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

Righteous

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".

27
Twenty-seven
An age in which I discovered myself again.
Decided that certain things were in
and certain things were out.
In
art
creativity
spirituality
divorce
Out
Lies
Covering up
Settling for
Other people's opinions of me
In
Ballet
running
yoga
acting
Out
soda
bad food
bad ideas
bad relationships
The journey didn't end there but it certainly began again.

28
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.

29
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
Softer
Closely
Understanding
Relationship
Empathy
Compassion
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.

25/26 April is National Poetry Month

25
Twenty-five:
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
wasted
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
complete
whole
unique
spectacular
breathtaking
inspiring
That is your happy ending
Go ahead and have it.


26. a haiku

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

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

Empathic

 - 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.