Don't strive for the attention, reconciliation with or approval of someone who has rejected and insulted you.
Why for the stress?
Why for the striving?
Why for the approval?
The madness of the seeking?
What you avoiding?
What you not seeing?
Commence deep thought thinking in the labrynth of mind seeking.
You put away deep soul searching; for approval of deity's path leading.
Put away empty promises.
Saying yes to what should be said no to.
Stopped it. Stopped it all.
Now go.
Go to the place that keeps heart palpitating.
Soul gravitating toward the easy.
Toward the palatable.
The palpable.
The good enough of the quiet sharp inhalation of not saying what's on mind.
Unthinking of the effects.
Of the consequences of the now.
Of the process to become my person.
Growing up when already an adult.
Already an entity; an independant full blown adult.
Now mature.
Now do the thing that makes so afraid.
Ties you to rumpled sheets in stale bed.
Ties you, binds you, behind unthinking screens.
Others' dreams.
Helping all but the me.
Catering to all but the me.
Driving all but the me.
Dare to risk egg on facing.
No thank you.
Just perfect tiny craft to win a bit of the green.
Who says the tiny craft can't open to the tangible?
The talent.
The gifted.
The little bit of shine that the little one was denied.
Showing posts with label sick intro liberty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick intro liberty. Show all posts
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 7, 2014
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
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
Nov 6, 2013
Cincuenta días
Gettin hard soft feet
Balanced meal cooking cold as ice one
Colonial minded ice hearted stare one
Puedes aprender como amar there
Balanced meal cooking cold as ice one
Colonial minded ice hearted stare one
Puedes aprender como amar there
Oct 14, 2013
Oh the thinks that she thinks
You're a good mother and wife.
No matter what anyone says.
Fun to think about. Fun to know that somewhere someone said it.
No, no it isn't fun.
I hate having heard it. I hate having it told to me. I tell it to myself over and over and over again throughout every day. Work so hard to undo the whatever was done to qualify as a not good mother and wife. If all the toilets are clean. If my husband gains weight. Learns to think for himself. Smile without my approval. Decide without my input. If my children are cultured enough. Busy with extracurricular activities, but not too busy. If I attend and serve at the right fit for us church. If my appearance is kept up without being vain. If the meals I make are made at home. With love. Without breaking the 5,837 nutritional fads that run through you every other week. If I refrain from teaching them Spanish because you read somewhere...
Like I could teach them if I wanted to.
But no, I'm not THAT ethnic. Not THAT Mexican.
But I am.
I am made up of contradictions. Left-brained, Right-brained in the one tiny me.
Fail to leap and leave the nest. But a nest is what I have. A home built up by hard work. Such hard work. Now able to pull myself up by the reachable furniture. Now able to shimmy to the next piece of furniture. Just barely. Without falling kerplunk. But I'm falling and falling all day long.
I wish the boys wouldn't fight.
That means I'm a bad mom.
Your boys never fought. So I'm not as awesome as you at this thing. Maybe if I left the house to work. Maybe if I had more room to separate them. To segregate them. To alienate them. Create small universes around each one to build them up separately. Completely. Into men that are separate. Completely.
If I make this homemade thing will I be as good as you? If I learn this new skill? Cook this pre-approved meal?
It got lost somewhere. My ganas. My me-ness. That one that was vocal and loud and ornery when nudged. That one that believed because it felt right. That didn't sway and look to see if what I believed or read or said or made or admired or wore or dressed the others in caused a smirk of approval or disdain. What's an appropriate word for having _____? Gumption? Confidence? Pride? Assurance?
That. That thing that left me.
After the stretch marks? The failure of oneness? The work of it all? Where's that feeling of accomplishment? Do I allow you to steal it all from me? I allow you to steal it from me. Not the outside force of your meanness and judgement, but that nagging, bragging, self destructive self.
O, that self.
O the me.
But I'd like to be mad. I'd like to tell you just how mad. I'd like to be able to stop stopping myself from saying the things that I think in the secret place of my self. All the mean and smart and funny and not funny and meaningless and encrypted things that I hold back and stop from escaping me. Wanna let them out and allow that sting of a smack to kiss your cheek.
Why say the thing that makes you feel better about yourself to me? Why say that thing that makes you so happy to not be me to me? Should shut up that spout before it stings my sensitive self. My ever grieving self. My full of myself to overfilling self.
o the me.
No matter what anyone says.
Fun to think about. Fun to know that somewhere someone said it.
No, no it isn't fun.
I hate having heard it. I hate having it told to me. I tell it to myself over and over and over again throughout every day. Work so hard to undo the whatever was done to qualify as a not good mother and wife. If all the toilets are clean. If my husband gains weight. Learns to think for himself. Smile without my approval. Decide without my input. If my children are cultured enough. Busy with extracurricular activities, but not too busy. If I attend and serve at the right fit for us church. If my appearance is kept up without being vain. If the meals I make are made at home. With love. Without breaking the 5,837 nutritional fads that run through you every other week. If I refrain from teaching them Spanish because you read somewhere...
Like I could teach them if I wanted to.
But no, I'm not THAT ethnic. Not THAT Mexican.
But I am.
I am made up of contradictions. Left-brained, Right-brained in the one tiny me.
Fail to leap and leave the nest. But a nest is what I have. A home built up by hard work. Such hard work. Now able to pull myself up by the reachable furniture. Now able to shimmy to the next piece of furniture. Just barely. Without falling kerplunk. But I'm falling and falling all day long.
I wish the boys wouldn't fight.
That means I'm a bad mom.
Your boys never fought. So I'm not as awesome as you at this thing. Maybe if I left the house to work. Maybe if I had more room to separate them. To segregate them. To alienate them. Create small universes around each one to build them up separately. Completely. Into men that are separate. Completely.
If I make this homemade thing will I be as good as you? If I learn this new skill? Cook this pre-approved meal?
It got lost somewhere. My ganas. My me-ness. That one that was vocal and loud and ornery when nudged. That one that believed because it felt right. That didn't sway and look to see if what I believed or read or said or made or admired or wore or dressed the others in caused a smirk of approval or disdain. What's an appropriate word for having _____? Gumption? Confidence? Pride? Assurance?
That. That thing that left me.
After the stretch marks? The failure of oneness? The work of it all? Where's that feeling of accomplishment? Do I allow you to steal it all from me? I allow you to steal it from me. Not the outside force of your meanness and judgement, but that nagging, bragging, self destructive self.
O, that self.
O the me.
But I'd like to be mad. I'd like to tell you just how mad. I'd like to be able to stop stopping myself from saying the things that I think in the secret place of my self. All the mean and smart and funny and not funny and meaningless and encrypted things that I hold back and stop from escaping me. Wanna let them out and allow that sting of a smack to kiss your cheek.
Why say the thing that makes you feel better about yourself to me? Why say that thing that makes you so happy to not be me to me? Should shut up that spout before it stings my sensitive self. My ever grieving self. My full of myself to overfilling self.
o the me.
Oct 11, 2013
sicko intro liberty
Because I'm a whitewashed tomb.
Because I ruined his life.
Because I control him.
Because we could never be friends.
Because you're better than me in every way.
I'm terrified.
I stutter.
I forget who I am.
I clam up on the real me.
I overemphasize the significance of your approval.
Because I ruined his life.
Because I control him.
Because we could never be friends.
Because you're better than me in every way.
I'm terrified.
I stutter.
I forget who I am.
I clam up on the real me.
I overemphasize the significance of your approval.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)