Poems

Do I

All of me,

All that I am seems changed and new.

The product of what I've been through. 

Now What am I to you?

Do I still get respect for what I've done

In this life?

For the man that I've become,

Despite 

the time I spent undone?  

What has my life become?

Can I reach the heights I'd planned,

While I failed to withstand

A stress so severe it broke my soul.

If I'm not whole,

Do I deserve your love at all?

Through another's eyes (This one was extremely hard for me to write)

I could stare into your eyes as much as I can, or as much as you’d let me.  I could inspect you with my eyes, see the beauty there that others see when they tell me.  I can look at your smile that I’ve been told can light up a room, I’ve seen it in action, I was standing right by you.  I can remember the way that your smile made me feel, remember that it meant “all was good here.”  Your shoulders were big and broad and your arms, strong, though I told you it wouldn’t make me love you more just as long as you are you, do you recall?  I told you all the time that when you fall, you can get back up if you give it your all.  I could remember all the praise that I’ve seen you receive, all the accolades and things that look like trophies. And I could reminisce on the times when you’ve taken lead and lead the family or troops or whatever it be into doing and being things they were meant to be.  A better them.  A better you.  A better me.  

I remember the time at that formal dinner where you were a winner of sorts, you got an award for showing inner strength to those above you and in charge of you then. I saw the perfect you then.  I remember him. 

That man isn’t there anymore. It could be anxiety, depression or war; or stress of normal life and strife that seems to find you all day and night inside of your mind, created by things that I wish you could put behind you but you cant.  I know it’s hard.  I know your reality is harder than most.  I know you have your demons, your skeletons your ghosts. And I know that you love me more than yourself and all ways will, I know the deal.  I know the things you’ve told me are real.  

But whatever it is inside you, it’s eating you alive.  You’ve lost the will to live and lost the drive to thrive in the situation that we’re in.  You don’t want to fight for what we have, need or deserve.  You haven’t learned things that, by now, that you should have learned.  Your attitude is affecting the children, your friends, family, me.  Everyone around suffers while you’re suffering and I know that you try, love, trust me I do.  But you let this beat you.  At this rate, you’re through.  And I won’t be there for that, its been years since we had our first chat about your fears of admitting you had a mental problem.  And you’ve declined because your pride won’t let you admit or try to tell the truth to those that can help you.  I’m sorry.  I’m through.  But I want you to always know,  I truly loved you.

Good to bad to worse. Discussion with myself

I think she likes me.  I like her a lot whether it's wrong or right. At night, I sit up and think she maybe right, at least for what I'm going through at this time.  She makes me laugh, calms me down, and accepts who I am.  Along with who I was and who I believe I'm meant to be, she's there.  She shows her support she shows she cares, where she stands.
From her actions, the analyst in me says that she's for real.  She likes me too.  Holds me in high esteem even though she knows the deal. She invades my dreams and my thoughts with things she's already said and done.  In the short time that we've spent, I feel I've finally won, but I may mess this up.
I always do, with the greatest of ease.  I don't know why or how or what I do or what it is about me.  I'm going to fail as I always do and lose her like the others.  The children's mothers, some of my friends, those who were once supporters.  I can't take it again, I can't go through another loss like the last, the pain would last and corrupt my mind more than fate or the time that has passed.
She'll leave or give up like so many have, leaving me alone again.  What then would I have to fall back on?  What will I do then?  Should I do this? Am I ready? Will I know when?  I can't let her see my joy or keep her privy to my smile for at least a while.  I need to shut down and sit a while.  I'm so afraid.  Scared of what can happen again and again.  My dad tells me it's the product and the creation of sin.
I can't do it!  I wont!  Fuck this place! I'll leave.  I'll go back to where I'm free to be the dangerous side of me.  The part that makes sense and don't take any shit,  his feelings and actions and words are legit.  I'll hurt myself to stop the shakes caused by the loneliness and thoughts that plague my mind and heart.  I'll learn to hate again, and loathe the people all around, black, white or brown.  In every city and every town for what they are and their spoiled way of life they live but don't see what happens all around.  The real world is full of hate, and anger, and sins committed by people who are evil with in. I'll take them out.  I'll chase down the devil one more time. This time he's mine.  He'll pay for what he's done to my mind!
Shh.
Slow down.
Take a moment to inhale.  Remember your training.  Hold on to hope, let go of your personal hell.  Come back down, take it easy and sit and breathe.  Find relief that you're alive and not on the streets.  Realize what you have and what you can achieve.  All you can be.  All you are.  And all you used to be.
Inhale.
Bring in the joy that she creates. The loving looks on my children's face and let it erase the hate.
Exhale.
Let out the death and pain that you have seen in life and dreams that come and go seemingly as they please.  They'll come again, but fuck em right now, the only power they have is what you let out.
You'll be ready, in time, to blow her mind with your love.  Right now, get better, focus on perfecting how you love.
Remember what your parents told you before.
Remember family.  Remember love.  Remember what you stand for.

