Sister Wife

Sister Wife:

Blissfully accepting to a fault. I told you to fish in another pond. When all your boyfriends are one dude, it’s time for the mirror. I know it hurts to contrast, but you needed to take time to reflect. Time to let that beautiful soul shine, but you masked it by surrounding yourself with dysfunction.

I felt the sorrow of your past. You wore the abandonment like a scar. You never really had a chance. Your fathers wings only landed you further from the truth. The truth that children should be loved, not set aside as an unspoken truth. I felt the weight of that sadness in each of your smiles.

Your tattoos and stories weaved a web through our lives. A cautionary tale of letting your heart fly like a kite in a summer breeze is dangerous. I pray those feathers take you to heights you can smile down from.

Your love for those boys kept you breathing. Never blinking, never judging, ever patient in your hope for more. Your search for family almost complete. Tears drop singularly like a path to nowhere now. And the search has been passed on.

And now the roaches come out of their misery to feed on the scraps of memories to be part of your story. Irony is cruel sometimes. You would see right through it, but gracefully play along for just that one moment that was true. Don’t worry you won’t be forgotten.

I’ll have great stories for your boys when I see them, and their older. Together we’ll laugh and smile at how your personality was big enough to keep struggling through all the disappointment. All those folks who, through silence or shame, took a piece of what otherwise could have been a beautiful spirit.

I would have never told you any of this when you were here. You accepted me with all my demons. You reached out to us through all yours. We reciprocated and now it’s gone. I’ll miss your smart ass, but I promise I won’t let you become why.

I’m alone now as you would figure. I refuse to play with your life as if it is a drama. I’m gonna miss you and all those times when we all had our shit together that we just didn’t quite make it to. All I can do is write these tears away until I arrive at that place where our memories are smiles.

I’ll mind my tongue around those folks clinging to your adventures so they can be part of something bigger than theirselves. I’ll forever ponder the irony of your thoughts, and how they came true, just not like you dreamt. I love you “woman”, and hope you found your forever family.

I’m not poor

I’m not poor
I’m not poor. I value the struggle that reveals life and all it’s gloriously humble moments. I love that hunger makes any food taste good. I love the blissful moments created by pain. I bathe in the luxury of small things that suffering provides. Most of all, I see the weakness within power that chokes men on their own vomit.

Maybe the blinding nature of opulence isn’t so appealing. I would much rather see progress than greed, or shake a reassuring hand than a potential fist. You can’t hold wealth, it holds you. Sure, you may have fists full of dollars, but what do you really have, just paper with someone else’s name on it. I hold dirt, but it’s mine.

Power is the real satan. Power swallows intentions, good or bad, and twists it into greed. It takes over and suddenly your trying to control everyone as a metaphor for personalities frayed and the consumption of all, but in the end it’s always an allusion. Eventually you shrivel into other folks perception and your lying naked and exposed in a desert with no where to hide.

Within is a space to be cultivated silently. Void of the torrents surrounding your physical being. Protected from the timeless tyrants tearing at your souls like fanged apparitions. The danger is becoming a victim or a mirror image; protection from within lies just behind the blind eye.

Seeing these demons frees your self to live. Riches or poverty are two sides of the same coin that blind the soul. You’re free to exist and cultivate the space within. This is where the riches of life sparkle and the power of you emanates as a shield against you and your enemies. Here, poverty is a blessing.

Fear

Fear

If I don’t sleep
ToMorrow never comes
And the dreams I fear
Stay alive

It’s terrifying to want something
You’re afraid to grasp
For fear it will slip away
To land never been

So I drift through life
With a handful of dust
Dreaming of a place
Where time is free

Drearily I move from the sun
Hiding within shadows or shade
Peering out at now

Yesterday and tomorrow gone
Melded into a dream
While I struggle for today
With lucid feelings of time

I don’t know the days I’ve dreamt
Or if I’ll awaken before death
But I dream of a life
Free from time and space.

