Contemplating new life –
he, gainfully employed,
promotes change eagerly –
years of isolation render me
dubious, aspirations limited
to a cup of tea, fear dining out
his palate embraced by any menu,
mine a complex set of restrictions,
condemned to serial disappointment
undaunted by my disabilities, he
ventures forth, seeks solutions
with godlike inspiration commands
possibility, accounts for idiosyncracies
pursues alternative options, is a master
of ensuring that dreams do come true.
Breaking through loss –
alone without independence –
reach out for former lover,
wanting to renegotiate the terms
of our disruption,
am permanently horizontal, restless,
in this unexpected life.
Reckless youth
torturing me – I am vulnerability
landed, past mistakes rippling through –
need to find a private place away
from myself where reassurance is
a dinner mate, and fear
otherwise engaged.
But the past cannot be
retrieved, and there is support
in the present, if I let down
this guard, I’ll feel
the security
of love.
(Image:Â parisapartment.wordpress.com)
Split commitments:
One is ambitious,
the other a wanderer;
one labours while
the other lingers.
Yet alike:
Polished political performers,
once knew how to party,
now regressed,
searching for youth –
His a flop,
hers nourished by weed,
each hiding
desperately attempting
to clean up the misery.
He overindulges,
she tries to steer,
both losing their edge
nothing new to offer
former lovers
now fading away,
only thoughtfulness
and a craving for
each others’ support
to bind them.
(Image:Â truefactsonlife.blogspot.com)
I’m the kind of hound that sniffs
out trouble;Â waddles through
roses to bury my nose
in excrement and roll in it.
Or is it that betrayal hounds me,
lures me with puppy dog eyes
tail wagging promises of loyalty
tricking my sentimental heart?
More like I’m the mutt begging
for scraps, ear scratching, or
belly rubbings, a canine whore
slutting for any attention.
Failure is a four-legged mangy
beast that caught my scent
long ago, trailed me, whining;
why did I agree to feed it?
No show dog here, just mixed
breed, scrap yard variety mongrel,
digging through the garbage heap
trying to find a dang old bone.
I see it in their eyes –
the fear for my safety –
have not been able to paddle
my own boat for some time,
and here I am contemplating
going against the current,
taking a leap, seeking out
new sheltered places.
Survival is risky, they say –
risk is necessary if we’re ever
going to shake this malaise –
no explanation will appease them,
cannot understand the empowerment
that comes from discovering other realities –
promise to stay away from danger –
there are waterways, lands, mountains
to explore – this is not betrayal.
It is moving on, effective collaboration,
we will get along, disclose our differences,
have found willing transport, please
understand, children, we will work
this out, need to create a new reality –
one that allows for relaxation,
celebration – there is nothing left here
but a legacy of suffering, our absence
doesn’t mean our hearts are missing –
our love will be forever present.
(Image:Â artimagesfrom.com)
An unexpected guest –
invited by a spouse –
sends a wife grasping,
stretching, unsettled
by sequence of events.
She has rattled around
this oversized ranch of
a house, treasured the
rapid upward mobility,
covered up insecurities,
believed their marriage
to be respectable, now
waking up to his secret
tries to calm anxiety by
downplaying interludes
outside the marital bed,
but upstairs the other
has claimed a presence,
her scheming husband
temporarily committed.
Does she keep the secret
or make it public; shatter
their privacy, tear children
from their father, or exist –
convince herself it’s not
real, is over with, sleep
in separate quarters,
hold onto the luxury,
live with what is, try
to keep heart in home?
She can’t handle it
anymore, hindsight
progressing, comfort
no longer valid, risks
losing children, too
weary minded to care,
wondering how she’d
missed the significance
of her husband bringing
home an uninvited guest.
(Image: divorcesupport.about.com)
Taking ownership of this mess
I call life, creates a priority of
care – a surrogate for the inner
sapling, not too motherly, just
accepting; to lead her past the
overpopulated vines of despair,
root out evil, restore the good –
a kindred spirit to ease her little
soul – no officious, insecure, put-
me-down parent, but dedicated,
motivational re-schooling, able
to fulfill needs, entertain, assist
in uncovering substance, insure
she has meaning to latch onto.
To help you find direction, Child,
I will tend to your needs, honour
the artistry of your growing mind –
a brilliance to nurture – encourage
flights of fancy: never fear pushing
boundaries of conventional thought  –
offer you strength of connection,
value your courage, prod hard work,
allow for wildness, questioning;
teach you not to quit before miracle
happens, demonstrate that life is
opportunity, Â that character will be
tested, and that  comfort can be
found in the spiritual – deliverance
is possible – above all to know that
you are loved, nurtured, valued and
together, through it all, we will prevail.
(Image from private collection)
Do not grovel,
sweep floors, carry
out garbage, debase values
just for the attention
of another;
no more than
bear, grizzled and
battered, whose nature
defies formerly
coveted
notions of
romance; hoping
to find a modicum of
understanding
kind word
recognition.
Don’t be a captive,
a bride wannabe toting
leathers and chains
wild hairdo
waiting
on mainstream
betrothal, enduring love.
Do not kidnap,
imprison
reverse roles
blame, bully, cramp
obligations, compartmentalize
your hunger, lose
coherency.
Be free,
adopt a persona
of abundance, share fullness
of your gifts,
stay true.
(Image:Â dict.space.4goo.net)
Father’s voice is booming
full of patronizing shame;
the child cowers in fright
turns the negativity inwards.
Learns to doubt, to loathe –
self and others – pulls away,
adapts pig-headed criticism
finds failure in every effort.
 Mother’s voice is soothing
encourages self-reliance,
acknowledges individuality,
invites discernment, assures
the child that smart doubts
are useful, and that owning
the wrath of another only
disables brilliance; coaxes
relaxation, counsels that
outcomes are not based
on judgments of others, but
the results of determination.
Patriarchy instills a sense
of disappointment, begets
a cycle of insecurity intent
only on sabotaging progress.Â
Matriarchy has no agenda, no
use for disapproval, beholds
all life as sacred, exceptional:
to shine, the birthright of all.
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My wife stayed up all night,
waited for my sisters arrival;
told her they would get here
when they get here, but still
she remained vigilant – would
rather lose sleep than let go.
Cooked them a late night
meal, even though I told her
one is watching her figure
and the other precise in her
tastes – no way she could
please them, so why bother.
She worries, my wife, about
being perfect, being accepted;
she’ll never have the polish
of my upbringing or light a
candle to women in my family
and quite frankly, embarrasses
herself trying – I’d rather she
be a mouse, wait until I tell
her to act, let my sisters take
charge, stop trying to pretend
she is good enough, just worry
about fetching my dinners,
finishing the ironing, and
getting on with the children –
I am a busy man. Makes her
angry though, if I say so; snips
at me as if it’s all my fault –
I didn’t ask her to do it – she
wants me to talk to my siblings,
tell them she’s burdened as it is,
ask them to find a hotel – such
nonsense; such a bitter woman,
my wife, impossible to please,
always trying to control the
situation, complaining no one
else will help her – and who can
blame them; who wants to be
around that; that’s why I need
you, my dear, so agreeable, lovely,
you lift my heart; give me hope –
thought about you all night, wished
you were there to fill up the empty
space beside me; know that we can
make each other forever happy.
(image from: galleryhip.com)
