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The Translation of Deceit and The Temptation of Desire

Lost in Translation…

Words,

Just words,

Right?

Just words…

Right?

It is commonly understood,

Love,

Is universal,

Felt by all,

Yet is it?

Now I am not so sure,

Me,

The very embodiment of that passionate urge,

The swelling surge,

That is as uncontrollable as the tides or gravity

And impossible to purge;

For here I am,

On wounded knee,

Felled,

Having given all of me,

And willing to give so much more,

Tempted by another’s fruit,

As the story goes,

I was,

Knowing what I was doing was wrong,

Persisting still,

Not knowing that it was to get worse,

As all things forbidden usually do;

Forbidden,

Reassured by your tender words,

The trance like innocence conveyed,

That betrayed the festering truth deep within,

Words,

Those you thought I wanted to hear,

Penetrating so,

Knowing I wanted to hear truth,

Not momentary,

But everlasting,

Convinced that what you held for me was real,

Compounded by those words you said to me,

Mocking temptress,

Vicious villain leaving me caught unaware,

In that moment,

Perhaps you expected me to say something different,

Perhaps hoping I would,

Is that the case?

I guess I’ll never know,

And in light of what has come to light,

I now don’t care.

In love,

You let me float on cloud high,

Nine and silver lined,

Seemingly higher than I have ever been before,

Realizing now the manic apparitions,

When with those words you changed me,

In an instant,

Looking into the future,

And whole lives flashing before my eyes,

My imagination wild with expectancy,

Expectant,

See,

Ripe,

As names resonated through my head,

Through my fingers,

Touching my pursed lips,

Kissing life,

Trying to find the one meaning,

That could somehow compliment what I believed we had,

But did we ever?

No,

Your deception now clear,

Intention however lost,

Despite my over thinking.

Now what I am left to consider,

As my heart cries out,

Like a lone lemming,

In search of family,

The family I believed I was starting,

That you let me believe for too long,

Was going to be real,

Finally,

In love,

A child conceived of love,

But do you know what love is?

As poison dripped from your lips,

Seeping into my veins,

And killing me from within,

For that which I could not be without,

The manipulation of my desires, dreams and aspirations,

The game you play,

Not just on me,

But all.

Do you know what love is?

Truly inside your heart and soul?
Nay, simply the wicked game,

Played by your insecurities,

Those measured imperfections,

Shadows of shadows,

Wherein you hide,

Mata Hari to your own needs,

Momentary,

Stated,

Never satiated,,

By your own despotic evil,

Webs of deception,

As in my hurt,

My eyes wide open,

Availed once more,

Of the piercing screams of my dark companion,

Lifelong,

Depression,

That woeful Black Dog.

Left to understand what you never will,

For love would not do what you have done,

Could not,

Let me feel the way I felt,

Let me believe what I did,

Including as cannon fodder,

Our families both,

A lifetime,

Forever,

A loving girlfriend, wife and mother,

The most wonderful present you offered,

And as a man, I was ready,

To stand up,

Doing whatever necessary,

To support our burgeoning family,

Nothing I would not do,

Nothing,

And I would have been for you.

But no more,

Given the chance,

No more,

Given the chance,

No more shall I beg a fool,

For surely you are,

I was;

All that you wanted and more,

Instead blinded by your own iniquity,

A fanciful insanity,

Delusions,

Not unlike my own,

Though I never had a malicious thought, nor action,

Knowingly,

But for you, I was pawn,

And you were Queen and King,

Making a jester of my thoughts and desires,

Deeper into the burrow of your sham.

All that I am,

Once,

For all of you,

For each other,

For our families,

For our child,

The full spirit of love exposed,

Expressed,

And then repressed,

As now tempered reason,

And lies exposed,

Reveal no burgeoning translation would ever be,

Now,

Wandering lost,

In cultural differences,

Secret life,

Lives,

Yours now reveal,

Very real,

Though now free,

Stinging my broken heart,

Crushing my wounded spirit,

Questions,

Endless,

That will never be answered,

Or will they?

Seemingly the truth has set me free…

Uncertainty brash and deeply hurting,

A fragment of the man I was,

To become the man I will be,

Not for you,

But for a love requited,

True,

Understood beyond the words so meaningless to you,

Hmong Key,

The ‘Key’ indeed, you were,

Words;

Ones never lost,

In translations!

