Relative Synecdoche

I am revealed in pieces,
chip away, mine me, deep sea dive me,
peer through the holes in curtains covering dusty windows
and perhaps you will see pieces of my tapestry
carefully woven throughout my life,
guided not by Three Fates, but my own hand
my own choices, deliberate and purposeful
even when scattered and careless
appearance and reality rarely run parallel paths

See this life, a conscious collection of action, thought, feeling
unconscious collaboration of infinite lifetimes
forgotten memories, shared histories erased by rebirth
compassion, kindness, love, learned patience through
trial and tribulation, rejoice to replace envy
and work to plant good seeds, nurturing
the growth of peace and joy

Oh beloved friend, I have opened my mind
so that I can learn all I’m able, absorb all I may
to in turn understand you with a knowledge
that comes from communion and connection
a closeness I feel in my breast and dissolve upon
a white heart of Philia and Agape, perhaps Pragma
and so many other loves born of curiosity and bred by passion

Yet when you look at me you stand in marvel
for I am still robed though you were undressed.
while I find that most are comforted in the revelation
that someone will not just understand, but uplift
and I delight in my talented comprehension of
the human condition, enjoying the like-minded energy
we may share, I walk invisible past the mirror
I wouldn’t look into, fearful of the narcissistic pull
having learned my lesson over a thousand existences,
drowning while loving only a reflection of myself.

The time for seeing with our eyes is over
(did it ever exist?)
A time for feeling with our hearts is within reach
(it always was)
exploration and curiosity is a must
(as is trust)
patience a virtue, not to be misplaced
(as pieces fast uncovered are just as fast erased)

I put my hand in your hand, fingers interlaced
I try to walk as fast, just to keep the pace
I try to uncover myself, reveal in harmony
a time lapsed story, a linear retrace
but it’s so hard for me to strip down to base
to keep things in order and memory trace
as things in my mind are cyclical, the Relativity staircase,
a spiral, repetitive journey, in love, lessons and grace

I thank you for your patience
I thank you for your time
I thank you for investment
of heart and soul and mind
As I watched the sun rise and watched the sun set,
I selfishly had wondered, what out of this world I get
Instead of pouring in everything I have
and letting my reflection shine back a most selfless mindset

Now that change has happened, and growth will still occur
I share these pieces of myself, and with love and trust refer
you to these stories, a tapestry of me
A puzzle missing pieces, a tale told out of turn,
mixed up metaphors and fragmented synecdoche
to in part reveal a whole, something for which to yearn
I won’t make you deep sea dive or without light explore the caves
I won’t let you drown in depths, nor alone survive the waves.

I am the guide through my own life, for those who sit and wait
for those who give and share with me
who ache to still explore
I am revealed in pieces, so listen carefully
a slivered wound, manifold whole,
messy, clean, and unmasked soul
torn and frayed tapestry, resewn at some seams
gleaming, shiny, sparkling bright
pure and unadulterated light
a woods with growth old and new
forest fires, just a few…

So I will tell my tale to those
who’ve fought and understand
with checked privilege, proof of patience
those who’ve taken stand
You have a story that I’ve heard,
and so I’ll give my word
I’ll sing unlike the caged bird
for I’m already free.
I’ll sing my song for those pure hearts
who lust to undo me.

The Worst Thing

It’s selfish and conceited, but sometimes I like to think I was your worst.

I was this little period in your life that you swallow pills to forget

I was the worst thing to ever happen to you

I kept you up all night, tossing in your bed, while thoughts went round your head

Like who the fuck is she, and did she mean what she said?

I’m a little piece of nightmare that got stuck in your dream teeth.

I’m the ghost devil on your shoulder, that you really thought was dead

And every so often you recall what I did

And think shit what did I get into, and can it never happen again.

