they owe me $400, will you call them for me?

And sadness comes in waves mixed with fear
Thought is gone, one blurred vision of the past not to long ago.
Blurred but clear, crystal clear and fuzzy at the same time
love not shown
the words said
and the words Not said.

Self-Esteem broken

No actions taken,...

His friends would say he was very well behaved. Yes.
but able to defend, No!

and so now the adult that was the dutiful child is scared
afraid of life, and wont defend himself.
and his family is doomed,
doomed to be less than
less than Mediocre.

But beer and big screen TV, will take them to numb
take them to mindlessness

Drones just existing, full of regret
full of self doubt

scared to do
scared to try

so they follow the TV
follow it blindly
so it can tell them what to do and what to think
they follow it till their feelings are as numb as a coma patient

only they, Are alive
and going to work
and complaining about their self inflicted misfortune
and taking care of their child
and their dog
and the house plants
and they bitch they don't have anything
and now maternity clothes to buy
and laundry to do
and cars to repair
and bills to pay
and worrying how to afford the pregnancy, let alone the second child on its way

lucky for them the TV is now on, and there is this show on that
is funny
and another show on that is scary
and another that mixes drama and emotion and humor

and the shows make them forget
forget the present
forget the past
most of all they can forget their future

Their worries and fears melt
their mind goes numb
the beer cans open
and the drones exist

to scared to be more than below-average,

to scared to make a phone call.

that phone call that will confront a Real person.

happy christmas

And the woman tells her 15 year old son on the other end of the phone

" ... Dammit Seth its not that important. You don't need to be such a cry-baby"

and with the disappointment and guilt inducing tone only a mother can say, she finishes the conversation with "You should be ashamed of the way you are acting, IF, you cared about me at all you would not be acting this way."

With that he made one more comment and he hung up the phone.

And the woman that just crushed her 15 year old son on the phone, hangs up and cries.
cries tears of helplessness
cries tears of abandonment
cries tears of anger that has no resolution
tears of a mother when she realizes she is not protecting her child.

Uncontrollable sobbing for a while as she hears The Christmas Carol playing on television....

Less than a year ago the divorce was finalized, she and the father of their children had the courts memorialize what people told them was in the best interest of all concerns.

All their friends said that usually, the kids stay with the mom, and the dad get the kids for a bit of each month and holidays are split, so that over the years the adults needs are met.

The court did not disagree, but then the adults did not fight tooth and nail for anything, they just wanted out of each others life.

The father moved into the lover's house - a 5 hour drive away.

This is the first Christmas and per the agreement the boy was to be with his father.

When her son is with his father, she lies to herself that 15 year old boys would rather be with their dad's than their mom's, when the truth is:

 When a boy is 15 years old, he need both parents equally - it is very hard for a person to not be a child any more and at the same time not be an adult.

And yesterday the day before Christmas she, dropped Seth off and put him in the hands of that selfish bastard, that fucking prick who broke apart the family.
...
...
...

It is now Christmas day and the boy goes with his father to the store to get a few last minute items. While there,  the father runs into one of his friends and they toddled off to the bar for 'just one drink' - as the boy finishes the shopping, and takes the items out of the store.

Not seeing his dad back from the bar, the 15 yr old puts the items in the back of the pick up truck, shoots a text to his dad saying "lets go foods in the truck" and waited. and waited and waited.

An hour later he had caught up on face book and emails and texts to his friends.

and waited and waited

to his dad he sent a few more texts and called and left messages,  all of which went unanswered.

un-acknowledged,...

It was now dark, he was feeling lonely, scared and abandoned. He did not know how to get to his dad's house from the grocery store, and did not want to wait in the truck any longer.

The vulnerability, uneasiness and fear he was feeling came out as tears, while he was dialing his mom.

He started the conversation with "I don't know what to do" which led to him crying more as he unloaded his helplessness onto his mom,

She was trying to give him calming thoughts, but he was not hearing it, he just kept saying "its not fair"
"its not fair"
"its not fair"

Then she told him, "the courts decided, It can't be un-done"

He had let the emotion build too much and tears kept falling and he said "but mom, I want to be with YOU!"

