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to sleep
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Aug 22, 2009 11:16 pm
477 Views
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There will be time later
for God
when I am childless
not sleeping in this bed with you not weeping
when I can explain.
It wasn't you
who made me heathen, breathless.
I am cheating death
or maybe giving out
each
one
by
one
a
reckless
clue.
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15
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Tex8can
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Aug 12, 2009 7:15 pm
471 Views
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How can I be your friend?
Want to read you 
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6
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That's it
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Aug 8, 2009 2:06 pm
525 Views
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She walked into the bar without even thinking. For the 5,000th time. She didn't care if anyone would be there to talk to, in fact she hoped with deep fervor, that for once no one would. Just the beer, please, the stool, the song or two she could afford...and the peering lights.
"Bud draft." The bartender was hers for a $1.50 and maybe a tip. All of the minute and half it took him - she owned the right. To a bud.
The only problem ever was where to look. Why leave home at all, save to escape the sameness of being alone? But, wait, here were the same pasted stickers, same sad and sagging faces, same plastic and not even the vinyl looked cringed any differently than the night before. Where to look, indeed.
All I need is a nice girl who doesn't mind cleaning up vomit.
And she can't even recall from day to day the exact wording - how many trips to this godforsaken pub will there have to be to remember that one line, so simple and engraved upon her mind?
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9
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Can we go home?
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Aug 6, 2009 4:21 pm
476 Views
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He was one of those inconsequential humans that appear in grey undertones on the horizon of your eyes. It never even occurs to look directly at them, yet there they are. There he was. Sitting not two feet from me, poolside, watching while the children swam.
"What're you reading?"
"Getting the Girl, by Marcus Zusak," reluctantly I edged from the page.
"I'm writing a book, about my life." There was something disturbingly feminine about this squat little mustached man, disturbing enough for me to remain uncertain as to whether s/he really just needed a good depilatory cream. "Wrote 100 pages last night and my hand is all cramped up. I hope to get to about 500 pages - then, when I see you again, I'll give you a copy - for free, autograph it even for ya."
I'd lost my character. I couldn't look away from this person, this man of a million words who wouldn't stop talking, who argued with me or agreed with everything I didn't say. From books, to free hotdogs at his new stand, to taxes, to jobs.
Mouth smiling, my eyes drifted fruitlessly back to my book. How rude was it in me to be? My hair swam toward the pages, stretching to hide my full grimace.
"I just love to meet new people. Just had surgery...the scar's doing pretty well. Glue. What do you think?" And, right then as he lifted his shirt and his extra stomach flapped out, my thoughts screamed - I don't love to meet new people... why is it ok for you to keep talking to me? and I looked so pointedly back at my book he finally understood.
"Oh, hope I didn't gross you out." Pause. "Are you married?"
A beat of pretending I didn't hear, and then a sidewards nod. I searched for my place. I'd left them at the top of a tall building, praying and kissing. But just as soon as I found them, I felt a cold drip on my shoulder. Three cold drips.
"Can we go home now, Mary?"
I thought they'd never ask.
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2
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found this
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Aug 3, 2009 11:48 am
535 Views
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in my old journal.
Date: 3/6/1994
Not a lot of space to write, but time.
I can't find my paper.
No did you hear about the gunshy warrior who never fell in love. Same song - sunny but not too sure you heard from all the women.
"Hey girl - what you doin' in der - bet ya...," couldn't just go in there, thinking. But, I sure made this tape for you, and I mailed it. Nothing you probably hear is true, 'cept when you assured
I love you.
Moral - don't read your diaries until you're good.
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8
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.
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Jul 17, 2009 6:53 pm
654 Views
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I am a disagreeable child.
Always have been.
Always will be.
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12
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Off to...
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Jul 6, 2009 2:48 pm
687 Views
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Disney World with my daughter and then south.
Have fun!
We are currently bonkers
with enthusiasm
in case you were wondering.
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9
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I did it!!!