SDM

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My Iniquity

 

The darkened sky,

A transformative canvas,

Black, as a starless night,

My soul heretofore rising and falling,

On seemingly blatant whims,

Manic yes,

Depressed no,

Setting me on an uncharted course,

Of history, the present and future yet revealed,

Empty, like a new found easel,

Palette stained with the blood on my hands,

And yours,

Decision made,

To have the most perfect child of the light,

Months of manic expression,

Blessed transformation of my soul,

Decision made,

Miserable repression of wretched sorrow,

In a feigned attempt to rid myself of my acceptance,

Of a choice, I dare not make,

Let alone accept,

But what choice could there be,

Cleaning the slate to record the singularity events,

We’re barely yet to understand,

You, moved on, with nary a thought for what we’ve done,

Me,

Trapped inside festering deliberations of the apparent lie I bought,

Selling my soul once more to an imagined devil,

Selling my soul for your comfort,

Placing your needs above my own,

As expected,

Demanded,

By the circumstances of fate,

Hmong Key,

Deleterious choices that were not mine,

But to which I am a party,

And will eternally be strained to accept,

The theorems of our own grandeur decorated,

Foolish grown children,

Playing with fire,

Whereby I alone am burned,

By the footsteps I will never hear,

The cries I can never answer,

The first words I will never hear,

Launching me into a vanguard of disheartened insurrection,

Perplexed, by how quickly in a moment, all can change,

And for what,

To what profit,

In the red,

Celebrated scourging accolades, unearned,

For once more I failed my child,

I failed my love,

Hmong Key, how did I fail you?

I did fail you, didn’t I?

Like an exam I could not understand,

Words like gibberish, heard but never agreed,

For the wide canyon between our desires,

Grand,

So easily unseated by the opinion of others,

Family or no,

The choice made, was yours and yours alone,

Though I can not fault you,

For you did what you had to do,

And I stood by,

Like a trainer ready to throw in the towel,

Constantly reimagining what could have been,

What should have been,

What most I appeal for to the Ether,

What most you chide as a non event in your life,

Evidenced by the ease in which you,

Tossing our child, our love and me sideways,

Castaway by immature reconciliations,

Serving neither you nor I,

Though surely a life sentence I am again to serve,

Parole from these manifestations an unlikely event,

Causation,

Dwelled on like a circadian rhythm without deliberation or meditation,

Though for all the days between that and this,

I have thought of little more,

Than ten fingers and ten toes,

Blue eyes and black hair,

Beyond the superficial, horizons seen,

Realizing that I have flown too close to the sun,

Clipped wings,

Shattered soul,

From the veracity pained before our mutual eyes,

The tree of life, yours, mine,

And our beautiful child,

Stolen from my grasp,

As I clutched to the hope that finally,

Here and now,

It was to be,

Or instead not to be,

As my vicious companion,

My black dog reminds me,

And despite the noblest of intentions,

I failed you,

Our child, unborn,

Aborted,

And myself,

Authentic pleas loudly expressed,

Though the Ether did not hear,

Would not hear,

You refused to hear,

For here we are,

Separated by time and space,

Forever connected by the love we made,

Conceiving an innocent victim,

To our foolishness,

From which our existence is unabated,

Though not that of our child,

As we slaughter you whole, one by one by one,

As I have time and again and again,

Lost that most dear to me,

Ten fingers,

Ten toes,

Woe be not me,

Yet distressingly I bemoan what could not be,

For reasons clear as mud,

Yet crystal in your demise,

My child,

Beautiful child,

Innocent,

Choking as you did on our avarice,

Only to breath into fresh suggestions, disregarding our malice,

As if you could,

As if you should,

Bent on allowing us to thrive and continue to survive,

Though you, innocent, could not live,

Despite the persistence of our choosing,

At your expense,

And that of our continued optimism,

For now restless I consider,

All you could have been,

And all that I stole from you,

Your first breath,

The beating of your beautiful heart,

The resplendence of your love born soul,

Regardless of my veneration of it,

Devotion to not just the idea of you,

But in fact, you,

I am now stuck in place,

Quicksand of emotional sinking,

Peculiar reproductions, of the time before,

And the time before that,

I guess the third time is not a charm,

But instead the noose I wear around my neck,

Waiting for the floor to collapse between my feet,

The only punishment suitable,

The bear trap crushing my soul,

One hurtful thought at a time

Evocative spectacle of menacing exquisiteness,

For truly you would have been exquisite,

In my mind’s eye you always will be,

What of your thoughts Hmong Key?

