Life Inc.

So many dreams

And heart’s desires

It’s hard to keep them straight.

 

I yearn for discipline

And strength

I miss the days

When mother sang

And father knew.

 

Those days are gone

Now there’s no one there

No person to say right from wrong

No teacher to hold your hand

 

Nobody knows

Hearts get so confused

And minds, they harden.

 

Between passion

And reason

There is little space for me.

 

I feel trapped

Living on a thin strip

Neither here nor there

Chasing seedlings of what could be

All the while not sowing

For the harvest

Not attending to what I have.

 

It is hard to find yourself.

The moment it seems you’ve done it

Things change.

 

In a world where there is

No right or wrong

Or best of all

It all feels bad.

 

I lack the confidence

In my steps

Am fooled by words

Images feel real

And I begin to sink

 

Down, down

Ever smaller

Lowly, discontent.

I am humbled.

 

We live in retrospect

Smarter about the past

But just as ignorant of the future

And irresponsible about today.

 

It seems we can’t prepare.

We look for leaders

New guides

To the frightening

The unknown.

 

But there are no real diviners

Fortune tellers

You can’t secure the future

There is no contract

You’re here at will.

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Carry Me Forward

When in the middle of the waters

You find yourself

Floating lightly in a deep blue sea

Don’t fear what is beneath you

Enjoy the good and wait for the answers to reveal themselves

For no one ever became heroic though panic and distress

Calm yourself, feel the waves run through you

Carrying you to where you are meant to be.

Golden Moment

Life is beautiful!

Despite it all

It’s beautiful orchestra plays on.

We think about the future:

“Tomorrow will be better,

I’ll plan today and play mañana,

Today is for the ‘morrow.”

It feels like a rehearsal practice

No real deal

You’re patiently waiting

All the while loosing today

Wake up and cherish

This closing moment

It’s golden, it’s true,

It’s all for you.

 


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Lot

I didn’t want to write this story. It came out of years of desperation. Years of trying to claim my peace and never reaching it. Years of abuse and mistreatment. Years of stupid gullibility, of neglecting my dreams, of putting myself second so that others may love me. We only have one life to live and it is our choices that define our reality.

My mind, my body has bared all that it can. It no longer works in the conventional way but now seeks vacations every so often because it cannot handle what I have made of myself. No I’m not a prostitute drug addict but I’ve been treated like one, despised like one, seen as one and by no others than my own clan, my flesh and bone, my family.

I never did anything to deserve my treatment but such is life, it gives what it gives and we make due and survive.

But I wanted to thrive to fly with the best of them to reach the heavens and touch the stars. I wanted to be one, a shiny shimmering spectacle. A beauty, not a beast. But I am a beast. A monster. A deformed and challenged being. I cannot walk on my own two feet again and like a paraplegic I spend most of my days in bed wasting my time away. Not knowing which way to go and waiting for death instead. But the breath of life still lives in me and I cannot take it away. I hold no power over my life let alone my death.

And then I think it is my curse. My eyes have seen and it was not good. But I am a beast and not a God. I cannot undo what has been done. This is my place, my lot to work, to churn, mull over and turn. But how to turn, how to harvest in a land that has been soiled and has no more? The land is dry and there’s no water. A few weeds grow but even they do toil. Though I’m young I’ve been made old before my time and like a bruised and battered fruit I am no good and start to spoil.

The flower of my heart has wilted and bringing light into the dark and desolate corners of that world only pains my tired eyes. I have been raised in darkness and now that light is at my door I cannot see.

I am a wild and tainted beast. Who can love me? Not even me.

Budding

I leaned against the bathroom door and pushed with all my might as mother, on the other side, battled to unlock it with a kitchen knife. The bathroom had been my only safe haven in my parents small home; no other room could be locked. Quickly, however, after a few jabs with the knife the door gave way, crushing me between it and the wall. Mother then grabbed hold of my long straight hair and pulled it with such force that some came out. Then, still grabbing hold of my hair she dragged me to the bathtub and crouched me there, pushing my head hard against my legs forcing my neck to crack.

“Mom please stop; you’re hurting me!” I cried.

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No Time Wasted

I keep hoping he will come out

I keep hoping he will come out

But all I hear are

Echoes of doors now shut

Distant voices of peeps now gone

The clock strikes the hour

And I’m growing tired

But every moment that I endure

I’m sure will soon be cured

When down those stairs I see him step

Cause in his arms ill ne’er regret

And know ill soon forget

The time still spent

Waiting till he came out.