Tag Archives: mental illness

From The Other Side Of The Ocean

Out in the desert, on the way to Los Angelas, on a family trip.
Tired from riding all day, down from the green, cold mountains
into the sparse and bright desert, the reptiles and snakes around.
It was almost sundown, the sunlight melting away, and the night
coming down, and with it cold, cold I’d fought I’d left back home.
I never knew it got cold in the desert.
You, little sis, all awkward sharp edges and mussed hair, stood
on the edge of the railing of the pull off, looking west, to the sea,
to city shining like a golden bowl in the distance, incense to be offered.
You were growing, and I was almost grown, and it wasn’t easy anymore,
like when we were young and would play together, knew our world better.
I would be leaving soon for college. You would be going to junior high.
In the fading light, the velvety and gauzy sunset still lingering, I took a picture.
It would capture you, hugging your self, the wind fluttering that wild mop of hair,
the eyes so sad, the beginning of you calling the angels to hold you.
You heard the camera click, and turned to me, an odd look in your eyes,
both tender and distant, as if trying to call out my name from the other side
of the ocean, as if to pull me to you, locked away in the sun.
I put my arm around you, and you buried your face in my side, and it felt
calm and holy, like silence was a true hymn and speaking an unforgivable
blasphemy.
It was the last holy moment for us, for so, so very long.
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Wedding Day

Awake in the night, watching sparse snow flakes fall,

wishing I could see the demon that is out there,

that can see me so clearly.

Hot, black coffee, because what is sleep? What are dreams?

Rebekah is in my mind, poetess, the impossible good thing.

Not her, not any other woman, will ever be at my side in these moments.

I lay down in my bed, knowing there is no hiding from the demon, he knows all.

My enemy is closer to me than any passing women ever was, knows me true.

The snow stops, the night goes on, and I dream of being innocent.

Of kissing Rebekah on our wedding day.

Just dream.

 

A Vibrating Star

She’s wearing a long sleeved white sweater,

black capri pants, and plain white tennies.

Mother is fussing over her, smoothing her hair,

telling her it will be alright, she doesn’t need  lucky pennies.

Her first date tonight, something like a normal kid,

something good in this world that’s taken so much.

She turns to me, the one found her that cold night,

when she was almost lost, beyond the sun’s touch.

Her eyes hopeful, but unsure, calling for reassurance.

I smile kiss her head, tell her it will be real swell time.

She smiles, all light from a vibrating star, her light

finally escaping a black hole, making dreams rhyme.

I take her picture, wanting to hold onto this moment,

hopeful and beautiful and sweet, after we almost lost her.

The demon did not win, we saved her in time, but he is patient.

I know that darkness falls again, can’t defeat, only defer.

The doorbell rings, and she squeals and is so ecstatic.

She found a boy who loves her, who will be her brave one.

Me and mother hug her, and then she runs to the door.

The boy is there, hugging her tight, consolation for what can’t be undone.

 

Interlude, Small Town, Kansas


Sea of Tranquility

I sit in a swing, watching the house burn, the house where we were children.

Slowly push my self back and forth on tired legs, to dissassociative to care.

I’m watching myself, the orange flames ripping open the night on my face.

I’m a tin dime angel, addled brain almost touching heaven, which the flames reach.

I know you’re up in the sky, the eye in the moon, the listening dish, Sea of Tranquility.

You have that pilots clearance and the love of all that’s holy, good little princess.

I might have gotten something in my mind from kissing your older sister, a tumor.

I’m like neither of you, neither saint or demon, just at a loss for who to breathe in.

The house burns and I don’t care, not even my revenge gives me any feeling here.

I still float, brain damage and alcohol making me float, far away from you, in Tranquility.

The ashes always become embers, and I can never be free, my demons are invincible.

The Raptors are scrambled to take me to hell, still better than being a drone like you.

Still I have the name of love carved in my belly, without your name beside it.

 

Rain and Sun


Hollywood Olympus

Cara’s picture, torn from a fashion magazine,

is laid carefully in the center of the pentacle.

White candles, white light.

The demons have come; it is night time.

There is no rain to wash them from the windows.

There chattering draws blood from my dreams.

Cara is an angel from Hollywood Olympus, up in blue sky.

I invoke her youth and lust and wild heart in this night.

I want to be alive and real again.

The demons drag dead bodies from my memory.

They mock the corpses in the harsh light.

They grow powerful from this grave robbery.

Cara, I draw peace from her flesh, blood of her soul.

I draw the air of Hollywood Olympus into my lungs,

Let glamour win the day!

Morning, finally rain, knocking on my window,

to let the moths into breed and die and become seeds,

Cara is here, with a knife, to rectify the balance.

The snatching of purity was worth it.

Lost and Innocent Kingdom

The waltz long over, that mournful guitar piece
that through the thoroughly shot speakers in
the shopping mall rink sounded like it came in
from the cold and dark waters of Atlantis.
We were young, before The Devil came for me.
I learned to hold you to the sky, toss you to angels
and together we were one soul on the ice, lost
in deep, dark eyes and the soft, melancholy music.
At the end of the session, we skated slow, hand in hand,
ant then that mournful guitar from the lost and innocent kingdom
would play and I’d pull you close to me, and feel weight of heaven,
in my arms, in your closeness, in the end of the winter night.
The Devil came for me, born with me and my mind, my skin.
I fell away, tormented and mad, a hairless lycanthrope,
as I was taken and hanged from the sky, my thoughts emptying
into the sea, and you had to go one, you had a future.
The waltz long over, those bad days just a muted memory.
You’ve got another to raise you to the sky, toss you to angels,
and you’ve got pride and glory and gold, and I’ve got a mind
that can finally love you again, return to that lost and innocent kingdom.

Maybe

Up above the city, the vein of gold in the darkness,

looking up at those white and distant stars,

hoping to feel humbled and small, so none of these

sorrows will  matter anymore.

Maybe a star will fall, like Lucifer from Heaven,

and I can go hunt down that fallen angel, and keep

him from adding to what’s already been done,

stop a bit of the violence that always going on.

Maybe a good angel, a real angel, will come down

and impart a message, whisper God’s Will in my ear,

so I can know where to go, what to do, what words to speak.

Maybe I’ll be chosen. God always chose to use fuck ups in The Bible.

Maybe, the cool wind that is a soothing balm in this blasted

July heat, and the softness of the call of insects, the hooting

of nocturnal birds, and the feeling of being between worlds,

above man, below God, will soothe all those writhing thoughts.

Maybe.


Me and Claudia Party Down In Heaven

Me and Claudia party down in heaven,

the night warm and the music full of fire.

Eyes meet, and it all passes away, as we smile.

The pain, the loss, the addictions that burned us.

All gone now.

We walk on the beach on the ocean that surrounds

the throne of God, bright and shimmering in the dark.

We hold hands, we kiss, we laugh in the waves.

I pick her up, spin her around, nothing bad here.

All gone now.

Her fiery hair bright like bronze in a furnace,

her pale face as white as our souls are now.

A kiss can really make the universe open up forever.

We are clean again, the poisons drained away.

All gone now.

Only love and forever here.