I want to get away

That I'd be able to see that there is no somewhere where this will be easier. That an answer isn't going to be found somewhere out there. Somewhere where things are quiet. At a retreat. A getaway. A hiding place. But here with me. There is peace here with me. Here with me now is grace to be kind. Grace to be quiet. Grace to be. There's no where to go to where this peace will surpass understanding. Just the  now. Just the here. Just the me and the You and all the in between happening driving up to madness. That the escape and hiding place rests now. Here. Within the loudness of toddler needy babble. Within the bickering of stir crazy too close siblings. Within the now where later is too late. Where here and now all things are chaos and noise and mess. Where the schedule is a restricting mental body bind and all things are sketchy and fuzzy and jumbled. And maybe if I close my eyes long enough and think that all the quiet and peace is at hand, set strongly within me, that the ability to be quiet, to be a comfort and not another stressor, and to be still and desire nothing but to be in the here and the now where there is need and comfort that abounds and abounds all the greater with my very desperate need, then that in the here and the now all that is grace and peace would fill in the frustration of my lack.

so I hung all the diapers and there are minutes to kill

banana bread filled stuffing
matronly tight now puffing
tactical matrix debating debacle
tackle this hustle
to bustle
to bust
get fixed on the things above
where hope and calm and faith commonly shove
perfect love
perfect love
perfect love
from above
above love
above love
above´s love

fixed gaze to praise
most highest of deities
most highest of purities
the duty to stay
stay fixed on this highest of callings
this following of this calling
to the place
the place next
where there will be trials I bet
trials to fix those weary eyes on above
above´s love
and the calling to be in all that there is in the perfect simplicity of the beauty of above
above´s love
push to shove
and shove
and shove

quiet in the friday

I'm afraid. I'm afraid of a lot of things. I'm afraid of freedom.
car accidents
rapists
dogs
sharks
men
women
talking
being open
being alone
I don't like typing on this computer
this laptop
this is not mine
it is his
all that I have is borrowed from him
all that I want to have I have to have the desire to get up and earn
but I never will
I already have


Her shadow hasn't hung over me in a long time now.
Since the sick stalking has ceased
and I hated myself and it never made me feel better
and now she has no power over me
maybe
maybe there is power in what I can accomplish
maybe there is validity in me
in the me
in the dreams of me
in the abilities
those gifts closeted away
hiding from the others from the them from the outsiders
dumbing down to fulfill the role
I'm over it
I'm over that and now ready, partly at least, to be a little more daring
to go get myself ice cream
maybe I'll run
maybe I'm afraid that I'll get out too far and not want to come back
maybe I won't come back and that will be murderous
and it would be tragic
but God
remember the deal
the pact
the covenant
the transformation in the midst of the altercation
that random encounter that changed the course of fate and made it all different
better for a time
when there was a one to kiss it all away
when there was a one who made the me want
who made the me laugh
and that died
and now there is the decade old us and the me and the mine and the longing and the irritation and the selfishness
and then there are the memories and the history and the grandeur of the big
 of the history that tore me out of the pain and the crazy and the making me want
and what i want is to want the healthy the happy
the best and the reasonable and the healthy
but there is the lost and there is the lonely and there isn't release and there isn't fulfillment
just waiting for that some day when it will all get better than the now when it all gets better
like magic
like a spell
like a miracle
and the cycle goes on it continues and loses me in it and I'm at a loss
lost in the now when I'm free to think and I think too much and I think of the losses
 and I think of the past and the dad I abandoned who abandoned me first
and I wonder if I'll ever be able to explain to any of them what it all truly meant
did it mean anything?
was the cry heard if not seen?
was there a sign asking for help?
will there be grace in the acceptance of all the eccentricities that make me up
when
my mind
goes out
my
mouth
and its all heard
like I want it to be
like it was meant
to be
like I never want you to hear it

because the rivalry I've created riles up in me and I hate you and I want to do it all better and bigger and more successfully than you could ever
and I don't like you
and I like to think of your demise

