Heading for a Broken Heart

She’s
Headed for a broken heart
She doesn’t know it yet
But I think she suspects

…

She
Recalls the guy she left
Cryin’ in the drive way
When she left him that day

She
Went to where love lives
She was sitting on a chair
Another girl was there

His
Mama and his Gramma
His whole family
Was there to have some tea

He
Leaned over the table
Whispered through his mama’s hair
“That’s your daughter over there!”

She
Looked to where he said
It was the new girl he had met
From his college days jet set

She
Was the girl no man could have
She just laughed and kicked the fools
She was well equip’t with tools

She
Looked at the girl in the chair
Looking at the man she wanted
With sad eyes oh so haunted

She
Looked at the newest girl
That girl looked back at her
Then looked at his mother

He
Was smiling happily
He had most everything
A young man like him could dream

He
Walked right out of her life
He left her standing in the drive way
The day he went away

She
Knew soon he would find out
The same thing that she learned
About how you get burned

Life
It always comes around
No one can stop the time that comes
When you get what you gave plus some

Then
You have to see the truth
Or be doomed to repeat
Failing to complete

I
Write this from where I stand
Knowing what I see
Once again will be

This time it won’t be me….

Ends

Time went on
Little children

Playing in the dirt
Bright white grins
Were left behind
Old skins shed

Innocence lost
Trying

To hold on to a dream
You once saw

A moment
In a flower
Time goes on
Leaving behind

Youth
Strength and pride
Upraised chins
Defiance
Time keeps going
Work
Children
Bodies fail and age
Memories

Heavy as rocks
Try to hold on to Life
Time stops short
Ends

Within the Dream

Squeeze the wind from the tartan bags
Pluck the raindrops from the stringed harp
Blow away last year’s leaves with sharp exhales
Upon the flute play the bodhran boom
Vibrate the skies and fill the eyes
Until they make rivers
Fill the seas and dance on feet
World wandering wonder’s beheld
Never leaving the dream of dreams

Is Anyone At Home

Two hundred numbers in my phone
Is anyone at home
To make a new connection
There are days I think I’ll call them all
Shock a stranger to a call
To avoid the introspection

Yes I’m looking for a new friend now
Like the one from childhood
No one since then was like her
Do those come only once a life how
Rare it is for one life’s runner
To find love that close and good

I am not crying it’s just allergies
I eat pink pills all day to kill
The constant sneezing nose
Now that the rain is gone the flowers
They will make me wish for stone
Alone that is the way it goes

How I wish that I could sing it all
But I can only hear it in
My head so I live within again
If I can just wait one more day ’til Fall
I still forget about it all
Until it once more starts to rain

Allah is Allah…

…people are people.

When I am left alone with myself, because everyone is scared everyone else has beg bugs and no-one knows who is infected, it makes blessings happen anyway.

Someone told someone else I had bedbugs and now alot of people believe it but the blessing in that is that people will stay away and isolation, once more, keeps me clean from everything and everyone but myself. It was funny to watch a man grab his girl-friend, who is deaf, away from me and have someone stand as far away as they could on the elevator. Funny to watch them wait for me to get my mail from a few feet away and try to act nonchalant.

This has been the story of my life over and over and it is an old old story and no longer bothers me. It is like the wind. Whatever happens does happen and the rest doesn’t matter. I hope they don’t get bed bugs. I hope I don’t. The fear of them in this building is rampant. Friend making has to wait.

I already met the resident asshole. He looks like a tall version of ‘Elmer Fudd.’ He tried to make me mad but, blessedly, I cannot hear him say anything but mumbles. It drives him crazy to no end, me being deaf on one side. I just make sure the ear that hears nothing is always pointed in his direction and I grin at him and say,

“Huh what? Sorry bub I didn’t get you.”

One good thing about being old. The bullies can’t hurt you anymore. They are just as messed up as you and everyone else is.

One of the staff made fun of my voice until I told him about how the parathyroid surgery permanently screwed my vocal chords and now he does it and I laugh at him and he laughs back and it is a nice joke. No hard feelings.

People LOOK at me and the things they don’t see lead them to think one thing when another thing is true. There are so many ways to judge a book by it’s cover. The latest thing is, “Oh they are letting kids in here now!,” as if the neighbourhood is going to hell. You have to be at least 50 to get in here. No one believes I am. Under the guise of sweetness they try to poke me as if I am a liar. I am thinking of getting a birth certificate and pinning to my clothes every time I leave the room. *grins*

People on the fifth floor say all the bed bugs are on the third floor and the third floor says they are all on the fifth floor and now a new case was found one the first floor. The administrator gave away the reason in a quick lunch meeting. She said that people who are close friends should stop sharing things they have too much of…like food and clothes and such.