What do you see when you close your eyes at night?

Is the nightmare the same as for I?

Portentous, sinister and yet curiously inviting,

As three dimensions squeezed into two,

And for a time two became three,

We,

Mother,

Father and unborn child,

Aborted,

As the final countdown reached the hour of my defeat,

You knocked up, pregnancy a suit you wore well,

And me knocked out,

By the simplicity of your words,

Followed by actions,

Transiting mine own compromise once more,

Door closed on the haunted house of my trespasses,

Under pressure,

Pressures,

That I, myself, had ill conceived,

Though you, my child, were not,

Instead realized in a moment of blind passion,

That continues to consume me,

As we did you,

Foolish children we were,

Are,

Loosing our souls,

To gain what?

To what avail?

Loosing each other,

And a piece of ourselves to which we will never arise,

At least not I,

You traverse unanswered, buttress our intimidation of beings,

She and I,

Mother and Father,

Become judge, jury and executioner,

Executioner, once more,

For both she and I,

Loosing more than just you,

But a piece of us,

Conceptions of love revealed,

To be the false hope of prophetic wisdom,

Fanatical depictions of what was, could have been and now is,

Not,

By what right of universal law,

Those commands from the Ether,

What right,

Did we have?

Ultimately giving way to the thoughts of man,

Touchdown in mere minutes upon this empty void,

Whereby you suffered,

I suffer,

Depressed and manic,

Considering the role I played,

The life you gave,

That I allowed to fall victim,

Once more,

An act of love, true and necessary,

For her, not I,

But I was a passenger in this crime,

Necessarily so,

For as man, I have no right,

To deter the decisions of your mother,

Or any woman,

No excuse offered,

Rather the acknowledgement of my delinquency,

My crime, convicted,

For I did stand idly by,

Waiting for you to die,

Of my feebleness to prevent this,

Longing for you to see the light of day,

Rather sent to the pits of hell,

By me,

Those steps I long to hear,

Now are the nightmare that I experience,

Night and day,

Flamboyant bizarre dints,

My psyche dented,

From a child love invented,

And cowardice took away,

Too easily, though not for I,

Or I and I,

Broken fragments of a dream shattered,

Reflecting the reality of the decision made,

And for what?

