i miss my mom

raggie33

*the raggedier*
Joined
Aug 11, 2003
Messages
13,451
i blocked her death outa my head casuse i cant deal with it but somedays i think about her
 

THE_dAY

Flashlight Enthusiast
Joined
Nov 28, 2003
Messages
1,819
Location
sfv, california
you're a strong person raggie, it's alright to miss your mom. she must have been a great person to have made someone like you. i hope you have happy memories of her. /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif
 

Beamhead

Flashlight Enthusiast
Joined
Jul 6, 2004
Messages
4,253
Location
gone "Squatchin" :p
Raggie,
She is still with you, in your heart.

I miss my dad and son sometimes to the point of depression but I close my eyes and feel them in my heart.

I hope ya can do the same. /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif
 

raggie33

*the raggedier*
Joined
Aug 11, 2003
Messages
13,451
i dont ever think about sad stuff cause it takes way to much outa me. i just try to put it in my head where i cant see it. but somedays i think about it.today i was talking about laptop for sister with my dad and i recalled my mom loved computers she liked em like i do. we never talked she would email me like once every frew years i havent saw her for like 10 years to a week before her death.at that time i went to be with her for her death.man life sucks somedays and people like bin laddin stay alive im mad at that.
 

Beamhead

Flashlight Enthusiast
Joined
Jul 6, 2004
Messages
4,253
Location
gone "Squatchin" :p
[ QUOTE ]
raggie33 said:
people like bin laddin stay alive im mad at that.

[/ QUOTE ]

Raggie, I think our creator has different plans for bin laddin.
This little saying helped me once....

If you go into the forest to pick a flower, you pick the most beautiful one..right?
Well when our creator looks down on us for a soul to bring along side him/her....doe's he/she not do the same thing?

Hang in there man. /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/blush.gif
 

Sigman

* The Arctic Moderator *
Joined
Sep 25, 2002
Messages
10,124
Location
"The 49th State"
I miss my Dad & Grandmother as well! I've got a picture of my Grandmother with me standing behind her on my fridge. She looks about 1/4 the size of me, but just because she was a small lady - doesn't mean she wasn't strong!

Missing her indeed shows that you certainly cared for her (and still do!). If it wasn't for her, we wouldn't be able to share your thoughts & humor! Your presence here is important to us and you are a valuable member of "The Candle Power Family" raggie. We're glad she gave birth to you to share with us!
 

nethiker

Enlightened
Joined
Dec 20, 2004
Messages
684
Location
Montana, USA
I think it's good to think of your Mom raggie, as she lives on in your memories. Even more than that, she lives on in all you do. Our children, and you as a son, allow us to be present in the world long after our time. It's a beautiful thing to think about when pondering the uncertainties of death.
 

Sixpointone

Enlightened
Joined
Sep 6, 2004
Messages
862
Raggie,

Just last week one of my best friends Mothers passed away. He said he was, and is still sad.

But deep inside he could hear her telling him that it is OK at times to cry, and to let it all out. But once that is done, she would want him to be as happy as he can be.

So for that reason he is able to keep strong and keep smiling.

I know that is easier said than done, but just do your best, one day at a time.

I Hope I might have been able to help,
John
 

geepondy

Flashlight Enthusiast
Joined
Apr 15, 2001
Messages
4,896
Location
Massachusetts
I'm am sorry about your mom too, Raggie. My mom has lung cancer. She is hanging in there but we don't know how much longer she has. Certainly months at best, rather then years. The parent's live like almost 200 miles away. I sometimes would go several months without visiting in the winter months but now I go up like every second or third weekend. I guess the lesson learned is not to take your loved ones for granted.
 

Lynx_Arc

Flashaholic
Joined
Oct 1, 2004
Messages
11,212
Location
Tulsa,OK
I had a difficult time when my mother died. She left a huge amount of *stuff* piled everywhere in a mess which I decided I was the only one that even would attempt to go through it. I spent over 9 months 50-70 hours a week sorting through it all pulling her notes and personal effects out of countless boxes and piles of junk.

