Tag Archive | Blue Life

Tangled in Hair

This poem was not previously published. This blog article is written intentionally with poor grammar and references.

As I return to the city I was homeless in, where we filmed the documentary piece for Global’s 16×9 Brotherhood of Hate.

I am reminded of where I have been, what I have seen, and what I have done in the past.

I remember the security I felt in a Scarved Embrace when recalling the realities of God is Dead. I recall that my Letter to Matthew was inspired by the same aspect of myself that allowed my Mirrored Child to come forth. As I step forth in this city I am Bleeding Tears Pores Sting thick while battling the truth about how Gossip is Personal. Blue Life brings me to My Daughter Loves to Joke in a way that makes Totalitarians Scurry. I have Prism Tears remembering She Danced with Ancients Fade.

She was As Real As I, but she stays clad in the Iron Forest where she recalls that the Minus the One on a Cryptic Night. I am left fraught with What to do with a small fox who carries an albatross. i hope to tear down Cold Brick Walls, which cannot be achieved without Existential Liberation from Emotional Rape. I feel Stiff as the Beat and Rape and Pound sows Rape’s Seed deep in my work, as Await(s), Shethe Bee.

My heart is heavy and my hair is tangled. 

Image

Awaits, She

This poem is currently unpublished © 2012.

This poem was inspired by love. The first line in this piece is linked to my published poem (SFU: West Coast Line No. 72, 2012) called Blue Life, which was dedicated to one of my daughters. This Poem Awaits, She re-visited me today. I read it out loud. It reminded me. It told me. Corrected me.

It is so easy for everything to be insignificant and meaningless in function of a mechanical existence. It takes a lot of work to be organic and purposeful. It can take a lot out of you when you decide to live for the sake of living. Sometimes a book and warm soup dove tailed with a few sweet memories will suffice, and other times memories and comfort is not enough. We make the choices we make.

Sometimes causing mourning is necessary in order to establish our next morning.

Image

Spoken: