I used to actually be okay.

I used to believe myself when I said I didn't care about the way I looked,

Or how much I weighed.

I used to smile at the woman in the mirror,

And be proud of the person she had become.

But one day,

I looked in the mirror too long.

I picked out every flaw with my body.

Every pimple, every scar, every imperfection.

I made myself feel worthless.

I sat there for hours,

Crying,

Drowning in self inflicted hatred.

For the first time in a long time,

I stopped lying to myself.

Backwards swirled time and tide

As the dust and cobwebs flew

To show the green and orange inside

With rusted tent pegs trying to hide

Ashamed they're no longer new.

How can three decades seem

So near and crisp and true

Sharper than a razor's gleam

Closer than last night's dream

Fresher than the morning dew?

Some memories don't grow cold

Shuffling back to 85 or 86

When we ran the flag up the pole

Never thought of growing old

And sometimes took a risk.

The tales the old tent has seen

Are woven now in family myth

When fields were emerald green

And we went playing in the rain

Knowing all possibilities exist.

Now we unfold the tent again

And watch the apex grow

The worn flysheet's sturdy mend

Will surely last a year or ten

As it searches for new heroes.

The hardest thing I have had to do is tell someone that I love the truth.

And not because it was the truth but because I know it was going to hurt.

These things are not easy for me to do, but they have to be done.

But I ask myself this one question a lot - "Who the fuck are you?"

Who am I to be saying these things?  I am not the font of fucking knowledge but 

...when I see things that I believe are not right.  I open my mouth and I express concern or express what I am feeling.

Be it wrong or right, many a family member has cried because I have done this.

After I ask my self the question above, I ask - "Why is it always me that has to do this?"

I will bitch about it for a while...a LONG WHILE...but I end up doing it anyway.

I am no boy-scout,  I'm just a guy with love and integrity for his family.  And sometimes,

life isn't fair, or a path someone is on doesn't look right from my perspective so I just simply say - "have you thought of this situation this way?"  "Does this seem right to you?"  "the easiest person to lie to is yourself, is that what this is?"

These are hard questions to ask family members, but sometimes they need to be asked.  Sometimes, I get a "fuck you"  sometimes I get an "OK, well did you know this"  and I say OK  but then they go and think about it for a while and then, comes the inevitable - "Maybe you are right"  I don't want to be right, I want you to THINK about WHAT you are DOING that doesn't fuck up your life.

And with my nieces that are in their late teens and twenties - They can fuck up a lot.

I don't know if this is my own confessional - I just know I needed an outlet because I heard a niece cry this morning after another conversation...and it is unbearable to hear but I needed to make sure they were OK.  What do I know - but hard questions needed to be asked.   

And asked they were...

Feminine, mysterious - constant change

I find strange; quite curious.

Oh spectral moon, why haunt me thus?

Nighttime sky is your domain - come what may,

day by day, you wax and wane;

your monthly cycle's quite insane.

Like the ocean’s ebb and flow - empty, full,

pushing, pulling, to and fro;

so do my lover’s passions go.

Moon, you’ll stay unknown, I guess - pale and cold,

truth be told, I must confess,

I understand my lover less.

© 2017 - dustygrein

** The englyn penfyr has become one of my favorite poetic forms now. I hope you enjoy it's off-balance rhymes and unique syllabic flow.

Tequila...

Margarita's tonight.

The smell burns my nose, He says it burns his throat.

Shake. Shake. Shake.

I run and hide.

Close my eyes tight. 

Maybe he won't find me.

Maybe I'll be safe tonight.

Too many margarita's.

Too many times.

I leave and start new.

Whiskey.

Bourbon and Scotch.

The smoky scent

Reminds me of campfire

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Swirl it around the rocks.

They tumble like boulders.

Like we do into bed.

Tender, but strong.

No need for sweet mixes

To cover the flavors.

No need for facades.

Or masks in public.

Whiskey is as pure as love.

Sitting still so some solitude settles, Salome speaks.

"Stay."

Susannah swallows some Syrah. "Sorry?"

"Stay," says Salome softly.

"Supper’s soon," Susannah says.

"So?"

"Suppose Samuel stumbles..."

