Saturday, April 30, 2011

30 April is National Poetry Month and this is the last poem


We exchanged ideas
You yelled at how right you are
And you are right
And you are angry
And your anger is righteous
But I can't contain or justify your anger
I can't begin to join you in it or go there with you
because I too, am angry,
and my anger can not be contained to just one thing
one incident
one injustice.

You see there are too many reasons to be angry
And too many ways to see the dark

When we pretend that our dollars purchasing products from countries aren't supporting regimes that make people disappear or wish they had disappeared before they're electrocuted to death, intentionally....
When people protest against abortion and there are millions of children in this country left in foster care because no one cares...
When drug addicts fill our prisons when treatment, even repeated over and over and over again because with drug addiction it's sometimes necessary, is still cheaper than jail.
When they can send mentally ill or mentally deficient people to jail rather than giving them a place to live in that's safe for them and safer for the community around them.
When corporate dollars control the free market so oil companies can destroy the Gulf, local industries, lives, families, communities, not cleaning up their mess and record billion dollar profits all in the same year.
When all the organic produce you eat isn't going to protect you against the cancer that's going to come because you lived/drank water/breathed air near something that was completely toxic, somebody knew about, and did nothing because liability is hard to prove in a court when your witnesses are dead from the diseases you gave them.
When the cures that are given are going to kill you too because companies control what you take, how you're treated, what you get where and from whom, and if you don't follow along with the plan you become uninsurable.

When people are fired, bullied, disregarded, disrespected, minimized, ostracized, marginalized, ridiculed, tormented, beaten, assaulted, maimed, murdered for loving who they love or being true to who they are.

When soldiers who have given their lives in service return the a country that doesn't return the favor and their needs can't be filled by their families, friends, and communities who can't begin to heal their wounds
caused by their service to their country and they end up on the streets.

When women are being repeatedly beaten, mutilated, violated,disfigured, dismembered, raped, burned alive, starved, stoned, in the Congo, Darfur, Pakistan, India, Egypt, Afghanistan, and here in America.

When children are given up on, shamed, ignored, taken for granted, unprotected, taken, violated, sold, abused, neglected, abandoned, caned, whipped, tortured, discarded, charged, convicted, sentanced, left to die and it goes on everywhere.

I'm not just angry.
I'm fucking angry.
I'm in a rage.
Most days, it's barely contained.
When someone pushes my buttons I want to sway into the dark,
scream loudly, beating giant drums that hurt ears so much that people can't ignore the vibrations in the form of words
run with scissors cuting out the hypocrisies from people's hearts,
tie them all together with a big fat chain of reality and peel back the advertising cloud layer that keeps us occupied,
whether it's coming from a television or a well intentioned yet capitally driven hippie magazine,
for a really big dose of WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I forget for a moment what I'm here for....
I forget that I have a voice...
And if my voice is constantly screaming I will grow hoarse and
the ears of those I'm hoping hear me will deafen at the volume
A rigid mind isn't easily changed
It takes a chisel
and ideas
a constant stream of them
spoken softly, righteously, intentionally, methodically, in several languages,
keep going back to the door even when they beat you,
keep holding the sign even when they spit on you,
keep holding each others hands as they turn the hoses on,
because the only way we can do this is together
and the only way we can do this is, is to keep the peace contained in our hearts, words, eyes
so we don't forget where we are
and where we come from
and who we're talking to
and who we're fighting for
because the one thing we always seem to forget
is that we are in this together
whether it seems like we are or not
somewhere there is a person
hearing words for the first time that tell them they're an amazing human being
capable of changing their world
somewhere there is someone standing up for someone else's life
somewhere this somewhere is here
this somewhere is right now
this somewhere is in our hearts
this somewhere is in our minds
we are this somewhere
and lest we forget
we are all we have
and all we ever need
and we can change the world.

27/28/29 April is National Poetry Month - today is the last day

There is something really amazing about finishing something that you didn't think you could to.  I am letting my last poem come in this evening.  But I am finding inspiration everywhere, which says "write, write, write".

An age in which I discovered myself again.
Decided that certain things were in
and certain things were out.
Covering up
Settling for
Other people's opinions of me
bad food
bad ideas
bad relationships
The journey didn't end there but it certainly began again.

If I could tell you how hot you are right now
Set soul on fire, burnt the candle to the wick
melt wax hurt bad but so, so good
I only wish you would believe me.

This is the last of an era
the end of a long road of unacceptance, unforgiveness and condemnation
of self, others, world
It's not enough to scream out the problem, point the finger, rage against the machine, step up to the plate,
show them how it's done
if your screams are drowning out your ideas
It's ok you're angry
I'm angry too
But it doesn't help.
If it did, wouldn't things be different now
Minds change not because stiff boards break the bounds of ignorance
but because something softened their rigid ways of thinking
and showed them a world outside of the boxed walls
and into possibility.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

25/26 April is National Poetry Month

When I decided to move down here to be with you.
Never having left my birthplace, family, friends, loved ones
and took a risk and jumped.
Best decision I ever made.
You just happened to be involved
It would take me a few more years to leave you.

