Gray

I am gray and cause of you

I see myself falling from the edge 

and I pick myself up

drugless I pick myself up 

You try... to pick me up

I am bright

my mother says I'm bright

I am also new 

and old and new

sometimes, to you

I am gray 

you make the colors 

in me darker; you spit black paint into me

and I have fallen from grace 

no, not from God but from you

I've fallen, and keep falling

failing too, and waking up to you

I am not new but old

and new to you sometimes... 

and that's when you knock me up

you knock me up to knock me down again

You want me to rise, that's it. 

You want to see me rise from dead, alive

you want the best for me

the best for me, for you

You want me gray sometimes to see me 

turning red and see me turning red 

and red and red... 

But I'm just gray right now

You say: "Show me your colors"

You sing to me, you praise me 

but only when I turn to you in colors 

Do you believe in me

When gray hides 

And it does, yes it matters to me

You see, what you want to see  

when you look at me, 

with blue, or red and violet

or even pink 

covering your eyes

you see-

I wish my colors 

Would make you proud of me

I wish my colors 

would leave black jealous of my love for you

I am just gray right now-   

I wonder when you would,

Stop spiting black into me!

Awake

When I was dust
Water never touched me
And I was surrounded by grace
the grace of love

The willow weeped
and I brushed off its tears
and I smiled because
I didn't drown...
in sorrow or in sadness

I wasn't lost
because my friends didn't desert me.
I was the desert
So, I couldn't lose myself!

When I was dust
The stormy winds
Kept me strong
It blew by me and through me yes
But I was more than dust
I found, I had made castles
of my dreams

I screamed
(as loud as I could)
with laughter in my voice
and with a sense of ... security
I was everywhere-
Now,  I am here
Awake.

Nightmares Lived.

I was walking "desertedly"...

When the life of all my dreams
became a nightmare
and the darkness like
painful stings-
blood dripped on sandy winds
and the face of god was created

I wonder how much of that is real
in my dream
Nightmares happen

They never cease...
They exist in deeper wants.

Sediments that left the belly
of a hungry bum
hungrier
thirsty and hopeless
He walks toward the face of god

He sits... and waits

And when both the sands of time and
the blood faces this man and I, this woman
(passing the hardness of my breasts)
I am wet again-
when the tears worn exist
in all the doubts and all the worries of ...
the could have beens

His sad face I remember
and I'm worn out by the heavyness
of his yearn
and I'm tired of my self
like mother is tired of her self

Blood runs deeper than water
runs colder than the horrors
of my wishful soul
and the dreams once again
turn into nightmares
Nightmares lived

...and I now I sit and wait.

Dysfunctional Trivia

Sometimes I see my dysfunctions
and sometimes some see it before
I see my chance to face it or name it or own it
So it catches me by surprise, rarely,  granted
I have myself on a panel
Where there's a judge, Me
Where there's a lawyer, Me
Where there's a jury, Me
Where there's the paper, Me
my neighbor, Me

I see my dysfunctions as possible threats
when I have my back to them
I feel the cuts, like paper cuts
painful with lemon in hand
hurtful with stinging force
and I have myself on the screen of all the TVs
and all the sitcoms, and dramas, and
even commercials...
I see.

I see my dysfunctions as tricks
a god-like trick to make me see
that work is due
and things need to change
I need to change
but I see new tops and new trousers
hanging on my bedside...
I just wake up too late to see
the tags hanging;
are they on the floor?
and I realize my dysfunctions are
something I rather not see but then I think
by seeing them, I grow
sometimes mad
sometimes sad
sometimes scared
sometimes green
and only sometimes
I'm happy at first.

My dysfunctions function in some
place, some time
maybe not now but later
maybe tomorrow
maybe right now
dysfunction is a gift and a treasure
sin and pleasure
and a box of sand sitting in the middle of the desert
where water runs like a helping hand
and a pitch black night
The moon? Not here, not now

My dysfunction has its place
a place where function lies
a place where function's do
a place that's here right now
a place not near or hell
and I'm supposed to know...
but all I do know is:

My dysfunction is mine for the taking
and sometimes mine for the making.

