Category: health

Too Far Gone

Been taking inventory,
gathering essentials,
craving nourishment,
coming up lacking –
cartoon version of a former self.

Spirituality, once fiery
now looms over me,
a stilted attempt to uplift –
redefinition of self –
grossly overstated.

I have been locked up,
misread, am unkempt,
a dishevelled mess –
childish demonstrations
proclaiming innocence.

All the while mouthing
nothingness – exaggerated
exuberance, tiring even me –
have destroyed compassion
with carelessness

I would embrace Spirit,
be comforted by that old familiar
warmth, declare faith
and be absolved of guilt,
but I am too far gone.

Anchored in Morbidity

Cruising fills my fantasies –
reveling in life, loved ones in tow,
prideful, excited –
sailing past Mecca,
places of service,
relinquishing embellishments,
fully alive!

Conceived in strife –
a familial intrigue
with the macabre –
I am dragged along
treacherous passages,
abandoning joy for desolation,
preoccupied with loss of life.

Reviled, I retreat
flee, crying out in alarm,
cannot tolerate
flesh-eating
walking dead

Crave restoration
of equilibrium,
a life purpose
worthy of visibility

am stalked
by regrets –
a damaged child
seeking baser needs-
elude her!

Launch this ship;
sail into the exotic –
escape!

Responsibility
anchors me,
secrets and wounds
regress – I am
the living dead,
locked out,
focus crowded

need a new defense
if I am to intentionally
recapture relation
ships.

Evolution

Evolution takes effort –
requires a heart unburdened
by unrequited daydreams
holding me in limbo, emphasizing
past heartaches, yearning
for unconditional love.

I pedal backwards, am
overwhelmed by where
the past has led me –
exaggerated reproductions,
laughing at my proposals,
spurning attempts at reparation –
I am out of touch, stale dated.

I long to make a difference,
find value in youth – declarations
of worthiness are jeopardized
by this state of immobility –
I hang on tighter, resist
progress, believe hope
is in the past – obligations
wrench me back to present –
evolution a preferable destination.

Bad Birthday

I would celebrate the day,
enjoy the spoils of my work,
receive abundance of blessings

but guilt showed up, floated in
wearing a sexy red overcoat,
and I couldn’t turn her away.

Camouflaged by fiery passion,
she tried to force feed me pearls
of wisdom, passed her gems

like bestowing an inheritance;
I choked, then resisted, invited
paranoia to join the party fray;

ducked accusations of treachery,
projectiles of blame targeting
unwitting intentions – employed

only to serve – was villainized
when I refused to take part,
openly defied her nonsensical

attacks, realized that dubious
mismanagement makes a poor
companion; guides my tainted

conscience with manipulation,
marries me to scrambled ideals,
births chirping perfection, (talent

undeniable), I am hopeful till
guilt chimes in, catching me off-
guard, forcefully convincing;

appealing to a death wish;
suspicion arrives, interrogates,
deflects responsibility, denies

truth – how did it all turn out
so wrong, this day that was
meant to celebrate my birth?

 

Portrait of a Waitress

Jumbo Jet
they called her,
fast on her feet
zooming in,
swooping up trays,
delivering with flight
attendant flair.

When did she turn
to autopilot,
stop paying attention
to her destination?

Didn’t she know
she was set
on a crash course;
headed for disaster?

Tried to warn her,
wake her from stupor;
told me she’d reset,
but danger remains.

She is cruising now
over-sized,
turbo-lacking,
under-fueled
no longer able
to soar – trapped
in a treacherous game.

Waits tables,
tries to keep
the house clean,
caters to others
lends an ear,
has squeezed every drop
of self into her
low flying life

needs to land
a space of her own
with room to breathe
take life in shorter
intervals, refill
her jets.

 

Levitating

Suits meet, banter about deals,
conspiratorial heads bent, deep
throaty laughs, confidence reeking.

I glide by, imperceptibly, am a whisper
on the window of their intensity.

Families congregate on front lawns,
squeals of delight trailing blurs,
adult murmurs lost in shrill echoes.

I float on by, an ethereal witness,
no more than the wisp of a cloud.

Only a dog, unleashed, catches
a whiff of something inexplicable,
gives chase, nips at nothingness.

I am elusive, lacking substance,
he retreats bewildered, interest lost.

