Drift

Tossing and turning

The hum of the clock nearby keeps you awake

You close your eyes; you think..Okay now

Only to find yourself counting time

Counting sheep don't help anymore.

The night crawls along

Your pillows hold no comfort

Your mind is busy busy busy - no rest at all

Soon you hear the morning doves

You wonder if you slept at all

Mentally exhausted; physically fatigued

You turn again as the sun starts to rise

Your head finally finds that one spot

You drift into that twilight long sought

A few moments of blissful sleep finally found

© 2010 22 august/cb

No Pity

Tonight the air was thick with humidity

My skin sticky from the clinging moisture

There was no reprieve from the tortuous heat

I sit and watch you; a wounded animal looking for safety

The emotions crossing your face clearly displayed

Communicated your anger-frustration-darkness inside you

The noise of the ancient air-conditioning unit

Creaking on its last mechanical legs

Trying in vain to cool the air – to cool us down

Tonight we have fought; two desperate animals

Dragons breathing fire-not giving an inch

Our bodies showed no damage but inside we bleed

Your dark mood is out of control

The verbiage spewing from you has battered me

You have showed no mercy in the your pummels

Your breathing is still ragged from pent up rage

Much as your shirt clings to you as a second skin

Your eyes meet mine; I lose myself within its depths

You have taken me there; that place of darkness

With that voyage you make me open up; showed me how to let go

Within your pain a lesson you taught; you inspired me to fly!

It is with a harsh realization; reaction is swift

We do not belong together yet my soul cries out; asking for compassion

The answer I find within the depth of your eyes; no mercy given

No longer able to cool anything down; with a final creak

The ancient air conditioning unit finally dies

Silently I get up to open windows; instead I walk out the door

© 2010 17 august/cb

The Art of Living

My fear is not in the death of my fragile body

It is in the loss of my mind long before my body dies

As my body gives out-I want to remember!

I want to remember that moment of my birth

When I drew my first breath – feeling that shock of first awareness

My molecules at the most base level screaming  as they are torn apart

My strength growing with my joy of life – may I survive!

I want to age with the fluid grace of wrinkles and sagging skin

To finally die with dignity – without the disturbing prolonging of medical technology

I want my memories to be as varied- crystal clear-as my life was

Filled with the sadness, the happiness, the love and the disturbed

As I die - let me feel the pain of life as it flows out of me

In the end – my life should be a canvas

Where one can go and sit and wonder with awe

At the art of living – through the process of dying

© 2010 16 august/cb

Random Shit

Funny how the mind works

You think you have found a solution

Wham!  It turns out it was not a solution at all!

It only made matters worse

People talking shit-comments-stupidities

The news report negativity-wars-crimes-killings

Of course on the other side we have-politics!

Bla bla bla - just random shit on the airwaves

Advertisements getting creative

Talking chocolate being made to be eaten

Stuffed with talking pretzels inside

Brainwashing going on-some more random shit

City noises-buses-taxis horns blowing

Playground sounds rising from asphalt jungles

Tough guys growing up or dying on the streets

Parents worry about the random shit out there

Friends turning lovers then back again

Shenanigans all around-just lies and no truths

Seems that is what people want

There you go-that random shit hits again

The plain truth is that random shit just keeps growing

Piles here-piles there-fertilizer for the mind

The world out there is a pasture

Weeds, flowers, plants-just random shit

© 2010 16 august/cb

Bewildered

Look at me and tell me what you see

Is it the color of my skin?

Is it the way I wear my clothes?

Is it the cut and color of my hair?

Tell me what you think of my religion

Do I worship in a Church, a Temple or a Mosque?

Do I worship in the outdoors under the light of the moon?

Is my God-your God–our God-or is there a God?

Tell me what you hear

When I speak to you-When I offer an opinion

Is there an accent for you to hear?

Do you close your ears and block me out?

If I am different from you

Why is my blood the same color as yours?

Why do I hurt the same as you?

Why do I cry as you?

Do you expect me not to fight back?

Am I to bear all your insults and spittle?

Am I to stay silent just so you feel better?

Am I not allowed to fight back?

Look at me and just tell me

Is it my gayness, my religion, my political stance?

We are the same you and me

Why is it that you cannot see?

Tell me when it was that I lost my humanity

When you felt superior to me

When all you said was right and I became wrong

Tell me so that I can know-why you hate me so!

© 2010 13 august/cb

Regrets

The light filtered through the bay windows as I cleaned the table.  It was a small breakfast table-the kind which allowed for intimacy.  It was centered in the garden room where the early morning light was the best.  I can still hear the clink of the glassware and the silver as the table was set.  It seated four, a round glass table top with beveled edges and four English antique chairs. 

Looking at these chairs sure brought back a flood of memories.  My daughter had fallen backwards on one-the back of the chair saving her head and a trip to the emergency room.  Mom could only yell about how expensive the chair was.  She was still yelling when my 2 year old offered up her savings-at the time- two pennies.   Tears welled up in my eyes at the memory.  The look on her face was just heart-breaking as tears rolled down her small face.  Still Mom yelled about the cost of repair as she looked at her grand-daughter’s welling eyes.  I remember holding her small body and just giving my Mother a look of incredibility.   That memory still burns with pain.  How can she be so inconsiderate-so mean!

