HastyWords's Blog, page 40

WHEN THE SEQUINS FALL

I’ve been thinking a bunch about the last decade of my life. Much of it was captured right here on this blog. I’ve been absent lately. Life just had a way of demanding my attention. Holding me accountable. Changing me. Healing me. And as I look at the things I’ve written… I barely recognize this person

who resided here.

I guess… I am proud. I mean life isn’t easier because a lot of things are harder but LOTS of things are better. Things are different. I am different.

For one I am SOBER.

If I were to pick the ONE thing that has made the BIGGEST difference it is that. I AM SOBER.

This is a repost of an old poem I wrote. I can see now how drinking created something I label as a recycling of emotions. That ghost in the window… he was getting tired of seeing me in the same place… making the same mistakes…

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A few shots of ammunition

And the heat detonates inside

His voice begins to drown

As I answer, “I don’t care”

A few rotten nasty sentiments

Scour the ditches of my despair

Determined to find the notion

That will make the hurt I feel

Much too agonizing to persevere

There’s a ghost in the window,

Watching every move I make,

Sometimes,

He points at me with a knowing

As if part of me is showing

Spirits wash away my pain

Blood alcohol searching point 5

I wave goodbye to logic

And shed my clever disguise

Louboutin’s fly off my feet

Valentino sequin’s hit the floor

Watch me as I take off this mask

And expose myself as the classless girl

My peers have pegged me for

There’s a ghost in the window,

Watching every move I make,

Sometimes,

He points at me with a knowing

As if part of me is showing

Rose petal’s long faded and lifeless

Litter a worn out intoxicated bed

Romancing my fleeting conscience

With a place to lay my head

Sheets long wrinkled, do nothing

To cover the spiritually dead

Nothing to hide the empty shame

An emotional mess I begin to drift

My body, my life so numb and stiff

 

SEEKING JUSTICE

Whether it is a big news event or a very personal event justice is often complicated.  Separating truth from fiction is hard.  The media is very persuasive.  Our friends we know and trust can also be very persuasive.  We often forget there are two sides to every story with a whole lot sandwiched in the middle.

Justice isn’t just black and white.  It never has been.  It’s why justice is so controversial and makes for a successfully dramatic news story.  Spin a story well enough and you can make people believe there is a right and a wrong without the need for evidence.

It may look strange, it may even look sad, or wrong.  But beware of what you perceive without evidence.  I am not saying write-off the situation in question. I am saying act on it with caution.  Acting the wrong way could be more harmful than helpful.

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You misinterpret

And misrepresent

Fall to your knees

With face in hand

Weeping for justice

When…

It’s a process

With no end

Justice is a journey

To be perceived

And acted upon

It begs us

To ask questions

And if you see

Only a snapshot

Chances are

You’ll misinterpret

And misrepresent

And sabotage

The very justice

You were

Searching for

ISOLATION

When I experienced bad bouts of anxiety and depression I would isolate.  I still do.  Avoid socializing.  Avoid commitment.  Avoid stimulation.  I would escape into my own head and look for comfort there.  But I would never find it.

When someone with depression reaches out to talk and they are scolded or told to just be happy they will retreat.  They will isolate.  And if they don’t learn to manage that isolation it will swallow them whole.

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Please don’t let go

Don’t let me fade away

I’m hanging on here

Best I can, but…

I feel like my grip

Might just give up

And you say

Why don’t you just

Slow up and grow up

You’re making me

Want to throw up

And I regress and digress

Put myself in timeout

Give my brain a recess

I can’t listen right now

I can’t listen right now

I can’t listen right now

Leave your name

And number after the…

I can’t listen right now

And you leave a message

Hey there buddy

How have you been?

I miss your face and

Hanging at your place

Wait… what’s your name?

Has it been that long?

Oh dude I’m sorry

I said those things to you

I didn’t realize the pain

You were going through

BEEEP

I can’t listen right now

BLACKOUT

I used to blackout when I drank.  Not always but quite often.  Blackout doesn’t mean you act any differently than your inebriated self would act.  It just means you won’t remember what you did, what you said, or where you went.  Your memory was too drunk to record.  Therefore, no memory.