but I wander
and I'm sick
and I wonder if I'm the only one who thinks like I think
but then I remember that there are the others and the ones who can't make eye contact in the crowd who
can't make the small talk like the man
who hate the loud and read the books and are
just
like
me
and that makes me feel a little more free and that someday I'll join that exclusive club that I never thought I could join because there never was a place for aspiration in the sacrifice of survival
in the myriad of prison homes that we've run through
just a place to be free
I'd like a place to be free
where the walls don't feel like they hold me in
but that they contain me wrapping me in the safety of their stability
ability
likeability
and to be
and I suppose some day I'll make peace with the beast and reconcile the docile submissive tiny one and the loud and angry creative one
the dichotomy I created for myself to have an escape from the chaos
that chaos that was real
the tragedy we narrowly avoided and all the loss
and all the tears
 and all the yelling
and the being alone and the lonely cries and then
all the boys filling the void and the diversion of getting the numbers and making them smile and being free to get the attention of others who might like to have yours
and they had mine
all
and then the ring
and then the finality
and the security and the
monogamy
and the babies
lots of the babies that led to the illness
the darkness of an illness that put into another cell
another confinement
that encompassing bigness that trapped you, tiny

maybe you'll sing
maybe it would be amazing to be free

With the what.

With the what in the who.
Where?
Inevitable crept up and into the now.
And we sit in the now.
Sit in the inevitable.
Inevitably here where the who said to inevitably be.
Present in the two states away place.
In that space.
In that place where the talk is to self and the who answers never when.
Why, says the her.
We wait, says the we.
And they why and they wait in the two states away.



And You say You are the becoming One. The One whom is what I need when there is a thing that I need. And You say that all things You are working together for the good of those who love You. And You say that it is good to continue to do the good works. And You say that it was You who called out into the darkness and created the light. And You say it was You who brought life to the dry bones.
Will these dry bones cry out for that life?



Irritating itch. Snapping tilt of the head when that too sharp note of a too harsh word spoken perfectly inappropriately. My head snaps. My heart snaps.
Stand straight and brought instantly to attention. That whack of wrong chord sung. Hung. Hanging in the air and given life and legs and muscle and light. Raised up from innocent dependent infancy into towering above terrorizing traitor.
Stop the bad notes from ringing annoyingly in unison abruptly interrupting insignificant moments of smallness on small mind.
Stop.
Repeatedly blowing foul stench into pleasantries. Repeating rapidly despite me; to spite me.
Say again tempting jumble of mistaken misspeaks?
Soothe that itchy itch in that dark smile of a place. That place where words grow mean and dreams dream mean and I'm free to be mean.
Mean like the rest. Mean like the best. Mean like that foul mouthed one is free to be mean. Mean like the best. Like the dry bones laid to rest. Foul like the image of words spoken before thinking.
Pause before saying it.
Just pause before you do it.
Sound a siren. Make a face. Raise a flag. A heads up would be nice. A warning that you're gonna sing that not note.



Where you at strong desire to please not men but God? Where you at holy roller rolling quickly with the holy? Where your calls at that stop the masses from their masses? Where you at that lay down to frown on the calling on the none? Where you at little loud one?
Sit quietly this ride.
Where you at broken hearted at sin one? Always saved one? Up and coming one?
Grown up too big little loud one.
Fall out of grace little hanging dove one?
Read too many words out of preselected representative collected ones?
Yeah, you're the lost one. The once that was one. The oh, she used to be one.
Say you're the free one? The always wanted to be one? The thinking for yourself kinda rebel wanna be one?
Matter of factly churchy disregarding cynical grown up not brat one.
Lover of words, free thinking, liberating, shut your face, you privileged smug faced talking and talking one. Artsy fartsy creative crafty this or that kinda trash hoarder makey make one.
 And Jesus.


For shame, what she said, who she said it to, what she did and why she did the things she did when she did with who. In religion's name sacrificing valuable hearts to be heard. To be right. To be right with the small minded right. In the small space of isolated sacrifice. An upside down world of working never paid ness.