I am constantly having to remind myself I wouldn't really miss her if I had never had such a wonderful mom so I am thankful in that respect I had someone to miss greatly as I know people that never got close to their parents or don't have a mother/father.

I know at the end of this life I wont ever have to miss her again.
 

Topper

Flashaholic*
Joined
Dec 1, 2003
Messages
2,630
Location
North East Arkansas
Raggie, I miss my Grandparents and my Wifes parents (inlaws yes I know all the inlaw jokes) my inlaw Mom and Dad were good folks. Not sure they ever liked me but they loved my wife and loved my son and it hurts me that they past away cuz I liked them for me and loved them for my wife and son.
Yep sounded dumb but I know what I meant. It is OK to miss
your mom and at times "big boys do cry' thats OK do not feel bad for feeling sad at times. I would say more but I need to blow my nose and tears on the keyboard aint good.
Topper
 

DarkLight

Enlightened
Joined
Jan 13, 2005
Messages
538
Location
Elkhart,IN
Its always a bad month for me too raggie.. I know exactly how you feel....my mom was murdered on my birthday more or less ( a few hrs later)........I get into the blackest moods come summer, seems to get worse leading up to my birthday...

seems like I cant really celebrate it anymore...

The world is an evil place ruled by bad men for the most part...

Just keep your head up and realize there is a better place for the good guys...
 

raggie33

*the raggedier*
Joined
Aug 11, 2003
Messages
13,451
ty for all ya kind words everyone here is poety my mom wrote she likes poety if some aint her posty im sorry i cut sand paste from a cd
The Power is in Me

I have come across the mountain
lying lengthwise
on its side

five thousand feet gone
in one instant,
from youth
to helpless elder
simpering in wounded agony,

years have slid past
death whimpers
in the melt of snow
draining down its face.

Once the height of fear,
furious, terrifying creature,
I fought unending battles
caught in terror at its strength.

I would not bow to its power
I would not bow to misplaced judgment,
nor its fury,
hatred,
pain, agony, torture

I would not bow.
I would not bow.

The wind has moved with me,
changed its mood
after countless years
of sudden gales
and force fed turns.
It burrows angry frowns
through open mountain crevasse
sweeps in and out with amazing speed
emerging as a tempered breeze
to where i stand
open eyed
calm faced
without tears,
I watch the mountain die.



CyberTalk

My rage comes
in horizontal lines
half circles
dotted i's.

My heart comes
in partial view;

no longer sheltered,
I add
a curve or two

My self comes
in episodic parts
flung out in display
against the screen

the best of
little known
pay for view.
WIRED HEART

Follow up
and through
the thin layer
of this separate soul,

wander after;

inch your thoughts
through my eyes
where lost,
remembered,
deserting lovers
sneak their image,
and pause to hide.

I stay here
beyond the touch
of stone templed
empty faces;
moonlight, glitter,
harsh and sweet with
haunted places

to thread my neat
uncluttered way
along the silent,
still born glass
of a heart
kept too wired
and held in bounds
to say desire,
to come unwound.

HOW SHE THINKS A POEM (Revised)

In the hollows of her eyes
there was a flame of angular distortion
reflecting less what she saw
than what she felt at any given moment.
When the hiding was too fiercely tried
and her thoughts became self-evident
glass triangles fell through her cerebrum
and shattered against electronic print.

She bent to pick through the triangles
and abstract them into a free form self
while medicine wrung its hands
and considered her an unthinkable challenge
in the straightly narrow form of self.