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Jul 1, 2009 5:44 pm
732 Views
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Two years ago, I set a goal of submitting a poem or two to a literary magazine. Well...I've just done it. Just now. Mind, it's an electronic journal...but, what the heck. I've got to start somewhere.
Below are the two poems I submitted.
The Bee-keeper
It wasn’t very much fun
out last night. Posing
as a bee-keeper
wasn't the thrill
for which I’d hoped.
My book framed me -
with the solitude of wine
and solace
of reading forward.
And I ruined it,
no resistance
to the dance
or the trade
for sweet funk
and blues.
But, as always
the night fell under
as drones excused
themselves
like words
flailing in an iambic colony.
I left early.
Home by mid-chapter
and restless to feed
the hive.
Solitary Un-regret
I am suddenly not afraid of growing old
alone. Each time is the last
and I do not mind to see your smile
or the crook of your eyes
as they wander into mine.
There are years to thread
and walk in solitary un-regret.
This night (this now) reveals
what I've kept hidden from myself:
that I am not half-read
and time is not my only option.
Surely I will sag into decades
of misuse, lines like echoes
repeating my mistakes.
But only in the daylight
will you see them, so cleverly
are they disguised,
so heavenly was my youth.
We shall see!
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19
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Just found
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Jun 26, 2009 9:23 pm
720 Views
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Hey, I just found this poem I wrote two years ago and I've not shared it here, or anywhere else.
It surprised me!
I am out at the bar
and surround myself
with the book I am reading,
but too soon I am hemmed-in
by the blah-blah of idea-voices
and I can't win...
I am cheating each page
with an empty look.
My eyes meet upward once,
an obligation.
Still
I am an icon.
My glare intent
and lashed
to the barroom air.
I cannot ease into this conversation.
So
I begin to write aloud:
“bury me, please.”
I reach for a beer.
And now
that burial arrangements
have been made,
I demand:
“do not stand graveside."
I have pre-paid for this
private demise.
My ashes
are like introductions
printed
on a stranger’s hand.
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11
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You need to know this
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Jun 20, 2009 1:42 pm
747 Views
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Here are some other tidbits of information about the Twelve Tribes - a very young (circa 1972), very intolerant religious cult.
The Twelve Tribes is a fundamentalist, millennialist Christian religion in which followers give up all personal possessions and prepare for the biblical apocalypse in emulation of the first Christians described in the Book of Acts. Leader Gene Spriggs preaches homophobia, racism, and most disturbing, severe corporal punishment for children.
Their children are home schooled, work in factories, and cease their education at a very young age. They are not allowed to graduate from high school. Children are not allowed to pretend play. They are beaten regularly for any infraction of the rules.
Members are frequently denied medical care. It is believed that children are denied medical care so that health care professionals will not see their bruises.
According to the Ithancans Opposed to the Twelve Tribes website, "On them [the children] all their hopes depend since in a generation or two they must produce 144,000 pure and virginal boys to be the bride of the Messiah as described in the Book of Revelation."
To date, there are between 3,000 and 4,000 members.
Leader Gene Spriggs is the final word on everything.
Sheep work for the shepherds. Ironically, while the religion supports communal living and shared property, shepherds are allowed to own nice cars, houses, etc, while sheep do not own any property.
Marriage is allowed only upon approval of tribe leaders.
Mind control is used to manipulate and brainwash members. To new recruits, the Twelve Tribes look like a hippie, new age movement. The tribe often recruits young 20-somethings at rock concerts. Non tribe family members seek to kidnap and de-program their loved ones.
Folks, this is a cult and not a very nice one. I had a long talk with my daughter today. While we are a tolerant, loving family, we will never tolerate those who seek to deny other people's civil rights or those who harm children. The problem is that these people find tolerance under the guise of their religion - and while I have no problem with their beliefs, it is the practice of those beliefs which is unlawful and immoral.
How is this happening?
Where are the advocates for these children?
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14
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