Anxious for Winter

The smell through the open window in the morning,
you know that it's going to happen soon,
not quite sure if it'll be in the evening,
maybe it'll snow in the afternoon.

Cup of coffee in hand,
balancing act with bags and coats and keys,
front door of the shop finally open,
shivering, snow flurries drifting in the breeze.

A chill up the spine as it hits 2,
trees and roads and awnings and parking meters,
everywhere a thin covering of heaven-sent cotton,
maybe, this Christmas, it won't be so bad for you?

Street lamps flicker alive after the sun is down,
sliding down the boulevard, ice built up thick,
home under the roof by yards of yards of white,
fireplace and wood, candle lit,
flame jumping from the wick.

Curl up in the bed under blankets and blankets and blankets and blankets of soft warmth,
one day down the next to go,
small rest of hibernation until the sol rises,
another night another holiday another chance to pull through.

Letter From a Friend

Dear friend,
It's me your roommate,
the person you wish didn't exist -
why do you hide in your room,
why do you curse my name?

We're one and the same,
we look the same,
I'm not a monster with fangs,
why do you hate me so much?

Look in the mirror,
I'm standing behind you
I am you
you clench your teeth,
but I'm your fate.

Which one of us is it,
whose fault is it,
for lungs filled with smoke,
liver with holes,
eyes bloodshot,
it must be yours,
I've always been here -

You'll come to love me,
kiss my cheek, embrace me,
you'll curl into my arms,
you'll wish you never left me.

Yours,
Depression

Day-Drinking, Night-Living

beer number five
shot number six
night number seven

wipe away memories
scrub out nightmares
crayon markings to
dirty fingerprints
on a white wall

suds wash down
sour tastes of
bitter sights where
pasts walk past me

who was I before
un-fuck my mind
drag from a smoke

mock the way
the smoke billows
from my mouth
watch me now
lungs hold in
waves of white
taste of death
and mint julep
on my breath

breathe for four
hold for three
auburn skies above us

hold my hand
stare into the stars
our eyes shimmer
who whispers
"Love Me?"

Cedar Forests

Burning cedar is what I smell right after
a depressive episode.
Burning cedar after a forest fire -
the smell would stay with me
for days, eventually
dissipating.

The burning cedar though
is no longer present -
with words, with body language,
with your voice calling
out to me -
the cedar woods no longer
burn
for days,
no longer burning -

Instead,
growth,
buds rising,
a spring unlike which
I have known.

Burned and dead cedars,
giving life to the forest
anew -

all because of you.

No Mere CinderFella

Do you see that clock hanging on the wall?
It struck midnight a few hours ago -
you know what that means?
That means, this carriage isn't turning into a pumpkin,
I'm still slayin' with my ball gown on -

Stayed home all day, worked and cleaned,
made home feel more welcome than the dungeon
it was with you under its roof;

Not a single tear or depressive episode -
fun, dancing, singing loudly with wild abandon,
no more shushin' from my second worst critic;

They say you should learn one thing a day,
I learned that I need no prince nor princess to save me -
I am my own savior -
don't need a dragon/demon to ride or slay,
this isn't a fantasy, this is me standing up for
myself and smiling in the face of reality.

Keep the glass shoe,
it'll fit when you call me a hypocrite.

Help is What We Deserve (and Need)

maybe it's all just a figment of my imagination,
maybe it's all created as a dramatic distraction,
maybe it's not even real
and I'm chasing my own ghosts,

but what if it is there;
what if it's not a figment,
not a creation for distraction,
what if these ghosts are more than mist,
what if these monsters are real -

I've named them, given them space,
don't make them pay rent but I carry on
anyway.

hellish children are these,
their names vile and putrid in my mouth,
born of the sickness from my brain,
my spawn; anxiety and depression.
a bad infomercial on how to deal with despicable
children, the question:
how do I get better - how do I win against my own demons
that claw and rake and twist
my mind?