And the mom overwhelmed by feeling helplessness to protect her child,
overwhelmingly frustrated by the injustice of the whole thing,
and the anger generated by that selfish bastard of a father explodes out!!!

 unfortunately, the explosion is felt by the person on the other end of the phone and she says:

"Just one more day, then you'll be here,... Dammit Seth today is not that important. You don't need to be such a cry-baby"

And with the disappointment and guilt inducing tone only a mother can say she finishes the conversation with "You should be ashamed of the way you are acting, IF, you cared about me at all you would not be acting this way."

And with that Seth said "why are you talking to me that way?" and hung up the phone.

he pinched me redeaux

re-jigged for spoken word, the hook is only 9 words long and if not heard the piece is medocre, so this is me re doing for spoken word

so I am at 4 min 15 seconds, which is about a minute too long - I have been obsessing over this piece for a bit too long and don't know what to cut, so I do one more tonight april 25th, then I've got to get something else out of me


and after months it is commited to memery and I deceded not to place it in public view

so this is an invite only poem,

censored
and apologized for.

the two things you should never do in art

is censor yourslef
or
apologize.


*******
3:am formerly known as he pinched me:

you the patriarch of the family,      organized this impromptu
early-morning, family outing of coffee and scones,

pebble

and I am trapped

by the sand and grit

stepped on

rolled over

ignored

and i think to myself

i am important

i am needed

but with no way of showing it

i am taken for granted

a permanence of reliability

that is me

heat, cold rain or snow

I endure it all because

without me, you have no foundation

piss and puke spray on me

and I say nothing

how can I, trapped by sand and grit

I don't have the breath to spit

that what you are doing is pure shit

I should throw a Fit

and leave here,

but I remember the time I tried to

tried to get free from you,

I did get a a little bit lose it was true

but you saw that slightest shift

and you reacted quick

you said I was in so much trouble

and I was but back in my place,

with your steam roller feet

and jack hammer hands

no friends could save me

no acquaintances knew me

I am trapped

by the sand and grit

rolled on stepped over

I do have your security

your tight concrete grip

that grip to keep me in my place

that grip so strong it can make me feel safe

a grip strong enough to squeeze death into life.

I lie to myself, that

I am important

i am needed

my permanence of reliability

is not taken for granted

but after year and years together

I am seeing the lies,

the lies I say to myself

the lies you say to me

yes I see the lies more clearly,

i see,

that you see my scars in what used to be perfectly smooth skin

but you don't see that it was your unyielding grip

that started the decay

that caused the injury

which you now see as my deformity

but when I look at you,

I don't see your now weak crumbling form

I see only the strength when we first were mixed together in that cement mixer of life.

and I the permanence of reliability

know the only reason you have loosened your grip on me

is that you hope to find

hope to find a younger,.... me

a smooth skinned,

unblemished

rounded

plump

thing that you can grip tight

one that will fill the hole when you finally lose all grip on me.

you have done so well to keep me in your control

and I now know

i have no control

i have no importance

I gladly let everyone walk on me

let the piss and puke spray on me

and like a loose pebble from the side walk, I will leave a small hole in you,

but I will be kicked from one side of the street to the other

until a final ricochet off a passing car tire

will spit me into some dark dirty unseen corner

untouched

unloved

with no one to hold me tight.

boy crying

the little boy being carried by his mother
looking over her shoulder crying
screaming
DAAAD


daddy
daddy
DAAAAAAd,
and his older brother looks back, pausing walking backwards as his dad goes out of sight, the now 8 year old boy stumbles as his emotions are flooded with loss, fear and confusion.
the boy gets a slap to the back of his head and stern words from his mother, and stays in step with his mom, as a cloud of withheld tears exhale from his chest.

and around the corner is a man with a tissue and water filled eyes
using the tissue to blow his nose and hide his emotionally ravaged countenance.
the background of tears fills his world and all he sees are shadows.

the darker, painful places that are exposed only in the bright light of his four-year olds expressed trauma.

that horrible screaming of voice pushed to its cracking point
tears and snot flooding out of the littlest one,
vividly screaming


DAAAD


daddy
daddy
DAAAAAAd,
Don't go


Please don't go

Please don't go

writers block

Today started without addiction in my thought today,

Freedom from hell

an escape with hard fought with tears

And over coming fears

as the awareness nears,..

