Poem 28

I remember you; sitting with me at the top of the hill, which lead down to the meadow, we arm in arm, talking about life. You said of me “that I was Strong, Beautiful and Courageous” you said “That I would be ok”. You, 33 years old and I 9 years old, oh how so long ago that was. I now 42 and you since passed (longer than I ever knew you), with me not knowing that this would be the one last conversation with you I would recall.

Strong and Courageous, stoic indeed, and yet none of these traits are becoming to me. I wish you were here to help guide me along, to let me know how to be courageous and strong. For, courage was yours and mine to learn. My beauty was taken along with you, mom.

So there, at the top of this hill, I will remember you most, living by sheer will. Taken, all that was life and creating a whole, never dividing your heart, which it would be told, I’m told of your love, your grace, and so to this day, this is what I hold.

Freely

In my weakness – you made me strong – you lifted me – you carried me long – you held my head high – when all hope was gone – you stayed steadfast – as my days were long – never failing to guild – my way through the storm – you draw my lamp in close – so others may see – the light that you give – and share so freely 

Broken Guide

Sadness surrounds my heart and soul
Within my heart beats only one goal
To help you make your life once whole

My soul it breaths your sighs of pain
So you can gasp what life may bring

I am haunted by the futures toll
Uncertainty brakes my casted mold

With nowhere else to run and hide
I scream aloud a broken guide

Upward gaze

Swirl sounding engulfing silence

People engaging expectations lofting

Surrounding silence piercing souls

Expectations dividing leaving cold

Engaging the mind uncommon toll

Lofting upward expectations hold

Declining swiftly source in hand

Foundation lacking

No place to land

Ugly inside

The wrongs we do to one another

Not knowing how to shelter our brother

Letting out the ugly inside

Holding on to fear with pride

Showing shame in deeds we play

Then say have faith to the weaker creed

We divide and conquer with show of hand

In this we control all the lands

Who are we

Is the question I will ask

We toil each day with pride and greed

And with force we create Democracy

Slam

I came here once to bare my soul

Reading poetry was my goal

I was so nervous and distressed

I guess I forgot

To picture you’ll undressed

Well I pulled together

My ego and pride

And thought to myself

What the hell

I’ll give it one more try

So

I’m sorry I have to do this to you now

But I think you’ll get through it somehow

And if any of you feel the

Way that I do

Nervous and distressed

Go ahead I’m already undressed

Longest Journey

I wander in the depth of my soul – searching for the human toll – I seek – I search – far from within – to find - from where I must begin – Seeking deeper – inward on – the longest journey – from where I belong – never knowing – what I’ve lost – until - I began to count the cost – I seek and search – in hopes to find – a spirit in which – long did I bind – long ago – so not to feel – when I close my eyes  at night – my life played – on movie reel –visions unfold – only seen by me – on hidden screen – and this is where my spirit – still does dwell

People Disguise

So – I wonder what you see – when – I look at you – looking at me – Do you look through open eyes – seeing all that eyes – don’t hide – or do you see my people disguise – the one that says – I do not want to run and hide – I wonder – what it is – that’s me – and am I – what you want to see – If you look beyond the gaze – will you peer deeper – into my maze – So – it is – with games we play – the ones we think – will make others – stay – we play each other – out of fear – never knowing – which is real – the people disguise that is hiding me – you do the same – I know that’s – true – if it were not – the games – would be through – I long for the day – I can stand – naked and bare – long for the day – when people won’t care - to see only what – they want to see – the people disguise – that’s hiding me

Wordsmith

It is odd to me – words they seem – molding us – for others dreams – playing out – a worded game – so often – written – plain as day – and yet – we see – as others do – words they – are not so true – intertwining – feelings not – for face value – at surface sought – deeper binding down the soul – fitting all – into a mold – holding us – steadfast – tight - a dreamers dream – of confined delight – wishes us – into vats – molding us – with its craft – of worded games – the word smith plays – created by the mouth of us – together – we create our counter parts – trying to balance – our own heart – never seeing – what is lost – through the words – we do impart – confine as we may – dream as you must – always remembering the words you trust – for they may mean – nothing to you – always remember – to someone – they do

toleration -v- love

Oh – the beauty of all I see – through the rose colored glasses the world hands me – telling me all of my days – will be sky blue – if only – I tolerate you

Hmmmmm – is what I think of that – is it toleration or love we lack – tolerate – seems a dirty word to me – it may behoove me to tolerate the – shit – that you do – but I am called – to love – the very core of you – through spirit and joy – in all place and time – I find toleration – is the world’s game – not mine – Love is the action – we lack with one another – to truly love and – not – just tolerate our brother