In the night, she moved through the window bars
slipping herself through a three inch space,
her eye less hollow as she met with the stars,
soaring not too close to their heat,
keeping her own counsel;
and in the morning back through the bars
to lie down on a straight and narrow mattress
and in the hollows of her eyes
a flame of circular conception.
SO I TELL HER

it's not really the treatment that frightens me
I mean I've had it before
no, it's the sterility
I mean from one doctor to another
and by the time you reach the last
you don't even know his name or her name
or if the person coming at you
is a doctor or nurse
friend or foe
then you stumble out
feeling all ravished
and inflamed and wanting
to clutch your secret places
to make sure they're still there
but you have to walk straight
straight over to and into your car,
drive home and ignore
the bumper huggers and ranting raves
and you get there and stumble in
and there's no one to tell cause you're all alone
so you look at the phone
and the phone looks back
and you'd call if you could
but why bother them, they always get so upset
daughter, mother, brother, friend;
you end up comforting them anyway
so there's no one really to tell
who wouldn't hurt just as much as you do
or even more
and that, of course, is why here I am
hanging over the desk
just chatting up my co-worker
guess you know what I mean Jean
yes, yes, I can see,
I can tell from your softening expression that you do

and its just about that time
that exact time
when I've uttered those words
that she looks straight up from her computer
settles her glasses cautiously on her face and says
"what is it
you're just sitting there staring at me is something the matter"

and poop I have to go and realize I forgot to open my mouth
when I was telling her all of that.

HOLY MOTHERS THINE

All the golden virgins,
mothers thine,
whisper feet through gilded tabernacles
propelled on waves of scented saintliness
on this, their Sunday morning deliverance.

Hands intertwined, prayer of clenching
haloed smiles simmer through;

saintly virgins
in this, their father's hallowed quarters,
to dismiss for this day the trusting face,
children of their need battered faithfully
all for Your divine and everlasting forgiveness
here and forever after
Amen.

GRAVESHORE

On
to the soul
lying lengthwise
across the sand,
just past the rocks
edging shore

left embraceless
at the microsecond
of death;

left as the sandals,
as the clothing,
strewn for remembrance,
strewn
to dig crablike
into those left behind
this garden of self hate,
that they might
for one instant
own their hate too.

A MIND IS A TERRIBLE THING TO VACATE

Why should I wonder,
why should I care
where you exist
when your words twist in air,
darkly heroic, softer than wine,
your soul does not fit the spirit defined;

injecting dimensions
your mind can not know
as veins leak the demons
expelled by your soul.

Your mind so encrusted
may radiate poems,
but engulfed and corrupted,
they've lost their way home.
AFTER AFTER
(Vietnam 1972)

I was your princess,
dreamy prom queen
as far as I could figure
it was me
it was me
and I would
and I would heal your screams
when you cried in the night
when you covered your head
and hid in the brush,
with unmentioned enemies,
dismembered friends
then woke in the morning
to poke holes in my head
with a black fit,
a white fit
that made no goddamned sense.

No turning, no twisting
could make it all clear
when you screamed in your sleep
and covered your head and woke in the morning,
a smile and a wink to tell
of the woman
the soldier
the spy
the hideous form, the beautiful eyes,
rifle, her hands;
life tucked inside
so proud of yourself
that's what you said
not just one
not just one
but two
but two you said
the first that you killed

slap on the back
"a young boy like you will do ****ing fine"
and you hid in your eyes
hid in your eyes
a smile that scarred.
and I cried in the night
while you rocked in your sleep
and I tried
I tried but you turned
you turned on me






AFTER AFTER
(Vietnam 1972) continued

Charlie Charlie and something about Cong
nothing about fright
the end of us all
but it was me
it was me
it was ME on that night
when your mind burst apart. CHEMO TERRIFY (revised)

The apple tree bloomed
in lemon drops.
What did it know?
Smelling sweet,
was as much
a success,
as what it might ever grow.

