Poem Time Warp

Jan. 16, 2008
Ignored

Laying on the ground,
Watching the sun go by
Watching lovely things die
Laying on the ground
Watching the earth
Shift and spin
Will the world ever be
The same again?
Moments passing moments,
Creating new Atonements
To be sought
So start seeking
Learn to stop speaking
Or you’ll have more
Fights that can’t be won
So tired of being ignored
What is it that makes
People so bored
They have to ignore –
Ignore me again
Leave me alone
Don’t
Pretend to be friends
And I’ll stab you in the back
Can’t take it back
I’m a viper in the sand
I’ll bite you
When you take my hand
As a friend
When do the lies –
Do the lies ever end?

Sadly, this one resonates with me right now. Expectations, no matter how limited, will always bring heartache. I've always had a hard time with feeling ignored. It's as though memory of me slips from the minds of those I am thinking of as soon as I leave their presence. Give me a slice of your time and I will give all I have to offer. Cease to spare a thought for me and my heart will break forever.



November 19, 2008

I slide into reality from a place that is not here.
The weight of my world is dearly felt by my tender shoulders, crooked with the effort of upholding.
I sigh with this tremendous load and fear that I will not be able to draw breath again as I am crushed from above.
But, I know that this, like all things, will have its end.
I will not always wear this yolk, although I will adopt others.
No amount of wishing or turning my eyes to the past will help the situation now.
I must press onward, keeping my face to the east – toward the rising sun and progress.
Each leg moves at an elephants pace, finding purchase in the uneven ground and allowing the other leg to do the same.
As I continue, this burden that I carry, that is part of me, slowly melts into my skin and becomes Me.
My whole being is infused with that which once oppressed me – making me stronger.
I dance with the realization that I am free.
Leaps, bounds, a series of spins, and I fly!
I turn my face to the east – toward the rising sun and progress.

This poem speaks the story of my life a dozen times over. I can never seem to do something according to the book, as it were; things always have to be so much harder for me because I am doing them. However, every time I am met with unconscionable hardship I am also given the tools to overcome and grow. My soul has been washed with gravel. My heart; spat on with acid. And yet, I turn to my Savior still and find that I am capable of rising to the occasion -- of flying into the future with the blindingly brilliant sun in my eyes.


December 16, 2008

One day I will awake
To a life I did not plan
And on that day I will break
Free from my own demands
To live apart from inhibitions
And sip the honey wine of freedom
Making only my own decisions
The queen of my own kingdom

And if by chance my peace is lost
My castle walls encroached upon
I shall welcome sadly the weary cost
Of living with certainty all but gone
I will live and love, accept my fate
Farewell to all I am and know
Embracing, completely, my future's weight

Sometimes, there is nothing that can be done. No amount of effort or ambition or purpose can change the outcome of events set in motion before the hand of man encroached. Sometimes acceptance is what takes courage.


September 26, 2008
The Following were all written the same day. I dedicate the last to my cat, Annie.

A stolen heart, a world apart she creeps in search of sanctity
Each night she searches for her soul; mornings dawn with misery
Most unworthy was her love who did not love at all
The heights of heaven cannot be reached; without a heart she falls
And moaning, groaning through the night we hear her distant plea
“Come back, my love, come back and bring, my shattered heart to me.”


Happy puppy with no skin, he prances, dances, scaring men
And women too, but he does not scare me
For I am his friendly, flaky flea!


Zombie cat your face is cracked and oozing forth with pus
Thin and mangy to extreme, to keep you is no fuss
You want a rub behind your ears but my hand finds day-old scab
For you were not a kitten born, but produced within a lab