A Wishful Heart and Courage

She buried all the love (hellos and goodbyes)
under a tree which wishes to grow-
understanding moments
"to come and go and go to come again''

She goes and sits on berries
melting it's essence into dust
what was, is now
what is, no more

No more songs-
Grandmother hadn't the courage
but to kill all her seeds in the burning sun
and that channel that once was running
oh, overflowing channel
has only dust and wishful rain -

Dead old skin
began building mountains on the land 
land that once had hope and land 
that once had love

And while she begs for food
in places where famine lies
"food hiding"
in deeper grounds that lie
(empty wishes too)
I remember now, mother
complaining to me
even now, complaining
that she was given
rough, dark, deep and empty airs but love
no love

There is Grandma with her white hair and her
invisible glass, glass that stood erect
all these years supporting her from falling into channels
channels that once ran clean and pure waters
What reigns there now is
dust and wishful rain
Oh, wishful rain!

If only she had courage to fall
then maybe she'd learn how to love
how to receive the gift that mother-
that mother never had...

Grandma sang to other ears not hers
other ears had the glory of her voice
when she sang songs mother couldn't hear
She had been deaf to feelings too

We all know that
Soon she'll lie for good, grandma
without care and without wonder
lie like the days of flowing waters
not into the channel but long into the wind
and maybe rivers that flow deeper than my mama's longing

deeper than the longing I still wish for her

Soon dust will be the news on yesterday's
reports and today what wishful rain may fall
will be the rain that falls into tomorrow's channel

And until then:
Mama lies in the dust as she dreams of tomorrow
while grandma breaths the wishful rain
away, away, away, away from mama's wishful heart

I hope for courage to grow there.

I Don't Like Myself

I don't like myself
When I cry too much in my work
or I play too much the innocent

I live in life knowing
I'm a grown woman
and sure when I'm taken by surprise I act in my
reprised role: a child with pig tails hangin' low
down to my toes, cryin' cryin' but the blues don't leave me
no, not now, not yet or through the back door.

I don't like myself so serious and so
urgent with fear or when I become a
stranger to myself...

I live in life knowing
I can only get away with
so much cat and mouse or
being a hamster in a mill
Thinkin' of ways to trick myself to loving me
or perhaps you loving me instead

I don't like myself so selfish and so cold
So cruel and humorless

I live to tell stories and to
help my self to more
As I feed my thoughts and dreams
with more than petty grief

Grief so deep
Fear so strong
Love so weak
Beauty so tired of being beauty
and sometimes silence - shit even fire tires
at the site of me

I don't like myself so pale and sunless
or blue without passion
or red without heat
Just red with anxiety and fear
and any other creature creeping through my soul

I'd spoil myself rotten if I knew how
I'd speak a verse by the best versed poet
dead or alive
I just don't like myself enough
You must feel the same
as I, when cold is colder than
winter, deep below iced waters

I don't like myself and I'm sure
you'd agree- that person that lives in you
has full control of you
BUT
That's of course unless
you take that knife
that lives so close to your feet (on dirty grounds)
and cut and cut
And cut it out!

You Laugh With Me Inside

The mention of hearts broken
Makes broken hearts bleed.

I was a distant vulture in the night
then I became your angel

I cry-while kids jump on my structure
on my frame
they scream and play with loud toys
making me cry tears of frustration

Tears of ghostly menacing creatures
fall on my beaten face.

I cry- they know why
I don't give up, in or out
Its because I have a metal beam holding
us together
Earth Wind and Fire can't take us down
No not even fire.

I cry- they know you cause
some heartache but they know you mend
my heart when broken

My cat sits on the edge of the building
waiting for me
waiting for me to feed and comfort him
and he cries like I cry

Hearts are broken everywhere.
But it does feel stronger here
and so I will cry and while I cry
you laugh with me inside.