One Woman's Quest

Let Failures Lie

Pampered, socially supported
education would have been preferable
but I don’t belong to the elite,
and this malaise disrupts
any hope for success.

Learn best in the trenches,
dragged-out combat over hobnobbing
– can relate to the broken,
other-abled, survivors who thrive
despite challenges.

Know a man, who without
speech or behavioural norms,
moves others – inspires
(trapped as he is) love
and forgiveness.

Have loved others, projected
goodness into selfishness, been
betrayed, watched friendships grow
where mine was cut off –
bore the burden of blame,

still I will share myself –
adverse to saying no –
in restlessness, seeking others,
when I should be nurturing self –
Who’s really at fault here?

A mother, once faced with immeasurable
tribulations, never giving up –
is not to be found, cut down
by illness, misfortune having culled
her optimism, her enthusiasm –

What is there to do now?
I kick aside the ashes of former
identities, contemplate the meaning
of failure, the loss of ambition
this locked out alienation:

Is it hurt, I feel…
abandonment…guilt…shame?
Absence of former friends
echoes in the empty cliffs of
rejection…questioning

all that has been –
do they feel it too, or
is it merely personal mire?
What choice is there
but to embrace this solo journey?

miscalculated distances,
energy deficit, and yet,
I continue…until straight
and narrow meets clover leafs
and learning dawns –

paths cross over, crisscross;
life is about movement
and choices, and change
and endless possibilities –
there is no going back.

(Image: alone-alone-alone.blogspot.com)

Off Stage Fright

Point me towards the boards;
watch me improvise – calm
rehearsed, funny mastered,

catering to audiences a forte’,
command performances key
to locking out this perusing

soul’s wordless angst – will
unleash soliloquies, cleverly
unscripted quips to delight

well-attended audiences,
on queue hijinks, will not miss
a line, or quit the show, find

refuge in the wings. Spotlights
motivate me, trigger adrenaline;
save me from an interminable foe

that stalks behind the curtain
sneers at applause, assures me
ovation does not to me apply.

Compulsive

Malls possess a certain allure –
contentment-in-a-bag offerings,
an opportunity to escape reality,

except gossip travels in crowds
and I tend to shop for obligations,
will latch myself onto any drama

and take ownership – it’s small
town training: I am a passenger
on the responsibility rail – would

kill my own mother to gain lost
authority, be the person in the
know…lose these thoughts of

failure to the distress of disbelief
that we missed the signs, lacked
insight, could have been there for

someone more needy… Have you
seen me, browsing stories? Career
changers are good, fired up youth,

father’s foibles… Don’t be taken
aback, I can be officious, intentions
not misguided – just need to fix one

piece of brokenness to assure myself
all is not totally lost – this shattered
core, this fictional characterization.

How much simpler life would be
if I shopped like normal people,
found relief in mall discounts…

(Image: tropicalcyclocross.com)

Vegas Vampire

Envision Vegas – the first time –
adrenaline pumping, palms itchy,
wide-eyed incredulity, and …

the most unreliable, stuck-in-the-mud
relative in tow, and no reservations made;
and while one wants to dive in the other

would rather be home knitting and
listening to bird calls than traipsing
through costumed Elvis’ – glitzy hotels

are too taxing, so a more reasonable
accommodation must be sought out.
Add to that being stalked by a vampire

whose leering eyes suggest somebody’s
going to lose vital energy, likely soon,
and even though the 24 hour crowds

and lights, and bells, and musical strains
beckon, this party ends up off-the-beaten
track, in a non-neon efficiency – practicality

business number one, and Dracula has
checked into the same room – a guaranteed
killjoy… this is disability on New Year’s Eve.

(Image: www.horrorhostgraveyard.com)

A Sister’s Sin

Patience does not apply
in a family lacking ease,
nor is loyalty gifted…

my sister – a fiery red
corvette fuelled by hate
would slaughter kin

lived for the fight,
gleaned energy from
sinful behaviours

despite hard-work,
tasted power in attracting
meat – a fleshy cow –

processed sweethearts
with abandonment,
hardly caring, despised

public scrutiny – her world
a miniscule burlesque show
fluttering raw flesh inviting

scavengers – appeased out of
necessity – she shopped crowds,
possessed a light that shouted:

“Open for business” – dared
not endure loneliness, desperate
to annihilate the past –

her heart, a massive-winged
avenger, pummelled by
the memories of a brother

her twin – torn from her
by a deserting father – left
dying like an unwanted pest

an agonizing plummet
into an unendurable darkness
from which she sought any

infiltration, yearning to
pierce, to relieve, the musty
hold of her ground-up reality:

no virtue in patience,
no prize in loyalty
each woman for herself

(Image: insanityismyreality.deviantart.com)

Watery Fate

Unconsciousness –
like an iron anchor –
has dragged my lifeless
body, abandoned her
on the ocean floor

I am afraid to stir,
even a little, certain
that pieces of me will
break away drifting into
the unknown, irretrievable.

