buried alive

in justly words
in the pit of my stomach
a ray of light
tranforms

cannot bury
the lines of truth
in a pit
made for two

a shine glass glitter
wishful thoughts
caught windswept
on a tree top

put it in the rain
so the dogs can smell
its scent
be fooled

stranger in the shadows
spit your lust pant
so the world can see
you're just as good - bad
as me

drunken truth
twisted into sobriety
as the toxins fade
deep beneath the skin

truth stays the same
deception is the game played
buried alive
so others won't survive


~~ just a moment of ramdomness. its been a wonderful week. smile for the helluvit i say. keeps us feeling ok until next time.~~~

Faith

The Great Mystery. There is something called faith. No matter what life path they have chosen, faith stirs that spark of survival - the will to live another day.

lounged with ancients

fit into the wind
like the dust swirl
in september air

a scent of red
as the eyes forget
in chemical pain

we lounged with ancients
when passions were living
in blue dreams

as the mind opens
to eye sight
our
breath
is fantasy.

earthly momentos

tapping keys into masked coherency
lost myself in the shuffle of learning
they will call me elder in a few years
i have earned my own guilt and shame
i shun the nag of self destruction
i have earned this day
no ego to claim as my victor
just the scars that rip open when the night falls
forced to remember who I am
caressed with earthly momentos
left to be swept worn by winds and dust
not lost
not found
just there captured in the inhale
and passed to the next breath
reconnecting the buried past
with tomorrow's history
never lost
never found
just there captured in the inhale

...had to start with me.

There is no way to really know what is going to unfold in a day. Yet, the world will continue on out there...passed my screen doors....passed the few feet of 'my yard'. (Listening to Believe In Dreams by Flyleaf)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The snow is falling good right now.
The walk was cleared yesterday
and now fully covered again. The foot prints
pressed into the white banks are filled and replaced
with a new day of winter strollers.
Most of me remembers the peace that came
after the night dream wake.
Still, part of me clings to yesterday's hurt.
Its those little blessings that keep me
from a self induced cave-in of despair. My grandson
a constant teacher . A reminder of those teachings
of life that helped me survive this long.
He may not get any of the philosophical blurts
but he has the tools when its time. He puts them in
where he feels they fit for 'him'.

So, what is it that holds my day captive
as I fight to see bits of daylight?
I am one of the lucky ones. I came out
of the streets with all my 'needed' wits
and no limbs or organs lost. I embraced
a vision that promised to keep me safe
from my suicidal binges. I kept the faith,
as some would say, that the world would become
a better place but had to start with me. I
am grateful, the world is a better place therefor time
left to heal and strengthen. A legacy I can only pray
will be left for my children and grandchildren. I don't
reject my history or use it to blame my life on its events.
I have taken every 'positive' step that I know to take.
My life is not perfect with its daily challenges
and heartbreaking moments. I have little money and no job.
I worry each day about how long this house will be
called home. I fight off thoughts of drunken drug escapes.
I keep a tightened grasp on the forgiveness
needed for the hate controlling those outside my door.
I know this day is mine. I see the daylight through
the cracks of my home made curtains. I have this moment
and that is all that matters. And the smile returns
from the inside out. The world is better
and it had to start with me.

.....its snowing out there

Listening to So Long Marianne by Leonard Cohen)

The snow has arrived and with the unpredictability of today's weather pattern no one knows if nature's blanket will remain or melt into the ground to expose the sleeping earth to its death. But what hasn't changed, and I don't imagine will ever change, is the excitement in the the little boy's voice as he jumps and proclaims "It's snowing!" As the world moves on its way around a little one there is little to deter the young mind from seeing the wonder and beauty in everything. No matter what the world is puking up. (I see that sentence and can't help but 'leave it'.) I read somewhere in the beginning of my studies in old dusty literature, too see the world as a child with mature innocense. The exact wording is not what sticks its the message it leaves that matters. I have been pulled into each morning with a slight ache of unfed desire for a life that I have never known. Then....sometime during that moment or sometimes when I am trapped in the illusion of my sleep ... I remember. Its my experience, my life, that is the innosence and my willingness to live it the best I can is the maturity.

Bukowski

Life is funny. One minute you are feeling like the party started without you and the next you realize the party was planned just for you. I have lived a full life with alot of adventure, pain, happiness, tears of sadness, and unending smiles for living. Alot of cliches, more than I can stand, but a life all the same.
I read an interesting poetic statement by Margaret Atwood the other day. It describes her journey to the writer in her. The inevitable pull to the wine drinking, cigarette smoking, paris seeking writers of her time and time passed. The desire to mingle with the risk takers and create the voice of a poet that would shock and portray an interesting 'writer's life'. Well, she found it, in the details of her life after the delayering of personalities acquired through the search for the writer in her. It is the presentation and perspective of the writer that entices the reader to continue reading. Bukowski presented the world with a dirty old man with a crude mouthful at every spit of drunken philosphy. Yet...it was interesting to experience his perspective of the world through the eyes of one in the middle of what most tried to avoid. It was no risk to him it seemed just his way and perspective and it caught on. I speak of Bukowski because he seems to surface in the work of new emerging poets where ever I go. I do admit I went through a time when he intrigued me to the point of purchasing all his books where ever I could. It was the feeling of raw truth...albeit his truth...that kept me wanting more at the time. I was pulled into his madness with a desire to find my own madness. This is where I found the writer in me. I projected all my filth, misery, and sweetness into lines that projected my reality. For a short while i experienced a freedom. Then I realized the journey was just in its infant stage. There would be more to come as my memory replayed forgotten or buried remnants of madness that just wouldn't be served best without continued maturing in the craft. I continue. I venture into the perspectives of writers to remind myself of that freedom....to be mad....my madness is a safe place for me. There is no good to it nor is there bad to it...it just is for me. I need it to be the writer I am. My words thrive on the madness around me. I write to live in the madness around me.