Away is all I need, outside
Far from the troubles
That nightmares are born
So safely I drowse

And so I dream
Because those are the things I’ll do
And as long as I don’t
I’ll have something to live for.

He Believed

Shards of sunlight pierce the glass
Illuminating the grayish shroud
To a waxen white finality

Dust swirls in the quiet of sunlight
Finally resting on the wooden accents
Silencing the room

I stare at the recorder thinking
Wondering what his last breath said
As memories of his words echo

The recorder sits silently unaware
His last wish was his last breath
Would be recorded for posterity

No one understood the clarity of death
And his one last hope was the euphoria
Would reveal the one truth

The one truth that would unravel
The mystery of suffering and joy
Undulating across existence

He lived for the one moment
The moment all was revealed
And peace would reign within

A peace that you could feel by
Looking at each other outside life
For a fleeting glimpses of us

He believed in thought as power
To transcend violence, pain, and
all the insecurities of not knowing

He believed all the shouting distracted
Humanity from hearing the truth of life
And all the beautiful rhythms it held

He believed the universe was one song
rhythmically keeping evil at bay
Through echoes of silence

I learnt to listen from his silence
Listening was my portal to sanity
To understand the chaos around me

Moments can wipe away decades
With one silent moment of understanding
Reverberating across space and time

But he wasn’t an actor, he was a thinker
And in that world everything was possible if we just listened for the one truth

The collective truth exhaled in the silence
Of death revealed for a finite moment
To anyone who could rise above the noise

In the end, sitting in his room watching,
I realized that his life was my lesson
Changing with each rotation of the sun

He already left the room for his one song
As I played his highlights like a slideshow
Silently reminding me that words can be silent

His voice is inside me now, reminding
Telling me that words just echo
Without actions to color the world

There is no last breath, it’s a lie
Because his one last breath
Is within me to be passed along

His thoughts are part of my actions
And my actions bring life to goodbyes
And smiles to hello’s, I learnt to talk

To share the one song we’re given
Because it’s ours, so he was right
I finally payed attention to his thoughts

The recorder was a prop, an impetus
For me to listen and speak to myself
About the words and thoughts he loved

So now I am part of his universe
Through his note within the song
That now echoes within me, silently

Traveler

Its not sadness, it’s foreboding
The darkness never blinds
It opens the mind to possibility
And memories in kind

It’s not fear, it’s freedom
Shining on a hill
You’ll never climb
That keeps you still

It’s not dread, it’s hope
That sits on a shelf
Awaiting your return
To move yourself

Past the pain and the fear
Beyond the shame
To take that first step
Towards you again

Mired in the world
Where each tangled moment
Is held with contempt
Or pulled with regret

You struggle within a though
Like a passenger
Gazing out the windshield
Haunted by the rear view mirror

All the while traveling
Towards a crossroad
Where the three of you
Come together as one

Once again it’s you
Along an empty horizon
No longer searching
Or remembering when

Free to roam the possibilities
Without tomorrow
Or yesterday
And all it’s sorrow

Expectations

Expectations are dangerous in many ways. Depending on folks takes trust. Believing in yourself raises doubts. Some times we work hard and it doesn’t pay off.

The most dangerous expectation is that everyone loves you. It’s this all or nothing thing wrapped in co dependence and Facebook cliches. It’s like folks don’t understand social media is virtual, not actual for most folks.

It’s ok if folks just “like” you. That’s probably closer to normal. It’s also closer to normal that someone may like you, but not like some things you do, that’s normal too. Like say for instance, someone may not like the way you need to be loved by anyone you come into contact with, especially virtual contact like social media, but like the way you hope for the best.

I think expectations about others based on anything but human contact is the beginning of a dysfunctional relationship. You don’t have to look much further than the show “Catfish” to see the extreme example. It’s like you can predict the level of dysfunction by correlating the time between contact on social media and actual contact.