The remedy is
here for the taking,
every person is able to
receive it, all we have to do is
accept the help and
push the little mind-killer fear away and
yearn for release.

Emotionally (Un)Available

I wipe your tears,
you tell me about your day,
you call yourself a crybaby and sigh,
you tell me about being reprimanded and how
you feel about being called out and
you look at me with those eyes
that tell me what I've been
wondering - that I'm not
as available as you
need from me -
that you and everyone
see me as intensely being
available and unavailable -
of being here for you with a shoulder
of being with you for every broken light and
every pain and every day where you just want to die -
of shrugging and keeping my shoulders around
my head
my eyes being grey while you try to tell me
what you want me to hear while I'm there but
my mind has shut down because I've
checked out and decided to fly away
while sitting beside you on
the wall in the quad or in the passenger
seat of your Ford Taurus -
I'm not sad or distraught about riding away
with my emotions to a different place while I
sit next to you silent -
though your tears and dejected sigh tell me that
I've messed up,
I wipe your tears,
you tell me about your day..

Baumian Tragedy

I'm the new cowardly lion,
No sense of courage or brawn,
This mask I've had to put on,
Not sure how much longer I can lie,
not sure how long I can be strong...

A recycled tin can,
a heartless rusted silver man,
An emptiness inside, wind whistles through,
A curse holds my body still,
depressions I can't hide...

No mark of smarts or a brain inside,
Poor specimen of straw-mankind,
Filled with natural distractions and woes,
an uneasy life for me,
what kind of scarecrow am I?..

A naive innocent girl is me,
Home is where I can lick my lips,
or is it where my inner self can be,
(or maybe where the tornado tosses me?)
A red stain on my lips, bottom lip pulled by teeth
for all to see.

Act III, Scene I

5 A.M. and the birds song's on repeat,
Deep red rouge drawn on the horizon,
Stuck in time between moon-set and sunrise,
already questioning my lies, searching for why I'm alive.

Answers amongst the puckered blossoms waiting for
the kiss of morning mist,
Rebuttals by geese overhead following the
wrong star North.

Crickets chirping to a crescendo, branches and leaves
conducting the symphony of my life,
bats and bugs swarm and dive around the halogen lights -
I take another lap around the corpses of campus summer life.

No one else can be a champion of mine,
I survived the dusk of your leaving,
I'll survive till the arrival of your dawn.

5:30 confessions to a stone sculpture,
hates and loves,
fears and dreams,
things understood and things not as they seem -

Texts to Mom, texts to Dad,
funny photos to brother, to the girlfriend - fantasies I've had.
I'm here and they're there - someday soon we'll be together
in real life and not just over a screen.

Getting used to being alone, no longer green,
trying to say, "I fucking miss you!" without being obscene,
take another lap, of the school or my head,
watch the sunrise, realize why I'm alive,
better than the unfilled silence when I'm dead.

Catharsis

nightmares
strangers with guns
bodies of friends and family
a safe space no more
community wounded
patches fill holes made

sitting up in bed
sweat coating my body
my heart beating
what if it was me
my friends and family
why is there pain in life
49 names on my lips

staring out the window
painted blue and white sky
soft robin songs
breeze shimmering sun-soaked leaves
slow deep unsteady breath
will there be a tomorrow?

Mother's Kitchen

Long days of playing out in the snow
and sun -
doors opening into a fresh realm of comfort
and warmth.

Wrap around counters,
beaches and ports of comfort for
homeward bound & mead-needing
sailors and precarious young boys.

The island, holding the chairs,
the lighthouses directing young players towards pb&j's and fresh hot hot dogs -
the kitchen island,
a Mont St. Michel when the floors are
scrubbed & mopped -
only to let bridges made of
mud & sand & snow
retreat the waves away,
till fellow travelers & pilgrims move
into Franciscan barefoot pilgrimages
along the high holy Santa Maria de Compostela
paths -
from small islands to
Lang Island,
from Spain & France
to little Italy
and German towns.

