down the drain

you stand alone near the cliffs.
you have watched your entire life
be whisked off on winds,
rained on by tempests,
lost in the dying rivers
of your heart.

but you've just healed,
and woken up
from your spiritual slumber,
and the only thing going
down the drain
is your doubt.

you are open to your gifts,
and the world is out there
waiting for you.

depths of sorrow

we have plumbed these depths.

old men standing,
faces naked
like exposed bone,
cracked and brittle.
...marrow sucked out
by vindictive lovers
long ago.
hearts toughened
like dead leather.
eyes blinded
by glittering baubles,
fake stories,
false fronts.
we hope for love,
and we die waiting.

and we wear old coats,
and we wear tattered hats,
and we ride bleak waters
in leaking boats.
dying rivers
lead to caverns,
fetid and unspeakable,
far underneath dead cities,
where the sun is a forgotten
memory.

we plumb the depths of sorrow,
and we forget joy,
and we die
waiting for love.

brief break from poems!

some of you are, like, 'thank god! one more poem and i was gonna get all crazy up in this motherfucker.'

seriously, probably not. my 4 constant readers (xo) love what i have to say. right?

anyway, just a quick list of things on my mind, to put them out there.


-script being read by higher ups AS WE SPEAK!!! woooooo!

-publishing some of these poems!!!

-capoeira

-yoga with my amazing love

-dance lessons with that same amazing love

-another script idea percolating in the wings.

-and, last but not least, continuation on the novel.


i am in a good place. being calm, letting love happen, breathing, being myself. pretty much all at the same time.

enjoy your life! we're all doing the right thing.

trust that.

talking

sometimes
in my life,
in the interest of NOT manifesting something
-possibly negative, possibly positive,
possibly i'm not sure-
i have held my tongue,
remained silent,
and seemed, to some,
aloof,
or disjointed,
or distracted,
or uninterested.
not true.
but, understandably,
this was the perception.
i, now, today,
being alive,
and present,
and real,
and engaged,
and wanting such beautiful,
pure love,
vow to no longer hold my tongue!
i am going to share my knowledge,
and my joy,
and my laughter,
and my love...
with myself,
with the world,
and with you.

this is the best time,
ever,
to be alive.

mom

my mom is a
borderline personality-
or maybe even psychotic-
and so is completely
batshit insane.
one second i’d be sitting near her,
smiling and laughing
over some shit or other,
next moment she’d be
throwing her plate of food at me
and slapping me in the head
for a perceived slight.
she would lock herself in her bedroom
for hours at a time;
my sister and i would sit outside
in the hallway,
listening to her cry
or throw things,
talking about whatever we’d talk about.
it’s the only way we bonded.
twenty years later,
we don’t speak at all.

i haven’t spoken to my mother
in eleven years.
i can’t say i miss
her witty banter.
i can’t say i miss
her warm company.
i do miss
the pieces of myself
that i left in the past.
but i am finding those,
more and more,
every day,
just like the buried treasure
my heart holds dear.

and don't misinterpret my words-
i'm not stuck in the past.
i'm fully present, right here,
right now.
i've worked this through.
i've done my time.
but sometimes...just sometimes...

i think about her.

ice cream candy canes

remember the days we would sit in the backyard slurping down sunshine
and ice cream and pie
and all the old dogs and cats we'd buried deep
in the gardens would rise up
when you told your lies easter and christmas
and halloween too
the children believe what you tell them you know
ice cream is poison and candy canes too
i live here
i'll stay here
it's you who must go

the children believe what you tell them, you know
the children believe what you tell them

you know

back in the garden here
back in the day
the clouds were much lower
remember the way
you looked away quickly
when i saw your heart
the walls rise
the gates close
it's perfection
your art

time to raze the construction
of your protection
you've nothing to hide from me
i am your friend

we talk
we talk
and we listen

corpse paper

while you dry up dusty and alone
in your old tattered shirt
the one you got for two dollars
and change
you wonder where the sand blows to
while you lose your voice
to bottomless bottles
you wonder why you cannot see
the distances you once did
you wonder why your bones crack
and your tears harden on your cheeks
rustling like corpse paper
you wonder why your heart
has closed off
you wonder about others
and you question their intentions
and you wish you had their love
you wish you had their love
you could leave
but you always choose
to stay

disappear
it's really
the best way