i worry about, how i will keep her from all the evils of the world, how i will teach her of the great things, the wonderous places the curious people. so i decided to write her a list of things i think she ought to know, i case i don’t do/ say it right. Or i’m not around to help her
1. You are not beautiful, or pretty or ugly; or anything constricted to your genetic features. you are a being created in god’s image, take comfort in that.
2. It is more than okay to love yourself, not just okay but normal. that is how you learn how to be good to others; once you decide what is good for you.
3. Friendship is complicated but it is the only relationship that truly lasts and is unequal to all the others. So play your part so that if something does go wrong, you don’t hold any guilt.
4. never stop loving the outside. Get fresh air every day! Go for a run or a walk or a hike or whatever you feel for. the wind carries stories across the oceans and i hope you never lose your ability to hear the voices of the world.
5. Honesty and philanthropy are rare qualities to have and you will be brought up to know the value and hopefully you will live them but be careful who you show them to because people hunt rarities for sport.
6. Beware of the boy who will tell you that you do not need wings to fly, chances are, he will not hang around to catch you when you free fall.
7. Do not be afraid to run home to your mother and father and cry to them. There is no part of you they have not kissed to make it better.
8. It is delightfully agonizing to make a living off of what you love. But there is something liberating and lyrical about choosing your own punishment in life that makes bitter coffee and no hot water to take a shower in worth it. just ask the poet who teaches, a musician who begs or even the dancer taking your order.
9. Do all the things in life you feel will make you better.
10. Please try and make us understand before you do something we’re not accustomed to.
I hope you get to read this and that it is in time so you make better decisions in life. All my love, your father.
clarity
your coffee has been standing
for so long it has gone cold.
you’re busy trying to explain
why it is better this way.
but all i hear is the sound of your voice
how this will be the last time.
we had to sit outside because you needed to smoke.
as if anyone needs to smoke.
the sweet wrappers you twisted in your fingers
while you talked fly off the table. that image
will stay with me.
and you say its okay, that its been a long time coming.
you’ve left already. Paid for your coffee
because you do not want to owe me anything.
and finally i understood;
my heart did not break loud enough for you.
the pieces did not shatter and cut into you.
but it is in pieces none the less.
On a bad day
I step out into the world.
the glass on my shades cracks and shatters.
I do not believe what I’m seeing.
this can’t be real nor can it be a figment of my imagination.
These stories i hear are uttered in a foreign language which no one knows the translation.
The earth beneath my sole is battered and bruised.
the ones who walk above it are heavy handed and flat footed.
This is a sight for sore eyes.
mother nature has been crying all night.
Her children are all dying.
her existence is just a pity and a shame.
Blood flows down every river stream.
hence I conclude we are all separated by blood.
In a time of great danger we cannot even distinguish between sign language and hand gestures.
We cry for those who cannot be with us today.
but they lay down chilled in an iced out fridge.
We hide our deceased in dark dirt pits.
they get to heaven and they see the light.
Why
Why does it feel like the same people
Who Brake my Heart are the Same people
Who are there to pick up the Pieces?
Funny it May Seem its true
Why Am I always The Nice Guy?
Why am I always the superhero that Never Gets The Girl?
Why Do I feel heart Broken?
Yet I knew We Could Never Be?
Why Have I stopped caring?
Why did I have to fall for her?
Why Do I ask My self questions I Know no answers to?
Reality is Questions unanswered are questions not asked
I loved her and still I Ask My self
WHY, WHY, WHY
The Tormented Mistress
His eyes pierce through her flesh
Scraping around the edges of her heart
Slowly amputating her compassion
His voice travels down her spine
Prodding against her backbone
Slowly destructing her courage
His touch commences perspiration
Draining all signs of vacillation
Slowly extracting her shrewdness
His kisses drive her to ecstasy
Rushing blood through her veins
Slowly agitating her composure
His embrace ensures, to her, security
Guarding her from trepidation
Slowly confining her independence
His heart shows no compassion
Neither courage, nor wisdom
His state of mind, disturbed
Captivated by his own desires
It may not be hers
Both subsequently perplexed
For it is time to depart
She stays behind while he heads home
Home to his significant other
-By SI.Barron
love so strong and true
I miss him
I miss more everyday
I love him
I am sure he knows that through anyway
My love for him is very strong
Yet his love for me is undecided
Though he is now gone
I hope to find him and be loved
How long will it take?
How long would he take?
I wish he would come back to me
The here and now
Beholds his coming
Miles away,farway now
Where is the love of my life
vicarious living
You. Are. Killing. Me.
she yelled.
she threw the mail in my face
thick hard envelopes
flew into my face like
a quick gust of wind
quick and harsh.
she said i was doing myself in.
that i was killing her.
my life was starting to have meaning
and she woke up
woke up and did not know who she had been
all these years.
she threw at me all the letters she meant to
but did not send.
about how her everything had collected
into an inconsiderable amount of nothing.
how she had to stay in one place
so i could have somewhere for my letters to collect.
but all i managed when i
picked up the mail she threw at
my face when she yelled
that my hands
were tight around her neck;
were bills and paper cuts.
skin
You wear her on your skin.
Her darkness overshadows your light.
People recognize you as a pair,
And you cannot bear to tell them that she broke your heart, but
your neighbours know.
When you come home with a grocery bag – no groceries; you’ll cry
and curse her angelic name.
You hate the music only
because she taught you how to love dancing.
You wear her on your skin.
You’re unintentionally content with this being,
You live in quiet chaos.
Where’s the oeuvre of a female Chinua Achebe (a series of haiku)
Haiku for Jean Rhys (suffered from alcoholism and manic depression)
The photograph in-the-red-box.
Like the juices of the succulent-roast –
The-death-kit it keeps me sane.
Haiku for Susan Sontag (died from breast cancer)
Fragmentary in-my-world-reality.
Here comes the blue nurses’ sleepwalking-again-writing-on-my-body
Ice-cometh with their death-kit needles-galore.
Haiku for Sharon Olds (suffers from and still lives with estrangement and divorce)
I like your death-kit-beauty that-pours-out-of-you.
Your territory so-pure-like-childhood – I-surrender-to-it –
Like Alice-in-wonderland, star maps, our-wedding-cake.
Haiku for Anna Kavan (heroin addict, died from heart failure)
In her volcano-garden there was-death-kit’s-silence –
Hellish ice-revisited. Human-stupidity. Heroin was-the-mistake.
Your weapons-against-the-tigers was writing-it-brilliantly off.
Haiku for Ann Quin (died from a suicide attempt)
The-portrait-of-the-sea- came with mansions –
Brighton’s waves shielded all this-drowning-visitor’s-barefoot-experiments.
At-the-borderline bloodless-flesh staying at-the-death-kit-hotel-forever.


