The lid closed slowly —
it used to slam,
startling you
lots of loud noises
offended, scared you
one day, I saw
I had become a loud noise
now I’m quiet,
tamed and evenly tempered
my mind is trained,
practiced, wise
the very things you wished
by the very method you hated —
blessings.
I see the toilet seat
fall — slowly
silently
and wish blessings
upon you
still
Some things come
Some things go
At least that’s what
We think we know
Yet no thing can rise
And no thing can fall
For there is no out there
Mind is all
I made you a picnic for dinner
many nights that week
You showed me where you used to live
with your last ex (there are many)
I’ve joined the lineup
and I’m not eager to see
our once-sacred spots shared, although
in hindsight, it was predictable
your memories still float, caught
in the historic locks of
the Rideau canal
(His last words)
I feel gooey inside
I mean more than usual
I think my insides are melting
something warm is happening in my heart
it’s making a bubble
something’s about to pop
this really doesn’t feel quite right
I think I’m rising from the inside out
the heat supposed to be external
but this is gutting me
tearing me apart
hot bit by bit expanding
and do you see this bulge here?
no! not my stomach!
hoo-hoo!!
don’t poke me at a time like this —
can’t you see I’m in pain?
oh! dire pain!
being wrenched apart
baked wrong side out
surely this isn’t in the directions —
can we trouble shoot?
something’s happening to my throat
the words aren’t
coming out good
no more
ooey gooey heart
hoo-hooo
Okay… so this isn’t the thirstiest. x.x but can you picture that it probably isn’t Mrs. Poppie Fresh Pillsbury Doughboy doing it for him. 😉
You might not need a tall glass of water, but perhaps a cold glass of milk and a hot, soft chocolate chip cookie would satisfy you.
Not fair!
I said I wouldn’t become
attached to you,
changing condition
yet, so much sorrow
fills minds that grasp
at the losing
a mistaken conception:
yes, it is the summer
that offers me joy
so easy to believe
when winter brings
us pain – in joints,
in frostbitten fingers
in the minds of
jealousy when our friends
flee to now-appreciated
tropical timeshares — now
no more summertime
to share
one dream ends
while we’re trapped
in another
romantic autumn’s
place will come, when
this dull and tiresome
sadness becomes boring
to my fitful, grasping mind
but now, I see only
a broken promise to myself
I wouldn’t become attached
I said
I must have failed
why else would I lay
blame with the season’s change
for my woe
written in 2013
It’s selfish and conceited, but sometimes I like to think I was your worst.
I’m the little period in your life you swallow pills to forget.
I’m the worst thing to ever happen to you.
I kept you up all night, tossing in your bed,
while thoughts went ’round your head,
like:
who the fuck is she, and
did she mean what she said?
I’m a little piece of nightmare that got stuck in your dream teeth.
I’m the ghost devil on your shoulder, that you thought you’d shed.
Every so often you recall what I did,
and think:
shit, what did I get into, and
can it never happen again?
I was conceited when I loved you; I was selfish when I left.
I tossed words without abandon; I belittled what we had.
Misery loves company, was my battle cry.
I hung the phrase on all my banners, and
let harsh words fall from my lips.
Each second I felt scorned, I thought would be my last
Every teardrop that fell from my eye,
you knew I blamed on you.
I stuck a dagger in your chest, hoping to rake through
your ribs and crack them down to dust.
I love to imagine how I was the worst thing to ever happen to you,
and in that I will be immortalized.
I’m the slanderous tale told at the cabin, and ghost story for the young.
A cautionary tale of psycho bitches, and what can come undone.
A warning for your friends, a comedy for the bored,
a thank-your-lucky-stars-it-wasn’t-you for the unappreciative ignored.
I will outlive all the rest, based on my infamy of awfulness.
And then I feel downright bad.
Because I loved you in the moment. I treasured what we had.
I trusted every word you spoke, believed each lie you said —
I think we both did —
and when I started believing I was the
worst thing that could happen to you, that I was crazy and insane,
I ran away and still blame you, even if it’s all in vain.
Because I was the worst thing to ever happen to you.
I’ve come across you
twice before
and each time
I opened you!
Alas, even
the second time
I knew!