 

I was conceited when I loved you, I was selfish when I left

I tossed words without abandon, I belittled what we had

Misery loves company, was my battle cry

I hung the phrase on all my banners, and let harsh words fall from my lips

Each second I felt scorned I thought would be my last

Every teardrop that fell from my eye you knew I blamed on you

I stuck a dagger in your chest, hoping to rake through

Your ribs and crack them down to dust

 

I love to imagine how I was the worst thing to ever happen to you

And in that I will be immortalized

That slanderous tale told at a cabin, and ghost story for the young

A cautionary tale of psycho bitches and what can come undone

A warning for your friends, a comedy for the bored,

A thank-your-lucky-stars-it-wasn’t-you for the unappreciative ignored

I will outlive all the rest, based on my infamy of horribleness

 

And then I feel downright bad.

 

Because I loved you in the moment, I treasured what we had

I trusted every word you spoke, believed each lie you said –

I think we both did – and when I started believing I was the

Worst thing that could happen to you, that I was crazy and insane,

I ran away and still blame you, even if it’s all in vain

 

Because I am the worst thing to ever happen to you

How to make me fall in love with you

Entice me with your words
pierce my walls with meanness
show me you have the power to break another person
yet you refuse.

Show me you have the willpower to stand up
and alone
and have the ability to open your door
welcome a stranger,
and trust they will not throttle you in your sleep.

Tease me with kisses and polite dialogue,
an intercourse of exchanged language
with no innuendo and no
biting sting of
regretted words.

Demonstrate your strength
not in feats of power
but in exploits of courage,
the deed which you complete though
you know you’re licked before you start,
see it through.

Toss your speech with abandon
but not your ideas –
Your ideals are by your heart
and you live not beside them
but by virtue of them
unto others
though they not do the same.

A vital man with an Achilles heel
I in turn choose not to sever,
a choice my own – as all my acts
are of my own volition.

For I have power too.
As you penetrate, I consume.
As you guffaw, I may also laugh.
As you devastate, I ruin.
As you toy, I play.
As you adore, I love.
I am passionate, above all else.

Prove you have a compulsion for life,
you choose endurance over death,
you have potential to be a
raft for those without
water-wings,
for my exigency for life
is almost extinguished.

Demonstrate a lust for adventure
that is comparable to my own
so we can rid ourselves
of this boredom, tedium,
this dullness, together.

You are a collaborator,
a fellow conspirator and colleague,
a fellow traveller on this quest,
upfront and honest,
sparing only of the sensitivity of others,
unless for a private laugh –

For laughter is god overall.
The ability to laugh at good and bad,
strong and weak,
not others, but ourselves,
in the dark and in the light,
a reason to go forth,
and conquer
not all,
but love.

Soft Afternoons

It’s that glimmer of hope
that gets caught in my throat
when I see your words
or hear your name.
Something that could have spilt
from your very lips
was caught on a breeze
that drifted past my ear
one soft afternoon.

Shadows playing on a baby’s face –
you probably could have painted
something more unique than
that shit, but I just thought
of you and didn’t care,
not even of the crying or noises
at the park,
one soft afternoon.

The grass blades on my hand,
made me think of every time
we experienced our senses
at a greater height
to have them
fall
.     fall
.             fall from a greater
height, than sheep have known,
even on a soft afternoon.

Clouds in the sky, in my room, in your eyes
in our throats, in your hair, in my nose;
coughing, seeing, laughing, loving,
holding, blowing, thinking, knowing,
and questioning all that we
thought was wrong,
on a soft afternoon.

a love book poem

With every page I turned and

every word I devoured

I wanted more

And quickly threw myself into

A whirlwind of writing

Which could never drown me

Or slit my wrists or slay me,

But strengthen me

Until I fell asleep on the

Thickened pages

Having absorbed what I

In turn

Poured into them.

Words Overheard

The woman behind me blows her nose tearfully, quietly.
She’s married, with a few children.  One in university, one in grade 11.
They’re good students. They have a future.  They’re girls.
They’ll know hardships, but she’s hopeful for them.
She’s just listened to the same conversation I have.

