im on the bus

I’m on the bus

Rolling through town looking out the window at myself on the above ground train looking down at me on the bus

I’m sitting next to myself, sleeping in the window seat

I’m chatting with a stranger in the isle next to me.

I’m watching myself walking to class down Thompson Ave

I’m out there on the curb begging for some change but I won’t hardly give myself the time of day.

I’m looking in at myself at a restaurant, eating a meal with my family

I’m driving past myself hard at work, late, in the office – but I don’t see me there.

I’m juuuuuuust on the other side of that window, ringing up customers in the pharmacy

I’m hustling down Queens Boulevard, bundled head to toe to keep from catching cold.

And all the while I’m riding the bus

on my way home

I’m standing on the overpass, watching the glow of my brake lights down below while I sit stuck in traffic, impatiently trying to get to a concert

I watch myself sadly walking under the over, contemplating life and death

I’m in that store front shop over there, getting zapped with a tattoo gun while I also sit outside the room watching my love get pinched the same.

I’m grabbing some dollar menu items with the last of my paycheck wondering what the rest of the week will hold while I watch myself, holding my sons hand as he jumps into the ball pit.

And there I am, excitedly walking to the bar for karioke with a group of me’s, all being so absolutely ME that it’s sickening, so I don’t even watch.

I’m grabbing some cash from an ATM and I’m shopping in Queens Center while I convince myself to buy those oh-so-fabulous shoes.

And all the while, I’m sitting on the bus.

Just rolling through town.

I’m anxiously seated in the back of the church wondering how I’m up at the front just calm as a cucumber with NO expression on my face.

I’m standing in a parking lot unloading some heavy memories to the most me of all me’s- and I stand there open, and loving, receiving the weight.

I’m stumbling to the train station high as a kite and wondering if anyone will ever love me,

or if I will ever love me again

or if I’ll ever truly love myself.

I’m sitting on a bench waiting for myself to arrive.

I’m up in that apartment, cleaning my bathroom with such pride that I have my own space to clean while below me, I clean my fourth bathroom of the day and just cannot wait until it’s quitting time.

And I’m driving a bus

I’m selling tomatoes and olives and flowers and broccoli rabe to a bunch of rich snooty me’s that barely notice I’m breathing, while I’m standing there engulfed in my own importance.

My bus rolls to a stop and there I am at the bus stop slumped over half asleep and I call to myself, but I have no time so I leave myself behind.

I’m over there at Enterprise renting a car from myself and I’m ready for a mission

or a vacation.

I’m waiting in line.

A very big line.

I’m antsy but I’m calm and I complain but I stay quiet.

I’m at Starbucks overpaying for coffee but feeling fancy while I do so, and when I ring myself up, I tell myself to have a great day, but I give up no tip.

Rolling through town on a bus.

I’m at the court house shaking and crying and worried and angry and worried and confused and ashamed.

I’m alone but I’m surrounded.

I’m in the back of the bus holding back tears.

I’m moving myself out, up and in all while I’m moving away and closer.

Finishing and starting.

And I appreciate my help so much.

I’m looking for something at the library but really just enjoying the scent of books while I wait out the clock for me to finish so I can go home.

I’m wearing orange and working on the side of the road, when there I go on my bus.

Rolling through town.

I’m ordering sandwiches infatuated with the brotherly love.

I’m sluggishly washing cloths at the laundromat, watching the tv that I can’t hear but I’m just too tired to ask myself to turn it louder.

From the bus, I can only see my belly in the window while I use the chordless drill to install curtain rods for the first time, ever.

I’m in these houses.

Hugging and cleaning and cooking and sleeping and watching and helping.

I’m on the bus

I’m all there is

C

A Letter of Resignation

I’ve got a confession to make,

I wasted the day feeling stressed.

Tears welled up from the pressure in my chest and I’m tired,

And I just     need   to give it a rest.

I need a life hack,

something to get me to the next level because I’m stuck,

here,

in this day to day groundhog day every day.

