Archive | July, 2012

when skies fall/so tired

26 Jul

this may or may or may not enhance your reading pleasure :

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the brilliants of my illness out shines my intellect.

i wanted to go out and sit under clouds and watch birds go by, but i cannot move.

i have never been so tried and energetic, my brain does not know pause, but my body is lifeless.

i wanna smell mountain air and walk in the trees, but a simpler task would be to move mountains.

each step i take is different, but each thought is the same, i will not make it like this.

all i want is piece/peace of mind/mine, but no peace is coming for me and none is sort.

i wanna sit under a tree and watch days go by, but i cannot move.

i need help to silence these inaudible screams and rest for a while, i just wanna rest for a while.

my days are labored and i know numbered, i can’t feel my heart anymore.

i just wanna sit in the rain and count raindrops, i wanna feel my wet skin as it dries in mountain air. i wanna touch the sky and not have it fall on me.

my time spent in unfriendly company has left me no tomorrow and tonight is to long, i have been used up and no one checks up on me.

i can hear my clock counting down, but i won’t be ready when it stops.

i just wanna sit on the steps of my life and watch the cars go by.

i wanna be seen by people who are not like me, finally be seen. being alone is to much work and i have never been so tired.

this has become to much for me, oh god am i tired and how long is long enough, oh god am i tired.

WE ARE US

22 Jul

this may enhance your reading pleasure:

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All photos are courtesy of the Gordon Parks collection, please click here for the rest of the images: http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/07/16/a-different-approach-to-civil-rights-images/

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AS I LOOK BACK ON MY DAYS HERE, MY RECALL IS FADING AND THE PAGES ARE TATTERED.

MEMORIES OF PEOPLE I ONCE LOVED ARE MADE UP OF THIN CLOUDS AND STALE AIR, I LONG FOR RENEWAL.

MY GRIP IS NOW WEAK AND ME THINKS ALL RECALL WILL SOON DISSIPATE JUST LIKE THIN CLOUDS AND STALE AIR.

I WILL NOT SURVIVE WITHOUT MY MEMORIES.

HOW MUCH DO WE TRULY HAVE WHEN WE TAKE INVENTORY? LIVES OF COLLECTING THINGS AMOUNT TO NOTHING WHEN OLD AGE SURPRISES US IN MORNING MIRRORS.

WE FORGET TO LOOK UP.

I NOW KNOW THAT WE ARE HERE FOR A SKINNY MINUTE AND THEN IT’S SOME OTHER SOULS TURN. WHAT HAVE WE DONE WHEN IT’S TIME TO GO BACK HOME, AGAIN? DID WE LOVE ENOUGH? DID WE DANCE ALL NIGHT? DID WE TAKE A HAND? ARE WE FINISHED?

AS I LOOK BACK ON MY DAYS HERE, MY BEST YEARS SEEM BEHIND ME, BUT THOSE YEARS ARE FADING FAST AND THE PAGES ARE TATTERED.

WHAT WE HAVE TO DO IS FOCUS ON THE YEARS IN FRONT AND MAKE NEW MEMORIES AND SLOW DOWN, TAKE A HAND, DANCE ALL NIGHT. 

IT’S LATE IN THE EVENING FOR US AND SUNRISE IS NOT GUARANTEED.

A LOT OF HURT HAS MADE ME THIS PERSON  RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW, BUT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE SUN AND I MADE IT TO THE OTHER SIDE.

WE CAN STILL ENJOY MORNINGS AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE WITH FAMILY AROUND. WE ARE US AND WE HAVE SEEN THE WORST, WE HAVE ALL BEEN THROUGH THE SUN AND HERE WE STAND.

WHEN WE ALL GATHER BACK HOME IN THE UPPER ROOM, THIS WILL ALL HAVE BEEN WORTH IT. WE HEAL AND WE WILL GROW AND WE WILL GET READY TO DO IT AGAIN, WE ARE US.

FOR NOW, WE HAVE TO KEEP IN SIGHT THE HORIZON AND CLUTCH THE PIECES OF US HAS NOT BEEN LOST AND BROKEN.

WE HAVE ALL BEEN THROUGH THE SUN AND WE HAVE ALL SEEN THE OTHER SIDE. JUST KNOW THAT WE DO THIS TOGETHER. THIS PLACE IS A SCHOOL AND ATTENDANCE HAS TO BE TAKEN AND YOU MUST SPEAK UP WHEN YOUR NAME IS CALLED, READY OR OTHERWISE.