Battle within

My stomach is clenched.  As are my fists and chest.  I’m ready to fight a threat that I alone know best.  I take my medicine and sit alone in the dark.  Waiting for it to come and tear through and spark a cycle that I know all too well. I live it everyday.  My hell.

There are sounds around me to which I don’t respond at first.  I deduce that reaction at this point would do nothing but make things worse than I can handle at the moment.  Just hold it and be prepared.  Prepare.  Prepare for what is always there.

A figure runs by my eyes, faster than human, it seems.  I look to my left to follow the movement and then I notice I can’t see.  My eyes are closed, I’m looking at the darkness of my mind and something inside moved past me, ready to collide.  They’re talking now.  I’ve heard them before.  I’m not strong enough or skinny.  No longer fit for war.  I’m not motivated, I’m too weak.  I’m unable to live alone.  My future is bleak. They don’t love me. They never did and there’s no reason why they should.  Look at yourself.  Life has got you pinned down for good.  Your brothers pity you and hand you shit and are put out because you can't  clean up your mess or stand up and get out of your situation.  This hell that you created by your decisions.  This is a result of what you’ve done.  Things you’ve said, your decisions. Think of the boys

Images of my children flood my mind. I see their laughter and there happiness and even when they cry, they’re my dawgs.  My little me’s that I created with people who no longer love me or need me as they’ve stated.  Because I’m a poor father now, I can admit it.  They tell me I’m not, but I think they won’t admit it.  I can’t provide like I could.  I can’t make their lives forever good.  I’ve lost the ability to play in the arena I was on the days that I was awarded.  I was given accolades and applause, people came up to me an congratulated me and thanked me for my cause.  And now I’m this.  I broke and I’m afraid I can’t stand.  They’re here again I hear them coming back.  They’re laughing and their jeering.  Clap Clap Clap.

You see? Your own memories tell you of your worth.  You’ve lived your life, you’ve done your time.  Its over.  Return to earth.  Think of all the ways you seen people die over the years.  You could do it and it would be quick, no pain or fear.  Your parents would miss you at first, but they’d just put more effort into my brothers and one another. Saving their love for those who deserve and not others.  I won’t drag them down no more.  I don’t think they know yet, that the loss of me will be the greatest gift they’ll get.  And my boys.  My boys will be hurt from this memory.  Every day it may haunt them that they no longer see me.  But is it better for them now to see me after I’ve fallen apart?  Is it good to see that, just for doing something I believe, they ripped out my heart?  Life took my body and my strength.  At any length,it took my soul.  What am I now?  What do I do? I think its the end now. 

I Pray.

Father I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know how to live in a way that pleases you with the situation that I have.  I’m the person that I am and its hard for me to change, but I can.  Please give me the strength to move on from this.  This is literally my life at stake, because I no longer want to be in this place.  Help me please.  I don’t know what else to say but please send aid.  I’m afraid.  That my decision has been made.

In jesus name I pray,

Amen.

A voice comes form somewhere else that I’ve heard before as well.  It comes in from time to time to tell me all is well.

You love your kids, you love her, and you love your family.  You love to live, you love to laugh and, of course love to eat.  You love the nights when your children sneak in bed with you in the dark.  Then when you wake in the morning, they yell and scream and bark.  It scares the shit out of you every time, but you love it, by far. You love it when your dog begs for a treat, or meat, or whatever the hell else she’ll eat.  You love that you can write and some may read and maybe even be impressed.  You love the way you want to be, no more, no less.  You love the chance to prove to God that you are worthy to be his.   But what you have to realize, child is this.  You’re already one of God’s children.  There’s nothing to prove.  Love him.  Love others the way that you want them to love you.  Its hard to do at times, I know.  But if you try hard, you’ll see, with a single glimpse of goodness, you can rise and be free.  But you have to believe.  Believe and act on your conviction. And listen.  Listen to the wise and quit your bitchin. 

I look at my phone, it’s been 30 min since my mind battled for my life. I feel a little better now, feel less strife.  I don’t know what to say after these episodes or do, I just bow my head...

Lord, thank you.  I know that it was you.