"Silly," Salome soothes. 

"Sex surprises some spouses, ’specially since Samuel suspects…"

"Samuel suspects some standard, sultry situation," Salome says sternly.

"Surely..." Susannah starts.

Salome stops speech — soft shapes strategically stroked, sweetly smothering Susannah’s solicitude.

Subsequently, Susannah succumbs. Salome smiles smugly, stroking Susannah’s supple sun-striped silver skin.

"Samuel," Susannah sighs suddenly.

Salome stills. "Samuel?"

Susannah stirs, satisfaction spoiled.

"Samuel?" Salome sibilates.

"Salome," Susannah says.

Salome’s secret sphere shatters. Samuel sullies something special.

Simple solution, Salome supposes.

***

Samuel scales stairs, stops -- something serious, something suspicious, something sinister...

***

"Something," says Sergeant Simmons.

"Senseless slaughter," says Sister Sarah somberly.

"Stabbed," Sergeant Simmons says, studying Samuel's stiff.

Sister Sarah sighs sadly. "Slaughter sprouts such sorrows."

"Simply sinister," says Salome, slyly. "So surprisingly savage."

"Sinful," says Sister Sarah.

"Suspicious," says Sergeant Simmons, studying Salome.

"Sad," Salome says simply.

Simmons suspects Salome’s suffering’s spurious. Salome simulates sobbing, seeks Sister Sarah’s sympathetic support.

Simmons supposes sinners slip sometime: strategically scrutinizing stories starts spilling secrets sinners safeguard.

Simmons sits. Salome’ll slip soon. Simmons’s stoic.

***

Simply sinister, Salome’d said. So surprisingly savage.

Simmons sees Susannah spread -- silent.

"Strychnine?" says Sergeant Simmons.

"Strychnine," says Stephen. "Swallowed."

"Symptoms?"

"Spasms, seizures. Slightest stimulus strengthens spasms," Stephen says, scrubbing scalpels, slab. "Suffocation stops sentience."

"Standard substance?"

"Scarcely," says Stephen.

"Strange," says Simmons.

Stephen stops. "Servants," Stephen says, "sometimes snuff squirrels. Strychnine’s simple — standard solution."

Simply sinister, Salome’d said. So surprisingly savage.

Spasms, seizures, suffocation. Simmons sits, significant specifics silently spurring succeeding steps. Salome’s sinful, sordidly slaughtering Samuel, Samuel’s Susannah. 

Salome’s sin’s surfacing — soon Simmons’ll seize Susannah’s sinner.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

That last line always get me. In a world of poetry full of pessimists, it's nice to find a poem with such hope and triumph in it. I wish I could find more poems like this one. 

You know I thought this would be easy

Go through school

Maybe travel and live on my own

Find someone who loves me

Settle down and have a family

But life takes a whole lot more

Than just four steps

I didn't know about step number thirteen

Where you have to learn to be comfortable

In your own skin

And not worry about

Fat or thin

I wasn't aware of step number seven

Where people won't always care

About what you want

And tears won't always stop

Their hurtful taunts

How could I have foreseen

Step number fifteen

Where I have to go through

Unspeakable grief

When my mother

Is taken away from me

There are so many steps

And still more to come

I am tired of trying

To swim upstream

I am tired of trying

To fight a losing battle

But then again

What is life really

Without a little resistance

Mixed in with our bleak existence

I recently read portions of Gloria Anzaldúa’s book, “Borderlands,” published in 1987. I understand her work as an exploration of self discovery were she defines herself based on choices she felt she had to make, placed on her by her environment. These choices encompass social, territorial and spiritual aspects of life that create divides, or borders between different groups of people. According to Anzaldúa, I would be part of the dominant culture that puts pressure on other cultures to conform to the greater whole because I am white. It’s funny,— I never thought of myself in the terms of being part of the dominant culture. You see,— throughout my life I have always felt I was an outsider, accepted by only a few.

I do believe social pressures placed on us have a bearing on who we are as individuals. I have experienced this through peer pressure throughout my life, yet I view them more as crossroads or choices we make in life when we make our decisions to conform or not to conform. “And there in front of us is the crossroads and choice: to feel a victim where someone else is in control... Or to feel strong, and, for the most part, in control (Anzaldúa 43).” 

