Blur

Separations give us time

To appreciate those we love.

We get shocked, angry, sad,

For you will be there

Holding someone’s hand

That you never expected

Would ever show up. 

The lost son returns.

The father is ecstatic.

Happy in his redemption,

The father wildly prepares

No amount is too much.

The son gets what he came for,

Then kills his mother,

And his sister and whomever

Sees the trail of blood.

He wants to cover his tracks

But the scene is too crazy.

The best is to leave,

Without any more tracks.

He tries to escape, without an alibi

That he can remember.

If I have to state my alibi,

It will be the same.

I have no idea when or where I was

At hardly anytime, as each day runs

Together. It is a very long blur.

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How to do such a simple innocent thing

No one belies strength citizenry accent

And I am language I am light friendship

Is in my blood I wear my heart on my

Sleeve I worry about little things they

Worry about me take your time, they say

Be patient love yourself as a person that’s

Where they get me I don’t I have no idea

How to do such a simple innocent thing

In Whom Am I Rooted?

1.

Roots are meant to hold a tree up,

But as they age, with more limbs

And leaves, the roots take on another

Purpose, as well. The roots begin to hold

A tree down, not because it might fly up,

But because the tree may topple over,

With all the additional weight.

2.

So, my roots are important, as a part
Of my foundation, including

The people who have sought me out,

To give me support, to love me,

In my time of need,

My friends and family,

Reminding each other of all that’s been,

And the hope that exists

Based on all of my unique strengths.

3.

So, I’ve had to take a couple steps back,
To relearn some life lessons,

And to venture out again

With newfound strengths,

Realizing I have gained so much,

Over the years.

4.

And then there’s God,
A broken relationship,

From a long time ago,

A fearful one at best,

But one easily ignored, to a point.

As a child of God,

Now I’m listening to my life,

And now I seek him out,

As he has always sought me out.

5.

In holy places,

Full of those who love God’s children,

I’ve heard God say,

“Do you want to be healed?”

And, then,

“Who do you say that I am?”

I ponder in my heart,

These very true questions.

For how long have I run from the truth?

And how many times have I denied,

Who and what he is,

God incarnate,

Come to take away the sins of the world?

For Just Being You

Possible clangs rule up and against

The things hanging in time,

The seconds you give yourself,

In between deep breaths,

Bracing for the last proverbial

Hiking boot to drop,

The one you already used

To kick yourself in the ass,

For just being you.

Strife steeple apple clarity boom

Strife steeple apple clarity boom

Stack swordfight against an orangutan

From the head clerk of the zoo.

The orangutan would only be

Supplied with a plastic spoon, so

Easy to cut a man’s skin off the

Bone, into an artery, sever a vein,

Something, damn it, there’s a walk in

Place for taking a piss. Ouch your sigh.

Life sucks. And I would agree.

Sometimes, maybe for most people,

Life does suck. Maybe if they turned

Every church in town, staffed, organized

And otherwise provided for it to function

Like any other mental health unit of a

Hospital, and then took on the insurance

And pharmaceutical rackets, you’d see

Healing right away.

 

 

Alas, Writing!

Writing is the most impersonal, insensitive, unfeeling, inhuman, damaging, humiliating form of communication ever invented. We don’t need education, ever, even as children. What we need is love, and there is no more powerful love, than physical love, not sexual love, but hugs and kisses, rubs and holding hands, that love found today between family and friends, sometimes, if at all. After physical love, we need a spoken form of love, another form of communication, an embrace that travels quickly to the heart. This form of love is possible, along with physical love, even as we are in our mother’s womb, by both the mother and the father. Tranquility begins long before we are born. The more peaceful and healthy our present and future family is, before birth, and after, is key to our ability to trust our mother and father, siblings, and later, other children and adults.

 

My prediction, as it seems that there are more single-parent and abused, abandoned and neglected children in our midst, is that mothers and fathers as physical and spoken communicators and lovers, are quickly becoming a dying breed. Eventually, there will be none. So, really, we’re all left with everyone else around, whom all have shared the pain, of being, thinking, and especially, feeling alone. We will need to help each other, but to resist the interference of family, friends and even doctors and therapists. They all have their particular roll in getting us back to healthy living, and because family and friends are as ignorant as most of the rest of us are about dealing with extreme pain, unhealthy ways of thinking and living come to the fore. The doctors and therapists are in a difficult position because they are all specialists. Psychiatrists deal with medicine. Psychotherapists deal with our thoughts, where they come from and where they are going. Art therapists deal with art. These are those who remain, and it’s because of how inhuman and industrial our world has become. So impersonal. All of us have shared pain in our lives. The pain of being, thinking and feeling alone.

 

So, back to writing. It is a gift, and a curse. I believe when the person who became ostracized from their community, because of pain that they and those around them believed they could not handle, he or she was ostracized, kicked out of their group because they had lost their handle on reality. They then started doing strange things, making strange medicine, drawing on the walls of caves, even developing an alphabet in an effort to communicate with anyone who would listen. When the alphabet was discovered, it helped their community, and an art form, meant to communicate, was turned into a science. And that’s when we really got in trouble. Science is okay in itself, but the lengths that people go to this day, just to present news or drama, to the rest of the country, is just crazy. News programs are more about drama than anything else. But that keeps people addicted to it. They’re terrified, that if they don’t watch, they might miss something. Next time, go outside and ask someone. Connecting with real people is always better. I don’t care how much you hate your family. They are the only family you’ve got. You can set boundaries and rules, to protect yourself. You can say you need to leave. Tell them you’ll try to call (or email) them back soon. As far as writing goes, it can be a useful tool, if your family refuses to communicate in any other way. Writing is calming to me. I feel like I am accomplishing something. And it is not as much in your face as calling or texting. Also, writing is smoothly indirect, and easier to say what you want to say. Some of us do our best communicating through writing. We feel safe, secure and protected, which we might not feel in person. Speaking in person, especially if we’re put on the spot, can be hard for anyone. Writing is just a necessary evil. As long as people struggle to be understood, there will be writing.

The God Who Stopped Loving Herself

   
The universe is a mystery to me. I do believe there must have been one being who must have created it. My question is, why? In a sense, it is related to why we love other human beings. We love, simply because we want to. We love, we create, because it soothes our souls. It reminds us that we are not alone. There is such great fulfillment in each act of love, a kind of spiritual love, which can be objective and subjective, understanding and empathetic. We always want to mess things up by over-thinking everything, with negative thoughts.Having said that, I think that first being of the universe, despite either being independent in existence, or composed of an infinite amount of objects and beings, all connected, like the Earth and all its creative wonders, became lonely. With love, comes pain, the pain of separation, rejection, betrayal, etc. Then comes fear. Then anger. I think that being should not have, in the act of creating the universe, allowed any part of that being’s self to be separated into any other additional beings. We have all spent our entire lives trying to return to that eternal, everlasting womb. 

But, I think I understand why God did it. Because feeling alone, in any form of existence one can imagine, is the most painful experience, in all of life. I believe, in my heart, what happened, was that she stopped loving herself. God lost an appreciation for her infinite gifts. She lost her fellowship with the glory of her Creation, which began long before Earth. She forgot who she was. But she also remembered that she loved her children: planets, Suns, galaxies. She began to stretch her imagination, until she came up with the idea of human beings. These beings would be the roughest creation she made. She was taking a risk. These humans would have an intellect, second only to hers. But their hearts could be as soft as pudding, or as hard as stone. The difference would be determined by two concepts: the ability to trust or mistrust, influenced heavily in childhood, and the choices each human made, each day, all day long, for the rest of their entire lives.