my number one fan
I sit on the edge of the bed
pull on the socks, jeans, suspenders, shirt
while the dumb animal lays out flat on the covers
after it’s followed me from the breakfast table
to the shower to the bedroom
it’s my number one fan, you know
cocks its head slightly
to match my vision’s angle
then makes those bedroom eyes
in the purring, in the flexing of those grey mittens
such serenity, peacefulness, feline fulfilment
I have the foolish thought
I would like to change places with you
just for a day
I want to love like you
and feel love, like you
nothing mattering
except we two
thanks for your support (*Graphic)
you do not understand
do you even want to?
when you look at me
with derision in your glance
and say get off that shit
snap out of it
what is wrong with you
and I snap, but not out of it
and say thank you for your support
now fuck off
a terrible terrible thing to say
then I go to bed
and have black dreams
and what is worse I am not sorry
we do not talk for days
I tell you I am cold turkey now
by way of a half assed apology or excuse
your look says are you looking for sympathy?
I tell you I have been clean for two months now
struggling to be strong
but some nights I need a little help
you find my white paper bag
with the drugstore sleep aids in it
and say I thought you were off that shit
and I say I am, this is only kids stuff
and I don’t take it every night
you say maybe if you didn’t take that damn tablet to bed
and turn off your light at a reasonable hour
it might help eh?
I have seen a therapist
they say maybe you should too
get educated a little?
you say you don’t need any help
joy has been gone too long too long
this circle is vicious
rebirth
somethin’ dirty
somethin’ bad
somethin’ insidious
bought with the coin of weakness
is losin’ its grip on little old me
ah, I can feel it
tentacle by tentacle
prong by prong
sinew by snapping sinew
is it gonna go quietly?
not a chance.
it bellows and hollers in my dreams.
but I analyze those cries, and surprise!
it is only the impotent rage of defeat.
each day now
I poke a little further
out of the eggshell
spring’s a-comin’
spring’s a-comin’
ah, Lordy
spring’s a-comin
The Story of My Tree
What a beautiful piece.
I know what you must think
When you see my barren limbs.
You see an old tree that looks dry and wasted.
It’s true that my leaves had fallen, seemingly, never to return
And the bloom of my youth is a fuzzy dream that
Floats on the edges of memory.
Aw, but you are wrong! I am far from dead!
And I’m not just any tree, I was chosen for a special purpose!
I know that somewhere out there I have not been forgotten.
So sit awhile with me and if you listen,
With more than ears, I will tell you a story.
I will tell you about my girl.
I remember it was a bright spring morning,
And my friends, the birds, were just stirring from my branches.
When, suddenly, they leapt to the air in a flurry of fright
As a man climbed onto one of my great…
View original post 715 more words
Vent Ahead, Read With Caution
One woman’s point of view on the guns in school question…..
I went into teaching because I am relatively non-confrontational. Now, talk to my brother and he’ll tell you that I started everything when we were children. That’s probably correct. I can’t remember. Doesn’t matter. I’m not a kid anymore.
I’m an almost 46 year-old woman with two biological children and at least a hundred adopted. I believe in compassion and goodness. I believe in random acts of kindness. I believe in saying my mind when I see something or someone beautiful. I know that this might be weird. But if I see a beautiful person, I am going to say something. We live in a world saturated with unkindess, or at least we could. But not on my watch. Not in my corner.
I just finished teaching the Holocaust. I made a point of talking about people who chose compassion and goodness over atrocity and evil. My biggest regret right…
View original post 749 more words
ships that pass in the night
and so I write this
not out of vanity, I hope,
for really I am but an old man
by government standards
but to say
how you affect me
and to wonder what you see
when you look at me
and why you do what you do
I have been in this town
since before your birth
and have lived many years before that
you started work as a young girl of sixteen
in that store where I shop
and now you are twenty two
with a child of your own
and an absent father, you’re high and dry
funny, I thought you didn’t like me
because you never spoke when I passed by
all of those six years
rather, you turned away
but, at Christmas, I had some business to do there
and you helped me
I said Merry Christmas and turned to go
but you overtook me, looked up smiling
and hugged me tightly
I knew not what to do, and blushingly walked away
weeks into the new year, I felt I should say something
so, haltingly, I said you had made my day
on Christmas Eve, with that unexpected hug,
so you gave me another, then ran to the back room
do I mean something to you?
did our souls meet, perhaps, in another life?
