June 20, 2016
It happened again. The annual period of parental celebrations. Mother’s day came and went. Good. Sunday, Father’s Day. Meh. I’ve never been fond of them. I’ve had no reason to enjoy them. I often wish my parents were long dead so that I could mourn properly. I wish I could say, “when mom was alive…she” or “when dad was alive…he.” But just the same, they exist here, on this bubble, in their own lives, in their own worlds. I wonder if they ever really think of me. Most of the time, I don’t care. It’s easier that way.
From the peaceful, rejuvenating weekend, I was slung back into the cruel reality of my life, when upon logging into Facebook, I see a photo presented by one of my half-siblings. It showed, my father, my two brothers and one sister. The four of them, as happy as can be; In honor of Father’s day. They couldn’t be any more proud of him (so it would appear). They beamed of love and connectivity. It hurt to see. It reminded me of what I do not have – family…blood…connection.
I’m not mad at all. I actually smiled thinking, “well, I guess that’s how I’ll look when I’m his age.” He looks fairly well ,so I’m not concerned of my fate really. Levity….we all have our things…I’ve often heard, honor thy mother and father….but what of the child? The child that was left out in the wilderness, to fight off the hounds, left for dead. Where is that child’s honor?
June 17, 2016
June 15, 2016
“Don’t play with something,
you should cherish for life.”
Marvin said it best.
Toying with each other,
as a cat toys with a mouse.
The chase, the fear of capture,
the fear of being slain.
Sliced opened and left vulnerable to
elements, microbes and vultures.
Emotions, promises, experiences, games.
The games that people play.
As youth, we played doctor.
As adults, we play house.
The rules have never changed.
Roll the die. (you only get one)
Pick up a card.
When I was child, I did as a child.
When I became a man, the child
fought back in defiance, until
one day, he cried himself to sleep.
June 14, 2016
Remembering the time
when love ruled, in a temple
of obsidian and alabaster.
Bridged by melodies and tempos of the heart,
two merged as a unit, together stronger
Soul mates promised,
a high pedestal and aspirations…the arrogance of it all.
out of love, out of sync.
A unit becomes two,
two become strangers.
One is forgotten.
Remembering what was,
not knowing if a return is possible,
not having the strength to steer the ship
into such treacherous waters.
“you always try so hard not to remember….you always try so hard…”
June 13, 2016
Repeated lunacies, broken records
clash and wreck trains.
As often as Mercury goes retrograde,
the result has never changed….
The result has never tried to change.
Why did this happen?
Why does this continue to happen?
Insanity, just to ask.
We refuse to change.
Kicking and screaming,
Stumbling into familiar feelings,
fumbling through developmentally arrested tantrums.
“Me, me, me!” and “I want, I want, I want!”
What do you want?
You want a different outcome.
After each and every single failure,
You expect, a different flavor.
We grow tired
and so we sleep.
He slept for an entire cycle,
hadn’t lived in a bottle for well over a year.
Once woke, black curtains drawn,
white walls reflecting…
Change is inevitable.
Be it out of need.
be it out of necessity.
June 10, 2016
Is the devil busy,
or are the spirits moving?
These days, it’s hard to tell.
Whirling about within vibrating
frequencies, designed to disrupt or to guide.
It’s simply too hard to decide.
Rapid fire, from all sides,
information bombards, shocks,
and frees the mind, but again,
which is for the best?
Decisions to make, paths to walk,
choices to consider.
Who are these faces around, who
worship Janus, to a fault,
forgetting that the true mission is
the beginning and the end?
Either we get off at this stop,
or we remain, seated, quietly riding,
until we reach our final destinations.
June 9, 2016
Could it be that we
simply work to pay bills?
Bills past due from this life
and most certainly the former,
and possibly the next.
Future drive-bys done in past-life Cadillacs,
draped in gaudy gold to be flashy.
“I could aim, but I could not fire…”
wails the woman living in the dashboard radio.
I forgot to buy cream for the coffee,
so black it goes down
Upsetting the stomach, just a bit for a gurgle.
Don’t forget the keys, you always wind up turning around.
“See you in a bit little one”, the familiar encircles,
as if to say, “Yes, yes, I’ll see you too…”
Work for another’s dream,
just to survive and exist in your own.
Do we work just to pay?