AS WE LOOK BACK ON OUR LIVES HERE OUR RECALL MAYBE FADING AND THE PAGES TATTERED, BUT HERE WE ARE AND WE ARE US.  

Chronic Fatigue

19 Jul

this may enhance your reading pleasure.

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When my feet hit the floor my spirit sinks, I can feel the weight of my entire body.

The lack of motivation makes me sick and joyless, a life with no joy is not a life, but a sentence and hard labor is the punishment.

We are separated from ourselves by a thin sheet of confusion and noise, we all know what must be done, but the lack of motivation is a sickness and a joy denier that spreads easily from one to the next–as was planned.

We want for nothing but beelines and magic, though we can have neither the hunt keeps us facing forward.

The mind cannot make itself up, so it dwells for years and the dwelling is most easy, especially with heads down.

We get stuck in mind frames as we meander and roam into one another, heads still down.

Heartbreak and disappointment weighs on the person and the sight becomes short, our inner voice gets faint and we are left facing forward in the hunt with heads down.

We follow the soul in front, who follows the soul in front and all are blind and inner voices are faint and heads cannot be lifted.

We have become the mirror images of each other and the slightest difference is exploited if only in our minds.

With heads bowed we can’t look back and in our wake is staircase made out of souls with bowed heads who can’t look back.

We have become less human and our world is a place where kind hearts can no longer be seen nor allowed to be seen.

We have now become people, good at being alone.

ILLNESS: mental

14 Jul

this may or may not enhance your listening pleasure:

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Metal against metal with hot edges and cold hints–are they talking about me?

My mind is in fast forward as I laugh at fools laughing at me–is something burning?

I know they see me, they talk to me while I sleep, I can hear them moving about my room with light steps and smelly clothes–did you hear that?

My head is full sand that shifts when the wind blows and sometimes it spills out and my neighbor helps me with that–somebody’s coming, get down.

Hot gases travel through my veins and up my back signaling the other me is about to come forward and speak–they think me crazy.

Dim lights and hot bulbs dance about my brain trying to make me think it’s morning, I know morning and this is not morning–stop touching me.

I used to be malice in wonderland, but I figured this would be better– I climb trees backwards.

This grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but it’s painted–I can fly.

Chickens Will Roost.

14 Jul

this may or may not enhance your reading pleasure.

 

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The sand on the bottom of my feet didn’t come from here, but the rope burns around my neck did.

The hatred in my heart for myself and for you was born here, it grew up right here.

This is not my hatred, it’s yours and I’m ready to set it free and send it home like chickens coming to roost.

I was not given an option, but I’ll give you one.

I will make my being sink as low as yours and make hell a playground.

My rage alone can fuel a movement.

Your blood will sizzle like my flesh sizzled when it was strange fruit.

I will probe the depths of my mind to make your debt payment ring throughout this place.

Yes, my hatred is full grown and is coming back. Not a book or a line has been written that can or will explain my actions.

The Earth cannot, will not contain the motions of the oppressed, the hurt, the lost, the damaged.

You stand there and be real still so those chickens have a place to roost when they come home, because those chickens are coming home.

forsaken/in hindsight

5 Jul

this may enhance your reading pleasure.

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in this cold life my knees were bent on cold floors as i looked up

they told me to ask and i shall receive but all i received were dirty knees and hymns

desperate tears left salty trails for me too walk alone to afraid to question

i loved you because i was told to

sun rays bursting through clouds and the breeze through trees were my proof that you were here but sun rays can’t stop blood shed nor feed hungry infants and the trees ignored me

i was most eager to meet you and learn to bathe in your light my return was stone silents in the middle of arid existence

my life was nearing its end and I wanted you to tell me something be here to escort me to the other side

no escort came and i had to hitchhike to my destination

my heart remains broken as the father has left me here blindfolded hands bound with no tongue and tells me to have faith

i have faith in my ability to continue on and seek what i will

it was not i that made cross not i that pieced your side with weapon i did not crown you with thorn

my kin have loved you for no reason while in god we trust none of their pockets hold

good may come to those of us who wait but no clock need be watched nor breath held

my darkest days were left dark i was scared and confused and i was left scared and confused

i have turned cheek and loved my enemy i have but two cheeks and my enemies surrounded me you didn’t give me enough love or cheeks

my hope is firmly in place that you will come to me come for me but waiting is for the dead and warm is still the blood that courses through my veins