I don’t have any close friends yet. I came here when everyone was already scared.

There are three identifiable groups and I like the one at the front tables at lunch. They were cool too until one lady, who shares a name with me, found out her boof and I ate one lunch together and talked. Now he ignores me and she eats downstairs every day. I am thinking that I will stop going downstairs. Only 30 of 80 plus people do anyway. I just went to meet people and there almost is no point with everyone scared of bugs.

I don’t want a boof…not even in real life.

I am the only Muslim here too. I am hoping my bus pass work comes soon so I can mail it in and go tour the city. The residents here are pretty ferociously Christian in a nice way and I am always being hit up to go to Bible study and I might go but I am concerned that they might push me harder if they knew I was Muslim and then I would have to lock myself in my room. *grins* For the umpteenth time in my life someone told everyone I am a witch without my permission! (Why do they always pin that on me?) For now I won’t fight about it they sort of back off from the black hoodie thing. *grins again*

The world is trying it’s best to take me down and out but I am not going to give in. I am a survivour. I am amazing. Ignore me. I don’t give a damn. It almost feels like the world is in a conspiracy to make me blame Allah for the action or inaction of other people.

Allah is Allah.

People are people.

Two different things….end of story.

The End Of Main Street

“Come…sit next to me.” I patted the cement curb next to me on the last mile out of town. The freeway went on past what seemed like forever on the vast old prairie. He sat down. No one seemed to notice us in the cold sunset. Cars bulleted past until the stars began to open their eyes. Then the world became quiet. He was like unplayed music. I followed his dark eyes as they looked over the long road outlined in ghostly white. We sat there on the end of Main Street where the town ended saying nothing. There was something comfortable about the silence. It was as if we knew each others thoughts without trying.

I had never really met him before…or maybe I had met him many times in many places and just never remembered. Either way the space of time was fine with me. A few minutes in eternal present was enough. He looked at me and smiled without reservation.

The joy was enough for a lifetime.

He got up and started to walk away towards his destiny. I wanted to follow but his destiny was not mine. I watched him disappear into the night.

Somewhere in the distance a flute played…or perhaps it was a lark? I, too, got up off the curb and picked up a stick that had fallen from a tree by the high way. I used it to twist the ‘bob wires’ on the fence, that ran the length the eye could see along the road, and then I bent my body, carefully, and slid between the wires and started off across the farm fields. I, too, disappeared into the night.

Speak

Don’t speak to me now
In throes of fevered fervor
Like twisted DNA
Bound in spirals
Still zipped closed
If loosed
The story they would tell
Could burn us to cinders
I lay the bricks hastily
Damning the emotions
Into oceans of fire
So they never touch you
Were you always here
Before Time was born
Was it written
We would meet like this
In a present impossible
Unless we failed to love
Breaking all with evil

No…

Don’t speak to me now

Towering Rapture

When the room is empty
When the night is cold and dark
When all that is warm
Is a cat snoring on a hearth
I close my eyes
Allow the images of yours
To stare into mine
Asking the questions
Also answering them
No words needed for the trip
Just close your too now
I will hold your brain
In spirit hands gently
Sending all my joy and love
Sitting inside you
Sharing your shell a moment

My friend your real is more like dust
Real things float between atoms
Making love
Sweeter than any flesh can feel
Restored to what was
Is and ever shall be light
Within you and within me

A drug so potent never was
To cause this meaningless happiness
Resting on the brow of Infinity
Nanoseconds with you are aeons
Aeons are eternity
Even tears are gratefully cried
To feel this towering rapture

شیر

Only words for you
Or if you want it I will share
My pix-elated face
In some god-forsaken place
Except you would not be like everyone
No question of what is real
We both know real so well

When I think of you
You are the last of the innocent
If you freely came to me

Could I say “no” from love?