If you’ve had a relationship “on line” for more than a couple weeks and have not touched the person you’re communicating with physically there’s certainly something “Fishy”! One of you is hiding something. If the “relationship” has morphed to months or years it’s about as real as your infatuation with a TV star.

These are of course extreme examples. Normal folks don’t have these detached virtual relationships and believe they’re real. It doesn’t mean they can’t work in the real physical world. Maybe two folks finally meet, have some drinks, and laugh off the lies disguised as exaggerations and move foreword with their real selfs. Highly unlikely, but possible if you have no expectations.

My point is that even our closest friends who may “love” some things about us, may not like things about us, this is normal. It’s cool to be liked. The need to be “loved” is usually a delusion tied to something you do or have. It’s good enough to be a “good guy, or girl”.

The meaning of love is under attack. The onset of social media has deluded its meaning and contributed to dysfunctional virtual and real relationships. A little thought before you let those words or letters fly can go a long way towards being liked for who you are.

The expectations for loved ones are not temporary or attached to anything but the heart. So go forward and be a good person, that will yield more happiness and love than any word will produce.

Working Poor

Here we don’t chase no nationalized dream, we run from the reality that those folks chasing the dream run right over us, until it’s time to vote. We don’t have time to dream. Life is too short. Cold weather and sore backs won’t even let us sleep long enough.

We don’t need a hand up or out. We’ll be fine if you just keep your hands out of our pockets and let us keep the money we earn.

Keep our hands free from your fake bracelets. Leave us alone to wave goodbye your peddling laws for the drugs you sponsor. Stop pretending you wanna shake our hand when you’re really shaking us down from our homes to the trap disguised as a convenience store, into the hallways of your schools designed to steal our children’s minds. Keep your hallelujahs, we have our own prayers, and they’re free!

I’m sick of folks attacking the poor. They want something in return for every kindness. You demonize our mothers for a few stamps that fund your economy. You want to trade their piss for some block cheese. You musta forgot all those hypocrites you got for neighbors who got jobs handing out that cheese. You don’t understand the “10 for 10” at your poseur grocery is funded by the subsidies they get receiving all that state money. You don’t understand how many of your neighbors are gonna be movin if we decided to not spend those stamps.

These idiots don’t even know how they benefit from our decision or misfortune to live poor. They don’t even understand that “Targey” they shop at, or that Japanese food joint they enjoy on their lunch break was possible because the company that built it hired temporary laborers a few days a week cause they’d lose money putting those folks on a payroll. They built these homes and businesses on the backs of those kids sucking the milk from those vouchers.

You enjoy those nice positions you got outta hustle, not effort. We ain’t stupid. You locked out everyone who mis stepped and relegated them to poverty so that lazy bastard you raised on microwaved popcorn and video games could have a chance. These entitled little shits couldn’t last a day in our world. They’d be back on your couch in the basement complaining about the tv reception.

The working poor in this country carry the nation. You ain’t building high end homes or businesses without us working to save you dollars as sub contractors or under the table labor. Those taxes you talk about paying that make you so special are made because low wages enable you to keep the flow of money rolling.

It’s cool though. Trading piss for food ain’t a bad deal. Hands dirty from work cleanse the mind, while hands dirty from deeds poison it. Understanding this ignorance from the ground up gives us experience. We nod and smile as you further your dysfunctional ideas as something progressive or conservative. The view don’t change from down here though, all we see is asses.

Surrounded

The echos of my world reverberate within my soul. That space the doesn’t feel, but absorbs that which cannot be processed but with time. This space leaves my silence thundering across the horizon.

This is the beat my spirit dances and sleeps. I carry this weightless feeling with a heavy heart. The motion of my soul writhes in anguish, but all you see is a dancing fool.

There is a world within me that never stops beating. Fighting for every thought against a world of oppression. I’ll never be free until I grasp the wind that moves my spirit; but who can hold a soul. Its like grasping smoke after the fire has smoldered and darkness set in. It’s just faith.

