Of Poetry and Prozac

Thursday, August 13, 2015

A Rhyme at a Time

For Simeon, who showed me the fodder mountain.

I was thinking of stuff

and it might be tough

to understand why we get low,

but it occurred to me in my mind you see, there's other places our thoughts could go.

For instance:

Witches have

glitches and itches,

low pitches,

and stitches in their long black dresses,

black tresses, and so many stresses.

Could they hide in recesses do you think?

Have you ever climbed a fodder mountain?

And at the top you found a water fountain?

I want to trudge up that huge pile of hay for a cool drink to think

while i slurp and burp

and swallow to fill the hollow

of my tummy.

Do you know why I like hippopotomae?

They are sly and spry and a little shy.

Do you think when they lie their feet point to the sky, high and dry?

Nope. They are wet I bet.

Do they get filled with regret that they don't live somewhere more temperate?

A long time ago I knew a midget

who liked to fidget with his widget.

He had a bird named Pidget

and a dog named Gidget who one day bit his digit.

One day I ran with a young man

who had a tan

and a funny plan

to make up a rhyme

all the time.

It was sublime when I found mine

written on a dime.

It said:

In God we must trust

and not have a fuss

when everything's just a little bit mussed.

Plus:

A little boy brought me joy

when the world had begun to annoy me.

He brought a smile to my day

and in a simple way

made me want to stay and obey.

So you see we are free

to be you and me

in a sillier version I think.

Just give some thought to the stories i've wrought,

and give your brain something else to think.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Food

I don't want it.

Every bite makes me feel guilty.

Failure to resist,

to control

to succeed

to be freed

from this weight.

I don't want it.

Every rest makes me feel guilty.

Failure to move

to burn

to choose

to lose

these calories.

I don't want it.

Every pleasure makes me feel guilty.

Failure to punish

to penalize

to discipline

my gluttonous sin.

I want this.

A beautiful body to hide the ugly me.

Triumph of slim shape

demanding desire,

did I mention

attention?

Always hungry.

Never hungry.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Truth

Sometimes you're just alone.

And you know it.

No one wants to talk about it.

No one wants to hear it.

Get a grip they think,

why aren't you better?

How come you're still whining?

How long does it take to get over yourself?

And they're tired of you.

And you know it.

And they don't know how to help you anyway.

And you don't know how they could either

because you don't even know what you want

from them.

And you're reaching and reaching

and touching nothing,

growing more and more disoriented.

All your desperation falls on deaf ears

or distracted ears,

consumed, oblivious, tired,

or unable to care for even themselves

ears.

And even knowing it'll be better soon

does not diminish the need

for contact now.

And all you feel is needy

and you hate that.

That feeling is deadly when all you want is to be self reliant.

When all you want is to have control.

It's a different form of dementia:

forgetting how to handle emotions,

how to use them appropriately.

It's a different kind of world

inside your head.

It's the loneliest place you've ever been.

And if you could say it out loud

It wouldn't be so lonely.

But no one hears you,

they don't think they need to,

And you know you are alone.

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Fear

It was fleeting, but sharp.

The fear.

And it shattered me, for a moment.

And I cried.

Unable to balance what I know

with what I hope,

I crumpled into my lovers arms

so afraid.

But his words washed over me,

reassured me,

gave me balance once again.

And in one deep breath

the sun came out

and shone right down into that dark cool room,

and dried my tears,

and slowed my heart.

I pushed that fear away

and sought a brighter place

and found that I could smile again.

The fear that once might have kept me safe

now tries to tie me down to what I know.

But I have seen the light,

felt the warmth on my face,

started to grow.

Back to the fear

is somewhere I will not go.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Plea

I thought I told you

How much I needed you.

But the words never came.

I can see from way up here

That the world is sparkly blue

And contains you.

But I know I'll fall

And wreck it all.

And from the bottom of the hole

I know I won't see

The sparkly blue

Will there still be you?

If I can call at all

It'll be so small

Will you hear me?

Will you remember who I was

Cause I won't

Will you hold out a hand

And tell me who I am

When I don't know?

I know you did before

But I'm afraid you'll get tired

Of coming here

To the pit of fear.

Don't leave me please

Cause from here I can see

My destruction

Need not be.