My madness is like a delusion
one where my brain is a starved rock
and I am the intrusion
It's as if my sanity has been put on lock
and my thoughts won't stop
it's blood orange sunshine and purple cows
it's lizards dancing on the table top
I'm going somewhere of that I'm sure
Like an angel falls from heaven
It's a descent into madness that I must endure
always.
Always, you will be my child.
Even when you grow bigger than me,
And I have to look up to see your face,
Even when you have studied more,
And have to teach me the way,
Even when you are a father,
And memories of me fade,
You will still be my child.
Always, I will look back,
And wish I had done more.
More playing with you,
More listening to your feelings,
More sharing stories,
More moments with you,
And not just near you.
Always, I will be loving you.
Even when you are mean,
And make me sad,
Even when you make bad choices,
And I am mad,
Even when I am long gone,
I will be, where ever I will be,
Loving you.
Always, I will be your parent.
When you need advice, but refuse to ask,
You will find my words in your thoughts.
When you make a mistake, and want to keep secrets,
I will see the truth in your eyes.
When you feel pain and sadness,
I will carry that burden with you,
I will give you my strength, and happily become weak,
To keep you from heartache.
Always, you will be my best,
The best thing I have ever done,
The best love I will ever know,
The best soul I have ever touched.
Always, I will be, where ever I will be,
Loving you,
Mom
A Birthday Poem
Today
I do not want to create
I do not crave ink on my fingertips
Or clay beneath my palms
I crave
The pain of squeezing broken glass
Shards that splinter on the floor
That shine a ruby red
I want
Knuckles split and clenched
Teeth bared and sharp
A scream beneath my ribs
I need
To rend the world apart at the seams
To feel my muscles ache
As coarse fabric gives way beneath my fury
But
I know my rage abates
Dies like a glass knife
Dropped and never caught
So
I’ll make it a slave while it lives
Put it to paper
And demand it makes something of
Worth
Judgment day
The dozer's silent, the skies are grey
The darting birds stake their claim
Hopping from stone to hardened clay
Playing the ancient hunger game.
Oh, the darting birds stake their claim
To a land scarred by oil stains
That continues to call my name
And whispers, the shame, the shame.
But the land that is scarred by stains
Is the land of my father all the same
Even though his memory shouts
Please, not in my name, my name.