Another Episode

There's feeling in my chest that I sometimes feel.  In the dead of night, when all is quiet and it seems that I'm the only thing that's real in this cold dark world.  It stings in a way that I can't describe.  Like its excitement, but overshadowed by the pain I hold inside. This pain.  This disruptive and belligerent pain that won't leave no matter how many blows I deliver.  With the arrows from my quiver that represent thoughts and affirmations I've ever been given or helped to think of myself.  It's a pain with a mind, it reminds me why it's there bringing memories and scenes front my past, seen or unseen, from which I want to escape and be free.  But I cant.  They're tethered to me.  Connected at this painful point.  A point of rage for me. It builds into that, pushing hate through my veins and into the tips of my fingers.  My hands remember the feel of a knife and remember that they can be bringers and deliverers of a type of pain much like the one their owner suffers under.  They remember.  And they anxiously wait command.  I blink and shake a bit, staring down at my hand.  A chill rolls down my spine, my body quivers as it does.  A tingling feeling travels from my forehead to my toes.  

My mind takes hold, but not the part of my mind that I’d like to.  Its the instinct, the fight or flight brain that I give into.  Thoughts of running through the streets, possibly hurting others as I go.  I must find a place to hide, a place where this wont show.  I lock myself in my john and sit down and wait for a spell.  I have my meds in my pocket, given to me for this kind of hell.  I take one and breathe deep holding tears inside. This is the third time today that I’ve been down this ride.  I breathe out, my hands still shaking from the anger.  I’m a little calmer now, but I still feel like there’s a danger.  I’m afraid to leave this room, there are no hiding places or ways to get behind me.  Its hard to find me.  And if I’m found its easier to defend me.  There are voices now that tell me there are things behind the door.  I plug my ears and kneel a bit and sit on the floor.  I breathe in and close my eyes and hold it for a moment.  I repeat in my mind that those thoughts are mine and they’re unfounded, just proponent of the fears that I hold inside.  In my mind and my core.  In this, you can be sure, they’re be there evermore. 

I sit back against the porcelain throne and reach around it to find a tool I use in these situations,  my trusty, favorite pipe. 

.

Wake and bake

I feel it building.  Coming over me like an eclipse of the soul.  Washing over my smiles with shadow, a tear falls in the bowl that I just loaded.  Packed it tight, I can't sleep through the screams.  I cant block them out, they're in my mind and my dreams.  I just awoke to the sound of gunshots and women crying.  Was it real?  My dog is not responding and everything now seems still. 

I take a hit off the pipe, still hearing the echos of screams from my dreams and it seems rage is running through my mind and being.  I close my eyes and hold in my breath for full effect.  I breathe out with a prayer that the herb does what I expect and stop the shaking that almost keeps me from sparking my next hit.  I get one in, sit back and wait for it to hit.  I close my eyes and focus on the sound of the fan, some images in my mind still of random violence and innocents crying, dying, trying to get away from the man.  He's holding a gun, trained and ready to ride for what he believes in and for his people's pride.  I open my eyes and take another hit.  Then I sit waiting for it to do its trick.  Finally, the pain in my chest subsides, I exhale slowly and rub my eyes.  Now I realize that my hands no longer shake.  I breathe deep again, relaxing my shoulders, enjoying the break.  I pray God for forgiveness for being weaker than I used to be, but I don't know what else to do, without it, I'm not free to think without wanting to hurt others or myself because of my rage, while my body breaks down and crumbles before the age that it was meant to fade.   But in this moment there's no pain, even laughing at good memories of my brothers, my friends, and the people that support me. I thank God for them, I thank God for life and I bow my head and pray that God help me through the strife that I know is coming on this day.  When the high is gone, life goes on and the shadows return.  I pray that I remember what I feel only in times like these, there's good in the world, it's worth fighting for, indeed

.

Attack

It starts out with a thought.  Maybe a memory of a mistake.  My thoughts get dark, seemingly from some other place.  Things like rage and violence float in and out of my mind, thoughts of ending it all, leaving it all behind.  I retreat to my spot so I can hide and relax, keep everyone safe, calm down before I go back. My hands start to shake and my breathing starts to quicken, I start to sweat and get dizzy, the panic starts to set in.  I hunch over and sit, trying to catch my air. Its like reaching and grasping for shit that ain’t there.  My stomach cramps and I vomit, Im outta breath, I feel weak.  Im on my knees now, all tensed up, I can’t speak.  I scream out in my mind “take a breath, hold it in!  Get back up. Rise up.  On your feet again!”  I think of all of my kids, my parents, my brothers.  All my mentors, examples, friends and others.  I pray God help me to be who they know I can be.  Let their highest perception of me, be my reality.  Give me the strength to stand again and see.  The things that they see when they see me.  

