Tag Archives: HurtsToPost

Bleakness

 

When there’s something you can’t hold

When what you are is not allowed

When the people you know best aren’t real

While the real people don’t know you at all

When your soul has gone off

Like a brown avocado

And the only thing in this world that feels right

Is the knife in your hand

Breaking the rules

Unleashing hell

Blade scrapes bone.

By another’s death

You acknowledge your own existence

You are alive

For a moment.

But what is left to fill

The countless minutes between stabbings

Except bleakness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Miles Away

 

In another country today

Someone is bent over a dead body

In another country today

Broken buildings and scrambles for water

Miles away from where we are happy

We are devastated.

 

Merry Christmas, children

Open your presents

And know how much you are loved.

Your parents, your family, everyone is here

Eat until we are sick

Laugh together until we cry

This is the best way to live

 

It’s a lucky day, children

We found a scrap of bread. Take my share

And know how much you are loved.

Unsure where your father is, your siblings

Sick from not eating

Never let them see you cry

This is the only way to survive

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Husk. Also my brother is amazing

Allow me a moment to brag on my big brother. He’s got a blog too, actually, on financial freedom.

https://goldengooseguide.com

He’s been blogging for a year and only had about twelve posts total but he’s already gone viral. WTF Josh. Of course he’s engineered it well with the social media, the eye-catching titles, and original well-thought-out content. He’s the oldest so he does everything well. It’s fascinating to me that no matter how similar we might be in genetics and values and upbringing, our blogs turned out to be nearly complete opposites.

I would feel competitive with him, but he’s so far beyond my limits that I just give up say, good for him. I love him tremendously, so I must be happy for him. And it helps to know, in my heart of hearts, that I can always move into his basement.

Welp, time to air my insecurities again.


 

 

There was a while there

When I wrote gold

I spun golden threads from flax

I wove silk from cotton

I was an unstoppable force

What happened?

I ran out

I spent myself

Now I’m just a husk

Remembering her glory days

A husk

So dry

So dry.

What is a husk?

Was I once a bright and sweet ear of corn?

What else has a husk?

Mummies are husks

Many plants have them

And so am I

 

My seed is gone, germinated

And all that is left

Is this husk

A reminder

That once here was life

That once

I too was human

And vibrant

And full

Pregnant with life

With ideas

With words

Words like you’d never heard before

I had rhymes

I had every kind of poem

All that I touched was given power

With language alone

I animated the minds of others.

Now this.

This husk.

This weak and tired

Crispy

Dry

Thing.

It’s fall

I’ve been harvested.

Nothing left in me

Until next spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

angels are

 

oh I feel that crazy

a’creepin on me

things are gettin hazy

gettin hard to see

 

oh I feel that satan

tryna tell me wrong

that fella’s good at talkin

sings a pretty song

 

oh I feel that hatred

swallowin my guts

fight what’s on the inside

that’s how you go nuts

 

there’s a way

a door, a door

but I can’t find

the way no more

 

fuck my inhibitions

fuck my childhood too

fuck my gentle nature

do what sadists do

today we kill

tomorrow we maim

this week we bomb

a people train

let’s be the best

at being worse

we’re nothing but

live liverwurst

to shoot to score

to be a whore

to live to die

don’t fucking cry

it’s only another few days mama

we’ve only got this to behave mama

we can’t escape we are slaves mama

we’re children of angels

cuz angels are good

and angels are bad

and angels are–

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Proud

 

Dad said he’s proud of me.

I well up inside at the words.

What the hell is he proud of me for.

And why should it matter?

I’m fucking thirty.

Part of me thinks, oh Dad, I don’t need that anymore.

Part of me thinks, what have I done that’s any good?

Part of me thinks, I really am something, aren’t I.

And part of me deep down

A very early, primal part

Starts jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

 

I have no success in work

I have no success in art

I have no success in home making

I have no successful mate

I have no success in health or beauty.

I do moderately well in most things.

Proud?

Of me?

Just… generally?

How does a parent think?

Why does he feel proud?

Maybe he’s just happy I turned out okay

Maybe that’s all a good parent really hopes for.

And he was a good parent.

He still is.

A really wonderful parent.

I’m proud of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

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