The outcome of a choice may create a border between others; but who I am is more involved than pressures placed on me by the social order.

I believe as people we are in a constant state of change, physically, mentally and emotionally based on adaptation to outside stimuli until our death. This outside stimuli comes in many forms, and the choices made based on this stimuli help in defining me as a person; but here’s the dilemma. Am I the same person I was thirty years ago? Ten years ago? Last week? My pattern of thinking has evolved with time. The way I feel about things has changed. The things we experience and the knowledge we acquire, all have a bearing in defining us at any one point in time; yet these forces also work in conjunction with our cognitive make-up as a continuing resource that shape us throughout our lives based on our knowledge, choices and decisions.

Have we become stagnant in our understanding? Do we believe one plus one always equals two? Or do we understand the reality that one plus one can also equal three point nine reaching out to infinity? In other words, there are infinite possibilities if we can only open our minds to those possibilities. Are there only absolutes? Think of math, a tool to define the world around us. With PI we can define a circle, or a ring’s circumference. But the tool we use to define that circle or that ring, in size, is in reality is a number without a decimal ending point. We must modify PI by rounding it to a workable decimal place if we are to execute the equation to find the circumference because the tool for calculating the answer is never ending. There is a need to simplify, but sometimes there are no simple answers. So the question must be modified, who am I at this point in time? 

I believe as people we are in a constant state of change, both physically and mentally, based on adaptation to outside stimuli until our death. This outside stimuli comes in many forms, and these choices, placed before me can serve as barriers or crossroad in my continuing growth as an individual or in my relations with others depending on my decision.

In dealing with others the decision I make may present itself as a border in dealing with a group of people or that individual person. Do I cast the group or individual off because the border seems impenetrable? Do I acquiesce to the border and try to bridge the barrier with reason, or do I deem the border as a wall in which my integrity as an individual is the issue and the group can’t hear my position. Do I give up, because no one will hear anyway? 

  What I decide may help in defining me as a person; but here’s another dilemma. Can we become stuck or stagnant in our thinking: believing one plus one can only equal two? This type of thinking prevents growth.

Consider the development of science, technology, invention: To advance it was necessary for individuals to build on the groundwork done by predecessors and then move it to the next level. It is necessary to constantly test and retest, experiment and question; without this effort, there can be no progress. But often as individuals, we have no desire to question. We get to a place where we feel comfortable and then we rest. We all need sleep, but there would be a problem if we never got up. However, sometimes that’s what we might do in the realm of who we are for a time. We get to a place that’s comfortable and have no desire to move out of our comfort-zone. We go through life in the small comfort-zone environment and then begin to sleep mentally in our routine of life. 

Our very existence pushes us in this direction because of the time necessary to devote to the very basics of human survival: food, shelter, and clothing. But we need to move out of this comfort-zone if we are to continue as a species. Without questioning the issues that arise, facing the borders that divide us, working through the obstacles in front of us we become as stagnate as standing water and will eventually just dry up.

Where would we be as the human family if our ancient ancestors never questioned their environment? Probably not much different than other primates we share this planet with. Early man used their cognitive abilities to move forward. What defines us as people is our progressive use of knowledge. This quest for knowledge is what makes us as the human family unique and what makes each one of us a unique individual. No one’s experiences in life are exactly the same. Events might be similar yet how we view events are different based on our knowledge and experience. 

The problem is we are not born with a collective consciousness. We must start from scratch when born and begin the slow and arduous learning process. Our first experience with learning begins with those who raise us. From there we branch out in our social experience. Because of the vast amount of accumulated knowledge and our limited life span, we are placed in yet another dilemma: how will I focus my learning? 

Most of us pick a field of study in order to fulfill our basic needs of food, shelter, and clothing. However, like other primates we are also social creatures. This means, how others view us has a bearing on who we are as an individual. Therefore, does my career chosen to provide me with food, shelter and clothing define me within the social realm of my existence? I would have to say no. That is only a small part of who I am. I may have worked as a machine tool builder and others may know me as such, but is that all I am? I may have written novels, or created works of art, but is that the only aspect of my life that has meaning? 

