The Way It Is
I tell you what I believe in and I am a madman
The man with the trust fund and suit tells you, he is a visionary
The ones who call others sheep are the ones
Who go to work every day, pay their taxes, buy the expensive car to impress their neighbor
The ones who say "my hard earned money shouldn't go to healthcare"
When their hard earned money goes to mindless carnage overseas
When the fruits of their labor do not even get to be enjoyed
Instead they go to the man who owns the orchard
We teach our children to be kind
To take care of one another
To protect the weak
What happens between then and adulthood
Where walking passed a homeless man dying on the street does not incite riots
The woman who died on that street last week
Looks down on him and us and weeps
"Did my suffering teach you nothing? Did I die in vain?"
She did. That's what we're telling her
A timeless quotation taught in ever school
"The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing again and again and expecting a different result"
It's all well and good to think these things, apparently
To talk about it over dinner and pity the less fortunate
But to do something about it?
Insanity
Out With a Hiss
I understand that I need to calm down
But there isn't enough chamomile tea in the world to slow these thoughts
No amount of quiet time for reflection to calm this trembling
Fresh air can't make these bleeding wounds heal faster.
When cats near death it's said they can sense it
With all their remaining strength they drag themselves as far as their aching paws will go
And find a quiet place
Alone
To die.
I'm still deciding where I will go
Under a large fir tree or a flowering bush
All I know is it will have to be far
I'll make sure to be quiet, no squeals or whimpers
Wouldn't want a passerby to notice me
I'll curl up, tail over my nose
And die quiet, alone
Just as the kitty cats
Leaving behind my bones
In a beautiful little place.
Where We Can Be Somewhere Else
He dreams of parallel universes
Other dimensions where he is someone else
Where who he was in the past never existed
And the shame that trots along his side finally abandons him
Sometimes he grows up somewhere else
Other times something tragic befalls him
In some he turns out to be a rock star
In others he cures cancer
All of them, though, have you in it
No matter how long it takes, you always find each other
There's one where you two are brothers
And another where you're older and wiser than him, teaching him life lessons
But his favorites will always be the ones in which
You finally gather up the nerve to love him
Sometimes you two are married
Other times you're star crossed lovers
In one he dies before his time, and in the other so do you
Whether the different versions of you have children
Money
A dog, a picket fence
It could be anything as long as it's a version of you that is able to fall in love with him
These Days
How many times can a man be sewn back together before the seams give way
and the flesh rots?
As a long loved teddy gets worn by touch, so does the human skin.
Put back together over and over again,
Your feeling dissapears and becomes one big ghost limb.
How many times must my button eyes be replaced
And my feet sewn back on
Before you return me back to the ground?
A Conversation
I am very upset.
Is it the small ceramic box you dropped on the floor?
I thought so.
We will find you something new.
I would rather save the pieces.
What about a figurine?
I'm sorry I can't do that.
Teensy weensy little crow, maybe.
With an orange beak.
And yellow feet.
Maybe I could love it.
It's okay to never feel the same love twice.
Let us read aloud a novel that borders on surrealism.
You know I'd rather lie.
You're so good at it.
I don't know you and I don't care to. Please exit stage left and never to be seen again.
I am lying to you all the time.
I wasn't really born in the forests and raised by the Lorax.
The cologne I use isn't sage and grass scented.
I really do have a mother.
I'm quite well read.
I believe in guardian angels.
One time I lost my head.
The nightmares of being are weighing on me.
I'm to become covered in warts like a cursed toad.
Maybe it will all make sense one day. Instead of waiting I will rinse out my eyes.
Peace
Over the years I’ve gotten much better at the art of the self pep-talk
At first they were small, uncertain
But then they grew larger, more confident
Finally they told me that I dont have to be sure
I dont have to know the ending
I just have to be accepting.
I do not pretend to know what tomorrow brings
I dont fear it will all end, and I dont hope it will all blossom
For what I realized is, I’m happy with what I’ve left behind
The mistakes and the doubt and the fear were the precursors
To a legacy not of shame, but of contentment.
The little girl that was never given a chance
I carry her with me every day
I show her what we can build
And why we had to stay here to see it come to fruition
She is still easily frightened
But I protect her, and I protect her well
There is a lot she still does not understand
But little by little she learns that half the battle
Is accepting you’ll never understand.
I used to often visit the graves of the past
But not anymore
Sometimes I am dragged there, but I fight tooth and nail until I am free
The cemetery will always be there
And you will always drive past it
But you will pass it, and nothing more.
When you invent people for a living, you’re bound to run into some old faces
I have learned to embrace it
Because despite the blood, and despite the sorrow
Makes a damn good story, doesn’t it?