I do not know what to say to you
except to make small talk
how’s the baby?
how’s your toothache?
are you working hard, or hardly working?
but you still smile, and give a squeeze once in a while
I wonder about your life, and what it’s like
single, on your own, small child, crummy job
but I would never ask inappropriate questions
in an inappropriate place
and so, we just pass each other
and if you fancy, we chat
and sometimes you look about
before you bestow that secret hug
to make this old guy’s day
there’s an update here: http://secret-lifeof.com/2018/03/12/ships-that-pass-in-the-night-reprise/
Not your fault
I texted you today
just to say hello
well, not really
so…among the real reasons…
(haha)
*didn’t want you to hear my voice
*I know you don’t like to take an actual phone call
*I wanted to assure myself that you were still around
I hoped that you would read between the lines
of my stupid small talk
but, even on the written screen
I sense your impatience
you’re a calendar girl
ruled by the time slots
and these two meaningless minutes
are just too much
and so, I say
it’s not your fault.
TTYL
LOL
BRB
WTF
On having an opinion
We all have them, of course. What we think of as right and wrong. What we would trumpet as our cause. Some of us (usually the loudest) point fingers, assign blame, preach from the pulpit of ignorance. We sometimes simplify issues that are complex, so that we can aim our self righteous darts more easily. Others, twice burned, keep their thoughts to themselves. I wish it were not so, because the voices of quietness are quite often the ones that are measured, considered, and constant.
As I sit here drinking my cozy coffee, I am surrounded by the marvels of modern technology. The high speed internet (which I don’t need but pay for anyway), the fancy phone that seems to beep every three minutes. The big three of the social media sites, especially the one where comments flow fast and sometimes furiously.
So many of us cannot disagree without being hurtful. I am taken aback as I read some of the responses to those who have expressed a belief or opinion and in no way have been hurtful themselves. Even were I to think that someone’s opinion was wrong, naïve, ignorant, etc. I would try to avoid a flame war by either not responding, or by quietly stating my own views.
This, I am sure, has happened to many of us…we make a benign response to someone’s comment, and then get jumped on unexpectedly by someone that does not even know us. A friend on social media had once shared a gloomy story about how we are raping the earth with pollution, chemical and radioactive wastes, endless and growing urban sprawl. They wondered how much longer our planet could support such expensive and uncontrolled growth. They saw it in how their own neighbourhood had changed within the last 30 years. Once a sleepy village, and now a suburb of the greater city spread. I commented on their story, saying “This reminds me of an old Paul McCartney song called too many people”. Five minutes later, someone I did not even know commented “If you think there’s too many people, why don’t you just hang yourself. Then there would be one less.”
Perhaps you will say “Well, it’s just a troll. Pay no mind.” Hard to unsee something like that. Because we’re all so connected now, and we can use anonymity as a shield, are we therefore more brazen, uttering forth the worst of our animal instincts? What’s the motivation for this type of thing, other than to make others feel small, and thyself the righteous one?
The old saying “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” is a little unrealistic today, but, please, if you must disagree, do it constructively, not destructively. And show a little civility.
And, yes, there is still a lot of hope out there. I see so many people trying to do these very things. But, sadly, they are shot down many times and given hurtful labels. Just stop.
Good night, sleep tight
I have brushed my teeth now
and the mother says it is time for my bed
but first
you must piggyback me down the hall
my feet must not touch the ground, mind!
dump me on the bed, bounce me one two three
get out the big colourful picture book
by Richard Scary
I must find Goldbug, right?
I pretend I do not know, do not know
until you look askance at me
then triumphantly I put my finger on the page
there he is!
now you must read me Tom Tit Tot
that little thing with the whipping twirling tail
no one can guess his name, but we know.
is he related to Rumpelstiltskin?
now I start to yawn
you lay me down on my belly
you play Down in the Jungle on my back
with your beating bongo hands
and then mother yells GET THEM TO BED
now you cover me
I lay my head on the pillow, shut my eyes
you sing to me, in the littlest of voices
Bluebird
“late at night when the wind is still
I’ll come flying to your door, and you’ll know
what love is for”
you know I’m pretending to sleep
’cause I can’t help the little smile
so you burble my lips with your finger
and I make the silly noise
and now, I feel it.
just as you always say
the sandman is coming
you wind my curls around your finger
make them even curlier
goodnight my Daddy
Aremyfeetofftheground 