Category Archives: Poetry

Reverse Midas Touch

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Never good enough

Never good enough

Try a little harder

Punish

Self castigate

Mortify the flesh

Is this good yet?

Is this?

Am I still

A disappointment?

 

I wrote all evening

And nothing good happened.

The reverse Midas touch, I wrote.

Everything I do turns to shit.

But it wasn’t good enough either.

When will I be good enough.

When will I be satisfied.

What am I looking for?

 

When I write, I write what I felt that day.

So I didn’t feel anything today?

No. I felt inadequacy. That was sharp.

I need to write what is wrong

I need to write for me

I need to write for therapy

I need less judge.

I read a really bad story today by another writer.

Relatively, I’m an incredible talent.

I read a really good story today by another writer.

Relatively, I’m a half-wit.

What can I do

Why do I try so hard

Why do I try

Why do I care

Why can’t I just be happy

Writing stories and poems should be fun.

When I was a kid

Even then

I was a harsh critic.

I must have been eight

I remember judging my little kid poetry

For rhyming wife with wife. What a cop out, I thought.

I remember being displeased by my corny poem conclusion:

 

“What is the way to be happy?

There is only one thing

And that is, to sing!

Oh, what a good way to be happy!”

 

It felt wrong. Of course that wasn’t the best way to be happy.

My parents thought it was adorable

But I knew better.

I always know better.

I never trust praise.

I know my flaws.

They burn my eyes

They scald my soul

They cannot be extricated

They cannot be exorcised

They can only be

Embraced

Every day.

Practice will patch the holes

Acceptance will allow for flexibility

Some days are hard

Some days are easy.

I will never meet my own expectations

So I must not allow expectations.

Oh, what a good way to be happy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elegy for Mom

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My sister said I should post this. I wrote it right after Mom died. She suffered from mental illness for most of my life, and passed away from complications due to Huntington’s disease.

 

 

 

 

Mom–

You were my idol

You were a voodoo queen

An earth goddess

A diva

A madwoman

A sophisticate

A saint

Always with a touch of the divine

Though everything you said was unreal

You never lied

You were fragile

And strong

And so much a part of me.

I used to envy the kids who had normal moms

Even the adults who complained about their aging parents

But these days I know better.

You taught me how to wear my crazy well

You were a fast friend

And a devoted parent through the last moment of your life

Often you were

So much more than human.

I battle myself not to be like you

I push myself to be more like you

You were a dark enigma

Yet transparent as light

Gentle yet terrifying

When you lived I couldn’t handle the pain of your existence

Now that you’ve died I find the absence hard to bear.

I once thought I took more care of you than you did of me

But today I understand what you sacrificed to protect your children.

Your laugh echoes in my empty heart

Your spirit derails me still

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another one for Mom

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Mom

Was it four years ago

Only four

When you were in the kitchen, insisting on helping with the dishes

You took so long

Running the disposal dry for minutes at a time.

 

Was it three years ago

Only three

In the cold, you in your green trenchcoat and walker

And I took you to a Chinese restaurant

For your latest obsession, orange chicken.

You hugged the waitress and told her you loved her.

 

Was it two years ago

Only two

When I was feeding you ice cream in bed

Sugar free, but we didn’t tell you that.

You ate it all, every time if I let you.

You told us you weren’t sick.

 

Was it one year ago

Only one?

We’d asked you if you were done with meds

And you nodded an emphatic yes

One of the last things you said.

We held your blue fingers

And watched you fade.

 

I miss you

I miss you

I hated to see you suffer

I was glad you got to go

But I still miss you.

Days go by

I’ve made new friends

I’ve found new joys

I am blossoming in new ways

You would be proud

You were always proud.

I haven’t missed out on anything

But I miss so much.

 

You were always easy to talk to

You knew things

I bet everything I have uncovered for myself

You already knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still under construction

Posted on by 18 comments

 

The decades-long effort of thousands of knowledgeable programmers has culminated in the creation of the incredible powerhouse tool that is CSS3. Dynamic websites, beauties untold, unlimited creative expression is at my fingertips.

And still my website looks like it came straight out of 1991. Pffft!

I’ll get there… eventually. Once I figure out what I’m doing. Check out that sweet color gradient y’all.

 

 

 

 

A red brick path flanked by grassy green yard

Sometimes the things humans make aren’t so bad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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