Author Archive

Our Father (Far Away)

Posted: August 30, 2015 in Poetry

Our…How could you let that happen?

Who art…where are you when I need you?

Hallowed be…what am I supposed to do with that boy?

Thy Kingdom…I am afraid to show my face there, ever again.

Thy will…how can I ever live up to their expectations?

On Earth…please, please take my life, kill him or me, I can’t take it anymore.

As it is…will I burn in hell for my sins?

Give us this…I need help, right now!

Forgive us our…I am so ashamed of who I am as a person, and though I try with all my might, I can’t seem to change.

As we…I will never forgive him for what he did to me. Never!

Lead us…I know I should never have gone, I knew what would happen to her, and I let it happen. How can I live with myself?

But deliver us…No, I can’t. Please, no! Stop!

For thine is…I hate myself. I hate all of them. I’ll never go back. Then, they’ll be forced to understand.

Forever and…This will be my last message.

Amen.

The Black Lives Matter Movement
It has been my experience that the Black Lives Matter movement has started a discussion to take place between people of color and whites, and between whites and whites, about white privilege, racism, prison reform, climate change, minimum wage, the welfare state, law enforcement, and the fact that every human being should have dignity, freedom, equality before the law, a livable wage, clean air and water, a safe and clean place to live, a good education, and everything else that whites have always taken for granted, while wholly or partially denying them to people of color, since the founding of the United States of America.

A Broken Justice System

People of color have always been “second class”, shamed for their “deficiencies”, blamed for allowing or even “instigating” discrimination, persecution, torture, imprisonment and death, all carried out by white figures of authority, who, in the face of confrontation or criticism, were protected by a justice system that targets people of color with severe and unreasonable punishment, while whites are the social center of attention, being showered with support, legal defense, biased police officers, attorneys and judges, and politicians, all of whom should be aware of the injustice of a system that is centered on racist treatment of people of color, and favorable treatment of whites. For the most part, the punishment for convicted felonies corresponds directly to whether the criminal is a person of color, in which case their sentence by judges and their treatment by law enforcement and prison guards would be severe; or, if the criminal is white, the sentence is much lighter, and the treatment of the criminal is much more humane.

Issues, Issues and More Issues

That’s to say nothing of the plethora of examples pointed out by the BLM movement of inhumane treatment, harassment, torture and murder of completely innocent people of color, just living their lives without bothering anyone, simply because of the color of their skin. Not only is it ridiculous, insane and irrational, it is completely wrong. It is wrong, for people of color, because they are the victims of a society that creates an atmosphere of anger, resentment, bitterness, inhumane and demoralizing treatment, violence, torture, rape, harassment and murder towards people of color. But it is also bad for whites, who, when people of color challenge the system of white privilege and white power and white superiority, constantly defend the inappropriate actions of the white authority figure, and blame the victim because of their race, even if the victim is innocent and the treatment is inhumane. Then they become angry, resentful, bitter, violent and insensitive to the injustice and unfair, unequal treatment of other people of color. It is really a vicious cycle that spirals downward, and finally bursts out into expressions of racist remarks, jokes and harassment, at the least, and abuse, neglect, abandonment, rape and other forms of violence towards people of color, gays, immigrants, women and, last but not least, other whites.

Whites Need to Listen

So, what can we do to change it? I believe the dialogue started by the BLM movement can be continued and really gain meaning in our personal lives by using this news as an opportunity to strike up a conversation with a person of color about what it’s like to be them, and to earnestly and sincerely listen, without interruption, or feeling the need to defend oneself, or ones race. This is a wonderful opportunity for healing, of the expression of compassion for that person, and empathy for their feelings about how all this stuff affects them in their daily lives. In this way, we can learn to see each other as real people with dignity and respect, encouraging each other, fighting for each other’s rights, and maybe surrendering some of those destructive tendencies we are so used to taking advantage of, white privilege, white power, and white superiority. Let it go. It’s worth the risk. 😊

The Underside

Posted: August 28, 2015 in Poetry

Mealtime.

Southern flair hides the truth.

Mangled reputations build from the gossip.

