at the end of the day, that logic is shifty,

coming from a cesspool of such inactivity…

Let’s line up overnight to see a premièring movie,

then trample each other with the doors’ opening,

we each do what we like without ever considering,

how the rest of the sheep want other sheep things…

and sadly things will only become more trifling,

because sheep are too stupid to know anything,

unable to think on one’s stand-alone feet,

we are all doomed ‘til we stop acting like sheep.

Razor-Wire.

You wanted it…
you just had to get,
you begged for it:
a piece of me…
and then, that was it –
I did accept,
the invitation sent,
maybe ungraciously…
I showed up one day,
when the skies were grey,
guess you hadn’t been,
expecting me…
but there I was,
plenty of space
to smash in your face…
and put an end,
to the pretend,
of any friendship,
between us…
I am a lover,
but I am also,
a quick drawn shot,
one or the other,
and that is all I’ve got,
You asked for it…
you had to push the ticket,
couldn’t let it be,
had to poke and prod at it…
the red tape around the lips,
the sign that restricts,
exactly this type of,
unnecessary bullshit,
you ignored the gates,
the locks,
the razor-wire fence,
went on past the sirens,
blazing loudly out against…
disregarded everything,
spelled out for you,
in white and black,
bold lettering…
so don’t complain,
wipe them away,
crocodile-tear-stains,
throw it away,
and sink into
your own world again,
wasted away,
I forgot your name.

River.

I’ve got this thing,
attached to the feathers
of my tattered, right wing;
it’s tickling and itching…
causing me to careen;
through the air,
in disrepair;
everyone down there
watching me.
I’ve got this weight,
that drags my feet
in reverse, towards my fate;
it’s beckoning and ordering…
that I bow down, and subjugate;
kiss the toes,
belonging to those;
who refuse to let me go
and be free.
I’ve got these eyes,
tuned to a frequency
that perfectly filter the lies;
barreling and swooping…
along, at their’ sides;
so invisibly,
no one else can recognize
but I see.
I’ve got this shrapnel splinter,
burrowed deeply into my skin
through summer, spring, fall and winter;
humbling, digging deep,
all it takes to make a slice, is a sliver;
moon hanging,
above the raging river
bleeding all over me.

Hardwired.

“…love was as hardwired into the structure of the universe as gravity and matter.”
– Dan Simmons, The Rise of Endymion

 

Love is not knowing, but jumping in anyway.
Love is the feeling of stitches dissolving in your skin.
Love is the smile of an innocent child in the grips of wonder.
Love is a giant, canine bearing sea-lion being afraid of you.
Love is sunshine.
Love is an all-encompassing acceptance that changes your DNA.
Love is hoping against all logic or reason.
Love is being the first face to come into view, every time.
Love can be tangible.
Love can be fickle.
Love can bring us to our knees, in many different variances.
Love will NEVER leave us alone.
Love is darkness.
Love is light.
Love is the answer as well as the question in languages that humanity does not yet speak.
Love may be a language that humanity as we know it never learns.
Love was the mother of all Hatred.
Love is the force behind all of it, everything.
Love bore Mother Earth, the Sun, and every star.
Love is God. God is a Goddess. The Goddess falls back in Love.
Love can conquer all.
Love doesn’t necessarily want to conquer all.
And lastly,

When I didn’t love Love,

it loved Me, Anyway.

Come and Go.

A Masterpiece that will always deeply touch and move me; one that I can’t take credit for.

It’s by Rob (Just Ruminating) and it’s a powerful, powerful piece.

it’s called “Come and Go”; enjoy…

Come and Go

Her back never faces the door

“I’ll only need you on certain days”

she says
(absently)

“I’ll have to write them down
my memory doesn’t work so well
especially when I am caught up”

she’s thinking
(a lovely stare)

“Who is that in the mirror?
Where did she come from
why the fuck is she here?
I don’t need this shit right now
She shouldn’t be here!”

I ask
(matter-of-factly)

“Where did you go? Does the rain
bleed sideways always?  Or
does it come in sporadic torrents
spurting out
covering everything
like a permanent stain?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again
almost comical.  I can’t wait
until the coffee is so strong that
it sends her into a
tailspin for once.  Just once…”

Bemused I say

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your
poses. You can either look like
something is
coming around the corner at you
or you can look like
you have beheld the Gods.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She chuckles
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll rest now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me
sometimes I feel like I’m an actress
in my very own horror flick.
I watch the scenes go by indifferently
perhaps if I got the cobwebs out
I’d be able to see things more clearly
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose sexy)

I smile
I say
(sincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then I say
(coyly)

“Although, I must say, blue would
really bring out your intense eyes
I wonder, will she be home later?
If so,
will you tell her I will be
betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away
until she works through her shit?
I will be around permanently.”

She smirks
(cutely)

“Sure.  She probably thinks the
world is ending as we speak.
You know,
she’s good at catastrophizing
the shadows work best,
usually
she plays those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea
she can be engaged like that
so, I’m not sure if she is or isn’t.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)

“She’s hyper vigilant, that one
reminds me of me once I detach,
once I fixate on my salvation,
well…anyway…
you know I simply spend a
fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

I reply
(dramatically)

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

I lean in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the squares have
transformed,
they are so different they’re hard
to recognize.
Are they not? There’s so
many of them that
even tunnel vision
even hyper vigilance
can’t always help you focus on
shapes that are always shifting though,
I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
(contagiously)

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit.
at least for your quirky imagination.
Christ is it time already?
I gotta get back to her
she could be in a state.
Hopefully not
in front of that fucking mirror
it’s not the best place on most days.
It clouds her judgment.
It needs replacing,
that, it’s cracked and warping.”

I rise
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure
I have your brand next time you
come and go
I found a place that stocks it
regularly, the stuff of legends
will you do me a huge favor?”

I ask
(simply)

“Sure”
she says
rising
(grace imperceptible)

I put my hands on her small frame.
Looking at her intently,

I whisper
(tenderly)

“Just remember come and go
as you please she can too, especially
her
use my place whenever you need it
I know you’ll be sure to keep things
nice and tidy. You happen to be
quite masterful at that.  And
don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out
you know, for both of you.”

She smiles wryly
(so lovely)

Glances a kiss
off my flushed cheek
turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know.  It makes all the
difference in the world
I know it does to me anyway.
I’m fairly sure for her as well.
She’s always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up.
I’m pretty sure she knows though.
But you know how she is.”

As the door closes behind her

I think,
(happily)

“Not really. But I am learning,
I am learning.”

Wasted Energies.

You've done this thing,
like attaching a string,
from my mind to your heart,
from my mouth to your brain;

You've created this thing,
like a hornet's sting,
from my inner-most thought,
comes a painful tingling;

You've become something,
not quite a human being,
from my unhealed parts,
the blood is running again;

You've turned out to sing,
the song of an old enemy,
from the deepest of want,
for the very same things;

You've proven to swing,
back and forth, in between,
from the history you haunt,
o the throne of a King.