And even after all that water,
all the therapy, and all the time
waiting for you to get sober/clean/sane/happy.
Being civil until we could be friends, still
finally having to say enough
finally having to say good-bye
even though you haven't really gone anyplace.

I wish that things were different for you
and that you didn't have a mind that told you that
the work you do drunk is better than what most people can do at all.
But lies are the only truth you tell yourself,
and the shredded family that has been holding hopes for decades now,
doesn't need my phone call one more time reminding them of your fall.
Because you never really ever got back on that wagon
and you never really fell.
You just put on costume fairy wings and pretended that it was Halloween
in December, January, February, March
of 1992, 1996, 1997, 2000, 2002, 2008, 2009, 2011
but it's time to take the costume off
and if you're not willing by this time
God help you.

Maybe that gray haired wizard will grant you some wishes
cause there aren't any Red Cross stations left
no rest areas
no more free coffee
no more shelter.

As some one wise said
'it's time to open your chest, take out your spine
and ride it out of here'
because this town wants you gone
there's no costume party you're invited to
No one wants to hear the story of how you shot them down one more time
because the blood on your costume fairy wings is your own
stained with the tears your family has shed
and there isn't a fucking sunset at the end of this story
so put down your pinted pistol
shave off that forty-five year stubble
and be that human being you were meant to be
That is your happy ending
Go ahead and have it.

26. a haiku

A fucked up place to live
So don't live there

Sunday, April 24, 2011

24/30 April is National Poetry Month

Hunk on Table Ten:
Where were you four years ago
When I was slutty?

23/30 April is National Poetry Month - Cadburry

Eating Easter Eggs
of the Cadbury Cream kind
Oh how I love thee.

22/30 April is National Poetry Month


 - the ability or capacity to recognize and sometimes share in the feelings of others.

Told by a therapist long ago that I was very empathic.
I feel sometimes, too much.
Sometimes it is too much for me to look into the eyes of another human being and see what they are feeling.
If they are suffering or lost or in pain.

I, want to tell you it's going to be ok,
not because I am a pollyanna and believe that it's all going to be ok,
but because I want to relieve your suffering.
I know it's deep.
I know that you're at the bottom of that pit of dark ocean and you can't breathe,
your life boat sank,
There is no rescue coming.

I look around lately and see sinking ships,
not because I have a skewed view of doom and gloom and looking for bad things in the world,
because that is another disorder and I have gone through that one thanks,
but because I recognize the pain and suffering in others as not something "temporary" or "passing"
because although I know "this too will pass"
it's the equivalent of a avalanche of boulders falling on too precious, fragile shoulder blades,
clipping the grass with fingernail clippers and tweezers trying to make the yard in the prison
look pretty for someone.....

It is not the sky falling,
nor the dark side of the moon,
nor the world ending
but all of these things and more
happening at once to people,
not just good people but all people,
at the same time breathing the same air and breath and life,
wondering who is punishing them,
who makes up these stupid rules,
who will finally make it stop.

There isn't any one being creating this tidal wave.
There isn't a judge that decided it was your day, your time, your life
it is not your turn, your choice, your mistake, your stupidity
and even if it was all of these things
there are others that didn't decide to get up this morning,
pour themselves a cup of coffee, eat their breakfast, take the car to work and get shot on the way from another person who decided breakfast this morning was bullets.
 Still more that decided today was going to be the day to do something about it,
to take that time off, take that vacation, go see the folks
only to get that call that the person they want to see the most just didn't wake up this morning.

This morning is no different from any other mornings
and yet boats sink,
tides come,
people fall away,
and never come back.

When the rip tide comes and washes you away to sea,
remember to swim across.
Swim across.
You make no progress up or down as it drags you out,
you're going out, all you can do is swim across,
paddle, breath, paddle and breath, and wait until you cross the tide.
The tide will take you out,
it's what it does.
You will get back to shore.
It's just going to take time.

21/30 April is National Poetry Month

It is not enough to have known you.
It is not enough to have the shared moments with you.
It is not enough the brief sprinkling of time and space that held the words spoken between us.
There is never enough time and space for that.
You, funny, witty, own sense of humor and timing,
not reluctant to reach out, be a friend, help someone out,
honestly with your own shortcomings, failures and successes.
Your time was way to brief.
Your touch was so deep.
You will never be forgotten by those who loved you and those who had too brief an encounter.
You probably know this.
You may have even planned it this way.
But know, that if you come around this way again
we'd all like you to stay a while longer.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

20/30 April is National Poetry Month


"It's the last year of your teen-aged years" she said,
I was going to marry her son
Thirties, two children and a drug habit that would take him from everything.