A proper penchant of collective tête-à-tête,

Though no words could I say,

Other than I supported her in your demise,

That also represents a dying on mine own,

Awkward,

In stains, blood, shades, hues and tones, all red,

Millions of them,

Demolishing what I thought I was,

For what again I’m become,

Failing you,

Failing her,

Failing,

Period,

Deluded by hidden lies,

Behind a radiant smile,

And glowing eyes,

That now seem, at least a bit,

To have lost their glint,

Just as my own,

Brought to the forefront of perception, judicious,

Judge, jury and executioner,

Ignorance of universal law is no excuse,

For what we’ve done,

Restrained sway of the eye enclosed,

Millions of possibilities,

Only one outcome,

As I failed you,

My child,

Beautiful boy or girl,

The language of my greatest burden,

Playing God,

While He/She/It/ They laugh,

At our imprudence,

Suffering now my crime of omission,

In a galaxy confined in the brain, rightly so grey,

For in this decision there was no black nor white,

Only grey,

The central question, importance and measure of our lives,

Our desire born love child,

Delicate haunting arms outstretched,

But to no avail,

You begged to be assumed, moved, valued,

Though no value did you have for she,

Seemingly only me,

As our tree of life is evermore death,

Yours,

Amplified in bewildering events,

One pill at a time,

Followed by the source of life,

Water,

Which again found the path of least resistance,

And I was held captive,

In symbolic penitentiary and isolation,

Our intention understood,

But not accepted,

Rippling loops artifact humiliating me once more,

Gushing tears at the banality of this man,

This consecrated gift, ours,

You,

Raped,

Without recourse or further consideration,

How can one be so cold,

Decision made, no explanation and instead the running of the bulls,

Whereby the Key,

In fact, once more became the lock,

That holds me prisoner,

Shackled by the very thought of you,

And what I have done,

Once more,

Ever more,

It was me,

It was she,

And the empty vagaries of an apology,

Falls upon her deaf ears,

And my wounded heart and soul,

Forced solitude to engage my darkest hour,

As the hour of your birth approaches,

Stolen from you,

Stolen from me,

I am failed,

I am convict,

Guilty,

Of crimes against humanity,

Against you,

My unborn child,

Cast aside,

Aborted,

And thus my torture ensues,

Considering the iniquity of man,

My own,

Iniquity,

 

I am,

 

Sorry!

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Unrealized Apologies

There is nowhere to hide,

From yourself,

Myself,

For one cannot hide from their own truth,

Truths,

The perpetration of penetrating solemn condemnation,

For I have been measured,

As was our child,

Found wanting,

Laying bare,

Exposed,

A soul to shine,

Souls,

Wandering,

Filled with a lust for life,

Not just mine own,

But also of that higher calling,

The calling of all species,

Procreation,

Pro,

Creation,

Commanded by a power I can not see,

But courses through my veins,

A purpose driven emotion,

Long repressed,

Only to once more,

Come off and up,

From a moment of sheer ecstasy,

The giddy smile, of a beauty rare,

Caught in the resplendence of a soul,

Hmong Key,

That also wanders,

Nomadic, lost and free,

Confused and scared,

Just as I was,

Just as I am,

Allowing once more,

Things outside of my control,

To fell me,

Like an ear of corn,

Stalked,

Lopped off like Van Gogh’s,

Where the darkness of the night,

Reveals no stars,

Just hidden scars,

However, there can be no removal of this stain,

Upon my soul,

Upon my soul,

Strained,

Whereby again the forces at work,

Arisen from the past,

Cry out to me,

In tomes and hues,

Of a sorrow that I cannot deny,

A sorrow I will not deny,

Zion clenched from my ready fist,

Aborting,

To fight for what is right,

Yet, here I am, exposed,

Sitting here,

In abject pain,

Once caused by a tango,

Of we, two,

A beautiful night,

Nights,

Of passion raw and rare,

Glimpsing the prospect of a new portend,

The life imagined,

So many times before,

Foolish hubris of youth,

The mental anguish of the manic high,

Brought on by the words I have longed to hear,

“I’m pregnant!”

Longing temporarily answered,

One moment of paradise, found, moments,

Lost,

Words every bit,

If not more powerful,

Than,

“I love you!”

For those words,

Demand a higher calling answer,

The Ether,

My Mistresses Destiny, Serendipity, and Fate,

Dancing me ever closer,

Without consent,

Achelous’ daughters,

Calling me ever nearer to a manifest providence,

That once more sought and seeks,

To destroy me,

Figurative and literal,

While Demeter rebukes them,

And I,

And I and I,

What can I say,

What can I do,

To escape this tortured hell,

Greeted by my Black Dog,

Cerberus no longer chained,

Ready and willing to feast not just on my soul,

But that of you and our child,

Whose only crime,

Was conception,

Ironic,

The complete circles of Dante’s comedy,

Divine,

Yet cast as I am,

Into the fiery pits,

Devastated once more,

Again,

By the circumstances of fortune,

That favoured not this bold,

Warrior Poet,

For in my candor,

In my moment of sheer bliss,

I could not see,

I would not see,

That which was so obviously painted in front of me,

As it had been behind me all these years,

Hell has a permanent place in my soul,

Travelling with me every step of the way,

As the Devil, dances, gleefully,

Like Nero,

Fiddle in hand,

As my insides burn,

Invisible to you,

Realized to me,

A tortured existence,

Brought on by ill tempered passion,

Though surely, I would gladly trade,

Every breath,

Every beat of my heart,

That my child may have lived,

Our child,

For the capacity, with love tendered,

Would have rendered a cherished gift,

Treasure,

To behold,

As surely, I would have,

In addition, indeed venerate at this moment of delicious torment.