As a person I believe I have a physical, social, mental and spiritual side. These are the aspects that define me. Most would probably agree as people we have physical, social, and mental aspects that make each one of us a whole person. The spiritual is an aspect that not all would agree is relevant. Will this be a border that divides me from others? Will I be given the opportunity to reason on this matter, communicate my view, or is the wall impenetrable? Inwardly I want to reach out to others and explain my reasoning, but I know this border exists and is very real. But my nature pushes me forward to try even though I know the wall is a fortress. But I will attempt the breach, because that is who I am.

My road regarding my view of a creator began within the Christian realm through the introduction of religion by my parents. The neighborhood I grew up in was diverse and my parents allowed me to experience different Christian religions attending the various churches with my friends. I babysat for neighbors practicing a form of Buddhism, but alas, that was the limit to my pool of resources regarding religion at the time. I was taught that religion is a place where you learn about God. From a very early age I was a Bible reader. Didn’t understand a lot, but I was taught it was important. If you want to learn about anything, it is necessary for you to seek out those with more knowledge than yourself and draw from their experience. This is what we do when we go to school; we turn to teachers and instructors. When we apprentice under a master, or turn to the craftsman, we are on a quest for knowledge to expand our understanding. As we attend a religion, listen, read and experience we are on this search to grow as an individual. But as I got older I began to question things being taught in the various religions with what I was reading in the Bible. These were the beginnings of borders forming in my life and these differences in views are the borders dividing different religions. We all must start somewhere, the question is, what do we do with the knowledge we have? Do we allow them to continue to divide us? Can we come together communicatively accepting difference? My logical side says, “This is possible;” but experience dictates communication will become mere babble.

This confusion of understanding, — regarding what was being taught within various religions, — started me questioning the validity of the whole concept of spirituality: the beginning of a border. “I allowed the white rationality to tell me that the existence of the other world was mere pagan superstition (Anzaldúa 58).”

But then, —— I have to ask, — is this all there is? Do we live a few years and then die and nothing more? Is the thought of a creator an empty creation by man born out of desperation? Ultimately, when I look up at the night sky and contemplate how vast it is, I realize I am nothing in the scheme of things. When I see the beauty, and diversity of the world around me, knowing that everything comes from something, I know all things had to have a beginning.

Here is what I do know: nothing creates itself. What I see is intelligent design and this compels me to believe in a creator. How I would choose to define that creator is a continuing journey and the road is long. How could I stop in my search for knowledge? Progress involves taking the known and building on it. It involves seeking those with knowledge, acquiring, using, sifting and refining in a continuous forward progression. My quest for knowledge on this topic was far from over.

Falling back on my roots, my Christian oriented upbringing, I turned to a Christian faith to continue my quest for knowledge; because there is a vast pool of knowledge to draw from. I will not disclose the specifics; because if I do, I know a border will appear and this discussion of who I am will end here with others of different Christian faiths. In terming my choice as a Christian faith I have established borders with those of other faiths and atheists, but I can only hope to bridge the barrier with reasoning and hopefully those on the other side of the border can come to a greater understanding of who I am as an individual and accept me as such.

As my scope of learning continued I became a teacher within the realms of the faith trying to pass on what I had learned to others about the creator that I still view as real. For over thirty years I read, studied, talked to others, taught until I came under attack by others in the faith over a border growing over a personal choice. My mustache offended some. Don’t get me wrong, there was a building culmination of issues people took over many of my small, but personal choices, but they seemed to come to a head regarding my mustache. I was pressured to shave it.

Fundamentally this seems a small border, but to me ideologically it stands at the very foundation of what divides us as people: — the inability to accept another and the willingness to judge and condemn them over a personal choice that in reality hurts no one else. These borders that are put in place by man’s thinking: are they not — a small taste of the issues that continue to divide us? Is this not — one of the major problems within society: our inability to communicate with each other over the important and the mundane in order to live together? 

