More Sort Of Poems

The Battlefield


you are on the battlefield


watching your comrades blowing up

losing limbs, hearing their screams

thinking, how did i get here?

still thinking about what's on the other side

of the battlefield

that there's a reason you are fighting

there is no reason

seeing another man go down

you have to believe

they died for something

but they didn't

except maybe to see

what they wouldn't see while alive

and then they see

that they didn't have to die

to see it



you are only fighting

to re-own your reality

watch out for that

when you do re-own it

you may find yourself alone

re-owning your reality means opposing

those who tried to take it from you

by imposing their version

your family

secondly

if no one else is willing or able to see

and own that reality with you

then you are going to be alone in it

as you choose reality

over the comfort of illusion

and enmeshment



The Hole


i am learning to listen more and talk less

even talking is

or can be

listening

finding whatever it is

that i need to hear

that is what i get to say

it's not about the other person

the desire to touch, somehow denied,

becomes the desire to grab

denied becomes the desire to fuck

denied becomes the desire to hurt and kill

"I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch"

if we knew how alone we were

we would crawl up into a hole

and die



The Father

it doesn't matter how down i am

i have to go to work

and no matter how down i am

to some people

it still looks like up

perhaps because honesty

is the only measure of where we are at

being honest about our insistence and indulgence

soon curtails it

if you find yourself dishonest

then own up

instead of adding to it

by covering it up

even if you have to go back and re-open

a 10 yr old case

and say, "I did it"

right now i wish i knew

it's dishonest of me to feel sorry for myself

because i know that's not true

so half my family died

so what?

that's the true of it

it happens to everyone

one way or another

we think we are especially burdened

and in that belief

we start to believe the lie

that we matter

truth is, none of us cracks easily

then knowing that it doesn't matter

if i indulge in thinking i matter

that makes it *really hard

i keep making it about others

i ought to keep it together for others

then i know that's BS

so i think, fuck it

i'll come apart

but what about me?

why not do it for me?

live?

the answer is:

self loathing

I couldn't hate my father

so i had to hate my self

punish my self to get back at him

and now i am crippled like he was

so now i feel for him, a little bit

that is a hell of a loop

now I am feeling for him!

what he couldn't own

his hatred for life

for doing this to him

casting him out and down

luciferian

when my father died

i felt no connection to him at all

it was like he never existed

i just didn't believe that any of him

survived death

because he never really existed in life

for me

i wonder if he's been in bardo all that time

some souls take longer to process...

he was so deeply entrenched in denial

and so fervent in his disbelief

he may have gone into black out

he believed there was nothing after

so that was what he got?

until now...