Those words,

Sweet when softly spoken,

Inside a darkened room,

Forbearing this brooding sentience,

Sentence,

Life,

Death,

As the decision made,

Not by me,

Had no other choice,

No other choice,

But to stand back and watch,

A further demise,

Like Icarus, I had flown,

Too close to the sun of my own realizations,

Be careful what you wish for,

As the hidden truths of majority rule,

Are nothing but the illusion,

Of allusion,

Creed of dissent,

My voice drowned out,

My will denied,

As a piece of me died,

Dies,

Once more,

Again,

Confronted,

By the defeat of necessity,

Necessity,

Not necessarily so,

But the weakness of temptation,

Insane,

Leads down a path more taken,

Rather than the one which makes all the difference,

Would have,

Could have,

Should have,

Priorities checked and unchecked,

Crushed,

By the iniquity of my own acquiescence,

Though nothing could be done,

Nothing.

Vacuous apologies,

Masking terribly this gloomy sorrow,

Meek,

Sorry is not the hardest thing to say,

It is the hardest thing to realize,

For even in these words,

This expression of endless grief,

I know what I have done,

What we have done,

To what I have been a party,

To what we two caused, both in love and in lust,

Deceived by youthful exuberance,

Guilty,

Blood on my hands,

My own,

Our own,

That of our child,

Desired,

Yet,

Determined resilience to a lifetime concerned,

Whereby everything in that moment changed,

I remember,

Hmong Key,

The exact expression,

That you feared would be our demise,

Instead exposing my lifelong desires,

Deftly engaged,

For months,

Until hell hath no fury,

Like cultural mores,

And the stink of corroding flesh,

The die already cast,

Our own,

I remember,

I remember,

I remember,

Now lost inside the strain and sorrow,

Of knowing,

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow and tomorrow,

Was taken not just from you or I,

But the beautiful bright eyes,

Of the life we destroyed,

Sorry just does not seem to be enough,

Not for me,

Not now,

Not here,

With the advent of a child,

Torn from my longing desires,

Now in passionate retreat,

Sorry will never be enough,

Not for me,

Not,

Ever.

SDM

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Nightmare Rising

 

The nightmares came,

And now they come again,

Again,

Two of them,

In rapid succession,

Sometimes for days,

Sometimes for weeks,

This year for months,

As the brisk November air,

Is greeted by the cool summer breeze,

Beyond belief reminding me of that sullen day in Detroit,

As sub tropical realities break through,

And painful decisions do recoil.

Torture quelling any thought other than you, as I tortured you,

As both cruel and unusual punishment,

For what did you do?

What did you do?

N O T H I N G

Your existence enough to cause your demise,

That knowledge stays with me,

And again reminds me of what  I have done,

We?

WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Always has and always will,

Reminded of what power and money can do,

And people that truly don’t see,

Forest for the trees,

The misery of mental projections,

Internalized hellish trial,

Mine own,

Of my crime against humanity,

Against my own child,

C H I L D R E N,

Family?

So, so, so sorry am I,

Silent stalker of repressed emotions,

Those that I must endure,

For to do less would mean my own quietus,

The instant terror does not creep,

But leaps,

Inside my psyche and haunts my sleep,

Shaking my resolve as I awake,

The skeletons in my closet are not only proverbial,

Skeletons,

Abstractly literal,

The symbolism of this agony,

So overpowering I am assaulted,

As a domestic abuse that I conceded,

Robbing you of life, lives,

As I did,

I did,

You live on, frightfully, inside this mind,

Torn already into three parts,

I and I and I,

With a bids eye view of what an abortion looks like,

With a front row seat,

Apparent encores without bravos,

Gashes in this weary soul, reliving the pain of a broken heart,

My greatest aspirations, taken,

AGAIN,

Reliving time and again how it feels,

To watch the light of an unborn child,

Snubbed,

By my hand,

By my hand?

ME?