She walked through
rubbing palms on leaves of blue,
wondering why, here,
even trees
had lost the thought
of what to do

glory colors burst through
in butterfly wings,
strange imaginings,
unknown
unsolved clues
no warning,
its stinger
biting through;

eyes large, mouth round
she pulled her ashes out
to drop them,
trembling

ancient heartache,
seeking balm.

rock to rock
water crossed,
steps on paper feet
careful movement
whispered cries,
on and over
to the other side;
softly settling
balance forward
self denied,
to find at last
no difference there
and she hung her head
and cried.

EDUCATING myself

Young old fat woman
sucking up to take what they said was mine
after I stood in line
for seven thousand days
learning every last rope
there was to learn
shooting crap out
faster than they
have
EVER
seen

antiCIPating wishes

ED
U
CATING
myself

"duly noted"
they would say
then they'd scurry into corners
darkly held and hug
themselves

I'd just shrug
"better them
than me"
I'd say,
then take the TIME that I had left
to sit in front of mirrors,
lecturing
some damn inner spirit
WHICH
all the freaking gurus
said was all I needed
during this time
so I could overcome anything
just as long as I knew the PROPER words
and bought the RIGHT book
and saw the ****ing right videos

oh yeah, huh-huh

so THAT
when the pronouncement
came
from some damn doctor
who wouldn't know his butt from a vacuum cleaner
but
oh yeah


EDUCATING myself (continued)

he surely thought he knew what's best for me
I let all those plastic tubes carry me over
the edge and back again
and I struggled
over every hill and
every frigging dale to stand upright
and get back where
I had to be

then the young old fat woman
who sucked a hell of a lot
better than me
shoved me with one wide hip
so far aside
it would take me years to
get back where I started
and
I just began to scream
scream to the fat *****
good and loud
just in case she had also lost her sense of hearing -
never mind her sense of ethics -
that was one thing she lost ages ago

like did they think I was going to stand there
and have them punch my face out
bad enough I had lost my body
or parts thereof.
young old fat woman
she sure as hell's
gonna remember me.
HIS TEARS

Tears do not fall from under his eyelids;
they breathe from within his heart
tracing paths through silken sadness
down to the frozen abyss
built for such cause.

In methodical procession
they make their escape from his mind;
drawing with them thoughts
in patterns losing meaning
as they travel the paths
in an ache of bewilderment
knowing
they were never meant to survive.

SYNAPTIC REVELATIONS

My poems arise in consternation
leaking
from the thoughts I've known.
It is not, the least,
a revelation that
my past provokes me so.

With mind protected by the foolish,
hanging cobwebs
clouding air,
I keep my poems
provoking warnings,
buried silently with care.
Within

If I could become
within my within
and simply drain away
into a small slice
of quiet;
still the booming
disharmony,
awkward voices,
stone set smiles,
the shove and push
kick and pull,
words not yielding,
staged,
unkind.

If I could become
within my within
and hurry silent
away from here,
from grinning
slime
chin to chin,
I'd set a space
a twist in time
to frame the dream

soft, harmonious
close-knit, hermit
spirit,
Mine.

Radiate me? (Revised)

Give me a reason
trace out a sign.
Is life merely rust
cells into dust?
To cipher
through years
shattering prose;
If there be no reason,
let me out!
I've no hope.

Give me a reason
trace out a sign,
raging red alpha,
sunrise in sky.
Their plans will
consume me with
drugs to confuse me.
Before I might lose me,
I'd just as soon die.

Artist in Residence, Co-Defendant

Am I now
to think you dead
with your leftover prose
beating wings in my head.
No word from your lips
no answer the phone.

Is this one more day
you will speak of your bones
whitened and bare
with lust for the grave
keeping you silent
lest you be saved.

I twist and I turn
to spirit mind you.
The world is not misery
but pain is your crew
so month after month
we play hide and seek.

I clothe you in courage
and leave myself weak.

Peering Through Zoo Bars

I will be unavailable to the viewing public
for the rest of the year

those holding
tickets will be reimbursed

friends first
acquaintances too
strangers last

sorry that my face took on this
different look,
the view is the same
but the room has changed

someone hired an inept decorator
an unseasoned medical personnel
performing after an all night wait
and here I am paying for their
excused refusals.

