Silence of the Mountain
It came undone,
Then, there were none,
Save one,
Me.
Sitting, on a silent peak,
Reaching for the stars,
Asking for heaven's guidance,
And advice for all of man.
The wind it blew,
A mighty howl,
Fiercely tossing me side to side,
Yet I waited, undeterred, for the smallest of signs.
From flowers blooming,
To leaves dying,
I counted the years flitter by,
Until, no longer could I listen to the silence of the skies.
I screamed,
I shouted,
Until my voice gave way,
Only quietness gave me a reply.
I ran away,
From that place,
Defeated,
Tears now in my eyes.
Into the world,
Of man, I found myself,
Wishing,
For the silence, on the hill.
Yet, there was no returning,
For it was pillaged,
By the greedy hand,
Of man.
What was it all for?
What follows is my thoughts/rumination about why I get suicidal urges and depression that won't go away for the last 8 years.
What was it all for? Why did my generation give up 15 years of our lives in wars that accomplished nothing? I live in constant pain and I can’t remember the last time I slept well without medication. I walk around permanently angry at the world. I missed so many holidays and birthdays with my family, that I am surprised I still have a family.
I am a generation X kid. We were raised in the 80s and 90s. We knew who the bad guys were when we were growing up. Democracy was good and Communism was bad. After 15 years of war and more deployments than I want to remember, the only thing that I am sure of is that the problem with Iraq and Afghanistan is that we were there. You can’t convert people to democracy if you give it to them with the heel of your boot.
Our generals FAILED us, our senior leaders had no idea how to fight this war, and the casualties just continued to climb. We soldiers were stuck with the garbage leadership that didn’t leave the Army under Bill Clinton. The Army offered big money for people to get out early in the early 90’s. The smart ones took it and ran. The crap that was left over stayed on active duty and became our senior leadership that thought the best way to pacify a nation was to kick in their doors and search their houses. How’d that work out dickhead?
We lost more people in Iraq than on 9/11 and no one has ever been able to show me why we were there in the first place. We demolished Afghanistan looking for bin Laden and then found him in another country that was supposed to be our ally.
What did my brothers die for? What are they still dying for? We have 22 suicides a day and climbing, because no one cares. America doesn’t care about us and most veterans know it. The Republican party has fought time and again to get rid of Obamacare, but they have no problem with the VA allowing vets to die from neglect. The Democrats want us to go to war with no money for training or equipment and just figure it out once we are there. There is no political party that is good for the soldier.
As I approach the twilight of my career, I look around at all that I have done for my entire adult life and realize that I wasted my life for a cause that I can’t even define. You want to know how veterans get to suicide? We can’t fit into this society because of the war, and we don’t know why we went to war in the first place.
One cup of tea at 8pm
The clock struck
midnight.
Wide awake.
Chemicals
rabble rousing.
Crank.
Crank.
Crank.
Wind me up.
An old alarm clock
ticking.
I need pitch.
Grey matter itching.
My pores are
a billion tiny eyes,
soaking in each
stitch of
wayward light.
Street lamps.
The tiny red ember
of the space heater.
White moon.
I am a rooster
at the ready.
Limbs curled like
spaghetti.
Mouth dropped
open.
Throat full of bells.
I could wake hell.
Bird Sounds
A large
dark bird
torn apart
in the middle
of the road.
I think of the
sinewy parts
of chicken wings.
Dead flesh.
Of how it must feel
to have feathers
embedded in
epidermis.
So stupid.
Kept awake by
bird sounds.
Most days,
things are silver.
Gunmetal.
Pallid.
My leaves fall off
with the season.
I am hard,
skinny branches
thwacking together
and beating against
a window
in the night.
Chewing the skin
from my lips.
I am dead swamp grass.
Dry.
Rustling.
I am a husk.
Itching from
the lack of moisture.
Frigid.
Frozen and slow.
Lonesome.
I am overcome
by the noise.
Overstimulated.
Speech in my skull.
A slumgullion of
CAPITAL LETTERS.
A vernacular
of oversensitivity.
A clitoris chafing
against tight fabric.
Provoked to
agitation.
When I look down,
I see my shirt
is a different color
than I imagined.
I've been too consumed
to look at myself.
The talons of anxiety
have exposed my innards.
A bloody inflection.
So much lost
that my limbs tingle.
Exposed to tiny terrors.
I can see the allure
of walking into a river.
The gentle splashing
as my feet
part the current.
Maybe, the Allegheny.
The Ohio.
My pockets full of rocks.
Weights on my ankles.
Not succumbing.
Not selfish.
Just seeking silence.
A need to be nothing.
To unfeel.
But, existence
is polyphonic.
We carry
the love of others
like burs.
Like a bird eats seeds
and shits them
someplace else.
We are never isolated.
I dream of numb,
but in the morning
I just go to work.
To Stay or Go
An endless war ravages the streets
Surrounded by enemies
We will find no safety
Nor peace
Yet it's dangerous to flee
Over deserts and through the seas
Pack our families
It's time to leave
There is no place we can go
Unwanted
Abandoned
Starving
Begging
Paying with endless tears
Calloused feet and empty hope
Blood stains our weeping hearts
We made it here
Now we're shunned
Death stalks us
A shadow always near
Slowly constraining our breath
As the world turns their head
Shrugs their shoulders
Walks away
Another's problem
Just go home
We would love too
But there's no place
Left to go
How Can We Cure Love?
In the absence of love
There is a void left
In the middle of the chest
And its filled with bitter tears
I hear my grandma say
Drink chamomile tea
Sniff some mint
And rub alcohol infused with marijuana
I can still feel the lively red
Of pulsing flesh
That this sentiment
Scratched upon my back and chest
I hear the nahual say
Dance under a full moon
Drink the blood of a goat
Burn peyote and let the fumes purify you
I can still sense the burn
On my heart
This love doesn't talk anymore
Only stares at me growling and hissing
I hear the witch say
Bring me graveyard soil
Bring me black wax
Bring me raindrops
And lit the candle I'll make from those
The bright flames only make its shadow bigger
The fire makes it boil with wrath
I'm almost only bone
And he's about to drink my last drop of blood
And there I am laying down on the ground
Hopeless and irritated while blood leaves my body
Injured and almost dead with my open vivid flesh
I'm about to go to slumber when I hear the last person say...
Get up...
Let me stitch those wounds of yours up
Let me oint those scars with caresses
Let me soothe such sore heart with requited love
Get up...
Let me revive you with your first kiss...
DA 2015
“This Is Mind Control To Inner Soul”
You're pretty and you know it
using those glassy eyes to tame -
my heart's suckered 'n you know it,
post-sex love purely (surely?) to blame
my mind melts as I grow weak at the knees
your gaze flitting from sultry to predatory -
blood gushes, adrenalin flushes
sweat dripping upon my skin lust-crazy, expectedly
oh I'll burn these nervy butterflies
with this blistering searing fury,
argh, stop this Pretence girl
'cause it's just starting to bore me -
[Mind Control to Inner Soul;
"what's your status?"
Inner Soul to Mind Control;
"help! The guts are dead and the heart is fractured!!!"]
my body slowly dying, polluted sick
with the caustic affection you instil
"WARNING; cytoplasmic deterioration imminent -
extreme psycho-bitch overkill!"
for now I know I must give up the chase
the Neurones have received a final transmission (oh please no, it can't be);
"This is .. Inner Soul to Mind Control..
we're all so tired.. so tired .. so .. sleepy - - -"