In honor of my Dad

When I was a child,
you carried me in your arms
and told the world I was yours forever.
When I grew older,
you sat me down and tried to explain life to me,
but left the sex talk to Mom.
When I met my first man at the tender age of fifteen,
I couldn't tell you
because I couldn't face your disappointment.
When the drugs and the alcohol and the cigarettes
invaded my life,
threatening to take me away,
you told me to use you as an example.
To see what they could do to a person.
When I finally beat my addiction to everything
but the cigarettes,
you were so proud of me.
You read my stories and my poems,
came to see me act in plays
and told members of the audience,
"See her? That's my little girl!"
You told me I could do anything
that I ever set my mind to.
You taught me to hate injustice and prejudice
and to love peace and others.
When I made the mistake of loving the wrong people
and gave too much of myself away,
you tried to understand
and told me that you'd always love me,
no matter what my faults were.
I may not see you every week like I see Mom
but you are only a phone call away.
And, like you, I may not approve of everything you do,
but I will always love you
and I'm trying to learn to love myself.
If I do succeed,
I know who to thank.
So I will raise a Mountain Dew to you
and give this toast.
"Here's to a father that loves me without any doubt.
here's to the one man I know will always care about me.
here's to a father from a daughter
who will turn to members of the audience in her life
and say, 'See him? That's my Dad! Ain't he quite a guy?'
Here's to you, Dad,
my best man.

Well, quite frankly, it's an awful, awful poem. But it's all true. He wasn't the best Dad in the world. But he was mine and he helped mold me into the person I am today. I don't remember when I wrote this, probably in my 20's. I still regret that I let one drunken incident keep me from talking to him for the last 3 years of his life. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you.

Death Chant

Girl:
Angel of Death,
please come and take me,
for my love no longer loves me
and I wish I could die.
Angel of Death, please weild your sword.
Remove my pain, remove my sorrow.
Angel of Death,
please come and take me away.
Carry me in your cold embrace
and let me die.
For the nights, they are so cold
since he left my side.
For the days hold no pleasure anymore.
Angel of Death,
please come and take me,
for my love no longer loves me
and I wish I could die.

Angel:
My child, as your life blood ebbs from your wrists,
as your breathing becomes shallow,
you call my name.
My child, do not beg for me to take you,
for life is too short to just throw away.
My child, please,
while there is still time,
reconsider this foolish thought
that a false love is worth dying for.
For the nights may be cold
since he left you
but nights with me are colder still.
for the days may hold no pleasure now
but as time goes by
they someday will.
My child,
as your life blood ebbs from your wrists,
as you heart beat slows,
you call my name.
Repent,
while there is still time.

Girl:
Angel of Death,
please ignore my call.
do not come and take me.
I am much too young to die.

Chorus of the Undead:
So are we all, those of us that thought
a false love was a true love.
So were we all.

Okay, high school again. If there was a guy in particular, I don't remember who he was. I do remember riding the bus home from school and scribbling this in a notebook. Obviously, I was extremely suicidal in high school. Lots of mood swings. Now I still battle depression but it's usually only around my birthday and I can usually snap myself out of it. I have great friends who keep me smiling as well. Plus, hey, I'd rather laugh than cry.

Bird

Is life so cruel
that such a small but beautiful bird should die,
noticed only by one person?
A bird should not die such an undignified death,
spiraling into a bucket of water
after crashing into a window.
Birds should be as graceful in death as they are in life.
A beautiful bird should not have died in the palm
of a lonely girl's hand.
Expecially after she thought she had rescued him
from a watery grave.

High School again. Pretty self-explanatory. I was depressed as hell and then this damn bird flies straight into our living room window. I think I cried for about an hour, despairing over the fact that this poor bird had died in my hands and oh, woe is me, I am so miserable and alone...you know, the crap you despair about as a teenager. Boy, I don't miss the constant mood swings.

Ode to a Bottle of Bacardi Rum

Oh, instrument of my approaching doom,
how you do shine at me.
Are you trying to lure me into a fishnet of folly,
as you did to father and brother before me?
Please go away,
for tonight I am trying to be strong
and resist the temptation of your siren call.
I have listened to your love song before,
believed you when you showed me the mock-pleasure of your depths,
but, oh, how I regretted following you in the morning.
Please go away (or at least be quiet), I beg
for if I let you deceive me again,
I will wake to find that
a fisherman's nag of a wife
has used my brain as a battlefield.
She adores throwing her best crockery at her hen-pecked husband
and running after him, swinging a sledgehammer,
leaving my brain a shattered mess she sweeps up
and under a blanket of confusion.
Oh, instrument of my approaching doom,
how you do shine at me.
I'm coming in.
I think the water will be fine.
At least until the morning.

