I can only image how ordinary it must have felt for you getting on the phone with me,
but honestly both times I have spoken to you on the phone at work release- and now here-
have been nostalgic,
like a loose grip on a past that I remember vaguely by the vibrations strumming your vocal chords
and the familiar energy travelling the frequencies of your sound waves
images take shape,
and all isn’t completely idealism and abstract
how far I’ve gotten away from my past, that I can barely remember a friend of so many years-
from so many years back-
whom lived right across the street from my best friend?
it’s like where did you go…or I actually??
it’s poignantly symbolic of the very childhood I have lost to chaotic and traumatic memories,
memories I couldn’t have escaped a second too soon,
although I dream of visiting the memories to unearth a self
that burrowed itself to survive and protect itself from implosion,
but it took with it vital memories,
causes,
reasons,
and people of importance
and to have a tighter grip on where I’m going,
I need to also tighten that grip on where I have been
and although I detest the slowness of steps-
feeling more alive, in control, guarded, safe, and unphased by the speed of immediacy, impulsiveness and spontaneity-
because in the life I have been fortunate or unfortunate to have to have lived, each moment is special and equally up for grabs
because the next isn’t promised,
and rarely ventured with any serious contemplation,
survival and coping, being the preordainment of my existence more than anything else
yet, I have to admit that details get lost in the blur and velocity of things,
but I find more of myself in the piece by piece processes-
like a phone call with you-
and the loose grip that begins to tighten on who I was,
where that was,
how and why I was
and who and what helped shaped those lost facts
to you,
it may be more than just a phone call,
but to me it is the chance at a more whole and healed life,
combining the two forces of yesterday and tomorrow into the now,
all in just a call-which was more like a conjuring forth of the unnamable things forgotten that are equally important pieces to the jigsaw of my fractured memory-
in prison,
what was-is fantasy,
what can be-is imagination
and what is-is a blur
and as the focus comes in and out,
there are sharp corners and objects flying your way
and each moment is constantly spent bracing, not embracing…
if you understand that, then you understand trauma,
and that is all that needs to be said of it,
it has a language and knowing of its own that words do no justice to
but to call it out for what it is,
because the claws of trauma tend to tighten its grip on you
molding who you believe yourself to be,
or to have been,
and still long to become
so with all that said, thank you for picking up…
it picked me up
no one understands how much answering the phone does for people here
it’s those physical things like pictures and voices that connect us to freedom
Trauma
If You Saw What I See
change is all around us
but we refuse it
you refuse me
you refuse us
and I confess
I am concussed
but it’s only because I have seen
and felt so much
I fear next a possible loss of touch
but if I’m not asking too much
can you cleanse yourself of patience
and enter courageous into my rush
and tell me, if time changes
and the directions of focus changes
if I lend you my eyes, and upon receiving them back
could you do the impossible, and embrace your mind’s change
Chaotic Haiku
made for suffering
Murphy’s-Entropy I am
jade, my condition
Through Me, to You, and back/ You Two, Plus Me, Equals Three
I was
always there
helping you
just look
I was
always there
shedding light
just look
through me
you saw
what not
and also
what to
do so
there was
never darkness
even in
my absence
even in
my mistakes
I showed
you right
from wrong
with rights
and wrongs
I may
have been
lost to
sight but
I never
left you
blind.
Now
I
need
your
guidance,
because
I
want
to
make
it
back
to
you,
to
experience
what
you
have
learned.
Help.
Me.
I took what
I never wanted
you to feel
and felt it
myself alone for
you, though you
hurt still but
life hurts still.
I became the
worst I could
so you could
see what not
to be to
be the best
that you could.
the things we
inherit with the
things we defy
become the things
that define us.
In that great
in between you
find balance and
harmony so you
can finally know
who you are
and what you
can also become.
This Moment, Next
AHHHhhhhhh!
AHHhhh, AHHHhhhh, AHHHHHHH!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAATTTEEEE. THIS. SHIIIT!!!
(exhale)
released negative energy
purge-a-tory
(smile)
it is OK,
all is well
it was ‘just’
a moment
Theorizing-How to Kill
how can you kill
what does not die?
kill their memory
of eternity
of what life is
so death replaces the blank
now blanketing life
wherefore beings only live on in death,
in memory,
therefore, we are dying to live
all the while living in fear,
never truly living at all
because the fall of memory
the preeminence of fear
has created a reality of-
infinite mortals,
calcified spirits,
forgotten souls,
and mournful hearts
now life, is the limbo
and survival, is “mortal combat”
with death being the only crossing
of fear into fate, or fog
and all seeming lost
because the mind and its memory is
fatality!