Snippets of overheard conspiracy drift our way as
A man convinces a woman – his lover? –
To leave her husband.
She has kids.  She has worries.
He dismisses them with a wave of his hand.
In a conversation with this man, her replies – quiet and unheard –
Mean nothing anyway.  Because he sees only one side.
And his words, harsh and critical fall over our ears.
And the married woman behind me snuffles, imagining such a thing in her own life,
And I listen, curious as to how this plays out,
Outraged at his dismissive attitude to her fears,
Worried for her future, and wondering
How many times this same conversation has taken place.

His quick paced, accented tongue, flying over his words,
Licking his lips, sipping his coffee.
Starbucks, as the appropriate location for a private affair
And conspiracies in public.  Gentle laughter, free of tears,
Does not match the weighty content of his accusations and
Their conspiratorial conversing.
His words, floating and broken, over the ears of
The crowd, and through the pane of the glass looking onto
A car-filled parking lot:

He despised you as much as you despised him

Where does it come from? The movie stuff? It comes from real life.

People are together, they break up, and they get back together. It happens

Whatever. [mimicking voice]

Stops you from leaving your husband. You’re weak.

You don’t have everything you want.

You’re going to walk away from a house and home? No. you’re going to walk away from children? No.

You’re going to be broke? No. You’re still going to have your job.

You’re going to lose the one thing in your life that you don’t want. Your husband.

You spend 6, 12 months building a home for you, your children.

I had no interest in her. She was a foolish teacher.

Who was your first love?

What about me?

You’re not going to change and neither is he.

He might be this…but guess what? He is who he is.

You’re making a mistake now. You’re hurting.

Why am I here now? You tell me. You have all the answers. You just tell me.

I have lost you, so you obviously know better than me.

Okay, but let’s not talk childish now. I just contradicted you. But I will go out with us again.

You’re lying to me.

You don’t love him. Do you want to be with him?  Watch the Notebook.

Do you reckon he’s happy?  Do you think when you hug and kiss him, he honestly thinks: life is good.  You don’t have to break his ego.

Well you’re a fake.

Is this a game?

So just stay.

Does he act like a child? Does he act like a child? Of course he does, so very childish.

He’s demanding.

Careful what you wish for. What you mean.

Kitchen. A couple of weeks before Christmas.

‘Well you do that for everyone’. Go to Toyota now.

Lalalalalalalala

I’m sad for you and I wish….

You’re going to be on your own.

There was a kidnapping three years ago…

She was a liar, she lies now about it.

He hasn’t cheated on his wife…

If I was happily married, would it be okay if you were my wife, that I went over to this single mum all the time.

He’s going, no, no that’s not right.

No Christmas presents; wouldn’t put a penny on the table.

[I guess I should go.]

Me too.

It’s an exotic image. We flirt with what we can’t have.
We flirt with our dark desires, because how could we ever own them?
How could we commit? So we laugh at this play, this show of words.
In a serious conversation, are we laughing off the possibility,
or are we laughing off our fear of the unknown?

Shall you commit to ‘wrong’? Shall you leave everything you know?
Is it worth it? The judgment, the fact that turning back is impossible
once you’ve started.  So many things hold us back.  And should they?
That’s the question.
Is what we imagine to be dark, really so bad?
Maybe what we think is light, and good, is terrible and trapping.
But it’s right, they’ll say.
Are they wrong? Are we?

I don’t know if she’ll leave her husband.
Will she think about how this man is treating her?
The abusive, the controlling, the accusing, the dismissive attitude.
The fact he’s left or cheated on his previous – current? – wife.

The thrill is there.  I can feel it from seats over.  It’s dark, it’s dirty, and it’s tangible.

It’s a plunge only one wants to make, because his life is over without a partner.

Will she end her life, for him?

[Will she begin her life for him?]

The mother behind me has left, just before the couple.
She doesn’t hear how the end plays out.  She doesn’t want to.
She doesn’t know if the other woman has decided to leave her husband.
She doesn’t know if they have come to a conclusion at all.

I stayed and listened. I’m here even after they have left.

I know as much as the woman who left before me.

I’m not meant to know anything at all.