I can honestly tell you
fine feathered friends and
assorted
but not to be ignored enemies
that I am sorry
sincerely sorry that you've lost
your season tickets
to my deadly winter games

please remember
trading places
is always an option.

News Radio...Who's on First?

It wasn't the time of day
that began to wear
his thoughts away,
it was more like
the innocent child
who had been slashed
through all her tomorrows
and left
for magazines and tv news
to play "Who's on first?"

Not her.

It wasn't the traffic
that drained his mind
away;
it was more like
MTV thought patterns
turning circles with,
then without.
The logic
presented so neatly
packaged in
recylced cellophane.

It wasn't the cubicled
computer person
he had become
that switched his
brain to overdrive
or the gun he had bought
for just the thought of
a thief's
night
run.

In the end
it was just his own time
waiting in line
and why couldn't
anyone let him in
he had places to be,
thoughts to think
and one small
pistol packed
because
the clerk
should never
have yelled
so loud.


Knight in Startled Armor

Timothy Sean Joseph Delaney,
knight in borrowed armor
stepping in;

any other boy of such
intensely diminutive stature
with half
the sense
would know better;

toe to toe, head to head,
school yard crowd,
all to protect she brat of a sibling
who quakes, shakes;
a mute form
so small,
so insignificant
even to herself
she only hopes, only prays
to hide in plain sight
the intensely shy
exquisite lonely agony
behind
the sad sad amber eyes

Gary Tequila Cynic Machinist Poet Friend
knight in tarnished armor
so bruised about by life
hides beneath sad angry snarling eyes
a tattered spirit that ignores
message:
small hands on hips,
she brat friend;
needs no one or so she says.

Gary Tequila Cynic Machinist Poet Friend
"hates everyone he has ever met"
and rues the day that he was born
stands toe to toe
head to head
breathe to breathe
with one who hides in plain sight
the intensely shy
exquisite lonely agony
behind
the sad sad amber eyes


Untitled

You're supposed to get permission first
don't you ever follow rules?
You think because you're young
you can do your own thing and die
all by your lonesome self
what the
hell is the matter with you
you're supposed to give a warning
a clue of some kind
so we have an idea
so we know

so we know that
this huge monstrous freight train is coming straight at us
and is just about to knock us so far out
we will never see daylight again
not for one solitary day for the rest of our lives.

Out of the blue, out of the dark
there we are
still not knowing
because we've closed our minds
through our tears
and there you are so tiny
so pale
not moving
and you could have told us

I know you could've told us
but you wanted to be there be there
with you're gotta-have-them friends
and your dorm room and the classes and the possibilities
and your special only first guy friend
and you didn't want us to take it away
so you did
you took yourself away

I can't help the screaming
I can't help screaming
until you can hear
wherever you are
wherever you have chosen to be

I'm so mad at you
so awfully awfully mad at you
that I can scarcely breathe.

Death Games

His cobwebbed mind insinuates trails
across the ocean waves
where tattered sun droplets
struggle
towards his greying presence.

It is here that he can wade
in scattered thought
trying to decide
just how
close to death to come,
just how
threatening should he be;

Here,
now,
forever
he twists himself
into such schemes and thoughts
as though the knowledge of
when and how
to die
might somehow resolve
the whereabouts
of his identity.



Accidentally Yours aka Your So-Called Life

So look at me.
Who am I?
A victim interred in time
that leaves you turned away,
closing me out,
so once more you can turn
full circle
back
to the stagnant rhythms
of banalities.

In the beginning, you stared,
eyes wide and quizzical,
wondering.....
no need to embroider my tale
and telling all sorrowing bleeders
with a hot voice
and grazing satisfaction,
you left me here
alone.