To tell you
the truth…
I would do it again.
It is said,
we run straight
to the causes
of our suffering
My experience
could be proof
Though I may act
quite aloof
(or at times a goof)
I am burning with
desire inside
egotistical pride
seven sins wrapped
up tight
in the unforgetting world
it is difficult
to let go of attachment
So faced with the choice
once more – to open
or leave closed
hell’s wicked door
I swing it wide
and hop the hearth
to the other side
to tell you the truth…
I’m just exhausting
negative karma
bringing about
the end of these
tiresome cycles
how ’bout you help?
Tell me the truth…
would you open the box?
Leaving the salt lamp low
I undress close to the open
window, watching the wind stir the trees
feeling the breeze on my skin,
Living on the edge of losing it all
pretending with non-attachment I won’t
care, at all – I love this type of faith
but still mine runs deeper than that
What illusion is this appearing to minds,
that makes material risk seem most perilous,
the highest stake. Meanwhile, everyone
puts their future on the line for a brief escape
regretted in the end, when such pleasures
almost always bring such pains
And still, deluded most times
I’m sure I would risk it all again,
If only to learn the swift lessons
needed for permanent escape, liberation
and if only for the benefit of others, complete
Enlightenment – the highest state
The greatest risk to reward benefit
of all, to all, for all.
Winter 2020, a dreamlike recollection
Recalling a Midnight Walk in Port McNicoll
Help me shed
my exoskeleton
I feel like like setting something on fire
I feel like crying
I feel like creating
I feel like destroying
Port McNicoll
cold night
walking in the dark
see the stars
hear the crunch
forged by footfall
don’t slip on that ice there
crunch crunch crunch
silence punched
with pursuit
breath audible
visible
in the dark
rub my eyes
to clear the dark
crunch crunch crunch
two people making one
set of tracks in the snow
around the inlet now
find the path
to the narrow
a strip
no longer tying boats
to a bustling port
just dried up
riparian plants
taking their
liminal space
beneath the snow
grounded by ice
liquidated by spring
I feel like setting myself on fire
I feel like filling my pockets with rocks
and following the wolf’s path
though already a rebirth of her future
still struggling
same shit
different lifetime
I have a lot of
feeling
I feel a lot of
energy
inside but it wants
to escape
a timid body
no longer sufficient
material
for a growing
energetic field
unknowing
that it’s simply
a trap of
attachment
to retain such runty residence
wanting to scream into the night
finally
screaming into the night
Port McNicoll
cold and still
crunch crunch crunch
snow changes to gravel
and we have found
piles and piles
now we need to climb or run
to keep moving forward
I’m the Queen of the Castle
I’m the King of the Castle
you’re the dirty rascal
YOU’RE the dirty rascal
made true by the rusty
sand on his face
dust on his clothes
so much gravel here
we wonder why they
wanted to convert
the cleanest aquifer
in the world
wanted to subvert
sustainability
for another gravel pit?
Did they get dust in their eyes?
Have they so quickly forgotten the ruin
of the planets they abandoned
after their resources ran dry?
Or is the pleasure of the kill?