So Bukowski, the dirty old man spitting drunken philosphy, knew what he was doing in his own mad way.

Distant from the Being as Humans

And the World is in poverty now! A reality in so many ways. We have starved ourselves almost to death by disconnecting with our main life force 'the Earth'. It is only in the reestablishing our connection as allies of the earth can we save ourselves. I have watched documentaries and read articles that reflect a hint of hope for the human 'beings' even after all the damage that has been done. BP oil spill "murderer of the ocean". Mother Nature's wrath spreading her cleansing hands with wind, storms, and earth shakes. An unrest with the people as they confront their governments once again to protest the neglect and disrespect of the commonman's plight to survive. These are enormous issues that span the whole planet. Yet in the shadows are the those whose voice has been taken during the decline of their lives. Asleep in alleyways, feeding from backdoor bins, stealing a can meat from a corner store, hunting sick and poluted animals, serving affordable junk to their children, drinking colorful water, and still dreaming it can change atleast for the children. What now happens to those who have been born into poverty? This is the thought that stirs my need to stand up and gather all the information that is out there and say "lets do this!" Turn the information into knowledge through doing, and wisdom through living.

It is easy to say grow your own food if you have the tools and the experience.
So....provide the tools and experience. Share the knowledge in every community! Let it be the way it has to be. Every neighbor to have a healthy meal for themselves and their family. And for those carnivores well hunting is still a great way to feed "families". It is the pollution and sicknesses that is making it difficult to trust this old survival way. But protect areas to ensure the natural habitant is available is a start.

I have a wish list and one item on the list is like many other families..'a home' to call my own. I have done alot of research on the variety of alternative housing projects being developed around the world. I don't understand why it wouldn't be considered as an alternative on a wider scale for impoverished families. An energy efficient home where the one time bill comes only in the materials. A home built with renewable resources to cut the cost to more than half for the finished product. Not For Profit organization run by citizens of the rural/urban area with a goal to ensure every family has a home. A barter system or mortgage payment as an option to assist in securing the home for the individual/family. For example; the new homeowner will now share the new homebuilding skills with future homeowners and share in the building of a new home. There are so many positives that could come out of feeling you have something worth while to offer and also have the pleasure of seeing the product of your hard work. Training and education for the building of the home and the continue learning in areas such as gardening (community gardens for example). A committment by Governments for the financial support for the training and resources to fulfill this goal. When one considers the cost of services put toward government housing, financial aid, and the thousands of programs developed and redeveloped to feed and house the homeless, this would be an investment in more ways than one.

These are not new ideas. We have become distant from the "being" as humans. Not only have we disconnected from our life source but we have created armor around our lives so we will not feel the pain of the world. Hoping maybe just maybe it will get better on its own. It is not to say we don't have the heart..the spirit...to make a change. I only say it is time to put our differences aside and realize we are all One on One Earth. Our only real Home. What is here was meant to be utilized with respect and honour for its abundance and generousity. There is no need for one person to be hungry in this world today. There is no reason why those who desire a home should not have one. There is no need for a government that only serves its own agenda as long as we have our voice! It's our differences that have created the dark shame over human life.

I screamed last night!

I screamed last night
to the god
in skies of blackened eternity
an icicle cry
with a forever tear.

I screamed last night
to the god
to awake a surrendering
heart.

a wave in an ocean
to drown my sadness
in the skies of blue warmth
a peaceful sigh
with endless faith.

WRITING POETRY

Today I feel refreshed. I spent that last few days exploring dead poet sites and reading collections that have left a legacy of inspiration. One author that provided the kick in the ass I needed was Ginsberg. In his odd, queer way, he left with a bang (ful) of words. Its About and Death and Fame inject life for the reader while he was facing death. He gave an overview of what he wanted to see during his funeral, including mourning ex-lovers he met along his writing career. This is a man that right to the last days of his life - lived! A college student who submitted a 80 pg manuscript only to learn that what he had learned had to be forgotten. He was told to free up his voice and then came 'Howl' a writing that is said to have 'changed America'. Well, needless to say, I am inspired. The thought of 'freeing of my voice' ....think freely...feel freely...write freely. I may not be 'change America' material but I definitely feel I can write freely. If it finds its way into the hands of publisher that appreciates my writing then that is the bonus.

Poverty. That was the topic when this blog was started. As I had hoped the focus is revealing the riches that sit right under my nose. I just need to continue to sort them out and at the same time continue to climb out of this place that has stolen precious moments of my life - defeated mind.

The power and phone still not disconnected. Just hold on for a couple more days. The rent takes most of the money but the rest is for bills. Gonna make it. Oh! I am putting my resume in for two jobs that opened up. Crossing my fingers. The pay is twice what I have now which would be a blessing.

Life Passions

Today there is only one thought lingering in and out of my day so far....passion for life. This is so important. The dreams that excite you each morning. The butterflies that quiver the center of your being each time you think of reaching for more.

Today, all I have to do is believe I can have this in my life again. To be passionate about something, anything. I love to write. I love to create lines of my uneducated poetry, ranting maybe but still written thoughts...mind paintings. I love to wander into the life of a character in an unfolding script. I love to read the words of writers from centuries ago sharing emotions, fears, and realizations with the world and oblivious to the fact that these same words would be sitting in front of me .... in 2008! Amazing. A legacy. Their passion. I just want to keep this thought today.

Just hoping the power won't be disconnected anytime soon. Or the phone for that matter. Still looking for a job. Still writing down my ramblings.

'cursed with inherited sadness'