Can forgiveness be in order
for your silent
staring eyes
that gazed into my broken body
spilling blood into wounds
I did not hold
until your arrogance
extracted
with heady triumph
the final bits of my tale
to fit the vacant sections
of your so called life.


God and the Sanitation Workers

It was seven after
when she stretched
her soul,
seeking gods
or
sanitation workers

what was the difference?

collectors are all the same;
harvesting leftovers,
the ache of
tired souls
and
besides,
at that cut in time
there was mere
thoughts to go
standing there alone
at cliff's edge;

hardly the time
to cast riddles
as to if
not when.
and why, for the love of a disappearing God,
why the fuss
when just before and just after
were much the same
except for the careless draught
of troubled air.

It's Not Silence

It is not silence
that you hear
from me.

I am not silent.

I am still.

You have ringed me
with lines
set in
geometric precision,
taunting me to fallinto
your well ordered
belief system.

But I am not
your sister,

I am not
your mother,

your ex,

your long lost
hate defined.

You can not trace me
into needed sketches
held greedily
in your mind,
tequila driven mind

where
all the ladies
move in tranced,
silent, slow procession
directly
into the waiting bite
of the
furied sea.

just like lemmings,
hateful
hateful
lemmings.

I will not go.
I remain still.

I remain still.


Sacrificial Muse

I am the she-dragon
carefully constructed
to nurse your muse.

A muse
stranded
out on the highway
of a desolation
much too great to share

much too large
to admit into view.

Thus the need
for one
late friend
to forge passion
in your starving soul.

So once again
poetic words
line up
grate-ful grate-fulgrate-ful slaves

glad for the return of a hate
so carefully constructed,
so tenderly embraced.

All Hail! Your sacrifice
of this late
and once loved friend.

SUICIDAL FAME

Soft uttered moments
hang here in time.
You bleed on our pillows
with sibilant rhyme.

As we sweat our relief
for your fine feathered tones,
we are shamed to indifference
for what we won't know.

To not see you standing
tethered to stone
pale and dying
behind all your tomes.

We rise to applaud,
while the mind that we chase
has lost its own thought
has lost his own way.

It is we who must ponder
why we've not seen the glimpse
of the man driven inward
by our vision of him.
My silence

comes at a cost
it slivers my bones
and eats
out my heart

My Voice

My voice
must be
a whisper in the universe
for all I let it go
and it comes back
unvisited
with no one to say
friend or foe

left undisturbed
in hallowed spaces
outline the despair
of silent faces.
with eyes kept down
ears held close
the mind draws quiet

slow

stealthily into itself
until the self
is less exposed.
until the self is less.
One Stroke and You're Out

Death has sought me
within my skull
to radiate its terror there
and strip my being
from it's shore
to grasp my thought
and leave me shorn.

Caught within
my rotting skin
as stroke past thought
wears mind too thin,
I lose my self
in head long flight;
My very being
bled clean tonight.

All I have been
lies here deposed;
caught within
this bone kept soul
no more a self,
as lesions grow,
my frail brain,

no more
no more.
MASOCHIZE ME

If my soles were painted pink
would you follow through the sand,
around the dune,
down through prickly pear,
jellyfish,
other wear.

Even then
you'd never
see the hurt
in sun down pink
flourescent foam of
bloody prints
tracing down and
through death's maze
of hard unsettled scores

nor have the slightest fear
that near my death
I might whirl upon you
in one brief fury
starkly stare
draw you in
bind you to my fading self
curse your name
scream of hell.

And that is why, my dear
it is you who follow
I who lead.
I breathe in
you breathe out.

Christmas Mist

Inward turning
no voice speaking,
None to hear.

Brace the world
against your shoulder,
Silence holding still.

Wounds cut open
greed in memories,
Bleeding,
others stagger in.

Black hole grieving,
dense exploding,

Christmas Mist.

Spirit

Call me tortured spirit,
fuel for your faded soul.

