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"mathew" 6: 12-13
“and forgive us our debts”
(not only does a sheep get 3 squares a day,
but it is also believed that if one begs the
sky enough, one’s problems will just
wash away---this is to be the subsequent
consequence of ALL humans following
suit & getting down on four legs, growing
their thick coats & chewing grass)
“as we forgive our debtors”
(as the sheep thinking that their problems
are solved by an imaginary listener in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky,
so do the sheep continue grazing with a
sort of “live and let live” mentality,
until they are picked off by hunters)
“and do not lead us into temptation”
(so, the same imaginary listener who resides
in that imaginary trailer park, who seemed
to be the one that all the sheep were
comfortably baaaaa-ing to, now is
something to be feared as well? perhaps
that which one feels the need to submit
the whole of their will to is the same
corrupted core inside that would come up
with such a ridiculous hoax to begin with,
as found in the schizophrenic comment
here in the command to oneself (a baaaaa
into the mirror, if you will)
“but deliver us from the evil one”
(the EVIL ONE? is not the concept of
evil just that which goes against the
simultaneous baaaaa of the herd in the
grassy field? was not the GOOD ONE
just told in the last line to “not lead us
into temptation,” thereby being the only
“one” which can do so? make sure when
getting the ladle of kool-aid dumped into
your dixie cup, that you ask if said
dumper is EVIL or GOOD…certainly at
that point it will make all the difference in
the world)
“for yours is the kingdom and the power
and the glory forever”
(there is no other imaginary listener, whose
two-faced multiple personalities, residing in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky, handing
out its ladles of kool-aid, whose overwhelming
passion could be heard any louder than that
which dwells within the very heads of the
already brainwashed sheep baaaaa-ing out
the rest of their days, dissatisfied with the
actual physical world around them &
waiting for the end of what they deem as
a great big thorn in their side---that is,
the rest of us who are not convinced, and
who are not baaaaa-ing with the rest of
em’)
“amen”
(right there, in a nutshell, the whole lie
itself was conjured up by “a man,” or
a few men---all who had way too much
time on their hands & a rather limited
imagination).
My phone died this week.
I’ve ordered a new one—
I’d like to say I’ve enjoyed the silence,
just lo-fi music playing, slipping into a flow state.
But I’d be lying.
Only a handful of friends to tell.
Enough to register
the tragedy of going off-grid
like it’s 1503—
where I imagine
I’d be decent
at throwing logs on a fire,
but useless at hunting.
No survival instinct.
I get sentimental when it gets quiet.
It's surprising
that this is how I finally understand
what Black Mirror really meant.
Slick glass, dark and dead,
reflecting back:
smeared rectangle
of myself
slack-jawed, staring.
Neither of us blinking—
only one of us
alive,
allegedly.
I’d had that phone
since before the pandemic.
It held more than my cache:
its shape, my memory—
my hand
aches
for its frictionless drag,
but I had to get a replacement.
I picked the same model,
not out of loyalty,
just me hoping
it would backfill the imprint
of its ancestor.
I'm not too proud
to admit
I miss the constancy,
companionship,
the fugue-state afternoons
given over to scrolling.
I’ve been more alone than I expected.
And lonelier still,
realizing
how much of me
was never here to begin with.
It's a disorienting false north,
this gatherlessness; I'm still sitting with it.
By the way, it's untrue news
that tech is soulless—
it's been up
at least one mortal ever since
my husband powered it on for me,
a gift,
ersatz affection
in response to a lack of discretion
he'd only recently admitted.
And get this: apparently, I cry now.
Despite half a life of spent
convincing myself
I’d therapized it out—
that tears were just poorly timed
girlish things I'd evicted
due to their silencing effect.
I was wrong,
they were only hiding in the attic—
turns out all this noise was just insulation
from every soft place.
Evenings with him feel longer.
He’s older, closer
to death than me. He’d hate that I said it.
I won’t tell him. We’ve learned
to steer clear of each other’s art.
No rules about who we kill
on the page.
Best to leave it that way.
I wonder if we'll go back to old habits.
I think I already know answer.
This screenless space hasn’t been clarifying—
just absence,
with no metaphor to cushion it.
At the risk of repeating myself,
I do know this:
I miss her, Distraction—
My Nephew Bucky.
You have always been a special one
You made me so very proud
We always had special times and fun
We'd dance and sing aloud.