Toleration – is something asked of a child – for love is a choice – a parent – makes with a smile

So it is – that children tolerate their youth – while – being under hand – learning life’s truth – but – as elder – we should love – all that we touch – so our children – will love and not just tolerate us

For if toleration – is really how – to play the game – then we play under hand – of the Ruler of the day – using words – to hold our foe at bay

Do we really think that little of him – that we not love and only tolerate with a grin

Intertwine

I know things that you don’t know

My heart can see your inner soul

When your eyes meet with mine

I can see your life thru time

I really wish it weren’t that way

‘Cause now I know you’ll never stay

My heart is stronger now you see

I know it’s you and it’s not me

She must have hurt you awful bad

To make my heart so torn and sad

Knowing that you’re gonna go

Makes me wonder does she know

Is she waiting there for you

Gazing thru your eyes of blue

Knowing things you never knew

Watching your life pass thru time

Hoping hers will intertwine

Autism Definition

“Aut” is to Self as “Ism” is to Characteristic

Is not then; Autism to be Self Characteristic

Which is to be Human

Is human not to be aware of one’s self

Is not characteristic’s that which defines us all

Shame on us, who defines the Aut-ims person as not being normal

Seems normal to me

Again, I have to ask, WHAT IS NORMAL AND WHO DEFINED THIS WORD,

THAT SHAPES HOW WE ARE VIEWED BY OTHERS?

POOY – ON YOU- Creator of boxes of self Definition

Seems selfish to me!

Have you ever been in a place (where there is so much sound) that all you can hear is the silence of the rebound?

Life on the edge of impending time
schemes of another’s ambition collide your dreams and bind
holding hostage host’s compromised ideas
twisting words of silence appeals
no words are used yet meaning defined
...no meaning is shared yet imaginings intertwine
the lying schemes of smiles with glint
tell a strangled story when the heart must relent
if not then the soul surly will die

Renunciation

Amusing how this diversion is executed

In the mind of now established faux

Twisting lines of past gone before

Creating the future on stylish lie

Crafting forging hidden scheme

With allusion twisted truth you deem

Guarding once a long held bond

Now forming charade on gilded posture

In its entire splendor retain head high

Masking the past with tongue filled pride

Once friend a foe now stands

Pretense binding tying of hands

Seeking out forked laid path

Forsaking “Right” choose deviate

“Left” renunciation is now our fate

checkmate?

The world – in which we choose to live – unwilling participants

as pawn – are played – forcing hand – of rook and knight

 changing – the world – of bishop delight

seeking out  – mastered schemes

democracy – a coalition dream

parsing words – with sword on hand  

with claims of peace - on another’s sand  

if no gain – by taking king – would we stain – with bloody dream

of conquest – from regime to regime

don’t think the plight – of common man – is most important

with oil at hand

unwilling participants – in games – that are played

by heads of state - that speak as one  – tie our hands

freedom the bait – checkmate

The Searcher

The searcher – waits – when time stands still
The searcher – abides – by another’s will
The searcher seeks – in silence – dream
To find - to hold – eluding schemes
Wandering – in and out – through days
Intertwining dream and reality – the same
Tempting fate – so - she dare not wait
Give the searcher – an awaited concrete
The searcher – nomadic in deeds unseen
Like a poet – he holds to fading imaginings
Seeking – searching – holding dreams tight
In silence – he dreams – of another’s mans plight
Never wavering – in his constant – examination
Of the heart of man – and his quest of life

A mother was made -

Disclaimer: (If anyone would like to comment to me about this poem, please do so via e-mail at mistyarizona@hotmail.com, as my personal life is very private, and although I draw from my life to write, I never reveal persons identities "and assumptions, you are right, are not very nice". I ask that you respect this, as I have respected, all that you have asked of me.) 

Something beautiful came my way – nine months later - on cold – winters day

Wrapped in linen – the world to see – the sin of love - that grew – inside of me

I labored long – and born the pain – for another woman – who would raise my seed

She who would see – this piece of me – grow and shine – from my womb – would be

She held tight – when I cried out in pain – the loss was mine – for her to gain

Little foot steps – raised far from - my sight – never knowing – my love – given not a gain

She paid her lot – I paid not the same – and gave another – my love – unselfishly – no matter the pain

Years they pass – and who’s to say – what mothers – love is – or how – it may be - kept at a far

Time does not heal – all pains you see – when one thinks – they have bought – the very core of me

If I had known – what I know today – that another felt – I beholden – because of fee – they did pay

Giving - my first love – would have been given to me – for my love holds - no cost - no fee