The heat from passion beliefs
has raised your eyes
and lowered control
of a mouth twisting inward
dying
dying
dying to know

Well
So be it

I'll leave you
to your "better" life,
to your dull, untested,
your pallid knife.

The paints remain
cold, untouched.
The brush unknown.
The paper held in
careful creases
ever fold,
while I stride on,
stubborn set,
passionate soul.,
forged in fire and
all my own.
The Ayes No Longer Have It

Sliding
s
l
o
w
l
y
just past
the edge
of my eyes
the greys
sneak in
moving,
like a
t
w
i
s
t
e
d
little
urchin gnome

disguised
in angry sparks,
bitter
faery
sprites.

I do not notice
edges
softening

I do not notice
skies
blurring.

I do not see
that
I can not
until
the world is done
with drifting back
to
sightless
soul filled eyes.




Amoebae

The need to bond
is lessened
by the multitude
of linear minds
stretching end to end
in a noisome fashion
to the all accepted,
holy horizon.

The push forward,
elbowing faces,
unending tales
of "other people's"
tragedies, sins,
horrors, mistakes,
heats the spirit
warms the body
enables slop, slop,
forward movement
like some mindless
one celled organism
which eventually
looks my way,
slowly turning
faceless head,
curiosity raised
as to why
I remain apart.......

No one celled organism
am I.
These damned homeless people....

are all over my road here in South Florida
holding signs
"will work for food",
hands out begging for money
well, I for one know better
Oh yeah, huh-huh, having worked for ages in an emergency room
where every time you turned around
they were falling over each other like flies --
too much smoking Crack
which
I would like to inform you
was more than likely bought with your hard earned money.

oh yeah, I am no fool.

So bright and early this morning
there I am
heading home from the veggie stand where prices are low,
so damned low
thank god I'm a vegetarian or I would not make it these days
what with budget cuts and no raises and I earn nothing anyway
so there she is
damned old woman
freaking thin as a scrawny used up rubber band
that's not about to hold anything together anyway.
Geez, probably Crack or booze
turned her into this wrinkled old wraith of a woman

oh yeah, I am no fool.

and that traffic light is not about to change and she is standing there --
do you know how hot it gets down here this time of year?
that sweat is just falling off her face and there ain't no shade anywhere
and the car in front me holds out some coins
and she smiles a little bitty hesitant as hell smile
and then looks down like "don't notice me cause
I'm a nobody and I don't want to be seen
but notice me cause if you don't
i ain't going make no money."

Damn what an addiction can do to you,
ain't it?

oh yeah, I am no fool.

thanks to her, memories
start falling all over upstairs in my brain
like when I had no car
a stroke having done me in
not even out of my twenties
raising two little sprouts


These damned homeless people.... continued...

generally referred to as kids
yeah, our entire freaking family fell through the cracks
with no welfare in sight
cause after all and don't you forget it
my ex paid an entire, stupendous freaking 60 dollars a week
and not only that, but we had premium subsidized housing
with premium addicts everywhere we looked
**** the premium look on the social worker's face
when she told us how lucky we were

No way, no way, no way
we would stay in that premium place
as I said to the ER staff where I worked
way back when
having turned the tables well --
still though, shamefaced, not once mentioning the fact
that I rode a plain ordinary second hand bike 8 miles just to get there
rain really wore on me not to mention the wind
and nights I had to change out of soaking
one thing i knew:
we were gonna make it
no standing on street corners, no begging for help,
I knew we would make it

Cause I was no fool.

so here I am stopped at this street corner
trying not to look at this worn, sweat soaked, hot as hell old woman
when the most
incredible, unbelievable act took place
and I can hardly speak even now
the way it took me by surprise

let me catch my breathe before I go on

well, out of nowhere this hand,
this HAND
reaches into my purse
which was just sitting there
minding it's own business
and this hand takes out my last ten dollar bill

up comes this wizened old scrawny makeshift woman
reaching out and taking my last ten dollar bill
from this freaking hand and then she just smiles like poop
she should smile that wide, damn it all
I would've smiled like poop too

in the midst of my absolute shock
I kinda get to notice
that this freaking hand
These damned homeless people.... continued..