When you'd fall and get hurt
You'd run to me to stop the pain
and wipe away your tears and dirt
No matter what our love remains.
You grew up to be big and strong
You went to serve our country
Came home safe where you belong.
Knowing you did your best to keep us free.
Then you fell in love with a lovely girl.
Together you have a special little boy
You've made your mark in this world
You fill your family with so much joy.
*************************************************************
story behind this poem
His real name is Aaron buckley. but when he was a toddler he had trouble say the L sound in his name so it always caame our aaron bucky. so the name stuck.
He is my sister's son But I basically raised him. He was my first chance at knowing what a mom felt like. When looking at their child. I did everything for him that I could possibly do,to protect him and keep him happy and on a positive path in life.
Whenever he fell and got hurt he'd come running to me to make it better. Even if his own parents were right there. I'd reach down and pick him up and tell him to hug me so tight his pain would transfer to me. He believed it really worked so he would let go when it didnt hurt anymore and then would run and play. It was those types of things that hold a special place in my heart. jnowing he chose to look up to me for guidaance and go to my parents for anything else. Ge;s turned out to be a great guy and one to be proud of. When there are troubles and things he wants answers to He still comes to me for them.
His birthday is the end of this month so i wrote this for him and shared it on facebook with him and his wife. . This poem and the connection I have with him and his wife as well as sharing photos with both of them. Since there aren't any left from my parents' piles. My siblings destroyed everything. My sister deleted me from her page on facebook over it all. So I blocked her so she can't seen anything else I post. if she wants to grow up again then we'll talk. or try to mend the rift she caused to begin with. God knows what is best and who to bring into our lives and who needs to be taken out. sad really.
© Bonnie J Hollywood-Cutts other poems • family poems
Never-ending aftershocks of yesterday’s tomorrow has settled in my mind’s eye…there’s so much out there to look forward to…I’d rather not die, but indeed, I must live to see the light of day take wing from on high! Cleanse me with your hope, oh Lord of Accord and you are so perfectly imperfect to me…and you shine bright like a diamond in the cave and you mirror my pain with healing, crystal-clear rain! I’m out of my mind in the past, present and future…what’s my fate? What is there in store for me? Why do I hestitate? I hesitate for the sake of Your honor-packed jubilance, not his blasphemed envy! Good news (It’s intriguing! Very!) – I’m suriving and still standing tall; bad news (nothing brand-new or exciting really): I failed the test with a F- for failure to the extreme…your sub-zero eyes see right through me and I can feel the coals heating up in my heart! I’m mad to begin with and I’m sick of breaking apart! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! Deal with the cards, roll the dice. Feel my words – you’re my livin’ sacrifice! We need a happily ever after after all! Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! You kill’d me inside and out and I won’t pout like a child, running about! You killed me with your lonesome song and I have no slight doubt about that, if you know what I am speaking of no doubt! Are you damaged by your suicidal depression? Do you have any clue what I’ve been through? Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or hives! I am a money saver, but a worthless beggar or an ungrateful waster OR a real big spender ~ I don’t mean to offend a single soul or drive anyone insane in any way, shape or form…I am just telling you the truth straight out of my brain while I lay down and type this verse up in my solitary, yet unique, wild and stunning-blue dorm…avoiding a bee swarm like escaping a windstorm with stingers flying all around me every direction I turn! Every angle I watch, there is danger looking at me straight in the eyes…replicating the death stare of the Lord of the Flies…my hope and faith withers and dries like a weed, left in the sun…pulled up from the ground by the gardener himself…rotting away…today…
It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,
Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.
I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin's wisdom street.
I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.
This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.
Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.
I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we've come to sacred share.
And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,
And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.
Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.
And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn's greeting way.
