Draft Pick

Yesterday, an anxious fit threw me

silk sheets wrapped their burgundy curls around my limbs

pinning me down in my own twisted, sweaty haste

to get away

What a sad-funny thing to think we can run from ourselves

How many times do you wage war on the inside?

Some lose days

Some lose years

I’ve lost both before but in my bones I know

the worthiest of battles

are on this battlefield of Soul

So when I lose

I wake again and start anew

Today, I threw an anxious fit away

each step I took with wisened foot

Lessons learned

I feel my worth

Wars are won on how we greet our losses

If we were picking teams

Would you choose yourself?

‘Cause I’d sure as hell choose

me

 

 

 

 

Black Tar Tears

 

black tar tears

muddy evidence

of failed heroic attempts

veins straining against forehead skin

enraged, entrapped by the war within

black tar tears

thick, sticky evidence of rolling that fucking stone up the mountain

again and again

watching it just roll back down

just roll back down

the other voice is winning today

the one that say

what

is

the

fucking

point

you stupid

fucking

bitch

and I don’t have it in me to correct him

this murderous rage stabs at me

I see how the terrorist lives within

helpless and violent

do I matter at all

to anyone

am I destined to be alone

forever

no one hears me

look —

even the tar

is gone

Laundry Day

you gotta have yourself a laundry day

and sort your shit

 

there’s a difference between giving something a voice

and giving it sole power

allowing a say and allowing a take-over

the delicate dance between having a feeling 
or letting it capture you and take you away

 

this ain’t Calgon

and trust me, that shit don’t work anyway

 

seems to me it all falls to one concept

Discerning

it’s such a pesky little mutha

How can it be both/and all the time?

but you know it is

there are no absolutes

there is only finding what works for you

 

you gotta have yourself a laundry day

and

Sort.

Your.

Shit.

 

Or be like everyone else sheeping through this life

with the “it’s too hards” or the endless escapism in endless forms

 

Or become the storm

and say to yourself

“fuck this mediocre shit”

 

You came here to do something

no need to get overwhelmed

just make a choice

And figure it out

 

p.s.

that top goes with the darks

Work

I see you eating your pastry

Drinking your wine

Laughing, smoking

On kitschy, woven chairs

facing the street

so you may people-watch

or be watched

people turn into atmosphere

I peer in to your vacation-looking lives and think

I’d like to be like you

And laugh and drink and espresso and croissant

and repeat

but inside I know I am not like you

I did not come here for that

I wish I did

(well, maybe)

Oh I wish I did!

(hey, lady — maybe)

But I…

Well

I have work to do

The Boot

One intentional STOMP

A spurred boot slamming onto an iced-over lake

Sadness breaks through me

the cracks begin slowly

reaching their jagged, frozen fingers through my skin

they quicken

Frigid waters rising

I hear a whisper somewhere

Don’t fall in

Don’t fall in

Those waters aren’t meant for swimming

30 seconds til hypothermia sets in

But then, a different voice speaks:

There is no danger here

I reassure The Whisperer

I am the lake.

And The Thing breaking through me

Is only

Letting Life in

Familiar

Familiar walks around in your favorite, cozy sweats

With a warm, inviting smile on Her face

She has those trustworthy dimples that Charming People have

Familiar gives the best hugs you’ve ever had

But

Familiar is not your friend

She won’t tell you the hugs She’s giving

Are really full of Take

The comfort She is offering has a price like anything

Familiar will hold you your whole life if you let Her

And , oh, what a gift She gives!

But at the end, old and frail, you’ll gaze back up again

She will hold the Life that was yours

No

Familiar is not your friend

 

Your self

Do you ever realize

How much you prevent yourself from yourself?

Oh it’s a lot

A.

LOT.

I can’t tell you

But when you see it —

In this lifetime or the next or maybe even the one after that

It will blow your mind

and make you feel like The Fool of all fools at the same time

It will be like the first time someone showed you

The photo that captures the teensiest sliver of space

Where we are just dots within dots

and even smaller dots within that

And you will think to yourself

Holy fuck

How starving I have been

And how simple to not have known it

Another Today

 

Do you feel Her — Our Country?

She is weeping

She is desperate that we come out of such wasteful dissonance

Our Ignorance

I blame you and you blame me

But we are on the same side again This Evil

All this violence erupting

Volcanic bursts of killing

Have we become a nation of amputees?

There is a fine line between waiting and deteriorating

Between Consideration and Paralysis

Have we be become the goddamn avocados of the world?

Too ripe or too rotten

Can we not call a spade a spade

But leave the spades who are not spades out?

What is so hard about that?

Who lies there, in the corner, covered in blood today?

It is your mother and my mother

It is your friend and my friend

Our Nation

Our Country

Our Earth

Our Selves

We cry out in reverberating wails of frustration and sadness and anger

But Know This:

Evil does not only not listen, It thrives on our painful confusion

And so I might remind you now —

Jesus came with a sword

The good warrior knows when to retreat and when to draw

Differentiation is key

You are not the Evil

So listen with me

Let us act in consciousness, together

Let us be These United States

Or tomorrow will just be

Another Today

— KH

 

 

 

March

I saw a bad movie last night

With a good line —

“You embrace the suck and you move the fuck on”

So today I March

I wake

I ride

I take

I move into the deep flux of my life and say

YES

Okay

Why Not

Today? Tonight? Done. There.

What have I been doing all these years but

Hiding myself within myself

Tricked into the trap of staying there

I have begged my Captor to let me free

But my Captor was me

and I was not listening

Desperate I whispered let me be uncomfortable

I can take it

But he didn’t believe me

And really, how could he?

I was fucking whis-per-ing

It was all I could muster then

But somehow, I dragged my heavy feet through the mud

These last three days

Or 38 years

And I made it to the other side, wiping off the dried fragments of dirt and blood

Throwing those old boots aside

My bare, raw feet stepping down onto the hot coals in front of me

I don’t run or walk or hide

I just set my gaze to the now

And I March