If
As you close your eyes fighting sleep
You know I am crying while I laugh

We know the answer

Maybe that is why you look away
Walk away in cyber space

Today I ignore the Messengers
I would rather it be you
If you come hunting

Tiger

Know first you hunt yourself
Outside of age and time and space
In some god-forsaken place
You are me

I will not
Fight you anymore
I won’t fight myself
Tired of the jihad
Against eyes and smiles
Of the never seen face

While I wait
Messenger comes while I cry
Asking for one who has only tears
Falling like the rain outside my glass door
While I wait

Years I waited
Someone else calls over and over
Someone I do not know
While I cry thinking of you

Someone cries thinking of me
How like Life life is
I would be the same and call you

But now I know
You killed the tiger
Without a word
Many years ago

Out There…

…somewhere I know there are people making love, watching movies with the kids, and maybe even making snow angels at night.

I am alone here but, somehow, all of the smiles and emotions of everyone I love are like the panoramic background of my thoughts. I feel you hugging, fighting, silently angry, laughing. and living real life. I get to do more of that all the time.

One of these days I will be like them too. Already it had started. Only weekends and holidays now do I have the option of ‘all day’ to choose from in between tasks and doctor visits and pain. Soon there will be more reasons to be gone from the boxed life.

The other day I cried until I made myself sick because I was busy being very very tired from living real life and when I found out I missed a precious friend I only got to talk to twice this year I went berserk and then stopped and wondered: “do they miss me that much?”

There is a feeling of guilt to leaving those who have come to rely on your friendship and company and a feeling of loss when you miss them because, even though people say the box is not real and the people in it are not real they ARE real. There are real hands typing real words on a keyboard somewhere with real feelings, hopes and dreams.

I can’t wait to start swim therapy.

I will be gone one or two hours every evening they have it. I can’t walk very well but surely I can swim! It means I may miss people. I have to learn not to cry over the precious ones.

But It Won’t Be Inside Your Mouth

Yesterday was love
It seemed there were lessons to be learned
We always seem to need those on a holiday
Anyway
So I woke up from a dream I wished would be
But it was just a dream you see

And so I came to this conclusion:

Don’t believe in dreams
You’ll end up with both open eyes
Empty hands believe in only what is real
And lives inside you

Papa told once the truth
When I was just a youth
and I will repeat the same thing now for the you

Wish in one hand shit in the other one
See which one fills up faster
Do not place your hopes on movies stars or kings
When the movie ends you will be left with nothing
When the kingdom crashes down you will be all alone
With nothing in a pile of rubble staring
at your empty hands
Don’t put all your happiness
Upon another person
It is very likely one day they will be gone far away
And don’t imagine you are happy
Because you have a home
Because really
All it is is just a place for the sack of skin you live in
To reside

Abide in that skin and you’ll be home
No matter if the kingdom falls
No matter how the winds may blow
And if it all comes crashing down again
Just smile and walk off
Like the hero did
In the movie that you only just remember from a dream

Oh my friend don’t cry
Don’t let your soul belong to the world
World will betray you
Don’t let your mind get set upon a game
The game the game will slay you
Don’t let money be the only focus of life life or beauty
You will someday lose it all
You will lose it all and the angels will come to take you away

Nothing much will matter in the face of that day
The things you dreamed the most of then
Will have nothing to do
With the things you thought you loved outside of you
It will be the love you gave to
More than dreams
Love who you are
More than the dream and shooting stars
More than anything on earth love God

The rest is just the wind
Yes wind is beautiful
It makes the silent things sing out
But it won’t always be inside your mouth…

12,613 Kilometers Away…(dedicated to three leaves of the same green)

(Song by Jason Mraz)

…on the other side of the world is this amazing person.

Yeah this is a love story but it is not a typical love story about a man and a woman and how they fall in love on the net and get married and all that…this is a different kind of love story: the kind where one human mind falls in love with another human mind.

I know you love me. I love you too like corn loves to pop. In real life we are both realists and we know how things are. You love your homeland. You are not looking for a ‘free ticket’ out of your beloved mountains and I am not a ‘cougar-hag.’

We have been online friends for over five years now and we were close from the start.

We are soul twins.

We don’t bother about the ‘if this and if that’ because ‘if’ never happened and we don’t waste time offering each other sloppy dreams and lies. I can do that and I have and you probably can too but that is not how we are with each other. I only know that when you message me, from 12613 kilometers away, my whole world has a smile drawn on it like a kindergarten kid would finger paint on life with ice-cream.

I tried to write romances about you and end them where anything more than what we have now begins. You are holy somehow. You are like an angel and I am terrified to make you any more than that. I would rather bask in your presence and enjoy the soul that sits next to mine on this cosmic freeway we wrecked upon and talk about things that never happen on earth…

…only in dreams.