I’m almost afraid to cheer.

Overcoming this shit should not be my career

I want to scream to all far and near

That I am now here !!!

And hear me now,

Because I have gone through that door

I have turned my back for now and ever more

Listen, you may be bored

And heard it all before

But I tell you I need you now more

More, than I have ever, ever before

Through that door, I will not go back

Like a man that has survived a heart attack

I am stiff and scared and need you to have my back

I need you to assist

I insist I am not full of bliss

I know I can’t miss

As long as you can persist, ....In your love and support for me.

You never before had it out for me.

You were always there for me.

And now I need you more than just for me.

You see,

I woke up without addiction on my soul today

It’s like I have never told you

How much I love you

Even though all I seem to do is shit upon you

My soul stirs when I’m near you

I can once again be strong for you

I woke up without addiction on my spirit today

Happiness so near

And confidence so far

I have never before been so near

And you my dear have never been so far

I can’t do it alone so please come here

Don’t say its to late, you’re not that far, ... away from me

Away from me,

You are so Far away from me,

I see its too late for you, and me

But not for me, you see

I woke up without addiction in my heart today.

A heart that I now see is like a piece of used dental floss

I was on too much sauce

to feel the loss

and I swear and cross,.... my hear and hope to die

that you cat again rely

on my love for you

and to again be true to you

yes my dear, . . . I see it now to be true.

that what once was me and you

is now me, . with-out you

today I woke up without addiction, and

today, my dear, I woke up without you

the required poem

There are rhymes

that stand the test of time

that can change lives

that are said to wives

and that can hide the lies

and then there's the shit that I spit

it comes from a deep pit

and my sharp wit

and hides from me my shit

hides from me my shit

and rhymes that hides my lies

you see i am on a journey

to the best poem ever

something you will remember

words weaved together

in such a way it will be real forever

my goal is to be be whole

to fill the hole in my soul

so deep and full of woe

I am empty and worthless

so full of feces,

i should be another species

and E.T. simple likes Reeces

and wants to go home not in pieces.

to go home

away from being alone

emptiness be filled

Please make this a happy poem.

you see I write to fill the hole

I write to become known

because at times I am like, the world of warcraft gnome.

tinker, inventor and mechanic of words.

words on paper

words in the air

words from nowhere

that fill my mind

and above all fills my soul

you see I could never explain a poem

least of all one of my own

I try to give you tone

and something you can take home

how real it is to you, will never be known

girls being thrown

boys being owned

sadness begin shown

and so i write

write for the good of my soul

write for the millions untold

write for the illiterate young and old

you see i am on an endless journey

to the best poem ever

something you will remember

words weaved together

in such a way will be real forever

the war on drugs is a good thing

and the man's little child, dies in his arms
Bruised a little about the head and body
The death certificate will read: "internal bleeding; unknown origin"

the place Afghanistan,
the time now, right now.
A man with not a lot of money and two small children.
Needs more than his meager crop of corn can provide.


drug lords invite him to a meeting.
so much food, he has never seen before.
he drank till he had no thirst,
they gave him food to take to his children

they showed him how well his neighbors do.

they said that if he grew just one crop, he could have enough for his family for two years.

He desperate to provide, agrees, to the deal as stated by the drug lords: "grow and harvest our poppy, and we will pay you handsomely"

they supply the seeds,
he provides all the work and the land,

they check on him weekly
he shows them everything is well taken care of

He hears the local men talk of something called "war on drugs"
The European's and the American's have a problem and they use a group called
Peacekeepers, to help.