Am I somehow flawed,  I wonder
aloud to the gathering of females
draped across my bed, intrigued

Have landed now, solidly connected
to this other-abled reality, grounded.

Intimate discussions of life’s mystery
peaks interest, all want to learn to fly,
beg me to demonstrate, inspired to try.

Detachment is the secret, I reveal;
just launch yourself and release.

Instincts grasp to offer support,
arms reaching out in assistance,
roots hindering their deliverance.

Alone, I swirl above reeling minds
dissolve into the mist, am free.

(Image from scipio164.deviantart.com)

The Ocean Awaits

This old house wraps itself around me,
radiates the warmth of memories,
a solid testament to the passage of time,
offers space to grow,
a hospitable and loving place,
I am safe here.

In my dreams,
the ocean awaits,
a rhythmic keeper of time,
reflecting clouds, moonlight,
raging with the storms,
in quiet times, calming –
a blessed, imaginary,
companion.

The rains have come,
swamped our intentions,
forced us indoors,
inconvenienced play,
turned our solid ground
to clay – a soggy tribulation –
they will subside
and new growth
will follow,
I tell myself.

I am an eternal student,
in love with life,
education unfinished,
a stumbler,
not a scholar,
temporarily lost,
seeking direction
in unfamiliar territory.

I am a neophyte,
longing for guidance,
recognizing my vulnerability,
a delicate balance this
emotional wading,
mindfulness needed.

I project the mud of the past
see only insurmountable hills
outside these walls,
anticipate setbacks,
fear a lack of tenacity  –
abhor my own ugliness;
rally myself with hopes
of solid footing ahead
and the ocean beyond.

On the other side of madness
stands a mighty fortress –
a castle to hold court –
we have all passed that way,
the passage is well-marked,
communally served,
I have committed
to the descent, am
Earth’s child.

Life is but a station,
a temporary stopping place,
we are all time travellers –
destinations varied –
called to take action,
choose a route.

I have been distracted,
missed signals,
opportunities,
find myself left behind
shamed, alone, uncertain,
aborted my search,
preferring retreat
need to reorient.

The kingdom harbours
an abundance of offerings,
sustenance abounding,
fruitful, flourishing
delights, uniquely
appealing, perhaps
an acquired taste.

Spring, like a faerie nymph,
draws me in, a harbinger,
hopeful, playful, promising
new adventures,
calling me to indulge
in fantasies, dine on
wild imagination,
recreate myself.

I am wondering
if I can accommodate,
fulfill my soul’s longing
know the wonders of
heaven, play host
to the mysteries of beauty
without ever leaving
the warmth of this old house.

The ocean calls me,
from the dream time,
will not let me sleep –
her tidal pull a magnet
for this weary sojourner,
beckons me to rise,
to strive, to succeed.
She is my destination.

Sorrow’s Vigil

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
when the light of day has faded,
and the noise of life subsided,
and all the world is slumbering.

Then my heart beats with a single
lone drum, a heaviness weighing
on me, chest punctured with grief,
distractions losing their hold.

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
a deep-seated darkness, void of
hope, the deafening echo of unshed
tears, the brutality of solitude.

When all have surrendered to dreams,
my soul – tired of the daily effort to be
courageous, to smile when I want to
rage, to protect my beloveds – weeps.

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
the grief of knowing that this defective
existence is too much for others to
bear, whose hearts have glazed over,

who will me to wellness, shake
their heads, and spew frustration,
as if I am somehow an accomplice
in this state of vile stagnation,

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
when questions rob me of sleep,
and the passage of time fails to
ease the injustice of so much loss.

And while acceptance is the best
progress, and I know that faith
will sustain me, they are fickle
companions when the sun sets.

There is sorrow in the nighttime
a restless amalgamation of so
much emotional angst, with no
shelter for relief…

 

Intolerance

 No longer tolerating
highly processed,
artificially sweetened
offerings; am sickened
by the whiteness of
bleached presentations;
bloat at the suggest of
southern fried coatings,
am pained by inorganic
solutions, or beefed up
regimens; cannot digest
milking; find the endless
pursuit of bread gut-
wrenching; have no palate
for genetically modified
ideas; find fatty concepts
unappetizing; am loathe
to consume further fishy
tales; avoid intoxication
by heady bouquets; have
no stomach for saucy
accompaniments; am
intolerant of gluttony;
craving a sustainable
form of nourishment.
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