We we stop and sit on the side of the cosmic freeway it feels a little bit like heaven must feel. My shell I inhabit, my world, and everything in it fades and is replaced with the beautiful green things in your mind. In your mind I have walked mountain trails and I have smelled the Eucalyptus trees. I have watched the clouds form rain and smelled the earth across the pregnant stomach of the planet we share. The constant pain I live with goes away and I smile until my face cracks.

I have written stories with you. I have written ideas for you and made groups for you. I have broken photos of you until the crazy beauty of your soul came though and hit people between the eyes. I have taught you language and you have taught me courage. I supported you in every dream and plan until they became reality and you thought you sat next to greatness not realizing that only the great can sit there.

I have shared parts of me with you that no one else on earth knows about and was shocked you still loved me even though you knew those things. I have missed you when you were gone and posted this to you the entire year I heard from you only once. You are so beautiful wearing cinnamon and smiling. I thought you were a marine from Texas for the longest time but I know now you are international in the scope of your mind. I love you so much. You cannot imagine how much.

Over these years you have been my soul, my heart, and my brain. I would not trade any of you for the travesty of what the world names as ‘love.’ I would keep you forever young, forever beautiful, and forever a part of those great people who inhabit the grandest halls of my mind.

You are LOVE!

Be A Ghazi

One of the only reasons I am still here is Pasha’s Phrase, “Be a Ghazi.”

Doesn’t stop me from complaining though…

I am sitting here right now wondering why there is a ‘dent’ in my hand and wondering if it even matters. It has been a really bad 2 months and I am too tired to even make the list now as I write but the list is there and also the question: “How to let things go?”

Short of being dead how DO you let things go?

I get really confused because in order for me to let things go I have to get rid of them out of my life. I do that already. Does not work there is this annoying little thing called ‘Memory.’ I tried putting all the bad stuff in a balloon once and ‘let it go’ symbolically and found out I might have killed a few birds or maybe even made a plane malfunction.

“Your ass is as big as the side of a barn!”

“You will have the family skin…”

“You are wierd!”

“Dear Mr.and Mrs. _______ we kindly ask that you take your daughter out of our school as she is scaring the other children with her witchery.”

“I am sorry your daughter could never win this beauty contest.”

“You are so sweet and kind and I wish you were younger and prettier.”

“I think I love someone else and I wish you would meet her.”

“You are Lazy, and Stupid!”

“LIAR!”

“Fatty!”

“Blubber!”

“Witchypoo!”

“FOUR EYES!”

(ad nauseum)

I did get a coupla comments over the years:

“Smart”

“Genius”

“Good writer”

(none of those get you laid when you are lonely enough to date the Devil and anyway there is SIN to consider not to mention the critique: That was not really sexy what you wrote.”)

Ok dude! Sheesh! I’ll make it a POEM!

Here lately I hear alot about how cool OTHER people are and thats great and all….(just don’t expect me to marry you or anything!)

Right now my back burns and my left shoulder hurts so bad I am almost crying but crying won’t make it stop hurting. If I cry I might not stop. How am I supposed to keep on living?

HOW TO LET IT GO!

Balloons don’t work…trust me. I don’t expect any knight in shining armour I don’t think there are any left on earth. Sometimes I think I would sign my soul over in my own blood just for a place to rest myself in some strong and loving place and let some one ELSE deal with the workmen, the blasted kitchen, and the cyber attacks by people who have no idea who I am….

….and ALOT to protect me from assholes who would claim I asked for my health problems or it is a lack of faith that keeps them from being healed. If a Gay Russian Midget from the Kamchatka Mountains came down to see me and knew my name and healed me….??????????

I might take on Russian Citizenship!

Sometimes this world and it’s lack of real compassion stinks…..and so that last invectives of, “Are you a REAL Muslim and “PRETTTYYYYYYY DON”T LEEEAVE MEEEE!!!!!!” (and to me) “See what you did you DEVIL are you happy you DEVIL!”

How to let it go…..the piles and piles of words and events that are the sum of all of me…sheesh right now even a deep breath is hurting!

If I had a day without physical pain I would run screaming out the door….I want to cry but Pasha is standing behind me saying, “Be a Ghazi.”

Be a Ghazi. Not easy. Paste the smile back on. Be a ghazi.

Ya Allah is there anything left? Ya Allah how can I forget?

Ya Allah can you take this tear that rolls down a lifetime from my soul?