I didn't know that.
I also didn't know that love didn't come on the end of acid filled tongues,
rageful fits of thrown items across rooms,
squeeling tires peeling out of driveways,
in other people's beds one did not belong,
and violent threats against my family.

I did not stay.
I eventually left with nothing,
a car that didn't work,
no money, no self-esteem,
but you can't compete with cocaine and sex-addiction.

I wonder sometimes how many are nineteen,
and leaving the best of their teen-aged years in the hands of those who don't care,
don't feel enough,
don't really want anything but to control them,
only to give that up in the end when something else catches their eyes.

What I would say to them?
You are wise beyond your years,
your eyes, your lips, your smile, your heart will move mountains,
but I know how deep that hole runs in the center of your soul,
and that no one ever told you how much you are really worth,
and I know their voice speaks louder than any god,
and how waiting for them to say magic will take up most of your time,
they'll never say it, I can guarantee that,
coming from one who waited for years until she realized she had to say it to herself.
So if you find yourself unable to wait any more,
spent most of your time on tears, empty promises and scar tissue,
Happy Birthday,
It's going to be unbelievable. 

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

17/18/19 April is National Poetry Month

17.  Why?
Why did I decide that writing a poem a day would be a good idea?
Why did I decide to embrace my creativity instead of stifle it?
Why did I decide that 3 yoga classes in one day is a sane thing to do?
Why did I decide to do yoga again the day after?
Why did I decide to get another crazy cat?
Why did I decide that I liked cats?
Why did I decide to eat a whole bag of chocolate covered gluten free pretzels?
Why did I decide to continue to eat afterwards?
These are the questions....

18.  Haiku for the day:  Cats

Sharpening your claws
testing, preparing, killing

thanks for the flat tire

19.  Love

Love is when you don't kill the cat
who used your bike tire as the sharpener for his claws.
Love is the when you don't kill the boyfriend
for losing his wallet/phone/fill in the blank and ask you for the millionth time where that might be.
Love is when you don't kill yourself
because you are lucky to have any of the above items and they mean that you are lovable.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

15 and 16/30 National Poetry Month "Early"

Early (too early for Haiku)

Neighbors pounding tile
Six-thirty in the am
Sunday morning foul!

Is one of my favorite colors
Sky blue, ocean blue, midnight blue, turquoise and all shades in between.
It is also a favorite color to paint emotion,
heart as blue as midnight, blueness of my tears, bluish hint of his smile,
in the blue of my garden hides meaning, taste, expression, curiosity
and the blue of the rain washes the dust off my soul
how many shades can one word color....

Thursday, April 14, 2011

14/30 April is National Poetry Month

cold wind blowing drifts
whistling through cedars
sharp chill on my skin
gray soft skies promising more
never felt so close to God
than here.

13/30 April is National Poetry Month







Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Blind 12/30

Some can't see because their eyes fail them
Some can't see because their mind fails them...

11/30 more poetry than you can shake a stick at

My cat is fierce,
loving, ferocious, and a little bit crazy.
He responds to many of his names,
Pudding, Count Snackula, Snacky Von Dracky,
Turkey Leg, Precious, Fatty-Pattaty,
Oh Pussy-Cat, Snarshy, Hissy,
and finally Hissy Paticy.
Maybe that's why he's a little cooky.

Monday, April 11, 2011

10/30 Haiku anyone? "Spring"

Fleeting attempts to
stay in bed longer than seven
are thwarted by birds....

Sunday, April 10, 2011

One of Zero Poem 9/30

My fiance calls people with those ear buds talking on their cell phones One of Zero.
It's a reference to The Borg, the villians on Star Trek who are interconnected with the Borg Collective.
No one is alone.  You are one of seven or one of twelve hundred.

So, One of Zero,
You look agitated, enlivened and a little cray-cray.
We often think you're talking to yourself.
It's not hand's free anymore if you have to reach up and touch it.
You're distracted whilst driving.
Even when you think you're being safe.
Even in the grocery store when you stop, middle of the aisle, suddenly
not realizing someone is behind you walking just as fast
and you don't move or get out of their way
but proceed with your conversation
full voice in the middle of the aisle
talking about what your opinion is
on the subject
we'd all rather not hear about.

When are we all going to have enough,
be connected enough,
be courageous enough to realize that our connectivity
is placing us in a state of perpetual change that leaves us
in a constant state of distraction and disconnection with the actual real world around us.

