I have tasted the rain
Falling
e
n
t
l
y(ou too have tasted watched the stars)
And deadly,
Both
Flooding the senses
(ense this;
It is general
Consensus
That we will ache
In life)t
e
r
n
a
l
l
y.
I have tasted drops formed from
Mo ai
u t n
n s,
And dew formed upon
g g g g g
r r r r r
a a a a a
s s s s s
s s s s s(teady yourself.
You can bend
And also mend)
That grows
Taller than I do(not compare).
I aspire to be such grass,
Even as I taste rain
That
t m u o l s t u u l u y
Drowns even the ocean
(I fear the water
But oh I know it is passionate).
It waters these roots
(u
n
will come again)
And I fasten myself further
And my limbs Ache such an Ache
And it is in the Aching
That I am
Making myself(or the
B eaking
r
never lasts)
And I follow my mothers
(the mothers, the daughters, how holy are our
Spirits)
Who have bathed in the rain.
Earth is a woman of virtue leading the raindance
jump love song
Within the stars(hethey have watched the stars
o
eagerly)
And I am a mere virgin born from her and Mercury,
Virgin to myself,
My messages,
My rains(o many are yet to come.
So many have been weathered),
My pains.
So it seems.
My hair has turned green
And I find new names
And grow gr
a
s
Strong roots
(They say it is greener
But familiar dewdroprains
Scale the blades of our eyes
With Emerald hues if we open them)
When I practice
(oh it takes practice.
All in due time) the raindance
jump love song.
Thanatos
The first time I walked upon train tracks, I felt like a train
No matter how loud, heavy and visible I appeared
People pretended not to see me
They saw animals on the road
Bugs under their shoes
Still nothing
What a lonely life
I don’t remember having friends, I’m not sure what thats like
However
I’d rather bear this burden alone
Best to be alone and one
Two would be twice as horrible
Imagining someone to talk to, share the sights and the sadness
I think, what if they could no longer go on
I’ve been on my own all my life as much as I can conceive of it
Who would even want to wander with me
I have no conversation, they’d at least expect wisdom
Someone would wonder why I couldn’t provide such illustrious sentiments and ideas of what I’ve seen
Yes, best to be alone
Because for that, I have no answer for what I do
I just keep going, it is my purpose
Although I am constantly in presence
It is rare I am engaged
When one beckons me
It is not my job to come
It is my job to wait
Waiting all the time
Alone
One day, I met a man
Old like the others I usually find
He said, “It’s nice to see you. I believe you met my wife last month.”
I smiled, his wife was lovely. Old like him but light like a child.
I saw them walking together for years until she came alone
He seemed like someone I could actually talk to
I asked him, “Why does everyone ignore me?”
he glanced around one last time,
and assured me I shouldn’t be offended, he said:
“Nobody wants to die.”
Stranger
//I feel this needs a little bit of background info for those that don't know me, and that is simply this; my memory might as well be non-existent.//
These fingers that I type with,
Words pouring from a mind
I call my own,
Are quite well known.
I like to keep my nails
Long;
It has been a few months
(Was it weeks?)
Since they had been painted,
And then the fingers I painted with
Were well known.
(I thought there was a scar there?)
I remember
Painting them years ago
(I was quite well known)
With designs
Such a young mind could make.
These fingers
Pound at the keys;
I should let up,
I think
(On myself?)
For they are battered
(No,
The stranger)
And it is cold
(Her gaze is absent)
As these nails glide on the ice.
My gaze(her gaze,
hidden)
Is tired,
As tired as these fingers;
They have known so many
That are now strangers
(For my mind,
It whirls about)
And long forgotten
Until they are renewed once more
stranger.
Cast your shadows,
Woman of my time
And girl of my youth,
For my fingers might know you
(Introduce me to your friend!)
But my mind cannot recognize,
Only remember,
Pound at the keys,
With the keys(let me
in
to learn who you are).
Surely you know
Fleeting glances on the street,
Gazing at the man
In the torn jacket,
The girl with a black coffee.
I know fleeting glances
At strangers such as these,
And how I long to meet them,
For each time I see them again
(I remember once when you were ten...
I do not.
But tell it
A
Gain)
I ponder who they are
(These stories give me false memories,
For I am a stranger to me)
And how these fingers thought of them.
Ti Amo
The universe
Has smiled for you,
As it would an old friend.
The universe
Has breathed in to your mind,
Swirls of passion,
Hues of grace.
The universe is in your face,
Your fingers(it lingers)
That create their own universes
As the sun flows
Across the hills and to your skin.
I have smiled for you,
The one I call friend,
For you the universe has done the same.
How can one deny such worth?
The rain falls within your lips,
Drops of water(the sky's daughter)
To power the seas
And to be perceived
With admiration by all.
Ironic Colonic
I see my psychiatrist this afternoon. I get edgy and paranoid leading up to these appointments, which I think is part of the reason I'm going. My stomach starts to knot and sicken with the anxiety that one of the meds is supposed to ease? I find myself spewing shit I swore I would take to my grave, but keep supressing the violent and disturbing impulses playing out in my mind like film snippets that would disgust Rob Zombie. I wonder what the detainment processs would look like if I "shared" too much.
Keep it cool, boy.
I have cancelled much too often, for these reasons and more, but today I deserve the cess pool of shame and guilt that I will undoubtedly wade, no, dive into. Maybe I'll ask the questions; "So, how are you feeling?" "What's been going on since our last meeting?" "Have you noticed any improvement with the new meds?"
Boy?
Or maybe I'll just sit there, slouched and pouty, like a petulant child and say, "idunno" to everything. You're only as healthy as your darkest secret. I guess that would make me...well, never mind.
Keep it cool...
The stigma attached to mental health issues, problems, concerns, diagnoses, whatever - is now in flux. My dad's generation didn't have these issues; they just blew their brains out when shit got heavy, and mommy just slept all day. Now that lone gunmen prowl the streets, churches, and airports, more attention is being paid to who "knew what and when and could something have been done to stop it," as Lester Holt so frequently asks. Fuck yeah, somebody knew something - they always do. Fuck yeah, somebody could have done something to stop it - they never do.
Easy, boy...
I've always believed that vomitting the bile is a release of the poisons infecting us (me). I also believe that when someone else can help carry your (my) shit, even for just an hour, it's easier to soldier on. I will keep this appointment because the demons want to prowl. And regardless of my pompous posturing, I'm bound to spill and spew, but I'm afraid some of my secrets will remain just that ...mine.
