Truth of Youth

It had been a hectic travel…

filled with disbelief and crucifixes.

A cross upon a land…I did not understand.

Had I been hardened by the age of early youth?

Had I been shown that my truth…was not the truth?

Looking out at these dismal days…imageedit__6908219087.jpg

Afflictive moments where pinewood boards had been a place to play.

Strong enough, if I had been…

the cross would have been my friend.

 

Six Ways to Escape Unnecessary Conversations during the Holidays:

Aunt Sue,

“So, what have you been up to?  Are you working?”

Sue knows damn well my wife is disabled.  And, though she works more than 8 hours a day keeping our family of four legged children…fed, watered, cleaned, vaccinated, etc.  Aunt Sue insists on starting every conversation with…

“Where are you working?”

Megan (my wife)

“I’ve started handing out clean needles at the homeless camp down by the river.  Unfortunately, on my way back from the woods the other day.  I had mistakenly stabbed myself with a used syringe.  And, now I have a mysterious cough…The doctor is running tests but everything is still up in the air!”

That was it!  End of story.  Aunt Sue, the republican, AARP Zumba Instructor and vocal advocate for spending more money than you have…left the conversation.  In a big hurry!

Six Ways to Escape Unnecessary Conversations during the Holidays:

  • Use irresponsible speech.  Go into the conversation knowing someone’s weak points.  Such as, debating the pro’s and con’s of lesbian sex with the very catholic Sister-In-Law.
  • Have a short fuse.  Display quick and severe angry outbursts.
  • Cry!
  • Speak with a tone that promotes conflict.  “Did you hear that by 2050, the world as we know it, will be uninhabitable?”
  • Pop pills with a glass of hard alcohol.
  • There is never any ‘true’ forgetting in most families.  Be very stringent about bringing every sorted detail of the family tree…into the conversation.  “So, has Mike been released?  How long will he have to be on the sexual offender’s list?  Is that list something that’s made public?”

As He Lay, Dying

prison 2

Along with the accident…another dose of cynicism…

Another strong cup of boiling, black coffee.

So near death…the father flirted with heaven but drank down hell.

A balancing act of almost faltering became the father…

As if it were…its own entity.

As if my whole world were under a spell.

One moment a junkie to gratitude.

The next moment…a devil’s successor.

Over and over, living in his closed circle…sipping from his cup.

Feast or famine with the joy…and, the rancor.

I often wondered…

‘is there any new found faith…to awaken for another day?’

But when I marvel…

I usually know my own answer.

Nearing death meant nothing to the father…

Cures no moral cancer.

Aftermath, after all

A year of living dangerously, in an aftermath of ghosts…contemptible sprites.

Obliged shadows in my path.100_0832

Yelling, pointing, transfixed on…the disappointment.

I am just a child with a hand upon the hot stove.

Upheld as the deviant…never doing as, told.

Perpetually trespassing to abandoned places…

forging into haunted cold cases…

awaiting the critical scold.

Conversely, ‘what have you done?’

Shouting the paint off the walls.

Incarceration by itself…to place left to go.

Survival in the aftermath, after all.

Is survival in the after math…after all.

No Room on the Couch

imageedit_5_2550545733Denizens from a denim home.

Landscape, a slightly faded touch of blue and brown worn.

Hanging in the dim light, feral or abandoned, unplanned destinies.

In the middle of our own attention, a crushed leather couch for two.

Soft as room temperature butter when family begins the day, anew.

There is an air…that would deter most.

Pungency that outsiders…simply do not understand.

An ease of frivolity.

Then of rest.

What a ‘laugh’ if this seated sofa could talk.

Friendships, spats, the photo album in-between.

A comforting familiarity of the morning routine.