Saturday, February 9, 2008

Talent/No Talent Show Spoken Word Pieces

I dedicate these two pieces to my teachers, which you all can meet in person the next time you look in a mirror.

Again

A psychiatrist once asked me if I realized that I was singing out loud. She said that some people might think I'm strange for doing that.

I wonder if she was one of those people.

I wonder when singing out loud became pathological.

I find myself again
piled in a cowering heap
quivering from overexposure of a perception of reality.

Stigma has me tripping over my feet

Now Silence is what
my throat seems to be stuffed with.
No wonder it hurts to breathe
My body seems to be telling me
that it's time to wake up
and start yelling
or perhaps even try to sing again

but
Waking up is hard to do.

Harder than wandering through the halls
Pretending or possibly actually believing the walls
don't exist, yet feeling their tension
bind with my countertension

blending the imaginings of tomorrow with the perceptions of yesterday
into a fantastical hypnosis of what I think I know.
I wander off into the daydream of my mind.

Pushing and pushing and pushing past the mirror
which has had nothing lovely to say as of late
pushing past a mirror that I would rather break
because 13 years bad luck has been
the least of my concern since then
since my heart last regained its composure
she still has a few cracks and crevices leftover
from the last time she fell and broke into a million pieces
This is delicate territory. Beware.

I find my self again
shivering on the steps outside in the night rain
a cigarette resting between
my fingers
and the palpable breathing of
a presence much bigger than my own

As I begin to wake up. Again.

My body aches and shakes and erupts
as I uneasily find my way back into my skin.
It is ok to be here
It is ok to be here
Are you sure? Yes, I'm sure, at least I think I'm sure
I swear to you, to me, the only me there be
that it is ok to be here.
I want to promise me that I can make it safe in here
Even fun.
I want to promise safety to the Sand castle that I keep building in the tide line.
That one that houses my heart,
the one that gives in and collapses with each successive wave

breaking down breaking down
breaking through
convincing myself the effort was somehow worth it
breaking down breaking out breaking in
Broken so much so often
so I swear to God I will never do it again ... until ...
I recover...and
My revived invincibility complex orders yet another

As I wake up again,
the rain kisses me gently.
It soaks my grandmother's jacket
She no longer needs it.
She is the rain now.
She and the rain and the palpable breath of presence
comfort me and invite me into their home.

Hopeful I raise my bow
and release my heart into the night sky.
I'm aiming for a sand castle built of stardust
Yes, I'm aiming for the stars,
and maybe I'll hit one.
According to the odds, however, my heart will collide with dark matter
and be graced
yet another opportunity to embrace
the shadow of the universe.

Either way, I am a better person because of my efforts.

An African Ancestor met me in my dreams that night
as I leaned against the oldest tree in the world
he approaches from out of the sun
Blink he is closer
Blink he is closer still
Blink Blink he is standing right in front of me
He is watching me, looking at something I cannot see.
He pushes me back into the tree
back into my life
back into reality

He gives me a key with which to unlock my heart

He gives me a key entitled Redemption.

Redemption. Deliverance. Rescue. I have been saved from myself and allowed to carry on, free to build sand castles in places other than the surf. Free to build tree houses instead. Free to walk barefoot on the ceiling of the universe as I swing throughout the stars, creating pictures of dreams I only now remember having since before I was born, uplifted, into a stark realization of ... reality?

This is real, and unbelievable
because if I were to believe that this kind of "real"
were truly my life
my heart surely would break wide open
into a million pieces
from inexplicable and tremendous joy.

Could I dare go there again?
I must.
If I wish to live again
I must.
So go there I must
armed with courage
and faith
and trust
that sometimes even a broken heart
is a welcomed event.

On a Journey
to the end
of the war
within my heart

On a journey
of recollection

Recall that I am
somebody's seventh generation
I am somebody's hope and dream
I am a miracle in motion,

And I was confined once
I have the scars to prove it.
and underneath scars, though, there are drumbeats and music
memories swaying to song
like merry drunks aboard
a boat at sea
lovingly committed
only to the whims of Great Mystery
and the tides

beauty shocks depths
echoing deeper
beyond the realm of knowing
it reverberates
its coming back
a sickening crescendo
as I realize that
I am about to lose my shit
the shit that keeps me
stuck, smelly and repulsive
of self love

I am about to lose my shit
and replace it with
reflection
and mirrors
and expansive love
and graceful sunshine
and deep gratitude
and inexplicable and tremendous joy.

the password is change

Transition just might be my middle name, and I would wear it proudly.
If words could be music, then I would sing my life and my love loudly
Regardless of the diagnosis.

Rejoicing in the consistency of change.
and being startled to realize that my broken heart still beats
to the sound of its own drummer
and the song that ensues
ignites earthquakes
and thunder

so go ahead
break open, dear heart, so that I may love even more

again.


~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~


Deeper

May you find this life
incredibly rewarding
deeply moving
wondrously inspirational
majestically beautiful
warmly comforting
joyfully peaceful
stoicly charming

deep

deep

may you find the depths
of your life

without shame
without fear
without guilt

but with indulgent passion
and unfettered bravery
with exuberant exhiliration
and harmonizing gratitude

as you reach even deeper

retract and reflect

Be called
even
deeper.

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