I have loved all - I hold near – I have never considered fee – a levy to life – giving without love – is not a fair price

So – you go on holding my love – at a cost – you go on holding her tight – at our loss

You have coveted my gift – and lied of me - I am sure – so never to lose – cause – you wanted her – yours - that she is – no one dare say not – because you have the receipt – and then you dared plot

To defile – a love - given not gained – you have distorted my love and made it pure shame

You have caused – this little one – to think badly of me – you have lied – so you may seem – that you are the better of me – and in this – she never will want – look for a love – given without gain but in agony and pain

Oh how my heart grieves – for you - not for me – for in my sin of love  – was given freely – and through your shame – of feeling less than me – you coveted my heart – and closed her away – from a mother who longs to hold her – if only just - once again

In saying this – I know it comes to mind – that I signed her away – so she is yours – not mine – for I am not the mother her – the signature is clear

So this is true and you are in the right – but don’t ever think I don’t care of her plight – I will always wonder – why she dare not look for me – and I know - now it is because thee

You lied and you twisted all that I am – so she would never dare to think she was loved even then – by a young girl – alone and afraid – who gave all that she had – and you a mother was made

calculation of life

Ancient of days – show me all - that you say - that you be

Son of man – say what you will – trillions to one – through divine prophecies

Pour out – your wisdom – from the creed – that you came

“I-shall-be that I-shall-be” – is this wisdom or sum

The calculation of life and where we came from

Or the dogma of many from a fated one

Encoded through all – time – of which - all men will ponder

The creation of life – how our minds do wonder

Yellow Daffodil

In a little wooded house, up atop hill, amongst the quail and yellow daffodil, I dream of a love pure, not tainted from the land. These hands which have toiled under sun,  making way regardless, all that has been done. A love of pure delight that turns all into one, as dawn rises from the east to the west of the setting sun.

Broken lost through time, from my heart I do speak the dreamer in my soul and of love which I do seek.

Through heat storm thundered rain, the smells of fresh renew, falling on top of holed tin roof, as the water does seep through. There is a storm, which rages inward and outward for all to see, a broken heart not known but only to me. As the rain, falls tapping on the holed tin, I look out on the wildness of all that has been done. Through harshness winds that have blow, rivers running wild, through a land of hollowed out sorrow as time pasted long before and with future not yet unlocked because my heart not dare to dream.

Here atop this hill, sitting in my wooded house, gazing through her cracked and weathered panes, I glimpse a mother quail, tending her clutch among the yellow daffodil. The smells of fresh fallen rain still linger in the air. The presents of renewal for all that dare to take, has been poured out on the land which mans toil cannot make.

It is from the heavens of our land, of the south winds that did blow, comes in a love divine, I dare and will take hold. For under brightened sun the grass does gleam with dew, the soft winds fill the air of fallen rains renew. It makes one dare to dream of future dawns not past. A sun that raises, atop a hill which no man dare try grasp.

Here within the yellow daffodil, my mind will wonder far, with visions of a weathered time that may rage onward still but with life brought by storm filled skies, rises dawns morning light and within this, my heart will take flight. Seeking out a dream of loves pure delight. Yellow daffodil are grasped as quail tend their clutch with smells of fresh spilled rain of renewal I dare touch.

Audacity!

politics – a silly people - game we play – judgment of others – with prejudice – we try to sway

great influence – is used to distort and slant – our –“in times” – which we then see – with only a stinted glace

we follow along without reason or rhyme – never checking the facts – what are our “in times” or “seasons”

like a herd of sheep – off to the slaughter – we gather in masses – with no leader – yet we follow

our masses – they gather – with cries – loud and clear – we want to follow – just make the path clear

with narrow-mindedness and preconceptions at hand – we look at our foes – with injustice – in hand

we cry out – yet we slander – all that we see – with no comprehension – that you and I make a – we

then we ask – that our leaders – make us as one – a community of peoples – with a rival - of none

those who cry loudest – will be heard – on this day – with righteous indignation – and hearts do we play

politics – this silly people – game - we do play – with the souls of others – no cares – now kept at bay

the winners in one hand – the loser – in defeat – who cares what the people think – because we follow in masses – with leaders – known not – only seen through the rose colored glasses

the glasses we choose – so not to see – because we are – followers – of the leaders - that be

never caring – and - without understanding – the slaughter is at hand – we the people – have now chosen – the lesser - of evils

the communities of people – that we say – that we are – are just sheep to slaughter – of the politics we play

all of these games – we say make us – one – really just  selfishness – when the day is done

Why?

Because we have the audacity to say that – WE WON!