This was one of the Meaning Of Life poems. Two things about this poem - One, alcoholism is hereditary. Two, I'm a Pisces (fisherman's wife, siren call, are you noticing the symbolism?) and a book I once read on astrology stated that Pisces have a tendency to gravitate towards alcoholism, drug abuse and have difficulty finding long term relationships. A former friend's comment when reading that passage was "Huh. Looks like you're going to be a drunk slut." Nice, right? This is why she's a former friend. So, since alcoholism runs in my family and I can get depressed all on my own, I avoid alcohol. It took me a long time to realize I can have fun without involving liquor.

See What You've Done?

There's a place in my heart
I reserve for you.
No one can touch it
for it is frozen tight.
No one can thaw it,
try as they might.
Not even you,
though you haven't even tried,
can make that spot sing.
In that section love has died,
the love I had for you.
Oh, I'll never forget you,
though I know I've tried.
There is just something about you
that makes me relive that night in the dark,
where you fumbled and I thought
"Is this what love is all about?"
And that night the spot began to freeze.
Then later, when I found you had lied,
ice water flowed in my veins.
so that is why, in that spot,
no man can touch my heart
and experience the love I could
have given someone.
Thanks to you.

Advice to young girls - when you are 15 and you meet a 17 year old who pays you a lot of attention and tells you that he loves you, run, run away. Your parents are right, he is only after one thing. And when you, starved for affection, give him that one thing, well, all I can say is find a good therapist because you're going to waste your life feeling guilty. Don't have sex until you're ready to deal with it, okay?

52 Pick-up

You're saying that you love me
and I know you don't mean it
but I want you to mean it,
I want you to care.
Tom complains about picking up garbage,
and I say all I've done my life is pick up garbage,
but I don't mean paper cups, food,
I mean all of you.
Each one of you invades my mind,
my one night stands,
my big mistakes.
I thought I had hidden you away.
But he saunters through my mind once again,
bringing back a parade of memories.
I remember Dean, the first, saying he loved me,
shattering my heart when he never called.
Doug and Darrel, two for the price of one,
one saying "I love you," the other another liar.
Then he came along, got me at the right moment.
didn't lie, just made me cry,
got me involved, hoped for a new love.
Why'd he do it?
So I say never get involved with a pick-up.
But shouldn't I say no more pick-ups?
Why can't I stop looking for love in a stranger's eyes
and learn to look for it in my own?

Right after high school. I'm not sure who the "he" in this is - I do know that when I was younger, I was extremely insecure and would form instant bonds with any man that would pay attention to me (I think you can figure out what I mean by instant bonds). I've learned a lot and have realized I don't need a man in my life to be happy. But God, I miss kissing.

Poseidon's Playground

Sands and sunshine were promised
in the green of your eyes.
Crying was not shown,
the crying I was soon to know.
Oceans have been traveled by many,
who, searching truth,
are trapped in lies.
I, too, sailed to find truth,
only to find myself lost.
Sands and sunshine were promised
but they were not to be found.
Reality is often painful and cannot be avoided,
unless one is to live in a world of dreams.
Maybe that's what your eyes truly promised.

Yeah, you know what I was saying about crushes? Here's another one. I worshiped this guy named Scott. Now, of course, I can barely remember what he looked like. This one was from 1984.

Flask

Tender lips I wish were mine to touch, they speak.
"Life is but a pantomime."
What do you mean?
I long to question but dare not ask.
All my love is carried in one small flask.
One rough push and it will break,
all my love to spill out for all to take.
Hurt me as much as you will
but I ask you please, love me still.
Break my heart
but still care for me.
and if you must go,
please promise me that you will return.
Tender lips I wish were mine to kiss, they speak.
"Goodbye" you say and leave my sight.
Please, I beg of you, come back soon.

High school. Written about this guy in the Drama Club with me - all we ever did was argue. Nothing ever happened between us, I just had a crush on him. This one has actually been published (okay in a Poetry.com anthology but still).

Suicide On The Inside

A splash.
Sinking slowly, hair streaming.
Down.
Lying on the bottom.
Feeling rough coral reef.
Smelling seaweed rot.
Dying.
A vision of my old life passes before my now dead eyes,
I am rising.
Gravity holds her force over me one last time.
A splash.
Breaking the surface.
Spectators scream in horror.
Man swims out,
tries to save me.
Fails.
Tears on my face are not my tears
but yours and the Sea's.
tears on your face because you did me wrong.
didn't care enough to love me.
Only to use me.
Fall on my face,
taste of salt.
Now that I am gone,
the cycle will continue.
Your turn is next.
The Sea will claim a new victim.
A splash.
Sinking slowly, hair streaming.
Down.

Okay, I wrote this in 1985. A group of us at my high school were picked to attend this workshop. I was in the poetry workshop and the leader decided to have us all write a poem based on one element, we had to include a coral reef. It took me maybe 15 minutes to write? The leader asked for volunteers to read their poems and after listening to this guy read this rambling about someone named Bill (there is a Roseanne episode where Darlene is going to read her poem and the guy that goes before her rambles about a bird. It was very similar to the Bill poem), I decided to read mine. I finish. There is complete silence. One person whispers "Wow." That was it. It's actually one of my favorites. Well, I told you I was depressed in high school.