Failing at the impossible and irrelevant,

and stressing all the while while you

sit back on your throne and just pile

the tasks at my feet,

to keep me underfoot,

groveling like a slave,

stuck – like I’ve lost a foot but I HAVEN’T,

I’m PERFECTLY mobile,

yet, immobilized by your stress inducing psychosis.

Reach. higher and higher and hire and DANCE,

until we can’t hear the music or feel the rhythm and we’ve forgotten what we’re reaching for-

It didn’t matter

conditioning us to greeed,

Only to want,

more and more

until

One day

Death comes knocking at our door,

and we can’t even account for all – that – TIME

So then, nothing flashed before our eyes.

Well FUCK IT

I quit.

My time is mine.

C

Fight or Flight

I crave the irresponsibility of it all,

selfishly,

the contradictory release,

bare invisibility.

to be one, among the many,

Searching for security within our insecurities,

imploring convention,

to drown each other in happiness,

the happiness we know and love – and hate.

nameless and faceless.

Who is unimportant,

it’s the What we’re all after,

windowless freedom,

Flight.

Home.

where I can get heavy,

and deep and low cause we’re high

and at least we understand that we don’t,

and we’re broken.

yearning for instability time ticks by,

days pass,

the pavement rushes underfoot.

I hear the nothingness is an accomplishment,

but they don’t stand beside me when they say so-

Stuck

Here

Alone

In sensory overload mode just watching while the world speeds by.

All my doing, kept at bay,

guarding my arms

length.

concealing my wounds,

licking,

but to no avail.

What’s the point?

Hemorrhage, and reseal me.

I miss the scene.

The glow of the night lights dancing in the night life,

and the opportunity to shut off the world.

Tempting.

It’s all just a phone call away

(reach out and touch me)

Those days are never far behind

(right around the corner)

It seems like only yesterday

(too far for satisfaction)

And here I’m wishing yesterday

(too near for relief)

Was instead today.

CONSEQUENTLY!

It’s all irrelevant

(always the optimist)

Or is that inevitable?

(at least I feel the pain)

BECAUSE!

I decided long ago that, piece remains atop the table,

Put down, a putdown

Collecting

Dust-

Pieces of me,

however microscopic they may be,

collect upon its surface.

Glossy to matte to gray.

Gravity, pulling me back piece by piece,

starving me of peace by piece.

Starved

What else is there?

I’ll

Just

Proceed

Press forward through the nothingness and THIS

will pass again.

The pavement rushing underfoot.

All this silly dialog will be,

But a silly memory-

Wasted ink

Wasted time

Wasted life.

The Champ!

Winning a losing battle.

Trapped in perpetual fight,

Dreaming of a fruitless flight.

C

Something vs. Nothing

So they say I need to get out there and make something of myself.
Tiger.
That is to say,
Currently, I’m nothing.
And to become ‘something’
I must do an awful lot of nothing.
Making lists
Crawling through cyber space
Assigning numerical value to my values,
And telling everyone I’m everything and getting nothing in return.
My life on their terms
A series of debits and credits
Generally, nothing more than a ledger

So, what’s the bottom line?
I wish I had more time.

And so, I think I won’t be ‘something’
No accounting for my value
Or, performing on command
No balancing
For, I am something now
A big, round, beautiful zero
Ground
Neutral
Neither positive nor negative
Just being
Existing

Why not just make nothing of ourselves instead?

Dark Matter

If we met tomorrow,

what would I say,

what would you?

I’ve thought it over,

over and over,

over so, now I don’t know.

Would I tell you I missed you,

missed you when there was nothing to miss,

missed you when you didn’t exist?

Or was it the ideal of you?

The adventurous “if”

the wonderment of “when”

the possibilities.

Like a love lost,

I missed what could have been.

Would I tell you I felt denied

abandoned,

damaged,

shunned left and shut out.

Would I tell you how HE took your place?

And how

nothing you could ever do

could reclaim it as yours?

Would I tell you that I’m angry?

Angry you let them define you,

define ME.

Hurt me,

And neglect me.

Collateral damage but damage just the same.

Angry you gave up.

Gave up on you,

on family,

on ME.

Would I tell you that none of it even matters anymore?

(Does it?)