If I were to simply shave off the mustache, would this not reinforce the rights of others to determine rules to judge others? Would I,— by continuing to reinforce this erroneous thinking be part of the problem? Under the Christian faith judgment is based on heart condition not rules. According to Ezekiel 3:17-21 if I see a “righteous one” taking a false step I’m required to try and help the person to see a better course. Does that mean I force them to comply with my view of right and wrong? I don’t believe so. Unfortunately, I believe many of us become stagnant in or thinking because of our comfort-zone.

Do we view the Bible as a rule book that defines God’s views of right and wrong, or do we understand it as “inspired” and as a learning tool to inspire us to learn from the past, — to grow to a greater understanding of our creator and who we are as a people? The Bible is a book about a work in progress, — and that work is the human family. Can we hear the messages that unfold within its pages or do we only focus on the literal? Do the stories Jesus related regarding the prodigal son, the rich man and Lazarus, the rich merchant, have to be about real people to have meaning? The messages are what are truly important; and all people, no matter who we are, can learn from these messages.

I read the account in Genesis chapter 11 about the confusion of language and what I understand as one of the key messages: the inability of people to communicate. Is it language alone that causes this division? That may be how the writer in the Genesis account chose to convey the message. But consider, — how united are we as a people here in the United States even among those of us that speak English as our mother tongue? Our inability to communicate and understand each other is the wedge that drives us apart: the border that separates us.

When I came under attack over my mustache there was a distinct border coming into focus between me and others. The pressure under the divide continued to mount. The reasoning was not the mustache itself, but the underlining issue of stumbling others. Finally it was determined to present the information to the highest decision makers within the religious arrangement that I am a member of. I agreed it would be the best thing to do and I would abide by the judgment rendered. I submitted a six page essay doing my best to communicate the misunderstanding regarding the conscious matter, personal choice and stumbling others.

In the judgment rendered from the authority my letter was mentioned in number of pages only. No points of reasoning from my letter were discussed. I can only assume it was not read. The issue of stumbling was the focus and a person unwilling to conform to resolve the ill-will would be considered an insolent, self-serving man. Because the whole issue revolved around my qualifications to be use as a teacher; and as an insolent, self-serving man lacks the proper qualifications; I could only understand this to mean I was unworthy to teach. I accepted the judgment as I agreed to do according to the judgment of the authority. I humbly and quietly removed myself from my teaching position. 

To say I was saddened by these circumstances is an understatement. “Many times…[he] wished to speak, to act, to protest, to challenge. The odds were heavily against… (Anzaldúa 45).”

Were further borders created by my choice? People I viewed as brothers and sisters for a huge part of my life want little to do with me. I am an outcast from the social group that represented the biggest part of my social experience for the better part of my life. But the question comes to mind; — would I do anything different knowing what I know now? According to Ezekiel 3:17-21 I did my best to help one’s understand the misunderstanding regarding the teaching of stumbling. 

I fulfilled this obligation and responsibility even though I failed in the endeavor to communicate. But, much of what I have learn about my creator can be credited to this religious source of education and I am grateful for this education and would not want to hinder anyone else from learning from this valuable resource. In fact, I would encourage one‘s not to be hindered by my experience and learn what you can. Do I feel my relationship with my creator has been hindered? It is stronger than ever! Did this border define me as a person? It was simply a choice. It was a crossroad in my life, but I do not regret the course taken. What truly saddens me is that we as the human family continue to stumble with the borders that divide us and our inability to communicate with one another. I believe our inability to communicate is the ultimate border that divides us: — the human family.

Cited Works

Anzaldúa, Gloria. Borderlands = La Frontera. San Francisco: Aunt Lute, 1999. Print.

I feel compelled to write today

It's more than just a whim

There is so much I have to say

To not would be a sin

Please let me find the words I need

Like flowers growing, not the weed

Please let me find

Please let me find

The life to focus in this seed

I feel compelled to write today

The troubles I must bear

To show others the path - the way

And not give them a scare

Such beauty I want to impart

I know I must make a good start

Such beauty I

Such beauty I

Wish to show from all of my heart

I feel compelled to write today

To grow the world anew

The words in gardens lush do lay

I'll show them all to you

For you have been the steadfast one

Who frolics and plays in the sun

For you have been

For you have been

The one I love, the only one

#poetry #love #words #TrijanRefrain