Mom's kitchen beckons on the warm sunny day
with tarragon and cinnamon -
warm wood floors worn by bustling babies
and slipper-plodden husbands
making breakfast in bed quietly
for Valentine's Day,
Mother's Day,
Anniversary
morning love-making.

Cabinets full of stacks of Asian countries -
China
will bowls and steins humming with a new age
grandmother-fine-crystal china ring.

Oh how calm & peaceful
the kitchen is -
oh how magical and perfect
it is.

Happy Mother's Day

Aware of Mortality

An inner barbed cage of per diem sleeplessness,
surrounded by crackling and snarling electrical currents of stress,
compressed by lifetimes of hopeful meditations & prayers,
all whilst the angelic madness of Schubert's Ave Maria
bleeds into the atmosphere between the realms of
my soul, my mind, and my being.

The curtains are drawn at the determined nocturnal hour,
ripped open at the painting of terror created,
screams running down the halls and jumping out the windows,
heart beats and headaches  vibrating and reverberating incessantly
while once cold feather is turned over so the rock awaiting
provides unconditional support and embrace.

The distant thundering through the forest of timber;
silvered ash and darkened pine ringed 'round the
numinous glade which with neither beast nor man
marred by their sacrilegious breath and heretical thought -
here, this place bespot with natural bounty and grace sang forth
among the choir of unimaginable realities & phantasmagorical beauties.

"Here lies a man," the stone will read,
"a man whose madness made his life
a gallery of colors which no kingdom nor community-forged
god could contest. Here's a man whose love for that
which will destroy him, outweighs even his love for himself.
Here lies a man, certain of uncertainties, finally aware
of his own mortality."

Ecce Homo

I am the architect of my destruction,
I am the sculptor of my own destiny,

I no longer fear death,
I go to sleep knowing my demons may pull me to Hell,
I wake up finding salvation in your eyes,
No longer do I fall on my knees to pray,
My voice echoes from the Divine within,
I am my own God today.

I am the writer of fulfilled dreams,
I am the patron of my fortune,

Stone halls and stone walls,
cold from hypocrite repentance,
Religious discrimination, freedom, martyrdom
queer bedfellows - unable to share a social bedsheet.

I am the painter of stained-glass truths,
I am the creator of my own reality.

Nebulaen Mystic

There is something not human in your bones,
You feel more at home staring at the stars,
The darkness and helplessness of your depression
erodes your sanity and roots you in a world of
bland scenery.

You bite the insides of your lips to feel mercurial pain,
You box your own ears to hear the ring of the bells of reality.

You are a nebula,
a birthplace of wishes & dreams -
You are a gypsy soul,
staring at bedroom walls dreaming
of someplace else.

Do not fear resting in the sands of uncertainty,
Do not fear the uncharted journey through this life,
regardless of the number of steps taken
or of the hours spent worrying
or the people who have come & gone in you life -

Regardless of all that is done or not -

Keep going.

Nephilim Girl

She was an angel who wanted to paint her wings
dark and black like the night.

She never heard me when I would say
the stars and universes were made for her
wondering eyes.

Sadness collected in the strands of hair in her face -
shutters to the details of the outside world.

Over time she died to the outside,
curling in,
finding solace within her own embrace.

She was an angel who broker her own wings
and ripped out her own feathers.

She denied her cosmic being & universal soul
just to hide her extra amongst us mere
terrestrials.

Unfinished Masterpiece

Those thoughts came back again, didn't they?
Thoughts that you had hoped went away;
thoughts of anguish and thoughts of pain -

We are not completed sculptures,
we're really just souls within marbleized skin;
The Artist isn't quite done with us yet,
so of course we're going to have
conflicting thoughts within -

It is true that a broken-winged bird will still sing,
even if it's song is of sorrow;
"Happiness won't appear instantly as a wellspring,
yet there will always be a tomorrow."