That you’re just too late.

(Are you?)

And that your influence as well as theirs is powerless.

(Is it?)

Because I’m FREE.

But then again,

(Am I?)

I sure don’t seem to be.

And, at the sight of a strange face, would it all rush back?

And matter.

Matter like I was 12 years old,

convincing myself that

if I just did little better

you’d be there,

I did.

You weren’t.

Matter like the light I’d prayed for,

like a lifetime of anticipation,

like constant disappointment,

like a jaded and cynical vision

haunting

Will it all come flooding back,

And matter?

Matter like a missing chapter,

those alternate realities, given new life:

Your better family,

Your other wife,

your better life,

Without me.

Diluted memories,

Bedtime stories,

Daddy, tell me the one where I ran you off again?

Would I give you a tour of the world you placed atop my shoulder that blames me?

Would I tell you how hopelessly I tried to grasp control

Would I tell you how I was silenced and it burned hotter deep within

How the silence cracked me

hardened me

My heart

Thickened my skin but scarred my spirit.

still kindling

A wound I guess I’ve still not mended

But is it?

Will I ever even know

Will you?

Matter

C

Pimpin’ the American Dream ‘aint Easy

Am I less of a customer because I pay by EBT?
Or is it because I pay late and don’t try to argue down the fee?
Because I follow the rules,
Yet, my dollar is worth less than yours.
Worthless?
Or just worth – LESS
Because I stand all day to earn it,
And because I’m just too big to fit through any loop holes in your government
Because I ride the bus and the train
Eat chips and cakes
And don’t obsess about my weight gain.
So wait,
Because I work and you supervise,
that makes me less than you
you do realize,
without me, there’d be nothing for you to doSSSSHHHHHHHH

don’t discount my worth based solely on your ego
and remember,
you don’t go every place that we go.
To the pantry
At 5am to wait in line and beg for a bite to eat.
To the podiatrist,
With no insurance for those shooting pains in my feet
And to SNAP where I get denied and told ‘sorry hun people got it worse then you
they got you beat’
hu,
I didn’t realize my life was a game
A snapshot of the working poor
Put that in your frame
If it’s worth it.

They say,
If we just worked harder,
We could pull ourselves out.
Does the same hold true to the Somalian’s we gave to, and hear so much about?
Don’t let them turn you against us
A standard ‘us against them’
You don’t know what we’ve seen or where we’ve been.
You hear ONE story and it repeats in your mind, it never ends.
Why not instead,
Spread – out that sympathy
To the homeless, the crazy, the hungry,
To the elderly
To me.
We are not numbers
The 99%
We are one
The collective
Simply caught up in the current
Turn around and swim up stream
It’s like you’re stuck in a tractor beam
Remember the enemy because to them we’re ALL poor
They’re the pimps and we’re they’re whores
Don’t be complacent
Solutions exist
Speak up and stop being fucked
Or you’ll just allow the fucking to persist.

C

Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend

Am I less?

 

Well, what’s the bench mark?

Less of a woman with less ample breasts?

Wearing less makeup and a longer dress

Less, sparkle and shine

But more grit and grime

why must I be soft?

And quiet.

A skirt

Delicate and proper

Ladylike

LIKE a lady?

OR a lady?

What is a lady?

 

Well, I guess I don’t fit

Because I can’t force-fake a dream of diamonds and marriage and children and debt.

I close my eyes

And fantasize of revolution

I remember the listless limbless child slaves

The ones mining your diamonds for a cup of rice a day

I dream of a new reality where people are valued

Where money falls from grace

Where you’ll all have egg on your face

 

Don’t try to put me in a box and pop a label on it

You don’t understand because you’re selfish

You are your own sun

And we just orbit

Of no importance

Right?

 

I’m committed

And have convictions

I have love

And drive

I’M alive

I’ll not wed society

A society allowing for poverty,

For hunger.

Not for change

Not for love

Not echoing the cries of the vulnerable like thunder

Prim won’t feed the children

And, it would be proper, to put a stop to sex trafficking.

If a “Lady” wears a diamond on her perfectly manicured ring finger,

Does it show her husband her commitment?