Somehow, I have learned
to breathe under water,
have memory of wholeness,
but am unglued, earthly
images floating past –

years spent in study,
hoping to be somebody
but like Dickinson, I am
nobody; only sediment
now, contemplating

girlhood dreams, memories
of parading in wedding white
mothers encouraging from
sidelines – I watch, sidelined
with muted amusement

so many dreams, now losses
the ocean’s flow a steady
stream of forgotten tears –
a watery graveyard for
shipwrecked vessels.

What fate awaits me
should immobility win –
will I disintegrate, particles
becoming algae, ever-reaching
tentacles of desperation?

Or, will I evolve into coral –
fragility guarded by venom,
attach myself to colonies –
life fragmented, now sustaining –
one existence traded for another?

Or, shall I gather forces – will
defying fate – propel myself
upwards, lungs and heart pumping,
mind commanding limbs, declare
myself substance, face another day?

(Image: aquaviews.net)

I’m living with a sometimes generous,
usually big-hearted, overly needy woman,
whose wants supercede consideration for others –
a princess who has it all, and still can’t get over
her father’s abandonment.

We’re living in an opulent home
with every possible luxury and it’s
always a mess – always disorganized –
because she expects everyone else to do
everything for her, and my compulsion to
fix kicks in and I want to straighten out this
space, but she’s flirting with new opportunities
as if they were younger men, desiring her money.

I try to work around her, pick up the pieces
of those angered by her self-indulgence, not
wanting to burden her with any of the responsibility –
it was a pre-stated condition of our co-habitation –
sifting through her clutter trying to discern value
from trash – everything loses its glitter in excess –

compulsion drives me deeper into the situation;
instead of admitting it’s not working out, I push
harder – like a stubborn teenager, unaware of the
consequences of my actions, entitled, going nowhere.

Unable to admit that I have no power, just have to
put up with it – it’s almost tearing us apart – why
have I taken on so much responsibility, assigned
myself to clean up all the messes, and at what point
do I cut my losses, walk away…and, can I even walk
away when I’m only living with myself?

(Image: isharequotes.blogspot.com)

Unrequited

Met in high school, when popularity
equated to lovability, awkwardness
a given – tender hearts sailing a course,
letting love transport them – she was
his pride and joy, he her universe…

stumbled over declarations, hearts
beating an unsteady noise – he shone
in athletics, she called herself a loner;
confessed their love – infatuation filled
with promise – fateful idealists, in time

would be crushed – blinded by beauty,
they floated past her broken pieces on
wings of borrowed confidence: vows
of worldly treasures he offered her,
couldn’t see her limitations, should

have known her particular brand of
crazy would reject him, resistant as
she was to intimacy’s openings; he
would have stood by her, had planned
their future – didn’t know they were

staging a melodrama, slapping hope,
the memories he was sure they were
building, believed in, already growing
cold behind the curtains of her moody
eyes – failure becoming her reality…

madness took her in the end, his light
too vibrant for her darkness; wrenched
herself from his embrace – a violence
that left him reeling, shuddering in its
aftermath – still dreams of her, wonders

how he failed her, looks for her spirit
in the eyes of others, a trail of lovers,
one as unsatisfactory as the next, heart
never completely mended… and, she
settled for a man who could not love,

found safety in emotional distance,
told herself this the was the best that
she deserved, still dreams of him
while lying in her barren marital bed,
her oblivious husband beside her.

(Image: www.dailytelegraph.com.au)

Zoo Life

How else would you define us but a zoo:
this ragged attempt to appear socially fit?

I drag my children with me, expectations
formed from still life exhibits, picture –

perfect cameos of happy lives, poised
as any good television family might…

Who hasn’t had a rough ride, disembarked
and vowed never to repeat sins? Hold on

to what you have kids, I warn; be wary of
life: it’s what I’ve learned – tried to change

the tableau, inject creativity into freeze
frames; snared in webs of my weaving,

like the black widow entrapping my prey,
instinct releasing venom, plots spiralling

out of control; am prepared to wipe clean
the past, but stumble, lose grip, shamed

beg my daughters to look away, too late,
tension mounts, threaten to consume us

our dreams, the source of our imaginations
and I listen to the screams, helpless, until

one child takes up the cry, offers herself,
as I would have once, forces me to sit by,

worry my only companion, while she sinks
deeper into the hell of this artificially caged

confine; our connection lost – unprepared
am I, with all the wrong resources, clinging

to damnable passivity, alone, wretched,
guilt-ridden, afraid for generations unborn –

and as I turn away, in despair, I catch sight
of her, my child, revelling in her story, vital –

no crisis – just a brilliant young woman,
unbound by the restraints of this zoo.

(Image: obutecodanet.ig.com.br)

Love In Aisle Nine

Lust ignores warning signals,
fancies itself a savvy consumer,
commits minor infractions with
confidence, sidestepping anxiety.

Loneliness – near-sighted – shops
without discernment, fails to
recognize that all life is transient,
and patience is the key to harmony.

Love – the main attraction – is not
a lone chauffeur, a self-serving
commander, feeding off helplessly
disabled, regressing into insanity;

nor is it initiated by determination,
a product of drive – brokenness
barreling through hurt’s congestion,
misinterpreting openings; the path

to intimacy requires compliance,
obeys service, calms egos, a slow
non-consumer based passage: no
bargains in the commitment dept.

(Image: imagineinfinitycoaching.wordpress.com)