Truth, In Short Messages, Found

You said goodbye to her, but you never said goodbye to me.

You said goodbye to her, but you never said goodbye to me.

You sonofabitch! 

I was 33 years in, and you said, “Goodbye,” to HER, but you never said it to ME. 

God, grant me the serenity… 

Your memory is the gift that keeps on giving. 

You’ve been gone for ages, yet I know you better now than before you left 

This world

And me

To clean up the mess. 

Your fucking whores

And bastard offspring. 

Your drugs

And your lies. 

I harbor no hatred for you

Because what I feel is so far beyond hatred

That it makes me feel as though my mind slips away into it

Like a warm bath. 

Were it only your blood to bathe in, I’d stay lost in the feeling 

Forever. 

Living the Cliche 

I’m living the cliche

At two-fifty an hour

Spilling my guts to a man;

He is jaded by the pain that walks through his door

Nothing he hasn’t heard

A swift, unafraid, hand

Scribbles notes and prescriptions 

Throwing them at you like ninja stars 

Hoping one sticks 

monster

You’re a fucking face punch
A fist driving your tired truths into my brain
Broken teeth bite into honest lips
Keeping them quiet forever
Unable to tell your secrets
Blood runs down my chest
Covering a heart that beat only for you
I lived, at your pleasure
And, now, I die with you
There is no morning that you do not ordain
No hope of a new day that you do not destroy
You are my terror that comes by night
You are the invisible hand around my throat
I hate you as much as I ever loved you
You monster

My love

Wound

I can feel them when they hit

Meds

Blowing my mind like a shot to the head

Suddenly, I’m swimming in the ideal

Frantically trying to catch up with you and the world you created 

Beautiful people all ’round

Doing my best to fit in

Begging God to stop the bleeding 

As the best parts of who I am

Hemorrhage from a wound of my own creation

No Man’s Land

I grew up on the border
Where the men were unapologetically male
And women wore flowers in their hair
Where the sun burned white-hot at high noon
Shining down on dusty roads and children playing on the banks of the Rio Grande
Where siesta time was long and sweet
The cerveza, ice cold
I have danced till dawn in Lajitas
Broken bread with scoundrels down in Oujinaga
And seen many an uppity gringo put in his place
In such a wasteland, in those days, there was no Mexican
No Texan
Because those of us who lived there knew that we belonged to neither country
We belonged to each other

Define and Conquer

in our endless effort to define ourselves

we confine ourselves

to an endless consciousness of the appropriate

until every thought…every deed

is a redundancy of the cynical, boring, mental masturbation

that enslaved our fathers and their fathers before them

like sheep, we take the word of those who dare think for themselves as gospel

never asking

never wondering what gifts are buried in our own minds

for their sake

lbw

i have known sorrow

and what it means to weep, unheard and alone

i’ve felt that which others cannot

and it has killed me inside

to be aware, but lacking in discernment, is Hell on Earth

to know things that should be hidden is a rancid bone in my mouth

commitments of love and flesh bind me to this place

and the blood that i’ve brought forth must be guarded

so, until my end, i will tarry in love and hope

that my children may know no sorrow

 

Untitled – Unedited 

I miss you

I’m not sleeping for the craving;

An unquenchable thirst that only you can relieve

I miss you

As I walk these floors, talking to myself

Ash hanging precariously from my cigarette 

Thinking of a time when it was there for the asking; 

Your sweet scarlet 

Opening you like a sugar blossom

My blade, so sharp there was no pain

Very little

OK, there was pain and you loved it

We loved it

We needed it

I miss you

My mouth waters at the memory of your Deep Divine

Knowing it will never, again, be mine

Is breaking what’s left of me

So I smoke another cigarette 

Thinking

Drinking from an old bottle of whiskey

Crying out your name as feet pound floor deep into the night

I miss you 

Blood-Bound Sing Song

My grandmother had a poem she

Would often-times repeat to me

“By your year of thirty and three, the world will become dead to thee.”

On into the night, she’d go

At my bedside; candles low

Her sing-song poem only known

By the two of us

Her voice was raspy, her tone was true, she sang,

“They’ll wonder what became of you

after you reach thirty and two…

Now, sleep, my lil one.

Tell no one of our song

For, not one would believe.

Imagine the pain that you might cause

Should  you cause upset to me.”

Then, Grandmother would blow out the light

And Darkness would abound

My chest was tight

As I’d struggle against

The thing that had me bound

I’d scream all night inside myself

Till morning’s light was found

~

Years came and went, so quickly it seems

As I lived my life

Still bound by Grandmother’s curse to me

I was a good woman, mother and wife

Till came a day, the last day of

My life, year twenty and nine

A wish was granted me

On that day

When Grandmother was doomed to die

The call went out with the chill of the evening

That Grandmother had fallen ill

Along with the others I ran to the place

Where her body grew more still than still

I could not help but watch the clock

On this eve when I’d turn thirty and aught

Could it be that I’d been blood bought

And she would go away

On and on I watched, you see

Until eleven twenty three

When her breath grew shallow

Her skin went pale

And her heart refused to beat

As I stood by, holding her hand

Amongst her family and a few close friends

I could not help but smile

As those around me cried tears of sorrow

I knew that I’d now have tomorrow

And the Shadow she’d cast over me

Was blown into eternity

And, when my time became thirty and three

I’d live to see the dawn

I am now fifty and one

And, till now, have told no single soul

Of the sing-song poem that Grandmother sang to me

Oh, so long ago

~

‘Blood by blood, until it sleeps,

a promise made is one to keep.’