Scary

I read a text from you today.  It said that you miss me.  I couldn’t help but read it again.  I mean, all the times you would kiss me and hold me and hold my hand, reminding me of my strength.  The most support I’ve received from a woman for any length
of time. 
And now I cry
Facing this life alone, without you by my side, my life, my home.  What do I do now?  When I’m beaten down and crushed by the weight of the things that plague me, the love and even hate.  I have no one.  I lost him too, the best friend that I had.  All I can do is give in to the rage that masks the fact that I'm sad.  It swallows the tears before I cry them, two of my best friends in life,  what do I do with out them?
I don’t know anymore.  My thoughts are racing so fast that I don’t know if I can take it, I don’t know if ill last.  I feel it building.  The hate that I feel inside is strong.  It helps me forget who I am and combat whats wrong. 
Fuck them, then, I don’t need them.  I don’t want them in my life.  They don’t deserve my respect or satisfaction when I cry.  They don’t deserve to see me smile.  They don’t deserve to see me breaking. Faking smiles with my friends and hating life deep inside. Ill kill them both.  Both will know the extent of my rage. They will feel it coming, but have nowhere to run from my rage.  I have trained to cause harm with my hands and cause more with my mind. I will shatter everything they know, then see what they can find together.  Fuckin tell me that you’ll do it again.  All that’s on my mind is hate and sin.  UntiI I have a moment of clarity coming from somewhere with in.  Its God this time reminding me who I am inside.  Drop to my knees pray for strength to find me again.  stay inside, hurt myself to stop the shaking.  Slow the thoughts, it’s the cycle in my head that I’m breaking.    I’m better than that.  I remind myself over and over.  Hurting someone won't change the fact that its over.  Or the fact that I can’t run away from the sadness.  Nor will it change the hate, or rage, or loneliness or madness.  The biggest thing it won't change, and would exacerbate most…..at the end of the day, it hurts cause I love them both. 

Life

I sit and I think and consider my life.  Often times had no clue how to get through the strife. And I broke and I stumbled and laid down for a while and now my goal every day is to muster a smile.
I started out kicking ass and running shit where I landed.  I broke records, set precedents with every hand I was handed.  Getting awards a recognition for serving my country, fighting in wars with intellect, aiding terrorist hunting.  Then I saw what we did, while chasing after the devil.  Killed innocent people while trying to stay on the level.  Destroying cities and towns where the targets were hiding, bringing them out in the open to continue the fighting.
Mothers cried and shouted, seeing the dead all around.  Bloody blankets wrapped around  bodies laying still on the ground.  A mother holds a dead child, weeping and screaming “why” to Allah, and I told myself “take it easy, your just doing your job.”
I watched over soldiers outside the wire ,completing their mission. Made friends with my contact, talked about wives we were missing. They got ambushed, a fire fight broke out on the scene, the man on the screen asked for help from me.  But my people were far out, on their way to the spot, without clearance to help though the situation was hot.  “Where’s my support?” asked the man on the ground, as he pleaded.  I couldn’t give him the help he asked for yet that he needed.  Many died while we waited for permission to aid. Someone caught shrapnel in the neck from a frag grenade.
And for what?
So the generals can add a new ribbon?  So the president can smile at the praise he was given?  Given by the greedy and war hungry people and groups, lining their pockets with the sacrifice and lives of the troops.  War is a business and they will always be seeking the profit.  I, myself, alone couldn’t stop it.
After a while, I broke, guess I couldn’t handle the stress.  And could no longer see the good that was supposed to come from the mess.  Thoughts racing, telling me to fight and hurt others.  Kill everyone; men, children and mothers.  Rage building as I combat the feelings inside, keeping others safe by running and committing to hide.  Chilling in closets, restrooms, and bathroom stalls to stay calm, taking time away from school, work and all.
I lost jobs, my family and my friends to the pain.  Felt like I was wounded, lying alone in the rain.  Some one save me from myself, I scream, I implore.  Locked myself in tight spaces, crying, smoking weed on the floor.  Committed myself to finding ways to get relief quicker, drowning my sorrows and pain and demons in liquor.
Sat in my car with a pipe and some blue dream to smoke.  Got tired of everything and, again, I broke.  Closed the garage and the car door and started the car, smoked a bowl, crying, I used to be a star. I was strong once, a force of nature to fear.  Then I gave in to the anger, the hate, the fear.  My nephew came in and saved my pathetic life, trying  to give me hope and support to get me through the strife.
Now I sit and I think with new meds in me.  Realize that I’m done with that life now, I'm free.  Now trying to be what I was meant to be. Which is just the best me that I can be. 

