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The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
– Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks
I Want My Phone Call
Kirk Franklin and Bishop td jakes/911
What I would give for an I Love You and a Snuggle.
Sometimes we do not appreciate what we until it leaves us.
I just got of the phone with my BFF. She was in one room and her two kiddies in theirs. One texting and watching tv the other trawling the net. She made a nice meal speak with each other and yet they will not give her the time unless forced to. They will talk about her with each other but not with her about themselves. Sounds twisted but reread it.
My enemies enemy is my friend, I read somewhere. It is usually safe for a child to gnaw on a parents leg, knowing they are safe from retribution. Well most of the time, children services does exist.
I was raised by my grandmother because my mother left. I don’t know why has 49 years, don’t know if she knows. She married and left Puerto Rico in 1958, so I heard. My brother was born her in New York. She came back to the island and gave birth do me but forgot to take me back with her. There are no birth pictures, infant or toddler pictures. There was one where I look like I was 4ish.
Mom, I am sorry if you had a difficult pregnancy I was a fetus.
Mom, I am sorry if you had a difficult delivery I was a a new born.
I don’t know why you left but I am sure I called out for you.
In a universal voice child to mother.
Did your uterus contract? Did you not remember you left “something” behind as you checked you luggage?
Very easy I guess you turn around and walk, step by step.
Mom, the steps of a T. Rex I would welcome to your steps as you walked out of my newborn life.
I could have drawn my sword and taken the monster to task, two outcomes.
I would be victorious and stand upon it’s carcass or be in the belly of the beast.
Mom, I did not have a chance. The mental foot steps are the genesis of my separation anxiety. Through my life I have tried to be the “White knight” that would have come to save you.
Starting with my daughters mother. I tried to be “there” when I was too young to know what “there” was.
I continued trying to be the “guy” that the “other guy” was not
I used to joke “I am the man your mother warned you about and the man your father never was” But I realize that I wanted to be the opposite.
I tried so hard mom it hurts to the point it brings me to tears. That is the safest route to allow the pain to so subside. Grandma was always there where were you? I met you when I came to the USA in ’66. I had good grades mom, where were you?. I did plays, photography, poems, where were you? Parent teacher night? Where were you? You did not live that far may a mile up the road in NYC. I was on the honor role, I went to college. Where were you? You had six boys looking for that girl. Here mom first grandchild a girl. Where were you? I wanted a family of my own so bad. I have taken my own missteps. But try and learn from them. I never wanted anyone’s child to feel like I feel. Eleven yeas later a boy was born onto me. The only boy to carry on the family name all your other grandchildren are girls. You have seen him may be six times in his 16 years. He is way smarter than me mom. Honor roll and a great athlete. Most important I spent eleven years from the moment he crowned making sure he knew he was loved. I still hug him and almost give him a kiss on his head. Mom he is 6″ 3″ tall, have you seen him? I tell him and show him that I love him every time I see or speak with him. Do you ask anyone about him? You have had several chances to make amends.
I Love You. I do not hate you. I know I love you because I care about your health and well being. If I hated you I would not give a rats tush what happens to you.
I guess my greatest fear is not to die alone for we all die alone in the end.
I think it would be Dysphasia
Dysphasia: One in a group of speech disorders in which there is impairment of the power of expression by speech, writing, or signs, or impairment of the power of comprehension of spoken or written language. More severe forms of dysphasia are called aphasia.
I am tall of height and brought of shoulders hair like a thousand cobras.
I am now on the road to perdition a lie left by errors of omission. The first cut may
be the deepest but the one that hurts the longest is born on air laden with invidious words uttered by those we look to validate us.
Born of sin and indecision based on vapid words in rapid succession…I am an error a product of an emission a stain that should have been left on a sheet but now I lay in defeat. An open chest but no heart to be found, devoured in a sulfurous
hurt…digested and excreted and was used by invidious people to fertilize their schemes. Impaled by words that hurt and the sun is going down but shadows grow long…please I want to take the long road home…guide me don’t chide me….please dear lord help me…
with anger as my countenance, rage as I turned every page of my life.
Anxiety as my cloth and betrayal as my theme music.
A mere by product of corporal/corporeal knowledge…an emission, an expulsion
of a corporal invasion, that should have been blessed. A visceral reminder of a situation that should not have occurred…tears in my eyes were the only gleam, Oh, how wish I were a stream so I could flow to the ocean and be a part of something greater. I feel instead the ebb and flow of an invagination, an emotional visceral ramification of corporal undulation. I am like the stain on a shirt a reminder of what was devoured. Instead 9 months later a life was brought at the 5am hour. I was a physical entity of an emotional inequity…instead
of being held up the sky and brought the village…I was a remembrance of what was pillaged. Not a teat was given but at the feet of another I was laid. Betrayed by the one and only that should have loved me, my first true love my mother. Whose heartbeat was the background music to my genesis. Her blood flowed through my veins
bringing food to my body. In her body I grew, who knew?
Not knowing that though our hearts pumped the same blood I would thirst for her love.
I would be a reminder of what went wrong between those two. Left behind by the one
whose love should never have failed. Impaled by emptiness and silence. I called to my mother not in words but in universal bonds…too late, she was gone. When I finally met her she became more of a sister because we shared the same mother, grandma/abuelita.
Left on a cross roads of indecision and recriminations. It is not the body but the soul
the essence that lives on. The acerbic thoughts will eventually
devour my bliss and I will be an empty carcass kissed by a spiders
venom. All those who come towards are not your friends and all those
who walk away are not your enemies.
This as inspired by a facebook friend Annelise Prahach .
Annelise Prahach A thousand words will not leave so deep an impression as one deed.
Bil Spinelli What does not KILL you will make you stronger!
Me But one mean word will haunt you for a thousand years.
Think back to what someone said about you/to you 5-10 years ago that stills hurts.
Joker in The Dark Knight
What doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stranger.
The misspoken words of a parent will stop the actions of an adult. They can and will be haunted by words to the detriment of their future. … See MoreWhich is an action that takes place in the future vs an inaction that stops us in the present. Words are how I share my thought actions are how I show them. Dysphasia is my greatest fear.
Annelise Prahach Tony you have always been a deep dude!
I need to remind her I do not like being called Tony, only grandma could call me by that name.
Me My family knows nothing about me and seeks to know less. I wanted to add a piece of a poem I wrote but am not able to log in to my gmail account.
I spent Thanksgiving in the haus I lived in, alone.
Haunted by misshaped words hanging like fishhooks on ethereal thoughts of a happy family.
I was 2 miles away from my brother but could have been 2,000 miles, he did call the day of Thanksgiving. I do not have a cell so I was 86 miles from my land line. I came down so my son and his mother could have a good time without taking 2 dogs with them to Gettysburg PA. As a Dad my son’s happiness comes first. I am a by-product of a miscarriage of marriage. My childhood an illusion of marginal sitcoms based on northern European ideas.