He thinks nothing of it, in Afghanistan, Poppy is a good thing,
it feeds the family,
provides schooling for children,
gives farmers enough money to keep their homes in repair.
and if other countries use "Peace keepers" it must not be that bad

three weeks later, he hears a commotion in his fields, he goes to investigate
military vehicles, tanks, and armed men, flank his lands as local police destroy his crops.

Emblazoned on the military vehicles are the initials "U" "N"
...

that week the drug lords show up to check on their crop,
the farmer explains "but... but.. but.... the peacekeepers... not me,... them"


the drug lords having no compassion
seeing only lost revenue
explode

their violence erupts in the mans small shack.
the man's children hide
and they beat him beyond unconscious
and then kick him a few more times

When he awakens his 8 year old girl and 10 year old boy are gone
his lungs on fire from broken ribs
bone sticking through skin of his right arm
his face deformed from the cruelty
as he stands his broken bones in his leg, cause that cause him to vomit and pass out.

hospitals require payment in advance
he has no payment
his bones set by neighbors, may never heal

Three weeks later the message comes
Since YOU let our poppy crop be destroyed we need $20,000
we understand your plight so we will give you two months
$20,000 in two months or we keep your children,...


In a country with such poverty $20,000 is 10 years worth of salary
in such a country, the police are powerless
in such a country, ancient laws make it OK to trade children for debt.
in such a country, outsiders force un-welcomed change.

and to the 8 year old girl they torture very little - fresh, untouched meat on the open market is worth much more than used merchandise.

and to the 10 year old boy, a perfect unblemished piece of wood, that could be sculpted into a beautiful delicate figurine, they instead pound in 6inch spikes,
splintering
deforming
turning wood into paper that is written upon, again and again and again.

The 10 year old boy, is thier favorate toy and played with many times, but then, like all toys he becomes no longer fun he becomes a rag doll with all of its stuffing spilling out.

The boy is thrown from a moving car in front of his fathers house.

the father, thanks his God for return of one of his children,
the boy does not speak of the last month
no doctor will examine for fear of what they will find
no police to call

And two days later the man's 10 year old son, dies in his fathers arms
Bruised a little about the head and body.
The death certificate will read: "internal bleeding; unknown origin"


As the man shuffles back to his beggars spot,
a US reporter asks him if he has heard of the war on drugs,... and does he think it is a good thing?

papa

and the nurse comes in to turn off the noise

that steady tone

that signals the end

that soon will be upon us

that squiggly line now flat

that sadness now real

that sorrow heavy

that tsunami of emotions as he takes his last breath

The closeness of three generations, now becomes the grief of two generations.

His life was long, with some deception.

he and his red truck made such accomplishments

his gruff exterior melted the first time his then baby granddaughter needed comforting.

such a long past he had, and yet his death only took a week.

Day One:

He called and asked "I know you'll be here tomorrow, but can you come today?"

A request not heard in the past two years, we say "of course"

...

We arrive all seems normal, but then

but then,..

He tells us of the past,

of past sorrows,

of the past secrets,

and then he tells of present appreciation.

and then he tells of the pain

a pain so incredibly unbearable that a failed suicide caused the phone call.

and we listened, and we jotted down notes of things so important we did not want to lose them

and we convinced him, and took him to the hospital,

Day Two:

Without our knowledge they shove tubes down his throat into his lungs

and poke and prod

and test after test after test after test

many many things not right

and they find lumps in his lungs

and heart barely beating, his legs full of water,..

and I remember 4 weeks ago, he dug a 3foot by 3 foot by 3foot grave for one of his large dogs in Caliche-dirt of the desert, dirt that is hard, hard like concrete.

Day three:

We show the hospital his wishes on death

"no extra ordinary efforts"

"no tubes down throat"

and the lung specialist hears nothing and looks at the lungs

and the heart specialist hears nothing and looks at the heart

and the others look after other organs

they all want to keep their specialty-organ alive,

they so focused on their specialty

treat the organ and not the person

they do not talk to each other about the person

they see only one organ and not the person

not caring of his wishes

not caring that the person is loved

not feeling his readiness for peace they poke and prod.