Amongst Friends

You held me as the sad song played and I cried,
You were the first person I ever looked at as if you were living art,
We laid out underneath the stars and I promised I would stay in your life,
I have watched you grow up, along with the rest of my sisters and brothers,
each one of you growing into beautiful, confident, strong women & men,
anxious, confused about self-image, learning that you can say "no,"
realizing you can be queens and kings of your own amazing world.

Watching you take the first steps into adulthood,
watching your eyes water as the first shot of whiskey burns down the throat
against the taste of your first cigarette on your lips,
that first kiss with that friend, that lover, maybe even a passer-by on a dare,
watching you grip the wheel for the first time after a harrowing accident,
smiling as you hold your lover closer as you dance on your wedding night,
holding you close after taking the knife away from your wrists,
holding you close after pulling you away from the empty abyss,
holding your hair as you lose your lunch from mixing tangerine rum, tacos, and tequila.

After school, there's no real graduation ceremony in life -
you grow older and maybe you'll grow up,
you might have kids, a house, two dogs, and a nosey neighbour,
you might have a lover, an apartment, a cat, and a metro pass,
maybe you'll become a composer, maybe you'll be the next astronaut,
maybe right now life seems dark and lonely, but give it a few hours,
give it a few days, give it some more time than you think you have,
and life will be worth living,
life will truly blossom into everything you've ever dreamed of wanting.

Realization

Let's see here:
Heart ripped out
Torn to shreds
Thrown back in my face
Insides rotting,
voices chanting inside my head
calling for my inevitable death
my life apparently through

but stop -

crawling up this hill:
therapy sessions
visits to the shrink
crying out in soul-gripping pain,
no longer a threat to others or self
Mother says "I'm proud of you"

but wait -

time for the refrain:
coffee dates
flirting across the room
an earth-shattering kiss in the hall
Voices online whisper
You're gorgeous, it's true

How'd this happen:
I was dying two months ago
and here I am feeling safe to bare my soul
I thought I'd never be here again
but I wouldn't dare hold back these words,

I'm moving on without the pain I held onto for so long,
I'm seeing new people and learning to laugh
learning to let myself love again,
I only dream of you in my nightmares,
how beautiful it is to wake without you next to me,
no longer am I wanting to wither away,
now I'm back to how I'm supposed to be,
carefree and without worry, finally happy,

In my nightmares you'll live, but in my dreams
and in reality I'm finally free,
so kiss my ass and stay in the shadows where you belong,
to think I was going to let that mistake last lifelong.

Questing Divinity

You won't find the Divine in the pews,
You won't find Jesus in the tent pole revivals,
You won't find Buddha in lotus-positioned monks,
You won't find Allah in suicidal wahabi-extremists,
You won't find any of your saviors,
your gurus, your holy leaders in
golden gilded, marble arched
architectural monstrosities in religiosity.

No

But you will hear them amongst the laughter in a soup kitchen line,
They will be there cooking for hundreds daily,
They will be there within the stranger giving shelter to the homeless,
They will be there giving time and the odd cigarette to the homeless man
down the street that you pass everyday,
They will be there in the sidewalk ushers who help women go into
Planned Parenthood for something other than abortions,
They will be there within the activists crying out for social change
amongst the citizens of our nation,
They will be there within those whom you cast prejudiced thoughts
at as if they were stones thrown at their skin and bones,
They are within you and me when ever we stop leading
self-centered lives and realize that our brothers and sisters are in need
of help and we actually stop and fucking help our fellow human beings.

There really is no pride in being rich,
and no real shame in being poor -
it is only so when we forget that the Divine doesn't want us to covet
more than our neighbor -
they want us to fucking help each other without
qualms or quarrels.

You want to see your Divine?
Look to your neighbor who is hurting,
and help them.
Love them.

Be a decent fucking human.

A Cosmic Feverdream

Who knew that it would be from the tears of the Sun -
a pain so fierce it gave the
gnarled tooth & fanged beasts some falter.