The living world is the one that breathes, moves, lives
and not on a page in the internet which technically doesn't exist.
On a phone even, where conversations are limited to screens
with scribblings of fragmented words shot back and forth
from a satellite to another phone somewhere else
where a face to face conversation about something real
might have prevented the ending of a friendship
over misunderstanding of what those
emoticons really meant.

We have been removed and therefore can remove
unfriend, unlike, post, send, wave, LOL
and give meaning to meaningless in the pursuit of
technological advance and the future
while piles of our discarded electronics are sent to
children in Cambodia to "recycle"
poisoning, maming, killing them
for us to become One of Zero.

Maybe we will all be One of Zero one day
when there is nothing left of the earth but poisoned oceans
and dead radioactive animals....

Friday, April 8, 2011


Too many choices,

Too many decisions,
It was easier last time.
I was the only one who had to pay.
And I still love my car.
But we have to replace her
Go with the new
more fuel efficient
and greener
What is green?
It's really just make believe
as green would be riding a horse
or fueled by salt water that's desalinated and turned into
power to fuel the battery
that never dies.
When will that one be on the market?

6/30 and 7/30 To catch up on writing poetry is like eating two sandwiches one for lunch tomorrow?


Either way it is

Toilet paper up or down
Hanging it still works

Ode to a Sandwich

(Maybe because I'm now gluten free/vegetarian
I have these longings for a sandwich
The bread is just not the same.
Not from what I remember.)

Oh Sandwiches.
Let me count the ways I've had you:
White bread, Safflower mayonaise,
fresh chicken breast, sliced tomatoes and lettuce from the garden;
Wheat bread, grilled cheddar cheese, tomatoes and onion,
dipped in tomato soup;
Rye bread, smoothered in 1000 island, swiss cheese, corned beef,
with saucraut dripping from the sides;
Whole wheat, strawberry jam, bananas, peanut butter,
honey drizzled between your layers;
Grilled wheat bread, slices of ham, jack cheese,
with sweet spicy mustard;
Sourdough with tuna, onions, tomatoes chopped finely
and melted havarti cheese.
French Roll with cranberry sauce between layers of fresh turkey,
lettuce and dashes of horseradish;
Kaiser Roll, juicy roast beef, cheddar cheese, onions,
and aujus on the side;
Perfectly powdered white buns with layers of cheese, grilled vegetables,
mushrooms and garlic aoli;
Although many make you, enjoy you, and delight in you, none of this
compares to the memory I have of you.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Something sweet 5/30 (behind again)

There is something so sweet
about coming home to you
softness and warmth and welcoming
there was never a moment that I experienced
prior to this that felt this way
I could have never planned, plotted or secured
Never had an inkling, a feeling or a hunch
that it would ever be quite like this
or coming from you.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Poem 4/30

Landed on finger
Beyond knowledge experience
Chord of Being

The picture above is a friend, whose husband patiently took this picture to not scare off her friend that is a big blue Scrub Jay who comes to eat peanuts from her hand.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

3/3 and I've caught up for the day

Evening brings quiet

Release of all that is past

Gone to sleep like you

Poem 2/30

It's 6:12 pm and I have learned of your death from third hand sources and overheard phone calls. 
You and I were never friends and never will be.
We passed and never really spoken
unless is was about the dog
or the noise
or the indifference.
I called the police for you when he broke in.
Sad that he was actually the one who probably cared more for you than the stream of low-life parasites
in the smelly/dirty/noisy housing they occupied with you.
And it all was too familiar and that's why I could name it.
Now all that remains is them
responding to those urgent phone calls from authorities
trying to find your family members
that they don't really know.
They are all that is left.
You are gone.
I wish that I was indifferent but I am actually sad.
This is how you ended.
Sometimes I watched as you left with some of these
made yourself pretty
I am sad that you know peace now but in life never did.
You never knew what it was like to be clean
To have life staring full frontal in your face with all the beauty that it contains.

April is National Poetry Writing Month, 30 days, 30 poems, I'm already behind

The Challenge

It looks fun
Wow that was amazing
Let's do this,
you know we can do this
It's just a short time
You've done harder things
What if it's not cool..
Oh, woah...that killed it.
There was that spark and ooopsss.....
The dark just came in and squish
It doesn't seem so fun anymore
Maybe it's not for me
Maybe it's time to think of something else
Fill in that big crack where the idea split
between something light and new and promising
To that familiar old crow
Cackling...making noise
harsh on the ears
piercing to the mind
silencing the light
the only thing to do is breathe between the space
create a deeper creavice
before falling down the hole, breathe
breathe in
the pause
the breath stops the fall
breathe more
make the breath go deeper
the breath filling in that space
breathe in more air
air fills the creavace with air
it's getting clearer now
the purpose the reason the air keeps filling and lifting
filling and lifting until there is light and lightness and floating
it's not that we don't all have monsters it's that we put some space between them and us
we all come back
we all have the challenges