bruised heart

being shouted and abused at

sworn at and insulted

accusations of unfathomable origins

ugly mouth and thoughts

being spewed over me

this is john's way

he insults and denigrates

my children

are worthy of my love support

and light

they do things that are silly

or rude or other things

but they deserve my support and trust

i will not desert them and take the side

of the oppressors

tex more than likely did behave in a rude manner

probably did swear

possibly did moon the busdriver

as has been modelled to him in the home/father

he has a true heart

he has been damaged

by a model of someone who does not take responsibility

i often don't realise what i'm doing

we all make mistakes

the strong path is that of admitting to it

and moving on

the price of love is to stand by the side of the loved one

not to turn and point along with the accusers

express remorse and apologise

this is right and acceptable

solute

now if i was angry

i'd have to shout

i s'pose

and flail about with words

but irritation is the poor

cousin

and thats the one that i spend time with

making myself feel small

fuck the imbalance of things

and the frustration of finding myself at the same door

again and again

gone down the same pathways to get there

every little trick to feel that this time its different

but the rhythm is predetermined

asking myself have i got the guts to break the pattern

can i be a guiding light for my kids

showing them the way to authenticity

hard to know when i don't feel as though i have control

i have taken over the wheel

i am the driver

i have control

i am the solution

i attract abundance and light

just another day

drink and breathe

in the dark clouds

snort them in huge chunks

cough up pools of green

that will send suckers on thin strands

up walls

split open a vein

and bleed into the moment

of hope

trying not to be

in a world of wild conformitee.

inside or out

climbing

is the pastime of choice

but falling is the unwanted ugly sister

but master this tart

you climb the mountain

from the inside

divinity or not

it's the opening that gets smaller and smaller
but i accommodate it
and slip through unnoticed by those who would judge
look at me they cry and i laugh in the face of reason and
my friend rational thought is a visitor in my house
i buy it baklava and ply it with cups of rose tea
it loves me and then i plant it with the new dill plants
and watch it grow into a shrub
that smells divine
and i use it to season the more bland moments with righteous hope

less or more

you can feel less than

because you come from a

place of no power

but its more likely

to be

that you don't know your power

that your earliest experiences

were not ones

of acknowledgement

and somehow you always

return to that self doubt

it swelled and took over the building

no amount of scrubbing by way of

new friends and freshly validated opinions

changes it

only in solitude does value exist

as soon as you leave the house

you walk back into the nightmare

leaf power

wearing a new face
i walk into the walls
that are painted a new shade of green
gardening to find salvation
purple lettuces
cilantro
radiccio
i'm
painting the earth