Turncoat private comments, issue it in.

Lies shown from the underside,

Heat up the relationship,

Until it burns to a crisp, then falls to nothing.

I like the atmosphere, it’s comfortable,

To a point. Nature is beautiful up here.

Hills and oak trees sway my soul to relax.

I wonder sometimes, how I am deceived,

But sooner or later, it shows its face.

I like it still, for some reason.

Am I the same? Sometimes, I wonder.

Sure, I lie, I am two-faced in desperation.

Walking through danger,

I am like everyone else.

Can I prove myself,

To challenge the status quo?

I hope so. I want to be different.

We all have our weaknesses, I guess.

So, what is yours?

Aching Suits

Posted: August 28, 2015 in "Unpoetry"

Mellow feelings swamp the age-old serendipity meet-ups. Weird laughs call to real-time walls of political divides on strange highs from too much criticizing. Can we stand by as so much disrespect happens on the main stage media displays? I can’t conceive of wheels and brakes screeching one another among random gallabants with innocent eyes. Strong leaps to high tops of blue skies and loud calls to nearby tribes echoing for miles. Do you hear the cries to lonely, meandering children? I hide, as giant rock stars fly high above the effeminate, somewhat strange scenery, wearing clothes that don’t fit, and chains made of gold. I love the night, one says. I hear the sighs, sliding onto French fry honey molasses car chases, wondering about sly invectives, holding back the tears that long to drip into green glasses only half full. Calling nature brings selfish searches to upside down creatures, loud as any animals you can imagine in your fondest dreams.  I long to soothe angry souls, sorting among old clothes for the smallest pieces of meaning, a profession that only pays food and shelter, no more. Hallways crawl with evergreen, swallowing angels, finding roaches in their soup. Softly they search for all the pizza they can bring themselves to pee on, wondering if crazy mice-strewn hailstones can cover sailing ships to Japanese life boat callings. Happy lives filled with cherry pie feel empty as hound dog referees in drag queen marksmen. Flicking tiger tales fill African searing sunburns around railroad cars, leaping from crazy psychologist books. How do you solve European mountain goat milk bones inside merry mazes with too much spaghetti inside? I leer at wrongheaded fly traps, fearing the atheist thunder cankers today, creating false fireflies. Don’t crush too many intestinal worms when feeling around in surgery tanks. Crunching soundless train wrecks, a artichoke high can mean you’ve consumed too much marijuana odors in your leather best, forest fire shoes. Rivers of delight confuse puzzle pumps toward wandering, foul-mouthed, South American peering peels of onion blues. How do you feed treacherous sullied feet, when all you can follow is tightwad peers, who hunt tall, handless, funky leap frogs? I aired out my weeping, worn, cooled-down feature films in empty halls of adventurous, yellow pieces of quilt-hewn picture books. Hell, if steering wheels weren’t so damn sick in Alaskan sailboats, I’d sell my aching bumble bees to Kleenex barks! Won’t feature licks kick cute and ugly motorcycles? I love field pies inside subway sores! Jungle gyms fit psycho babbles geeky  strips, don’t you? Hearing this , the jack of all trades laughed, cunningly keeping all the cards in his backyard pimple boots.

Whoop

Posted: August 28, 2015 in "Unpoetry"

Steal meant switch hull often now

Wow will rely rewind order even

Lie sold still soldier mall sold knee

Soft meal leave Saul may lint why

Real wall weed wrong wheel sly

Swan soothe maid balance feel eat

Marry stick move swallow mere eel

Murder mellow reel steel rent mail

Meander oats stall walk small whoop

God and Mental Illness

Posted: August 27, 2015 in Essay

Have you ever thought about how weird it is, to trust God? I believe (most of the time) that God is there, but I worry often, probably a lot. It is like I trust and doubt at the same time. It is also weird, how so many of us worry so much, as if it helps anything. If I took action in a productive, healthy manner, half as much as I worry, I would be so much better off.