I’ve slowed down to the point my mind races. Noticing the spirits that inhabit my world is dangerous. Part of us becomes them. You can’t defend your soul, it just absorbs, then the spirit moves till your mind awakens, but then it is to late. The damage or blessing is done. Then it’s time to heal or celebrate, but if even for a minute, all you did was drift.

This world is so much more than what we see. I sympathize with those that question truth. It’s hard to create a harmony between what we’re feeling, our action, and our thoughts. It’s much more complex than awareness, it’s freedom.

Silent truths

God is looking for that person who doesn’t know there’s a heaven but leads a truthful life. The one who does good for goodness sake unaware that He is watching.

You can’t aspire, seek, or desire without imperfection. The sentiments can be beautiful, but flawed non the less. This is humilities role, we can only try.

I used to listen to the attacks on truth today in wonder. I no longer wonder, but still shake my head in concern. The truth is folks don’t want to hear it. I’m not talking about the Gospel truth. We can’t get near that today for fear of human truth.

Today you’re supposed to ignore the truth for the perspective another espouses. So if you’re having a conversation and someone says something that isn’t quite true you’re supposed to ignore this lie for the benefit of the premise outlined. It’s ignorance, and a childish behavior.

So if I’m talking to a friend and they are telling me about the trouble in their life and all the misdeeds done to them, I’m supposed to ignore everything self inflicted to bolster the idea that they are the victim.

Never mind the fact that they drink too much, or self medicate, or use co dependent relationships to fill their lives with drama due to an absence of authentic relationships that are mutually affectionate and caring.

The examples are endless, but I have a couple favorites. Suppose you are the caring person for a moment. Unfortunately your “friend” isn’t so caring. So you take time to invite them to lunch. You want to make it special so you actually invite them to your home and prepare lunch. You spend hours on this labor of love making everything perfect.

Upon arrival your friend complains about travel and forgets to say hello. When you sit down to eat they excuse theirselves to the restroom for a lengthily stay. Upon return they list for you again their illnesses or troubles. When it’s time to eat your friend feigns decor and doesn’t complain, but associated illnesses and memories with each course you’ve prepared. All the while intermittently commenting on how they love the meal, but explaining its effect.

At the end of the meal your efforts just become another story in the repertoire of histories your friend uses against you. Never mind your efforts, your thoughts, or the care you’ve taken. Your “friend” has manipulated you into this pleasing state of bondage that becomes the basis of a co dependent existence you feel guilty about interrupting.

This is manipulative behavior. It’s how narcissist create victims. Beware of these “friends” and ensure that you’re always especially honest with them and call them out. Remind them of how their acting. I’m not saying they can’t be true friends, but you will have to be guarded with them.

One of my other favorite characters is the victim. Lord knows there’s enough bad, or evil, around to fill everyone’s life. Some folks make this a career. They ride bad situations like trail horse that just ain’t been ridden. They exaggerate the parts of the ride they avoided disaster, and lament the part where they couldn’t stay on the horse.

Addicts use this tactic. Understand that there are probably more addicts out there not diagnosed than there are celebrating recovery. Functioning addicts and non functioning addicts being supported by co dependent family and friends do more damage to society than the ones that overdose or end up in prison. They capture entire families in a web of dysfunction. Everyone in the game hides from the truth to further their own insecurities in a comfortable manner. “At least I’m not……..

I may be self medicating, but I’m not on the streets. I may take a lot of OxyContin or Adderall, but I’m not shooting heroin or smoking meth. The real popular one is pot. I just smoke enough to calm me down or help me sleep. It matters not to these folks that an altered consciousness creates an altered reality, that’s an innocent truth.

The list of truths we hide from are endless. Bad boys or girls who make us victims to be felt sorry for. Drugs that stigmatize over drugs that are prescribed. Hiding truths of psychological manipulation to feel needed or loved. Even denying the truth for living a lie.

