It's amazing how much I thought I had healed.
I thought I found safety and happiness,
That I was moving past all the hurt from before.
But it just snuck it's way into this home.
Until every corner was wallpapered in hurt.
Until entering every room felt like walking onto the firing line.
"In the kitchen watch for him throwing dishes,
In the hallway he'll push you down or throw boots at you.
He'll kick the bathroom door down if you lock it but you can hide in the shower at his mom's house because he won't kick her door down.
Avoid the bedroom while he's awake at all costs".
I thought I had gotten better.
That he'd bring me safety.
I thought HE had gotten better.
But I plan my exits in every home we move into,
I try not to let him in-between the door and I,
So I can run when he decides he's angry.
I didn't do anything to deserve this sh*t.
I am kind.
I know I am.
I always try to be, at least.
But he tries to hurt me.
And I try to make peace.
I get it now.
Things aren't better.
And it wasn't because of me.
(A mystic whispers)
Through this scrying mirror
Be it by
Eyes, Touch, Paper, or Phone
Let my power
Melt your heart of stone
Through
Wind, fire, wave, and sea
I see you
Are you ready to atone
Can you feel me
Rolling in
Like green moss
Creeping across
Warm wet skin
So you can absorb me
More
To open wide
All your mind's closed doors
To let me in
So long nights
Can begin
With Earth warmed
By new shadows
Borne
Open up so I can linger within
Until dawn
Willing heat to rise up
Like young pawns
Called to fight
In Winter's War of Emotions
So prepare well
Summer Solstice is coming soon
On the 21st of June
A rebirth
A time of new beginnings and spells
With me and you
Engaging in deep breathing
In hot bedrooms,
Wallpapered in sinning and yells
Where old feelings flee
With the ringing of our libidos bells
To be swept away
By sweet cries of a new renaissance that will never stop
And be replaced by new psyops
As all your resistance
Drops
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
For the next three poems I choose "I don't know?" and "baptism" since these are old poems that I found that survived the burnings. I no longer write like this, but the last of the three is more my slant towards Robert Creeley.
untitled
A tropical sunset, wallpapered, eleven by fourteen,
Stares at my daily awakenings;
The sun, like a sleepless eye on the verge of closing
Can never blink,
But once cried a salty foreground sea.
Beyond the wall, deep in the horizon,
Hemidemisemiquaver rain, in four/four time,
Fills potholes with puddles,
And not knowing when to stop,
Makes lakes for romantic rowboating couples.
But in the dark night, frogs grate,
Sounding like a carpenter
Rasping an almost finished frame
That will border contorted perceptibilities
Or images in placid pastel.
From ever-earlier nightfall, the scintillating stars emerge
from September skies as from a Rembrandt canvas.
It is good, during Virgo’s mild nights,
to spread a blanket on an isolated hilltop-
take the hand of someone for whom romance still flows-
and become one, under skies wallpapered with endless stars-
and experience the Milky Way splitting the night sky in half,
as it has for all the Septembers of our lives.
It assures in its own way that today’s problems,
like others through the years, will pass-
and all remains well with us.
Portrait of an Unknown
Written: by Tom Wright
7-18-2016
It was just an outsized oval portrait,
Dusty and washed out by time;
Always featured in the same location
During my life at home years;
Mom couldn’t retrieve his name,
Only that he was kinfolk.
It always looked out of place
On the wallpapered wall it occupied.
Perchance it was the ornate oval frame
That captured my curiosity.
Memory’s snapshot that I recall
Is of a distinguished looking man
With rosy cheeks, fedora, suit coat, and tie;
Was he a Minister, Banker or Mortician?
This face that was unknown to us,
Nonetheless induces wonderment,
Concerning many things about his life,
Primarily how his portrait found a home
On our papered bedroom wall;
it was ill thought,
my idea spoken
that sat in the trees
that branched out
unlit.
i tried to keep it quiet,
when the finger on your lip
screamed out to me to shush
but the lit bodies in your multi toned hair
never warned the raven black ravens,
not to tell.
the ones that took flight against a wallpapered sky
into a fully rounded moon.
they squawked it to the clouds
who warned the wind,
that blew it to the mountains
and they echoed it across the land.
that's when the silence broke.
but your other hand took the words away
and
still
motionless
they wonder what it was they knew.
today i saw the ghost of wanting
and in his finest linens, he did dress
he was made-up of may past-up, could of have been lovers
that would like to have had been
Perhaps, maybe, surly possibly...
and in this ghost of greener grasses
i have found no Peace
because in the wanting of a thing or person
self will lie
so in this lie i twisted the truth
and new (knew) love was not there for the doe (female of various mammals) of me
so i will walk the halls of wallpapered, soloed nudity alone
and yet not the lonely soul of me, will be accompanied by you
never, to be moved with the passion of true
that with (which) of nature that wants
natural Sexual emotion
siring (singing )under the waters of wheres and wants
only to mix up unwanted thoughts
no there be no shame
only understanding
that what will be will be
and wanting will not make it so...
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