Day Four:

He fully coherent, demands the tube be removed from his throat.

His great grandchildren visit him for a scant 40 minutes

His grandchildren visit and they talk for most of the day

Day Five:

Fully coherent but tired, I, the son-in-law,

talk with him about death

talk with him about regrets

talk with him about thankfulness

and then he flashes a grin,..

a smile,..

a smile of a 16 yr old boy about to tell his friends he touched a bare breast

and tells me,....

that the night nurse,.....

"is a real looker"

Day Six:

When he was coherent he would say, "why is there a white owl in that closet"

he would drop back to sleep

and when he would awaken again, he would ask us if we saw the white owl, and why is it in the closet of this hospital.

with no logical explanation for him, we said "yes we see it, and it is there to watch over and protect you"

The heart and lung monitor started to jump erratic

and he was a little scared

and wished for parts of the past to have never happened

Day Seven:

Morphine filled his veins, so he was calm and painless, perhaps for the first time in his life he had no pain, no sorrows, no fears.

in the room was his granddaughter, his daughter, and his son-in-law

and the nurse comes in to turn off the noise

that steady tone

that signals the end

that squiggly line now flat

that sadness now real

that sorrow so very heavy

that tsunami of emotions felt by the two generations as the last generation begins his final rest.

daddy

The sensation of being lifted and swung around by your feet,...

Exhilarating!

Trusting and fearing your daddy's grip on you,.. to protect you, keep you safe.

Faster and faster
you can barely keep your arms crossed on your chest
your shirt crawls up your back.
faster and faster and the floor misses your head by what feels like less than an inch

then he swings you so high it feels like you are flying

you almost forget,

forget that he is mad at you

and the spinning, ends as quickly as he jerked you from your hiding place when he got home from work.

the wall came at you too fast, no time to react.

your face, no match for the plaster, is slightly crushed, and blood pours from your nose

your neck snaps back as your body slams into the wall.

its as if your blood and pain stick you tight to the wall and you slide down, a crimson line seen from across the room marking your decent.

and you, a crumpled mass of childhood flesh, can to nothing but bleed out.

you know to be more concerned about getting blood on the floor than checking for broken bones.

and the words
stupid
useless
lazy
fucking piece of shit

continue the assault as he stomps across the room flipping chairs out of his way.

you try to roll and sit up.,...

you feel the insults emphasized by his boot slamming down on you and bruising your still crossed arms.

words to vicious for one so young, they burst your organs with every kick.

words to hateful for a child, they shred your skin with every drop of blood that comes from your body.

While the assault continues, your need for tears turns inward to become a deafening whimper that only you can hear.

Then you hear silence, like the absolute silence after an atomic bomb has wiped out a city.


His emotion spent at your expense, ...


you get up,...

and, ..

and begin checking.
check to see if you can still see
check for blood on the floor
and check for blood on the wall
check if you can stand up

and then clean up the mess you made.
sit the chairs upright
wipe the blood from the wall
hang up the picture of your grandma that fell, when you slammed into the wall.

when there is no trace of violence in the front room,

you can go to the bathroom,

and clean the dried blood from your long hair,
examine the bruises for bone fragments sticking through, or funny bends that were not there before.

your emotions with nowhere to go, burrow deep,
a deep, one-way tunnel down into your core,
deep so your body does not feel.
deep so you can control the tears
so deep,... that you can survive.

tonight, like every night, you will go to sleep afraid that he will kill you while you sleep.

The next morning comes and you wake up, alive one more day.

You and your mom need to decide if the right clothes will let you go to school, or will she need to call the school and say you are sick.

Your mom tells you to go to bed and she will bring breakfast in a minute.

She tells your 4th grade teacher, you will be sick for the rest of the week, but should feel better by Monday.

You are too sore to move, so you will be in bed all day.


And you are glad that you are bedridden, because today you can't do anything wrong to make your daddy mad at you.