I’m not afraid of truth anymore. I don’t wonder about why folks choose to portray truth as subjective. Truth is hard. The person delivering and receiving have to be ready to experience it. To deliver truth if one or the other isn’t ready is traumatic, and dramatic folks thrive on this mistake.

In the end we have to acknowledge truth and understand that in some relationships it’s so difficult that the alternative seems the only safe choice. The sad truth is we can’t all decide today to let go and just tell the truth because the world would be turnt on its head. This maybe why God is so silent. Sometimes silence is the clearest mirror to reality.

Me-llenials

The 70’s dude! A decade of confusion. A transition to dysfunction on a societal level that speaks to so much confusion today. The origin of the “me-llenial”! We just can’t seem to slow the train down long enough to see clearly, life is a blur.

I ain’t blaming women, You can’t really ever blame one group for a societies developmental dysfunctions, it takes a village. Woman however, changed the American family to a degree that no other facet of American life could. They went to work and had careers.

Woman in the 70’s responded to divorce rates, family structure, and economic autonomy by leaving the home and going to work. Prior to this time women as a whole stayed at home and maintained o home (which is not the same as a house) and raised children. Kindergarten was not yet a norm so children were at home until 6 years old learning in their homes and communities.

“Play dates” were an everyday thing. Cars with fathers pulled out of the driveway at 7am and the streets were filled with kids playing and Mothers talking. Naps were a necessity and at 4 or 5pm cars with fathers returned for dinner. This was the norm for most families.

I want to be clear that I’m not blaming woman. The economy was such that it became a necessity. Fathers either couldn’t make enough to maintain the middle class stature or just opted out and left for a loaf of bread never to return. Either way women had to step up and step out of the house for additional income.

There was no such thing as daycare, preschool, or head start. Most women relied on friends who used the babysitting money to supplement their own families income. A few daycares sprang up, but all you needed to be certified were a toy box, fire extinguisher, and a emergency services sticker next to your phone. This was not a great time for many children. In America.

These kids grew up to birth the “90 Babies” just around the technology boom. This generation of parents never were handed down the traditional parenting skills their parents experienced. Preschool, head start, and kindergarten became a norm and the main source of information for parenting.

These early childhood educators blurred the lines between children and students, even in some cases the authority over the child. Then the school starts to share the role of educator with raising children. So then we had parents educating their children while schools focused on their well being. Hell, everyone was confused.

So now we have the “me-llenials” and these babies are all confused. They can’t decipher whose role is what. The television and computer fill in the gaps with vulgarity and innuendo to the point sarcasm is viewed as a positive trait. Entertaining yourself through other folks pain is humorous, and drama within families is expected.

These babies are having babies and seem to be responding by wanting to do better than their parents or grandparents did. They track pregnancy from conception. They communicate at a level that’s painful for many older folks. They seem to see through the bullshit in a “this has been going on long enough” manner. On the front side of family life though, they are way out there.

These folks create genders, races, and cultures like apps on a smart phone. They experiment with all facets of life to an uncomfortable degree for many. This is what makes social media so entertaining and dangerous. Socially, politically, and culturally there are no safeguards to protect us from the degradation we see. Truth becomes subjective, reality is what you make it, and authority is viewed as a negative facet of life.

We can’t fix this overnight. This is gonna take a minute. There are many uncomfortable moments ahead. Now is the time for candor, not to be confused with being blunt. It’s a time for a leader, but they’re rare. It’s a time for honesty. Most importantly it’s a time for families to retreat to the dinner table and say “hold up”, we need to take a step back and evaluate what we’re doing. We need to reaffirm our roles as parents, children, and siblings. Before we go out that door again and step out into this dysfunction. We need to tighten up and reestablish and reaffirm what we stand for. No more co dependent relationships built on cultural fantasies.

It’s not over, but that rolls both ways. Americans are families. We are independent and proud. We are philanthropic at the lowest socio economic strata. We believe life is bigger than us. We need to start acting like that or the America that our grandparents rocked will be rolled right into a ditch.