is attached to this freaking arm
which is attached to this freaking shoulder
which is attached to this freaking me
Never a Thought

Insanity should profess
itself up straight
not hide behind a
circular grin
on a well worn face,

slipping by,
almost regular
so that you trust,
move into harm
never a thought that
his mind has been eroded
beyond repair

the sudden cracking, bursting out
reams of madness envelope, smother
explode, twist into you

self anointed saint
fingering you
screams of brimstone fire
flame lit words smashing through
breaking into
you,
the mis-link in his toxic chain

so you dance, dance, dance
the right step, right word
will....must
cure the view
return him the same old way
circular grin
on his well worn face.


The Sound of Alone

There is in the sound of her hair,
softening the pillow,
an echo of heart
boundaries unlimited
seeking one to shelter

Living Proof: Neutrality

Rubric cube
dissonance
melding, formless face

lies planed
into truth
measured pace of words

sight first then test
watch, observe, become
alien to his self

spirit withered, discarded,
eons past in youth,
others mold his space

Uneven thoughts!
forbid, forbid, cut, dissect
Become

altar boy to the stars
sipping wine
with careful hands

cut, stamp, paste, define
even, elegant,
insipid face.

saddened soul
emptied,
of embrace.

That's Not What I Meant

Words
do not exist
in and of themselves

they have colonies
of meanings
gathered around

alert to each nuance
twist of the head
wrong looked smile

Imps of definition
attach by suction
to each verb & noun

gazing askance
at the listener
hands unfolding

set to change their form
at the slightest nod
from you to me
Poem on Family

I was safely
settled away
in the remote ranges of your mind
and stayed there for years
down cheeks of faceless tears

Drawing myself in
I backboned my heart
ceased existing
lost in the echoes
of a family long dead.

now here I am,
bidden to appear
sit down, sit back, listen
to this day's careful
palliative truth

in the hushed silence
familial drama,
I lower eyes
hide

if I fade
in just the right
soft voiced manner
you might not notice
who I am

should i stride forward
then soon again
you can close your sighs
and wish

I will disappear.
Yo, he's gay, doncha' know
I mean, he's an artist for gawd's sake.

You have not heard from him
though you say you listen
nor have you seen his face
though you stare straight at
and then through him.

Yet without hearing
without seeing
you have dictated who he is
all to satisfy a mind that
holds itself careful and correct
ever wary and fearful
of exactly what it enfolds,
trembling at any semblance of its truth.

With raucous words and
bawdy glances
you twist his actions and reactions,
his silences, his words,
just so
to fine tune his being
into all
you say you know.
Forming him into what he is not.
Forming you into what you are.

 

LifeNRA

Flashaholic*
Joined
Jan 29, 2004
Messages
1,453
Where has my Mother gone?
Your Mother has gone home.

Where did she go?
In your heart you surely know.

Will I see her ever more?
Accept the Lord Jesus and you can one day knock on her door.

Will I know her when I see her again?
You will and the love will be the greatest it has ever been.

Is she lonely, sad, or depressed?
She is rejoicing and shouting halleluah with the others who are blessed.

But I am so sad that she is gone.
Smile and be thankful that she is happy and at home.

But my pain is so great.
You must look ahead to that glad reunion day and know that this life on earth is short compared to the eternity of happiness that awaits.

Why did she have to die?
Only her earthly body is dead, her spirit lives on up high.
 

Neg2LED

Flashlight Enthusiast
Joined
Apr 25, 2004
Messages
1,127
Location
'straya, mate!
Raggie, there is a reason that you have the 'Angel of the City' label! We love you......Not that way! Sheesh....No, i swear.

Really.

Really Really.

neg
 
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