I’ve recently discovered several of my writings from 1-2 years ago, when I was told to quit posting my thoughts publicly because I was just humiliating my family with anecdotal BS or slam poetry fueled by alcohol.
I’ve been reviewing many of these “locked 🔒 posts” and today with a steady and sober mind, I am tilting my head a bit, wondering if in fact it was simply the truth that was “humiliating my family”, because as I’ve been reading my own words from 2 years ago, what I see are cohesive thoughts with articulate and clear expression pouring out like ignited gasoline onto the screen. Was it a tactic to once again squeeze shame or embarrassment from my moment of courage to speak?
I believe so.
So I have decided to go ahead and share them – and to let the readers decide for themselves. If these are seen as drunken dialogs of nonsense, then I will catalog them as such. But with clarity of mind and heart, I just don’t see it.
Following are three of the “Tipsy Truths” that I was coerced to remove from a social media account because I was informed that it was “painfully obvious” that I was intoxicated at the time of writing them. I was not, but I was also not strong enough to fight any more battles. The characters assassination had already taken hold and truthfully, the way I was carrying on certainly didn’t help my case. It takes incredible resolve to mend a splintered spirit. I was simply too tired and too lost to fight anyone about anything, anymore. The Bells Palsy and subsequent job loss had done a number on me.
(once again I place emphasis on this, we all have choices) I chose to stay half seas over until there were only dead men remaining to stare upon a crapulous cloud of Katzenjammer and myself getting to know one another the following morning. C’mon guys, I had to lighten this post up, it was just getting a bit too heavy.
Basically, I got drunk too many times for too many reasons, none of which held any validity. And when you do that, I was not aware that then you need it. And I mean you need it like you need water, like you need food, like you need oxygen. Your body demands that you supply it with alcohol and that was a lonely and horrifying world to enter.
But back to topic, I know the difference between being tipsy and swimming under current in the abyss-two distinctly different realities.
There is a third that I know for certain was never posted until now. And the reason that is, is because I never had the courage to share truth that naked before.
Your Lullaby Alibi • 11-14-17
Hide the secrets. Hide the scars. And quickly cover up those arms. Cover them so she can deny any harm she might’ve caused by raising a child not with love, but some twisted synthetic charm.
The pain and the shame must become invisible and her memory, her history, her self completely untraceable.
So Mama forget your sweet lullabies, they mean nothing to her now. Denying her truth at 11 years old…. your lullabies unraveled as desperate alibis.
She chose a fairytale world where everything is perfect and nothing ever goes wrong, til’ bleeding tattletale lyrics cry out in her songs.
She believed your altered truths for quite a long while, but not anymore not after she’d been called a slut and a whore. Not after she’d been left in a quivering heap upon your floor.
Memorizing your revisions when she was just a little girl, you crippled her decisions when she was just a little girl. Your rewrites a prerequisite requiring constant supervision…when she was just a little girl.
And she learned from you that she’d somehow gone bad….And that her childhood was the best to be had.
Holding your script pretending to care, Were you even ever aware
…that she wanted to lie down and die?
No…of course not, because to you she was only a wretched lullaby, and most likely…
your last alibi.
The Misfit. – ☂♄€ ♔♗ⓢϜ♗☂
“I’m sorry but I often find it quite funny that people only want poems that are always shiny and sunny.
I can do that, I can do lots of things. But if you choose only to see jewelry or glistening, beautiful rings, you might miss that white feather descending from this precious dove’s wings.
I do see beauty in life, I really do see. I notice subtle things like gorgeous, green moss that adorns majestic pine trees.
I see God’s reflection in every human being that has good intention.
I see the beauty of people who are authentic and true, I see beauty, I see the priceless beauty in you.
I see the magic and the sparkles that shine through children’s eyes, I see that incredible moment when they receive a gift wrapped surprise.
You can cross paths with a stranger on a busy crowded street, and by some incredible serendipity a best friend, or a lover you might possibly meet.
And one of the best things, the best things of all, is risking all fear and making that one….that one winning call.
If you want to see me laugh and you want to see me smile, why don’t you come hang out with me for a while. Watch me with my child, watch me with my friends, relax and just watch, I don’t ever pretend.
Do I talk about each seed of grass that I planted? Do you know me well enough that I take nothing for granted? Do I ever sound crazy, weird or fanatic?
There are painters and, poets. There are fashion designers… There are artists, choreographers, dancers, and writers. There are creators, chefs, sculptors and rock climbers. If you can never sit still, and for just a moment listen and appreciate those who dared to bare their soul. You may very well miss out on a message that might make you whole.
Ernest Hemingway, Steven Spielberg, Mark Twain, Oprah Winfrey, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, Albert Einstein, Jim Carrey, …shall I continue? Because the list is infinite…I can assure you that…
…at least once in their life, they’d been labeled crazy, unsteady and most likely a misfit.”
Your Last Curtain Call 11-2-17
I will never again go quietly Into the Night.
No, I will never again give up the fight.
You’ve just underestimated the spirit inside.
No more. Are we clear? You will leave me alone.
Your uninvited so don’t step a foot inside my home.
Not once will you be allowed in my home. How does that feel? How does that feel when it happens to you? How does it feel? Does it hurt you as bad as it hurt me too?
When we are alone you are toxic and cruel. Can you see me breaking apart, I’m no longer your tool.
With others around you put on sweet apple pie. Or give a performance with that counterfeit cry.
I say no more.
I don’t know what it is about me, what it is you despise,
Other than I’m the only one who can see right through your lies.
And you know others have by far done worse,!but I’m no longer your scapegoat, You’re no longer my curse.
I am a God damn strong, brilliant, white horse
((Who never said she never made a mistake of course.))
But with strength and fortitude, I will not shut up. I will patiently wait upon Karma to refill your cup.
Enjoy your little dogs, because they mean far more than me. I learned that in the most painful lesson that I ever wanted to see.
Call 911 she said as she walked out the door to get her dog groomed which clearly meant more.
Forever the truth stood before us all, rehearsing for her last act, her last curtain call.
But stop for a second, just look in the mirror.
Maybe for once your reflection might come out a bit clearer.
It’s been you. The entire time. Just a performance, no reason, no rhyme.
Just an old has been actress waiting to become somebody, anybody…