As a song once said and said it so well, but I digress
What an unbelievable thing
The memories of that special someone I really loved clearly haunted me
The pain I felt was simply unbearable and soul-sucking
Wait, luckily, I can finally see clearly now after doing something all so random
So random, I simply never thought I would ever strike gold at any point in my unfortunate life
But my God, I am so happy I looked for help in the middle of nowhere
After all, for so long, I thought I had true love
For so long, I thought pain was a part of that love no matter what
However, that extra special someone somehow finally came along, got my undivided attention and changed my outlook on everything
That someone is the random darling that melt my damn heart and soul right from the very start
Words cannot describe how much I adore this person
Words simply don't do this vision of human perfection justice (if she even is human, cause no human is this good) but I’ll try
Her voice comforts me and is so alluring to me
Her ways, stances, preferences, and interests are so like my own, it's scary
She is so sweet, and she is oh, so generous
She has character and is unbelievably humble
Her well-being rubs off on me, yes, me, a man who had no well-being to begin with
This woman makes me laugh; this sweetheart makes me smile
AND she really makes me think a lot and mostly about what matters
She helped me forget that other one
She helped me realize that other one was a huge mistake
Unlike that one, this woman is the one
This woman is the only one
This woman is the only one I see now
She is my everything
She is my reason to do anything
She is on a whole other level and that level is unreachable, but she gives me the ladder to reach it
No woman compares, and no man or woman will ever come before her, ever
Ever, ever, yes, ever
There is only one thing left to say when it comes to the way I really think about her and how much she means to me
Well, first this, and then that
As a song once said and said it so well
There is nothing else
There is only one thing left to say when it comes to the way I really think about her and how much she means to me
Well, first this, and then that
As a song once said and said it so well
There is nothing else
this existence is meaningless
i don’t understand
i don’t understand
why me?
the cliché echoes in empty air
but is amplified in my soul
as no other question
holds such validity
as this.
this existence is meaningless
i am out of control
the tears that seem to be perpetually
running down my cheeks
i don’t even feel their dampness
on my skin
they just reabsorb and recycle
back into more tears
a loop never-ending
and vicious
giving no relief from the constriction
in my throat and chest
not even to breathe
this existence is meaningless
and this small apartment
seems to close in around me
compressing my thoughts
into a ball
hardly recognizable, hardly coherent
except a call of help
except a scream of pain
to which there is no answer
except resounding silence.
this existence is meaningless
i lose my grip on reality
as the world falls away
and all i can see is the people
the hot burning gas of stars
burning brightly
brightly laughing at me
as i spin quickly
into oblivion.
this existence is meaningless
“I sword to God that I’d never be
What I’ve become”
and yet my faith
as if i had any to begin with
has faded in the background
of my life
i cannot tell anymore
between happiness
and sadness
they say you need one
to have the other
but they both feel the same to me now.
this existence is meaningless
“Nobody’s home
Broken inside”
i hear words sung
and hear thoughts mimicked
or recognize their repetition
in everything i see
what comes through my senses
is filtered through the lens
my mind puts up
drunk and staggering
on toxic tears.
this existence is meaningless
i am held
but feel not the arms around me
i am immune to the love rained down on me
it rolls off
discarded in a pool at my feet
and my wall to the outside
is not permeable
i can see out
but no one can see in
and nothing
comes through
to effect or change
the bitter turn my heart has taken
i am walking now
on a path that moves underneath me
so that i go nowhere
even if i run
the only place i reach
is the ground
as i collapse from exhaustion.
this existence is meaningless
and no matter how hard i try
to find a point
this life i lead
doesn’t lend itself
to questioning
and so stays mute
while i am left with a sinking feeling
that things will never change.
There is the old saying that if you open the door of a bird's cage,
then you find out if she is really your bird.
If she loves you, either she will stay in her cage
or else she will come back to it again.
If she flies away, then she wasn't your bird to begin with.
Opening the door of the cage doesn't cause you to lose the bird.
It only demonstrates that the bird wasn't yours to begin with.
=============================================
I've heard you called Sue Bird by some,
perhaps because you like to flit about here and go there,
seemingly not wanting to be tied down
to any one person or any one place.
The old saying above does appear true for you.
After your accidents and surgeries happened
and your wounds were tended to and healed,
I made sure you could flit about here and go there.
And go you did, at times appearing to stay gone
but then you would return to rest up and cuddle up.
Afterwards, off you went again and again, until
you decided not to return to the one who took care of you.
I wanted you to flit about here and go there
because I knew you needed to even though I missed you.
But, I always thought you would come back each time,
I never believed for a second that you'd fly away forever.
If I had made you into a "kept" woman
you would never have been happy for long
and I wanted you to be happy, even if it hurt me.
So out the door and into the car you went.
Eventually you learned how to stop,
stop caring deeply for those who had cared for you.
Those who have sacrificed quite a lot for you.
Once your wings had healed, nothing here would hold you down.