Only from the teary-eyed was a passion so realized
it enabled humanity to not only live-
but to sing hymns of praise and destruction,
to soar and defy laws made by man's mind from within
the centers of both the known and
the unknown universes.

Overtime, as man realized that man
can soar higher than the birds and angels,
can delve deeper than the fish,
can live longer than their ancestors have
been in the ground -

Humanity has risen out of the dirt
and dust and twigs
to impossible heights higher than
mounts, thrones, and altars -

Man has pulled himself onto
the realm higher than Gods,
conquered the second & third mind,
foreseen wars & calamities,
has elevated fellow men to the rest
amongst the stars -
man, woman, child -
all buried deep within lies
the true essence,
an arcane realization -
that within us lies the universe,
lies the answers,
lies our future.

Humanity has become it's own God.

It's So Good To Be Alive

It wasn't what you thought
when you beat your head on the wall again,
Could you believe this would come from your own mouth?
When you would hide in you room,
hiding from all the pain and shame your pride made,
did you think that this would be a lie?
It's no secret that there would times you wanted to die,
that the darkness would fill up inside,
but hear the shout cry out;

Happiness isn't a lie,
It's good to be alive,
Everyday is a new day,
It's time to make a new path and
live life in a new way ~

So she came and took what was remaining of "us" and left,
You curled into a ball so tight,
having just made your life alive again
and suddenly you weren't alright,
It's ok to let the past go by,
but this night will pass,
and tomorrow you'll learn again how to fly!
Read the words etched by the stars in the sky;

Happiness isn't a lie,
It's good to be alive,
Everyday is a new day,
It's time to make a new path and
live life in a new way,
it's so good to be alive!

Senseless Thoughts

It wasn't the sight of roses painted red,
dripping beside my bed,

It wasn't the smell of cheap instant coffee
simmering in my favorite chipped mug,

It wasn't the taste of your sex
lingering on my lips from last night,

It wasn't the embrace of the sheets wrapped around me
protecting me from the cold morning,

It wasn't the sound of old blues being the soundtrack
to the vision of wild love made last night,

It wasn't any of this
which made me miss the thought of you
in bed with me.

A Tame Way To Go

"Wait, what? Catch me up - you said a what found her passed out in the apartment naked?" TK nearly choked on his latte.

"Like I said bro, you know how I finally started working at that really nice company? Well I finally have some cash in the bank, and I decided to do something nice for old Grams, so I hired one of those male cop strippers to go 'round her place and give her some fun. And he didn't find her naked, that's how the neighbors found her; naked and in bed with the stripper - Alex Hunglow was the name I was given if I remember..." Mike trailed off, watching the shock ease of his brother's face.

"Man, what is Mom going to think when she hears...never mind thinks, she's going to skin us! Skin you! Though...have to admit, if there was a tame way for Grams to go, it had to be this..." TK looked down into his latte, unsure of how to break the news to his mother.
____________________________________________________________________

A shelf full of knick-knacks, a jar of loose buttons and thimble kisses. Mike had been in this place numerous times - Christmases, Thanksgivings, Easters, the time he introduced his ex-wife to the family, and the night he crawled home drunk after being served the divorce papers. This place, this home of Grams and all kinds of warm memories & cold truths, this place was now quiet.

He sat on the bed, jumping quickly when he remembered just what kind of position his grandmother was in when she died. Apparently, from what he could find out from the gossip of the neighbors, the cop stripper and grandmother were going for the PBR record of upwards of an hour on the bull.

"It's different, isn't it?" Mike jumped at Sister Billie's voice, "We all said she was more person than half the people in this damned home, but we hoped she'd get out of here...Come on kid, the other's are down in the dining hall."

Sister Billie, Grams' tribal sister and closest friend led Mike out of the apartment and down the hall towards the dining hall.

Neither of them heard or saw the figure slip out behind them and out the back door.

Think Things Differently

Have you ever tried to think about things differently?
Not just from another perspective, not from just another person.
Have you ever closed your eyes tight and wondered what life would be like -
If you had done things differently, if they hadn't said those things, spewed those demons.
Have you ever sat back and watch life go by,
gnats flying high, trying to escape the inevitability -
we all die?

