orgami's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

static.....

the wind is motion
a garden fraught
the blossoms late

stars turn on the axis
star and winter breath
is near not far

cloistered years
spun laced in time
reverb through all
the layered lines

why is it tonight
of nights
I feel grounded
and weighed with
summer and the years
beyond...the rearview
mirror of looking back

think of all the wasted
hours drowned in a depth
of a drug or drink
to turn all off the
things I think

stand here in my
value village
while the respect
comes to toil and
pillage

memories and thoughts
left far away
on islands on whose
shore should stay

but never stay
and always near
like the ghosts
and the visions
that wait to play

just past the witching
hour while the dryer
tumbles a step childs
clothes
Smoking under the little
porch shrouded in dark
the few bright lights
from the lampost sparks

the revelations of the
players whose hands
have played their turn
at the tables

is it justice now
the need to repent
a time to give
of a life so spent

round and round the
tumble dry
I feel wrought up
but I wont cry

the bitter taste
of a smoke at hand
I stand instead
and claim my land

the routes and roads
I dearly took
and all the times
my fist I shook

and turned it close
and gave it far
wearing now the
hurts
my sad dear scars

..
Tonight there is snow
in the air and I work
in a few hours...some
reading to disengage
from one world of immediate
study..to that of the lost
damned fury and sad..

and to consider and ponder
my next moves of which I
must make...a grown up
maker of my own life now
neither blaming or expecting
others for their choice of
where they will or want
to be

I cant see the world in
distortions...half the time
and more I must let it be
and bend in the curves
and lean and let go...

like all that make their
way....denial and delusions
visions and viscitude

I starved myself once
from a long hard few years
not knowing how to grieve
or feel joy....angry and
out there....spend a good
long slow month in the
decent old pysch ward on
beautiful grounds just
north a few miles on
eleven north...They tore
this nineteen fifty five
squares of structures down
how some hated and loved
what it provided for them

for me it was a waiting place
while I decided to just not
eat....decided to just wander
walk and talk and shut down
one day after another....

weighing before I was brought
out of it a one hundred and
sixty eight pounds....not far
enough to do any real damage
but worrying enough to staff..

sometimes on the trail one
cannot even begin to tell tales
that belong to so many
ask veterans and survivors that
choose to not bring such things
out or forth...acknowledging
them and moving forward
no so much the horror in my
case...but the breaking of
all belief systems and idealogy
that I held onto all my life..
what then after that...

having lived in a distortion
for years only to wake to more
we dont have to wake up

sometimes

Im glad I did
tonight Im glad
being in the here and now
with much help along the way
in its fragments
and living in another distortion
to survive
maybe kept me this far

all these diaries and poetry
sites are what I held onto
the thin little area
like a shelter in the rain

hope of a kind
in words
expressionism
when it seems like
static is the only message
coming through

12:07 a.m. - 2013-10-27

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next