poems 93-100

I’m thrilled shitless! I’m done!

93- the third way
Learning is different from knowing.
Listening is not about acquiring knowledge.
Reflecting on what you’ve listened and learned is not dangerous.

I want to learn how to live and how to die,
and that is not the same as living or dying.
Few people know how to do either; they just let it happen.
That is a passive way to pass through life.
I think I’d rather be an active participant
through my own passage through the world.

If religion could do that for me, that would be great.
I am sure it does for some.
If science would do that for me, that would be great.
I don’t think it has done much in that regard.
If laughter and joy could do that for me, I’d be happy.
I think that this path looks most promising.

I’ll take door #3.

94 – can’t someone else?
(inspired by )
“I’m tired of being the go-getter.
Can’t someone else be responsible for once?”
Someone else is responsible…
the little gremlin who fucks everything up
when we don’t take care.
There’s someone ready to step into the breach
when we leave the room, just for a moment.
The understudy has taken her place, ready
to become me when I forget who I am.
The fat lady is ready to sing
as soon as I stop talking.
There’s always someone willing to live
when we’ve lost the will to do it ourselves.

95- And it begins again
I’ve always wondered, late at night, why
the hurting hurts more than it ever should,
than it has the right to, than I ever expected.
The pain of the cut is almost a solace,
that moment of assurance of being alive,
compared to the inner uncertainty
of never having lived at all.

From cries of anguish comes nothing but pain.
Those cries of terror will drive you insane.
Cries of doubt lead to cries of loss.
Cries of nightmares turn you and toss.
The end is near, if you go all the way.
And after the end is the start of the day.

96- Buttercup Victory
Looking for words that will fit on the page.
Sinking to verse for a form to be filled.
Forgoing blank verse that appears so sage
or soothing words of emotions now stilled,
for language of anger to incite my rage.
thoughts of before to which my heart has thrilled
to free me at last from my poetic cage.

97 – I can’t listen any more
An image in my head that I somehow cannot shake
is driving me to choices I would rather never make.

Sitting, fretting, remembering then forgetting
what I thought I’d never have to realize;
that my days with you, like those without you
have done nothing to change what I’ve become.

The impact of your life on mine is not what I expected,
and that I was to make a mark on you is something I neglected.

Sitting, thinking, pondering then realizing
what we are keeps us too far apart;
that my nights with you, like those without you
is like sitting, quiet in the dark.

98 – Read and weep
I read, in your letter that you left
atop the pile of your things
that you had packed so neatly,
completely numbered, boxed
and wrapped and labeled,
the reasons why you have to go.

I read, in this letter written so neat
in that professional rational voice
that you save for when you want
to be finished and done, the list
of decisions and deliberations
that you really just thought I should know.

I read, in this letter, held to my heart
words slightly wet with my tears
that drip down from my nose,
past the smile on my lips,
that behind all your actions and words
that love that will not let us part.

99 – tonight
What are you doing to night?
Will you hold me closely in your arms
and sing to me with lover’s charms?
Caress my lips with pearly dew
and create for me the world anew!
Find me open, smiling, waiting,
ready for some satiating.
Spurn me at your own risk
for I am ready to be kissed.

100 – The day is done.
The day is done, and put to bed.
This year is over, year of dread.
The failures I’ve failed will all be forgotten
as the new gives birth to what I’ve begotten.
My heart is a horror filled with delight.
My soul is now ready for a brief respite.
My flesh is new marked with scars of the knife
I am now ready to make a new life.