In surreal images, lurid, prurient,

Of your mother, running toward me,

Tears welling up in her eyes,

As her shrill and piercing screams,

Command that I look at you,

As she carry you,

Both of you covered in blood,

Running down the hall of that clinic,

Its institutional walls and discrete exterior,

So perfectly recorded in every detail,

That I could walk from Toronto with my eyes closed,

Having returned to the scene of the crime since our time,

A trip that I will never forget,

And have taken again,

Closing them now,

No good, for I am here,

The Mekong calling me,

I do look, my humanity demands it,

For even as I may try not to,

I lost more than my innocence that day,

And this one that follows,

And again,

I lost the gift of life, the power of it,

Taken away by over zealous parents,

Your mothers,

Family, friends and others,

Who despite our designs,

Instead decided that they knew better,

As time passes and I reflect,

Making the same mistakes,

On the events leading up to your demise,

I beat myself up,

Raising my head to the heavens;

“RELEASE ME…”

I embrace the raw emotions and feelings,

Knowing that I must experience this pain,

To account for the ill done against you,

And YOU,

That ill,

With a resonance that becomes master of my thoughts,

Divided, confused, scared, shocked, upset,

Berating, deflating, never abating,

For nothing would change,

Could change,

What we were forced to do,

What we chose to do,

What I said was all right,

Knowing that my solace will only arrive,

When I know your mother has again been with child,

And I too get to hold dear a child of my own,

I’m sorry,

An apology that seems vacuous now,

But it is true,

I am,

Sorry.

SORRY!

SDM

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R O A R – Sia Didn’t Stay

“I was not the lion, but it fell to me to give the lion’s roar.”

Winston Churchill

 

It fell to me,

As you ran,

From yourself,

From who you want to be,

It fell,

To me… Yet…

 

Too timid,

Too confused,

Too immersed in misunderstood cultural actualities,

Too fooled by an naughty smile,

Filled with insecurity

(still evident and handcuffing)

I know it’s hard to believe,

For years of my life,

I fooled you all,

Submissive to designs,

Of those who did not have my best interests in mind,

Avarice and deadly sins like fallen skeletons,

Wounding me,

Those that learned love was my Achilles heel,

Is my Achilles heel,

And like Sisyphus I feel

This weakness is rock but also

My amour, armor pierced,

Genuine to myself,

Nosce Te Ipsum,

Who and what I am,

Yet still

Left reeling,

Panging,

Longing,

Desiring,

My everything,

Wandering our proverbial jungle,

Concrete, wilderness and my mistaken impressions,

In efforts to understand,

Who am I?

What am I?

I and I and I left standing again,

Holding an empty bag,

Where once my love was known,

An unborn child lighting my way,

My Sia,

To the life I wanted,

The life I need,

And in an instant gone,

Torn from my happiness,

And I fell.

 

More like alley cat than lion,

Battered and bruised after one too many brawls,

Until my life changed, destined,

First a nervous break down,

My purr not yet a growl,

Wounds licked,

My tongue satiating a troubled mind,

As with loves ripe cancellation,

My growls not yet roar,

Though the seed was thrown,

Aborted,

Poor Sia…

Tossed aside,

As readily as a half eaten plate of food,

Worse still,

You must reap what you sow,

Therefore I had to submit to pain,

Sullen,

Fallen,

My Black Dog screaming…

Priority one,

Revive this beautiful soul,

Radiant spirit,

Release myself,

Held captive by endless lies,

Heart wrenching,

After months of sublime bliss.

 

Admitting defeat,

Of my spiritual energy,

My mental plague,

Excelling beyond the blind leading the blind,

My eyes opened by continual struggle,

Between perceptions of good and evil,

Love and hate,

Right and wrong,

I dare you to deception again,

Forewarning you,

That while I have been,

Fooled since birth,

Fooled by you,

Shame on me for believing,

Told of only two polarities,

Black and white,

Account for all,

Rather than the truth,

Shades of grey,

Cultural difference

And outsiders interference,

Inference, conjecture and aspersions,

I and I and I,

Gaining strength,

Gaining insight,

I and I and I,

Gathering the will to journey on,

Allowing my face to become a beacon,

A signal to the world,

To you,

My mane is growing again,

My growl becoming roar,

Here I come,

One word,

One sentence,

One stanza at a time,

(Though even the Lion needs pride)

Platitudes left behind,

As you thought I’d stay in this repressive mental state,

Following the trail of deceit,

Taking the bait,

Self induced, professed and confessed,

Caught inside the scope of a trophy hunters rifle,

Yet the hunter visionless,

Saw only the immediate in front of them,

No foresight.