Shaking my head loose from the past, I continued to clean the table, moving the antique lace runner where a glass red apple rested-another memory intruded.  Dad was laughing at some stupid joke he made-his laughter bouncing off the high ceiling.  I smiled at that as I remember that conversation.  We were arguing about how the ceiling was going to be fixed.  I knew we needed to get someone younger to climb but no-he insisted on doing the work himself.  He had crawled into the small attic-really more like a crawlspace-and became stuck!  I was laughing so hard and so was he until we realized that if we could not get him unstuck-the fire department would!  Then the ceiling really would have a huge hole!  Finally the laughter stopped as he started to pass out-it was hot that day and the space he was in did not have air-conditioning.  He finally managed to get himself loose and crawl out.  He looked a mess!  Our eyes met and all we could do was laugh our heads off.  Smiling to myself-it was one of those things that you really had to be there for.  It was a memory shared only between Dad and me.   

I wish Mom could have been there-maybe she would not be so bitter now.  He was so different with me.  Well-maybe that was the problem between her and me.

I sat down for a moment in his chair-funny how it will always be his chair.   Before me flashed my last conversation with my mother as we shared a meal.  It ended badly that day.  She was really on a roll.  As much as I tried to be cordial-nothing satisfied her.  I guess the last trigger was when I shared a religious observation-one she did not agree with-which brought forth that last tirade.   She just did not want to be stopped.  Her words just gather speed.  Like a rock gathering moss as it rolls downhill-they became filled with vile and hate.  Her face contorted into someone I did not know.  Truth be known-I really did not know her.  I tried to understand her but she was never easy.  She was a riddle to me.  Her verbal attack continued.  She just let it out on the only person there-me.  She did not know I knew how her marriage started-how many times she would berate Dad.  She did not know of my silent tears when he was close to his end-how I heard her cruelty with him.  She called me irresponsible and immoral-I knew it was not true. I took it-painful stab after painful stab-I took it all.  She wanted to see me break-I did not give her the satisfaction.

The next day she did not wake at her usual hour.  Her bedroom door remained closed.  Finally I entered after not receiving any answer to my knock.  I found her in the bathroom-her final end was one of nature’s call-not in a graceful situation.   I cleaned her body up and made sure she was presentable.  Even in death, I could not let her be seen in a bad light.  Her eyes were now in their grey color-the color she gets when she is tired.  Her skin was now cold-rigor had set in. 

I sat with her until the paramedics arrived to pronounce her dead.  As per her wishes-her body was taken directly to the mortuary and then to the crematorium.  She did not want any mourners.  She died alone-as she always verbalized.  I wonder if she regretted that decision at all.  I wonder if she ever found peace.  In the end, it was dark for her.  She never saw another sunrise. 

A single tear rolls down my face as regrets rack my body.  Closing my eyes I see her before me-only this time smiling and happy.  I guess I have my answer to my question about her.  Beside her is Dad-lovingly holding her hand-she was now at peace as her meanness had disappeared. I guess what she needed was his love to herself.  Even her children were a challenge.  They both walk away-leaving me alone.  Opening my eyes, I finish with the cleaning.

I take one last look around at the home I have known all my life.  What few regrets I have had in my life-I leave them here.  The house is now a mausoleum of memories.  Leaving the keys in the front foyer, I leave the house to start my own life away from here.  The realtor will be here soon enough. 

© 2010 6 august/cb

Blank Canvas

Before me is a canvas
Pristine and pure

Waiting to be ravaged

The light is just right

My palette here beside me

Brushes all in a row

Creative juices start to flow

Drifting into a haze

My seduction has begun

My hands become my brushes

The feel of paint is

Smooth and silky

The scent of paint

Brings me to a euphoria

My hands dancing with color

Reds for passion

Blues for calm

Yellows for the happiness felt

My eyes are closed

Enjoying the trance

Frantically working faster

Still my eyes see

My hands wander

Caressing my body

Ecstasy felt at each touch

Warmth spreading throughout

Ending in the most pleasant of spots

Still there is no stopping

The urge is too strong

Frantically stroking

Creating until exhausted

When finally done

The canvas now sated

There is a rendition of us

My body covered in color...

© 2008 19 oct/cb

The Pendulum

The pendulum is swinging

The chimes are softly marking time

It is time being greeted

At the same time it is bid adieu

It keeps on moving forward
Small deadly measures of silence

Miniscule cuts upon our skin

The pain is silent until too late

We now bleed as our life drains

Time is taking its coveted prize

Our minds know the incredible value
Yet our hearts sometimes are not as aware

Time robs us quickly and efficiently

Tic toc tic toc-There it goes silently

As we weep at the lost sands

Slipping from in between our fingers

Time passes us by-Tic toc tic toc
There is no end of day-just the death of us

The pendulum keeps swinging

As the chimes softly keep marking time

© 2010 2 august/cb