Or just that, African children are less important?

I’m not buying what you’re selling

So call me a man because I’ve got balls and you’re right,

A diamond IS forever.

Forever enslaved

Forever lining the pockets of war profiteers

Forever ruining economies

Forever encouraging genocide

Your divorce will sever ties

But your diamond severed lives

It cast a foreshadow on your union

Polluting the purity of your marriage like raw sewage

All because you acted before you thought

Goo goo gaa gaa over that ring your friend bought

Like a rodent attracted to its shine

 

OK, OK

It’s just a ring

Well you tell that to him,

The boy with one hand

To his mother

To the villages destroyed and its people run off their land

So you see,

This thing,

You say is ‘just a ring’

Is much,

Much more.

Decide what you stand for.

 

 

C

A Special Piece by Matthew Beach

Here is a piece my very talented cousin, Matthew Beach, posted up this morning. It is very personal and got me very choked up. He captures my EXACT feelings. Such talent, I am proud and lucky to have him as a family.

“Pop Pop….. I just wanna let you know, you’re not here but I’ll never let you go, I know you’re wit uncle jerry-o , because you were there to greet him…I have my own son now I wish that you could meet him. I was depressed when you left , but I knew there was a reason…. and when God says it’s your time, you gotta leave then…….(after I breathe in), Please give me a second to explain, I’ve been through a lot of shit, when you were sick it was just pain. I’ve been tryna maintain through the rain and the stormy weather….. but it just ain’t the same cause we’re not all together. All we have is memories of the time passed…… I know it had to kill Uncle Timmy, when Tom passed. It’s just a part of life, the heartbreak and sadness, it’s madness, feels like every year another one passes. I always feel better when the priest reads his passage, then everybody prays….rest in peace is the last wish. Uncle mike was that southern Kentucky Fly guy , gold jewelry out the window whenever you’d see him ride by!….. we all have our days, but today I’m feeling sky high, and thank god for my family and friends that I have by my side!”

Anxiety Valley

Tremors
Palpitating vibrations
Remnants of the night before
That uneasy feeling
From my stomach to my shoulders
My heart traveling north
That sleepy tingling spreads outward
Intense focus
Sensory overload
Deep breaths
Climbing
Anticipation Mountain
The air is thinning
Shortening breaths and a queasy stomach
The churning acids heating my belly
On the rocks
Elevating altitudes
Cold and numb
Stabilized
Equalized

C

Inner City Peace

This world we’ve constructed for ourselves,

Violent, selfish and uninviting

While, the world on its own,

Nature,

Springtime,

Is just the opposite.

Full of calming beauty,

Coexistence, generosity and openness.

Each day,

If only for a moment,             

I RENOUNCE OUR INDIGNANT, SELF RIGHTEOUS AND CALCULATING WORLD

And simply coexist,                                                                

To feel the wind run across my skin,

The sun, gently warming my hair.

To appreciate the grass, so green and lush,

The flowers, peeking out, just beginning to bloom.

Time to sing along with the birds’ beautiful chipper melody,

And watch the squirrels run with wild freedom.

To immerse myself in harmony,

In peace,

In the natural and true world order,

And simply exist.

 

Here, ownership is nonexistent,

You cannot bottle the breeze,

Or jar a wave.

You can’t purchase freedom,

Or email the glisten of morning sunshine reflecting gloriously off of jet black fur.

If you trap the breeze,

It ceases to exist,

Its spirit dies.

And in effect, you’ll have trapped emptiness,

Nothingness,

Futility, but we continue.

 

I don’t wish to strive,

Or survive

Confine or work.

Produce,

Enlarge or reduce.

I will not grind or achieve or chase.

I’ve no interest in climbing a ladder,

For at the top, only a trapped breeze awaits.

I’d rather a mountain,

A view, some snow.

I yearn for coexistence,

For a purpose and love that are persistent,

Surrounded by sunshine or raindrops,

Engulfed in the breeze.

To cut the chains,

We’ve bound ourselves as willing slaves.

Lose the shackles,

And just be,

Be truly free.

 

 

C