Roar,

Now firmly entrenched in my literary persona,

Warrior Poet,

King of,

Not just the proverbial jungle,

But also the one,

That leads me to you,

Whoever you are,

For now,

Poets united,

Wrestling with the intangible,

With love, fate, hurt and the Ether,

Over optic cables,

In the distance,

I hear you all,

And beseech you,

To do the same…

 

R

O

A

R

!

 

Rise from the shackles of experience,

Be more,

Better,

Rise,

Slough off mistakes,

With wisdom gleaned,

Rise,

Know that tomorrow is another day,

Stand proud,

Shattered yet intact and recognize,

These words are salvation,

While cold comfort to the romantic ideals we strive,

These words,

Like a lion’s roar,

Keep us alive…

R

O
A

R

!

 

SDM

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Any Day Now

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3P9I-2lPGo]
The nightmares came,
And now they come again,
Again,
Two of them,
In rapid succession,
Sometimes for days,
Sometimes for weeks,
This year for months,
As the brisk November air,
Is greeted by the cool summer breeze,
Beyond belief reminding me of that sullen day in Detroit,
As sub tropical realities break through,
And painful decisions do recoil.
Torture quelling any thought other than you, as I tortured you,
As both cruel and unusual punishment,
For what did you do?
What did you do?

N O T H I N G

Your existence enough to cause your demise,
That knowledge stays with me,
And again reminds me of what  I have done,
We?
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Always has and always will,
Reminded of what power and money can do,
And people that truly don’t see,
Forest for the trees,
The misery of mental projections,
Internalized hellish trial,
Mine own,
Of my crime against humanity,
Against my own child,
C H I L D R E N,
Family?

So, so, so sorry am I,
Silent stalker of repressed emotions,
Those that I must endure,
For to do less would mean my own quietus,
The instant terror does not creep,
But leaps,
Inside my psyche and haunts my sleep,
Shaking my resolve as I awake,
The skeletons in my closet are not only proverbial,
Skeletons,
Abstractly literal,
The symbolism of this agony,
So overpowering I am assaulted,
As a domestic abuse that I conceded,
Robbing you of life, lives,
As I did,
I did,
You live on, frightfully, inside this mind,
Torn already into three parts,
I and I and I,
With a bids eye view of what an abortion looks like,
With a front row seat,
Apparent encores without bravos,
Gashes in this weary soul, reliving the pain of a broken heart,
My greatest aspirations, taken,
AGAIN,
Reliving time and again how it feels,
To watch the light of an unborn child,
Snubbed,
By my hand,
By my hand?
ME?

In surreal images, lurid, prurient,
Of your mother, running toward me,
Tears welling up in her eyes,
As her shrill and piercing screams,
Command that I look at you,
As she carry you,
Both of you covered in blood,
Running down the hall of that clinic,
Its institutional walls and discrete exterior,
So perfectly recorded in every detail,
That I could walk from Toronto with my eyes closed,
Having returned to the scene of the crime since our time,
A trip that I will never forget,
And have taken again,
Closing them now,
No good, for I am here,
The Mekong calling me,
I do look, my humanity demands it,
For even as I may try not to,
I lost more than my innocence that day,
And this one that follows,
And again,
I lost the gift of life, the power of it,
Taken away by over zealous parents,
Your mothers,
Family, friends and others,
Who despite our designs,
Instead decided that they knew better,
As time passes and I reflect,
Making the same mistakes,
On the events leading up to your demise,
I beat myself up,
Raising my head to the heavens;

“RELEASE ME…”

I embrace the raw emotions and feelings,
Knowing that I must experience this pain,
To account for the ill done against you,
And YOU,
That ill,
With a resonance that becomes master of my thoughts,
Divided, confused, scared, shocked, upset,
Berating, deflating, never abating,
For nothing would change,
Could change,
What we were forced to do,
What we chose to do,
What I said was all right,
Knowing that my solace will only arrive,
When I know your mother has again been with child,
And I too get to hold dear a child of my own,
I’m sorry,
An apology that seems vacuous now,
But it is true,
I am,
Sorry.

SORRY!

SDM

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