Category Archives: love

He super loves her.

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He super loves her.

Such an aberrant sentiment-

Unflinchingly given and reluctantly- accepted.

Growth is rarely a comfortable present;

at least not in the moment.

More of a gift to be appreciated when one grows older.

Cleverly disguised truth-

A Postmodern Jukebox manifestation of arrested development,

to be waded through both side by side

and often you taking point.

A partner and a challenge-

a teacher and a blessing.

An organized wish come through,

willed by his hands~

 

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Heavy in His arms

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Heavy in His arms

Surrounded by the ever present Spectre of death…

Mortality itself has haunted since the 11th year-

Family & friends dying like the Hemingways and Fondas having a competition…

Addictions and violence permeate a life… a society… a culture.

Supporting those you love,

Facing my own fears;

Tasked with aiding those in grief…

A lifetime of training?

They don’t tell you the right things to say…

Or even the wrong things to say.

“It will always come in waves… they just get further between…”

Weak tea for the knock kneed.

God

Life

Energy

Grief

Stages

Birth to death and all between;

Beautiful acceptance to righteous anger-

Fuck this mortal coil.

Oedipus

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Oedipus

What a compounding thought-

Reflecting on my daddy issues;

My insane need for a father figure…

What I needed was a foundation-

“The all father”

A God:

for all intents and purposes-

An education on faith-

Grace-

Forgiveness-

Repentance AND reconciliation.

A basis for growth- a reason for service and understanding of trauma-

And finally- a present presence.

Always ok.

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Always ok.

It’s not crazy-

To question all of your decisions-

While holding your knees and rocking…

At the bottom…

of a dark closet-

Simultaneously:

lamenting;

and experiencing déjà vu…

realizing the trauma root to your aesthetic preferences…

synthesizing information, emotions, perceptions, programming…

Understanding leads to despair and experience leads to scripted good guesses…

“Fear is the path to the dark side.”

Leaps of faith…

Crisis of confidence?

Hope being what’s left and hoping because there’s nothing left-

Love or fear, only two choices…

At the heart of it…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Bottom of a dark closet.

Soundlessly chanting-

beneath the typhoon in my bedroom…

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m always ok.

it’s not crazy- it’s human, right?

JAM, not jelly.

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JAM, not jelly.

Temporarily tattooed words,

over my heart-

across my breasts.

 

Mirror opposites for your view,

and mine…

Though the ink disappears,

all feelings remain.

Neither game, nor war.

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Neither game, nor war.

Redundant shields failing-

and to the victor go the spoils.

Spoils of anger;

spoils of fear; and

spoils of doubt.

 

There’s no way to plan tactically-

when there is no consistency;

it is like trying to flank cats…

 

Knowing what we need

AND

also…. communicating it?

Ah…. that’s the secret.

 

Feelings can be stifled-

suppressed;

projected-

predicted.

Reactions?

No dice.

 

Purpose required.

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Purpose required.

Have you ever wanted something so bad,

you work and sacrifice….

Go a little mad…

Obtain said goal.

And then-

As though you had been…

chasing the proverbial dragon,

you are again unsatisfied?

Its easy to feel very sad and isolated-

Lonely in this big house-

Full of white noise and silences…

Inconsistently closed yet open doors.

Still trying to adjust- adapt…

Handle all the new noises

Suppress all the annoying ones,

Lament the loss of the old ones;

Not regret not covet-

Missing the tiny place somehow-

Although cramped quarters-

Happiness was found in those small spaces;

No choice but intimacy-

And shared purpose.

Oh me

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Oh me

I live in a huge house now…

full of closed doors;

For energy conservation,

Of course.

Fickle Mistress

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Fickle Mistress

How much can one heart hold:

Sadness-

Love-

Anger-

Happiness?

Swelling and contracting

Heaving like a deep breathing chest

Rising and falling;

like rapid cycling moods.

Hearts can heal

All too often it seems

Just in time to break-

again.

Love-

Love is a tricky bitch.

And hope?

Hope is a fickle mistress.

Secrets of life…

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Secrets of life…

I’m spending time with a hospice client today who is telling me the secrets of life… they’ve been married two times, 20 years the first time, and 52 years the second. (!!!!)

They say the secret to life is “…to love and let them love you. It’s the only thing that lasts and the only thing you can control. Sometimes. Anger and hate fade away and you don’t remember what exactly you were sore about, but you never forget the reasons you love someone or how it felt when they loved you.”

I’m not crying. YOU’RE CRYING.

Carry on.