Have you ever curled around your lover, held them tight?
Wish that they never had to cry, wished they never left.
A bleeding catastrophe, your heart on love,
stop sacrificing it, it's not a bull or a dove.
Stop trying to find the right one in the next one,
stop searching for a treasure that has a mind of its own -
time when time alone will bring them to you.

Its not healthy, this fear and anger you carry,
no one is meant to carry those bags for so long,
drop them and take a breath, stretch, laugh,
have you ever tried to lift a weight heavier than yourself?
It's impossible without help from friends and lovers and even the liars -
For even they will show you the way from this pain you carry.

Will you close your eyes tonight and wonder what life will be like -
If you do things differently, if you don't say those hurtful things,
if you don't drown your sorrows in liquor trying to chase your dreams.
Will you lay back and let the stars fly by, dreams not dead but soaring a little higher?
Will you think things differently?

I'm Not O.K. (And That's O.K.)

I walk into my room and your scent hits me,
I'm not ok.
I say your name instead of someone else's,
I'm not ok.
One of our songs comes on the radio,
and I'm not ok.
I hear your voice call my name in a crowded room,
and I'm not ok.
I always look around me in a communal area, for fear you're near, and I'm not ok.
I fear burdening my friends with this pain from you,
and I know I'm not ok.
I walk into the office, close my eyes, and tell our tale,
and I know I'm not ok.
I share my pain with someone, and in their eyes I can see,
I'm not ok.
I look at my reflection, make a face to make myself laugh,
and while sound comes out, etched around my eyes are the lines that read, I'm not ok.
I'm curled up in bed tighter than noose around a dishonorable man's neck, and I hear through sobs,
I'm not ok.
I wake from dreams of me screaming I'm not ok, and I realize, I'm not ok -

And that's ok.

I see how far I've come without you,
and I'm ok.
I hear the sighs of relief off the rooftops too high to survive from,
and I'm ok.
I sing the chorus to one of our songs loud,
and I'm ok.
I claw my way back to humanity,
and I'm ok.
They hold my hands and whisper,
I'm ok.
I laugh hard at a joke for the first in a long time,
and I'm ok.
Someone tells me that they've liked me for a few years,
I'm ok.
It is becoming less and less lonely in bed,
and I know I'm ok.
No longer do sunrises and sunsets feel so bittersweet,
and I'm ok.
I can hold my head up now,
and I know -

I'll be ok.

One Month Later

I've walked the same halls,
sat in the same booths and ate the same food,
sung at the top of my lungs to the same lyrics,
slowly the memories change,

It was supposed to be forever and always,
but our lives had changed,
one of us grew up, the other not so much,
and suddenly the two became only one,

The tears and pain are still there,
mingling and dissapating amongst the new;
new adventures, memories, friends, excitement -
the memories of past which had rotten inside,
are being changed for fresher times,

No regrets for what we had,
Only regrets that we ended so badly,
I'm changing my life with each new breath,
I'm moving on, and I'm no longer sorry.

Drifting through Life

Looking back on the shores of security and past memories,
desperately paddling back
but the winds of time push us farther out
into the ocean of adulthood,
forcing us to make decisions --
to drift or to drown,

Friends drifting on bottles of whiskey and wine,
on cigarette packs and scars of relationships,
All of us hoping that there isn't a crack,
that there are no holes,
fearing we'll go under,
like our dear friends of old.

Rocks of goals,
smashing our dreams into failures,
Sirens of uselessness call us
spinning our bottles into whirlpools of depression,
how tight we hold on as we sink lower,
some of us get lucky and come out all right,
some of us we'll have to meet on the Other Side.

Words from a 20-something year old
fall on deaf old ears,
See my generation falling around you
you haven't learned everything,
life will give you one last lesson --
your kingdoms will fall to the tides of our tears.