Out of reality

With all the sobbing comes the blood,  people crying,  running away,  from these.   Baby on the ground face down crying to beat hell,  parents dying in the streets. 

I hide my face,  but they still stay in my vision,  eyes opened or closed.
The survivors looking around at the destruction,  questions posed.   

God,  why did you take them at all?   Why this way?  Why didn't those here to protect us save us from this day?
Then they all slowly fade away and the sounds begins to silence. 

 Leaving only a memory of what happens when the world is ruled by violence.

Entities (prose)

They come to me in the silence with sharpened claws and teeth. 
Searching with blades unsheathed ready to feast on the weakened souls of the righteous that know no peace. 
Creating fear and turmoil with each step taken always faking and pretending to be a guide to the awakened.  
Feigning concern while they burn rage into my mind.  Reminding me of all the different kinds of death that can be inflicted by my hand.  
Alas,  targets are chosen,  the rationale woven into the complicated and torn fabric of my mind. 
What will I find when I resist?   I say not if,  but when.   When time means nothing and i'm alone in my mind what will I see to strengthen me?  
No matter what encouragement or  good memories of this and that.   No matter what smiles of which I'm reminded.   No matter what love I've felt. 
They're there in the corner of my mind,  eyes glowing in the dark,  teeth and blade shine from the far off flames that fuels my anger.   They wait for a mistake to make me one of them.   They wait for when my guard is down to overtake and win. 
But this is my dominion,  I control the ins and outs of the field on which we fight.   From where I dig deep and find the light thats been buried for a time.  The place that gives me hope,  gives my will the might to shine.   Where I'm me and they are mere weaker entities in my mind.

Casualty (poem)

Dear soldier,  told to go without knowing fully what's in store.  
The ones that know sit high above, drinking their favorite drinks wearing their suits,  treating the conflict as a chore. 
They mold objectives and pass them down,  never hearing the sound of a mortar fly,  or a soldier die fighting enemies that surround. 
They don't fully understand what will happen to your mind if you survive.   Maimed,  untouched,  or revived; lucky to be alive. 
Who's luck is this that takes the very sanity of us,  shakes our core?  Some of us go more than once,  twice,  three times,  four.  
We know now the toll,  we tell all the young ones we see what's in store.   Prepare to change completely,  every soldier that fights is a casualty of war. 

Save Me (Poem)

I sit,  praying God will save me from myself.   
My actions,  my relationships,  my career and my health
Are weighed down by this hatred with either too much origin or origin unknown. 
I can feel it in the air,  oozing through my smile,  seeping through my bones. 
I want everyone,  and I mean everyone to pay for what I feel. 
I want them to know,  to understand, I want them all to hear
My muffled cries of rage and murderous thoughts and inclinations. 
The beast that I hold down inside,  praying for salvation
From myself.   And my urges.   And the nightmares that make me smile. 
From the demon that sat upon my heart and intends to stay a while. 
I sit in the dark,  praying to understand the part that I can play
To push it all out of my heart and rise anew in the light of day. 
Lord help me.   Calm this beast.  How much longer I can control it, I don't know. 
Save me from my thoughts,  my mind,  myself.   Save me from my soul.

What Now? (poem)

To those who have made me who I am today, the anger,  the rage,  the sadness,  the pain.  
To every single one of you who started the game, 
To all that gave the orders,  the instructions,  the main
Idea that strength was to feign 
Happiness while breaking and falling apart, 
Destroying lives,  creating tragedy,  killing souls and hearts. 
To all of you who preyed on me when I was weak, 
Killing dreams,  and goals,  making my future bleak,
I ask you now what to do in the dead of night,
When I wake in cold sweats and can't sleep due to fright.   When the souls that I've taken come for me in my peace,  when the outcomes of my decisions haunt me in my sleep. 
When every dream I had is shattered and I feel I can't go on,  I ask you now what do I do?  Where do I find my song?  
All I want is to die or to kill  or to maim, 
To cause tears and laugh seeking joy through pain, 
How do I live now that all I see is the dark in my life,
Not the smiles or the laughter but the heartache and strife,
What will you do after creating this monster I've become, 
What will you do,  when after you,  I come?

My Mind (poem)

I see you smile but you don't know my mind. 
You don't see my visions or hear my voices
Telling me to harm,  telling me to fight,  to find
Someone to use as a release for my aggression 
No matter who they are,  how intelligent or kind.

I can hear your pleas of mercy,  your silent screams of fright
I can smell your tears and taste your anguish caused by me in the night.

But I fight the urge,  I punish myself for the horrible thoughts that plague me. 
I pray the Lord deliver me from myself,  to help to save me. 
And you live.