Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Tired of same old endingsin which hopes are slaughteredand tragedy and insanity win. Raised by the bottle, learnedto set standards low –still afraid of heights –have fallen as the groundbeneath my aspirations crumbled –a certainly under alcohol’s rule. Tired of same old endingsin which self is battered by indifferenceand ego loses the battle for control. […]
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I am gregariousinitiatorrisk-takereagerly anticipatingthe unknown But the subconsciousalights on old storiesgathers sanctimoniousrumours of unworthinessspits out shameand rage Reveals the truth –I am vulnerable. (Facing Truths first appeared here July ’19. This version is edited from original. Art my own.)
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Father taught us to fetch –What else are children for? I did not like his demeaning sneernor the way he lorded control Mother learned to ask how highwhen he snapped: “Jump!” I vowed to be differentto never let him break me But his arms were strongerand my fear real, and so From my father, I’ve […]
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Call myself liberatedbut this modern woman’sshadow arches backwardsfinds its reflection in legacies How can I forgive my own failingswhen their tale takes root inoppression and abuses long passed?Liberated a misnomer. (Image my own.)
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Wary of ruts –lies I tell myselfsprouting roots,impending progress. Yet, without rootshow am I defined?Does impermanencenot also leave a stain? The ground shiftsbeneath meand I danceimperfectly inventing a rhythmthat defies ruts,mocks impermanenceand eludes definition. (Dancing first appeared here in May, 2018. Image my own.)
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When did guilt obviatethe need for sustenance? This deipnophobia paralyzingheartless stares dredge up my truth: insatiable hungerneed to stuff down emotion the certainty that I deservedthe abuse – endless shame My fork traces the outlinesseparates food groups My mind makes mental notesof what I’ll gorge on later. (Deipnophobia is the fear of dining in public. […]
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I drink the backwashof hollowed out promises Is it me, invites indifferenceexpectations so low, selfgowned in layered shame? How do I learn otherwisebreak this toxic patternif not in pursuit of love? (Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
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Ingredients for despair –illness, COVID, loss –all meted…Never did follow recipes I see only openingspotential for enrichmenthow the lens has powerto ruminate or celebrate (Art my own)
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Cherubic and reekinggrief’s pallor heavyhe comes to me Of course, he doesI am schooled in compassionseldom flinch at raw pain I attend to the woundslisten; reassurebut I am weary My own sorrow unattendedloss and betrayal an inner bleedknow I have only so much to give But he is not alone,there is anothera mere child… Cherubic […]
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It was desireled me hereburied me alive Lust borrowedfrom lonelinesshis heart a tomb Flesh from fleshcan be extractedpsyche requires exorcism. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
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