A Great Horned angel in the night
hoots his rendition of
Something in Blue
We long to hear a duet
but it’s a solo performance tonight
a prophecy in part
if not a command
one not heeded for a year still
I am pretending
I’m a superhero
free of mundane existence
but feeling the
weighty entrapment
of earth life
human wishes
and someone else
constantly trying
to attach his leash
to mine
though I’ve
already
been cut free
he can’t see
and
I can’t see
the further I run
the further he follows
I am searching for a memory
within this memory
5 years old
visiting Grandpa at work
he has an office
on King Street
Mom points to pigeons landing on the balustrade
rooftops next door
we’ll feed them outside
I like Newton’s pendulum on the desk
3, 3, 2, 2, 1, 1, 1, 1
concentration born from curiosity
and then starved
can’t last
so I flip the bubbler upside down
and watch the trellis of weightless
globes travel against gravity
and perhaps my airy nature
too yearns to excurse upstream
while pretending I was first
to swim against the current
last to observe
salmon beside me
same difficult journey
they got there first
yet
diluted to desk ornament
just the same
ultimately for
one other pocket’s
profit
Port McNicoll
cold night
walking in the dark
catch glimpse of the stars
favourite constellation
shines down
three suns his belt
Orion poises his arrow
toward the next step
I take
not out in the lake
the mild wish
nothing compared
to enlightened craving
this time ’round
why are we like this
I want to cry
without replicating the search
for why
negative feelings arise
in my perfect life
hauntings of a past
I’ve not lived
being just twenty-five
so where does it come from
hoo-hooooooot
sings the night
as tears sting my eyes
crystalline drops fall
tried to outrun him
so he can’t
see me
small
For this emotion
it broke me
I could not comprehend
why my mind became crazy
and I couldn’t defend
my inner wisdom being
so delicate, so fair
trampled to pieces
with curses, warfare
self-sabotaging poisons
injected nightmare
mind became muddled
emotionally impaired
reason deceptive
self-cherishing deceit
reason defective
self-deprecate, repeat
Port McNicoll
still and cold
never felt one
could feel so old
he stood beside me
tried to take my hand
I hated myself and
my life so unplanned
I couldn’t regret
the good things I gained
but it’s still hard to forgive
the way I chose to behave
and still sometimes continue
to choose bad over good
and without self reflection
feel so misunderstood
until a burning desire
a need for change
drove me out of the house
and into the street
just his following footsteps
held me down
from behind
I’m still grateful for
how patient
how kind
he was
most times
Just the
one thing
he and I
could not fathom then
was how witchery brewed
when he denied my freedom
“It’s not safe” or “I’m lonely”
I longed to ignore
silly cries of unjust fear
thrust upon me once more
those were never my fears
just the cage just the light
always pinned down
always in sight
created madness such madness
the introvert curse
visibility birthed insanity
death couldn’t be worse
some time to heal
a winter alone
a fire for warmth
all others gone
only in such
secret silence
can I recuperate
my song
only in secret
stillness
finally, raison
wisdom
sensibility
freedom from earth
release from silly senses
imagination rebirth
writer’s block lifted
hateful stories destroyed
my reality shifted
compassion deployed
a new strength within me
to combat the old
and at last my destructive
tendencies controlled
Yet
if the process isn’t
respected
or worse left
ignored
the insanity boils
despair restored
reason deceptive
self-cherishing deceit
reason defective
self-deprecate, repeat
energy overflow
must go somewhere
to make a living punching bag
not at all fair
it’s time to heal
and how is that done?
questions I should have asked
before I moved on
lacking foresight
seeing only the past
heart break by hindsight
present don’t last
soon gift is gone
life moves too fast
future moments with him
I lost too soon
tortured by choices
a steed of Doom
When the energy
comes shaking
my rib cage vibrating
a hungry ghost
screaming from within
a need for destruction
as I can’t face the fear
I can’t feel the sorrow
As anger burns thin
It just turns to tears
Though I long to clear-cut
Whole forests with the rage that I feel
I simply toss a rock to hear
the splish splash splunk
in frigid water
or tin cold plunk on
and not yet through
the ice
Port McNicoll
empty and cold
brought me to my knees
made me feel so old
first so angry
then so blue
first shaking with rage
then wrung-out-rag-used
perceived imprisonment
before breaking loose
restraints granting rope-burn
inebriated bickering to sober truce
rebuilding future
from broken past
always keen dreamers
’cause madness don’t last
Lifetime different
but shit the same
struggling still
future rebirth already
though, virgin’s path following
and rocks with pockets filling feels
fire myself, sun setting, like I feel
Madness, an exoskeleton
help me shed
shed my help
Why feel misunderstood,
when there is someone to understand you?
Why feel empty,
when there is someone to fill you up?
Why feel left out,
when you could feel included?
Why feel unappreciated,
when you could feel respected and admired?
Why be hard on yourself,
when you could be soft on someone else?
Why be grounded,
when you could be a lucid dreamer?
Why live a dull existence,
when life can be fantastically magical?
Why manipulate,
when you can flirt and persuade?
Why remain ignorant,
when there is someone from whom to receive wisdom?
Why feel lonely,
when there is no separation?
Why feel grief,
when love never ends?
The Halfwit Writer