Sunday, July 12, 2015

July 12


12 comments:

  1. War Games

    It was dark
    I could vaguely make out a silhouette
    It should have been a person
    I should have been safe
    After all, it was just a dream
    No
    It was something else
    I remember its eyes
    Yellow and catlike
    With a mouth full of foul smelling fangs
    It had long claws
    And a knife
    I realized I was laying down
    It was straddling my abdomen
    I couldn't move
    Then it plunged the knife in my chest
    My arms reached out on their own
    And pushed the creature off
    It took a swipe at me
    When I awoke
    The claw marks were still on my arm
    There were more nights like that to come
    I would sleep
    It would come
    And the fight would continue
    The battle raged on for months
    But I was strong in the Lord
    And the power of His might
    I never backed down
    I still don't
    The battle is over
    But the war rages on
    I strap on my armor everyday
    Because the struggle is real

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    Replies
    1. You are the warrior woman in Thomas's poem on the 13th, only his is a literal one and your speaker, more psychological. Keep up the fight!

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    2. I had a hard time deciding whether or not to post it here. I didn't know how it would be received.

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  2. those teen years
    falling into the abyss

    if i’d had my way
    the drugs would
    have killed me

    yet somehow
    saved me

    for a time

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    Replies
    1. Ha! Drugs are a funny thing, aren't they. What doesn't kill you....

      I'd love to know more about how they saved you. Very mysterious. I wonder if I could relate....

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    2. I know escaping the reality can also mean surviving it

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  3. Sometimes, when I find an abandoned snail shell
    bleached from sun and dog urine, I wonder
    about the soft creature inside; what caused
    him to leave and did he find new digs
    under the amber eaves of the fence boards?

    Or did he wither inside the casing I now crush
    between my fingers, fragments of a life
    once lived reduced to agged shards that can cut a toe?
    Did the snail run out of places to hide inside,
    the season’s shift of color too narrow a passage for a soul?

    I think about everything that could have ended me.
    The biopsy needle that threaded cancer cells through a tube,
    The house fire, the dark icy road that flipped my car into a ravine.
    The worst: the façade of home- like skin shed at first rain- the minutes
    I let you creep in, deep water filling my only way out.

    If what we are made of, we travel through, then
    I’m stumbling along walls looking for the reprieve of dirt.
    If it moves and it’s smaller than you, kill it.
    Somewhere, you are holding bits of my fragments
    in your long, cold fingers; the sound keeps scything the night.

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    Replies
    1. takes a good scary turn. scything the night = great.

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    2. takes a good scary turn. scything the night = great.

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  4. Pot till I drop

    Drugs should have killed me long ago
    I was on a path of self destruction
    One party too many for a person
    only fifteen years old
    There was a circle of friends
    drinking out of the same six-pack
    and passing them while each one
    of us chugged and passed it along
    Needless to say I got drunk in a hurry
    and it was time to go home and get back
    before curfew, when my mom was a loady
    herself and didn't care as long as I was safe
    Well, I peddled my bicycle home and was on
    top of the peddles pumping myself as fast as
    I could make it move and that is when the
    alcohol went to my brain and made me pass
    out while riding home.
    I swerved into the middle of the road and fell
    directly on my chin and was knocked unconscious
    Waking up with paramedics over me asking me
    questions wanting me to stay awake
    And finding out later that it was a policeman who
    had happened upon me in his patrol car and
    kept me from getting run over by any motorists
    by taking me to the side of the road and saving me
    The second time was more brutal than the first
    I nearly got overdosed and was lucky I didn't choke
    on my vomit being I was a side sleeper and everything
    spewed toward the floor and not aspirating on the junk
    It was a close call and waking up, well was hard, being
    I was so much in a fog after that incident
    The third time was the topper, when I was behind the wheel
    Going up the mountain towards dead man's curve
    I remember letting out a devilish laughter before hitting the
    peddle to the floor going toward the end of the cliff
    My strength of turning the wheel toward the roadway was hindered
    when my drinking buddy landed on my arms as I was trying to keep
    the car from going off and tumbling down two hundred feet
    The embankment helped the car stay on the road and I careened
    into the mountain side with the front of my car saving us from death
    Like I said, drugs should have killed me long ago
    But now that I am sober as a judge
    nothing can keep me from my sobriety
    No friends, no loved ones,nobody



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  5. You Probably Should Have Killed Me

    Today I called my Father crying.
    I told him that he and my mom should have aborted me.
    It hurt me to say it.
    I also told him they shouldvhave worn a condom.
    I felt that was probably a little too raw.
    I told him that I never should have been born into this shit.
    Earlier than this I explained to someone why I hate God.
    And I go to church.
    Someone probably should have killed me or still should.

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