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Swimming motion

Blurs the colors

And the context

Of our meeting

Help me forward

Too much spinning

Stuffed emotions

Falling backward

Like a locomotion

Out of order

Lying on the floor

Waiting for that

Ferocious explosion

Of awkward disorder

To fight its way

Into the void

Where solutions melt

And can’t be bothered

Just leave me alone

So I can lie here broken

Inside my silenced chaos

PAINTED FACES

What you chose to hide is a choice. What you keep from the world is a choice. There are decisions to be made and your choices will matter. Trust will be built or dishonesty and manipulation will be sown. You will hide things without even realizing it.

In this way… we are all artists.

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It’s in the hiding

Revelations mix color

Into the blacks

Into the whites

Perceptions fall like glitter

Dotting our masterpiece

With distraction and

Sparkly manipulation

Experiences dance wild

In broad thick strokes

With loaded brushes

And messy fingers

We hide the reality

Of motivation

Of shame

Of inspiration

Inside our art

DEADLY ESCAPISM

It’s been awhile since I’ve had the time to blog.  You get divorced, become a single parent, and the whole world changes.  BUT I feel I finally have things pulled together enough to come back.  I miss you!

 

I started a YOUTUBE channel where I basically just read my poetry.  So much harder than I expected it to be… tongue gets twisted up in every direction possible.

HASTYWORDS

I hope you subscribe because it is just the first step in something very exciting my daughter will be doing later.  Enjoy !

Getting sober is the best thing I did for my depression.

 

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I feel myself dangling

Hung from my ankles

Unable to rise above

A rag doll with eyes

Watching the spinning

Colors mixing, swirling

Combining into night

And then it comes to life

Dragging itself closer

Shrouding me, holding me

Suffocating me in its belly

And I close my eyes

Giving myself to sleep

As my consciousness absorbs

All my intoxicated blood

Siphoning all my hurts

And then multiplying them

Into an incomprehensible pain

Causing me to pull the next

Pretty bottle of escapism

From my shelf stocked full

 

COLLIDING

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I close my eyes

And I can see

Landscapes

That collide

Then break free

Just to bounce

Again together

Over and over

Happy to feel

The collision

Each time more

Anticipated

Each time more

Satisfying

Each time more

All there is

THE WAY LOVE FEELS

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I’ve written

A thousand

Beautiful words

Played inside

Wordy poems

Teasing

Hundreds

Of lines

Of prose

From my soul

Crying out

A thousand

Verses worth

Of joyful tears

Only to be

Left erasing

Every letter

Ever written

Because

No matter

How I line

Them up

Or how each

Character

Is arranged

No matter

The rhythm

Or the rhyme

They can’t

Possibly say

I love you

The way

Loving you

Actually feels

SOMEBODY, MAYBE YOU

You find yourself free of a toxic relationship.  But how free?  Don’t let the memories keep you tangled in the past.  Find a way to unravel them and use them to propel yourself into a future free of cobwebs.

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Trying like mad to untangle

The last torturous threads

Of our fucked up history

Knotted webs of confusion

Where somebody, maybe you

Said something to wound

Did something to damage

Wrote something to harm

Where somebody, maybe you

Wove fiction into reality

Spun lies into beautiful truths

Stored gaslight in your finger tips

While somebody, maybe you

Preached love and positivity

Yet spit disdain through teeth

Covered by a deceiving smile

Somebody, maybe you

Thought I was a piece of shit

Thought I was a waste of time

Thought I was a dead end

Somebody, maybe you

Is snared and caught

Not a spider, nor a monster

Just a person

Imprisoned by my memories

IMPULSES

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They lie static without

Tethered to wanting

Refraining from light

The length grows wide

And steps grow dark

As they run into eyes

That can’t see anymore

As they slump under

And fall into holes

That were never dug

Just born from life

Having been betrayed

Where revenge lurks

And storms grow

Into electrical impulses