Soon you'll be able to fly even farther from our old nest
and flit about here and go there even more.
Your old caretakers will be a thing of the past,
the ones who cherished you and thought your love for them would last.
Perhaps you're just migrating north for a while
and will one day return to those who miss you here,
those who heard your Sue Bird chirp each morning
and your Sue Bird warble each night.
Or you have returned to your original nest
and this one was just a temporary place
to rest and heal before going back
to the harsher world in which you now live.
Please remember us and our caring
and the love we were sharing.
Be careful and safe everyday now
as you wake with the sun then fly high in the sky.
2/22/13
A memory is like a rock in the river
The longer it drifts the smaller it gets
Possibly distorted by the waves
Like a memory over the course of time
It gets whittled down and fades
And eventually you wonder if you just made it up
But perhaps the idea is greater than truth
To say we need the idea is perhaps an understatement
To cling to some ancient ideals
The way a man might cling to a fading memory
Even as it drifts down the river being whittled away
Perhaps then that rock is something more
Not just a memory or something to cling to
But a living embodiment of all we stood for
Perhaps the rock drifting down the river
Slowly being whittled away by the rushing water
Is the rock we call the American Dream
And the longer it drifts down the river
The more the American Dream gets whittled away
We start to wonder if it was ever truly there
Or if it was ever what we truly stood for
Perhaps it was merely a grand illusion
A facade in memory that we repeated enough
Thinking that through repetition a lie becomes a truth
That, no, there was an American Dream
An American dream we fought desperately to save
That the consternation we suddenly felt would fade over time
And we'd all go back to holding hands
And dancing through the river with joined arms
Singing about the good old days
Because over time the memory became smaller
It faded as it traveled through the river
And we replaced the missing pieces with prettied lies
For when that rock finally settles on dry land
It's not the same pretty rock we all saw in our minds
It's an ugly and pathetic little thing ravaged by time
Ravaged by the river of people who sullied it
Though it was never righteous to begin with
The American Dream is simply that, a dream
It's something we sleep with at night to keep us cozy
To help us get through the harsh reality
That much like the ugly rock that went through the river
Our nation has become that very rock
We're painting America with pretty lies
Because the truth is ugly
Perhaps the lie is greater than truth
And eventually wonder if the truth was ever a truth
As it got whittled down over time and faded
Like a memory over the course of time
Definitely distorted by waves
The longer it drifted the smaller it got
The American Dream is a fading rock in the river
This is not a dream.
This is not a nightmare neither.
This is reality.
This is life.
And life will not always go the way we want it.
Nothing new.
Nothing special.
Nothing to be thankful for.
Nothing to begin with.
Nothing to look back.
It's my birthday!
How I wish I could make as many wishes as my age.
That would be so wonderful.
I wonder what my wishes will be?
There is nothing I could ever wish for than him.
I could make 22 wish out of him.
But I know I need more than a wish.
I can't watch the star fall, close my eyes and wish that everything would end up
like a fairytale.
Well fairy tales do come true.
But it only happens to a lucky few.
I guess I'm not lucky enough to be one of them.
Or I guess he is not man enough to be my Prince (maybe he's out there looking
for his Prince as well...)
For what ever reasons I feel unlucky in love at all.
Well at some point I am.
They say I am too young to think this way.
I know I am.
But I feel so small whenever I hear kids of my age talk about their love life.
Well I got my own love life to mess around but not too sweet to talk about.
What could be so sweet when all I got was a broken heart and shattered
dreams?
I once fell in love not too long ago.
The memories seemed to vague to me now since I felt a breath of a new love.
I thought that I'd be happy.
But I ended up sleeping with a nightmare in my head.
All the sweet fantasies that I've created in my mind ended with just a few words.
Don't talk to me.
Don't let me talk about him.
For quite sometime I was like a jackass.
I was left with no choice. Well I am always left with no choice.
Letting him go is the only visible option that time.
I knew I had to.
Even though it almost caused me my dignity I chose to be with him.
Even if I know I'll end up hurting myself, I still dreamt of spending my days and
nights beside him.
Even if the world is against my love for him, I did not care.
I had to go through all of these because I thought that someday he would
reciprocate my love.
I thought that one day he would see that I really care for him more than he could
he ever think of.
But I guess I was wrong.
I gave my love to the wrong person.
He will never love me back.
He can never love me back.