But back to God. Trusting God is a strange thing, because, what if God doesn’t exist? What if we’re wrong? What if I’m placing my trust in an illusion, a delusion? How much of an investment should I place in my faith, and how much, in more practical problem solving? Is God the answer to everything? Some people refuse medical care, trusting that God will save them, heal them. Is that possible? Most of the time, it seems those people die. That doesn’t say much for faith, or for God. But, maybe God also expects us to think for ourselves, use our capacity for reason and solving problems.

But what about when that seems impossible, when we are desperate, anxious, scared? What do we do? Some would say to pray about it. Some would say to seek counsel, wise counsel. Some would say to do both. Trusting is challenging for me. I’m not sure why. I know that growing up, sometimes things were difficult for me and other members of my family. My parents got divorced, and my mom was depressed a lot. She was overwhelmed with her problems, and didn’t have much energy to dedicate to me and my brother. My brother and I fought all the time, hard. I was older, and stronger, and he bore the brunt of that reality. Years later, I still feel very sad about that time in my life, the things that happened, and the things that didn’t happen. And now I wonder how that time affected me and my brother mentally. And, especially now that I know I have a mental illness, I suspect that others did too, and that some still do. How widespread, I’m not sure. How far back it goes, not sure either. Could be very far, and very widespread. I suspect that many families that encounter as many problems as my family has, also encounter mental illness.

And, speaking of mental illness, what if religious faith is a mental illness? What if it is a kind of social, mental, psychological disconnect, maybe even a serious delusion? That is scary to think about, especially for those of us who take great comfort in our faith, especially in times of fear and doubt. Again, what if there is no divine being, no Creator of the Universe, no protective Father, taking good care of his children? Many of us who believe would be completely at a loss if that was taken away, and sometimes, in times of fear and doubt, it momentarily disappears, until we mentally, emotionally, reach for it, for Him, Her. After all, none of us want to be overwhelmed, none of us want to be alone. But I do still wonder, what if God is just Santa Claus for adults? It’s scary to consider, really.

Only

Posted: August 27, 2015 in "Unpoetry"

Find what live brought maybe bell

Till might comes believe hope try

Hold fast desperately trust only

Pray kind delight rely only entire

Heart heal protect relive while in

Round remember wonder overwhelm

Rent tell cower roll feel elbow inner

Run row soul member melt tale sow

Sound still elf liver lit elevator rule

Fend

Posted: August 27, 2015 in "Unpoetry"

Many dole topple. Devout were ale. Will bark, will divide. Round before lots. Into all up. Real yuck. Bend to. Nick weird. Roving wand ill wall. Waver cube if tempered deal wail all. Tube tight sorted bare near. Tall soul, wheel tell. With tender types veal wears take. Angular tell walk order rule. Lead tower beautiful besides. Bale seep tale. Reach take make work sift. Lag wake rot ear rail toward sill. Rude feet wonder all.

Dear If

Posted: August 27, 2015 in "Unpoetry"

Hello. My Random. Do you and live real slight beyond? Name hit dip how. I wish real motley. Sometimes, belief cries empty. Even damn, slick about deed help. Lack doubt aim raw. Do above naught can. Hell seem win. Beer. Now, sift rowdy psych. Every same never be. Elbow will sick. Mere russet still if. Wonky bit lift wad. Were rough, fear bout. Like. It soothe balk sound. Dear Rick loud tame. I el tift render walk.

Thankful

Posted: August 27, 2015 in Poetry

Love. Leisure. Emptiness. Somber.

Yearning. Wishing things were different. 

Hand in hand. Holding your heart

Close to me. Spite. Bitterness.

Laughing. Loneliness. But,

A balance comes with age, with wisdom.

Time helps you handle life’s ups and downs.

Real. Genuine. Grasping all the parts

That we experience. Biting a bit, giving.

Treasuring all of it. Allowing everything it’s place.

Accepting. Moving on. Wondering what will come next,

Enjoying the adventure, the unexpectedness of it all.

Making plans, then canceling them.

Changing your mind. Commitment.

Staying true to yourself. Hanging in there.

Being there. Helping. Doing your part.

Hoping. Dreaming. Staying. Sorting it out.

Loving life, no matter what happens.

It is all part of it. It wouldn’t be the same

Without every part. Thankful.