Ever Noticed?

The issue I have with self awareness,

It doesn’t stop growing.

I needed to learn about my behavior, and my demons,

To overcome them,

to end my self-torture.

It has ended,

But I cannot stop noticing

Threads of behavior,

That I had not paid much attention to before,

Assuming that they were me,

I was those small habits.

Whose impact,

in a trillion small ripples,

Shatter the world

as the water flows.

When I see them now,

I cannot ignore the stream.

Awareness insists,

In the name of compassion,

I must stick my foot in.

And break up the ripples.

Summer Fruit

Today marks the annual first summer fruit breakfast

And I would like to recognize that,

Even though fresh Oregon berries taste like hope for a better world,

The berries would be much bigger,

If I could share them, with the thousands of wrongfully convicted,

Living on hopeless, flavorless, carbohydrates.

Justice is sweet,

Only some taste it,

But, sweet strawberries can grow wild,

We can shatter the distance,

Strawberries can grow between the bars

Future Knowledge

I know I will miss

Having nothing pressing to do.

I know I will ask myself,

“How could I have so under-appreciated the freedom to nap?”

Easily, of course,

But there is a difference

Between being able to nap,

And having nothing to do but nap.

But

There are options,

And today I choose to awake.

To do, and to be aware of doing.

To work until I can appreciate napping appropriately.

For the time coming that I don’t have the chance.

Permission

Please permit me the strength to

Evolve beyond the insecurities,

Raging, beyond blood depth,

Monsters, of dependence for ability.

Induring fear of being hidden behind

Social stereotypes that allow society to

Sanction their pessimism and dismissal

I am forgotten, we are, because

Offers of empty prayer and some half-assed

Notion of accessibility.

OTD #2

Failure starts it’s morning with cream of wheat,
gone cold, with nothing added.
Failure is gender-fluid
a serial hostage taker and sociopath
just like their parents:
Fear and Guilt
no one would guess how liberal they are
and close knit too

the three spend their days playing Life
over. And over. And over. – before lunch
having justed moved from a Temporal Lobe ghetto
to a gated community in the Frontal Lobe
the family is moving up in the world

(such social mobility clearly dictates that they are not in an America)

There is no table yet for the steamed spinach
so they nitpick on their knees
in between constructive critiques
Fear proclaims “this redolence is making me nauseous”
and heads to the bathroom
there isn’t a finch at the sound of gagging
for the next half hour
Guilt leaves the meal for a run

Failure, devoted as they are,
takes the bowl
now exactly three ounces lighter
throws plastic wrap mindlessly at it
because
“What’s the point?”
shoving it in a fridge swearing it will be consumed

the rotting dishes around it
dub it one of their own,
“broken promise, 7 of 9’
Resistance is futile
all hope leaves with the overhead light
as the door closes.

The sun dial cannot move without access to the sun
but it can be read by the dust and webs collected as hours pass
attention to detail is failure’s strength and a weakness of it’s twin,
Success.

Captivated by their own pride
failure falls victim to time
and is jumped by darkness
Fear and Guilt
hear and ignore their pained wailing
even as it shatters the walls
and consumes the nation

only smirking when they halt the torture
an eon after the midnight hour
wiping clean the hands of time
so that they can rest wrapped snugly
in his vows of tomorrow’s potential

Reflection #1-Two Years Ago

When love is thrown at you in the wind
you duck, and still it hits you
brush it off, you’re invincible.
You lie out loud.

When time has no patience for you
the seed does, even as you try to starve it
it grows roots to wait out your darkness
a succulent, needing little light and water

Love who’ll never know you
but hell dare not touch you
behind those spines

Oh, to capture the wind

Canned Milk And Noodles

True “White-Trash” comfort food

And it’s as disturbing as it sounds.

Warm milk doesn’t work with mismatched noodles.

And the salt can only do so much.

But, if you don’t drink the salty lukewarm milk

Down to the empty bowl,

There will be consequences.

“White Trash” parenting at it’s finest.

I cut that connection,

Because that is not who I am.

And I will not choke things down anymore.