Outsider

‘Hear ye
hear ye
it seems to be 
an outsider
writhing amongst our midst.
Sowing discord
loss
desire
in all whose path she crosses.’
I stood in with the crowd
cowled head
bent to hide the blues
the greens
the halos of my eyes.
No more did I wonder
when I heard these oracles
these leaders
decry the one who does not belong.
I knew it was me.
Cruel beasties
tied to my side
tethered
chained
beholden to do my bidding
as long as I was here
in this place
in this time.
Madman
madder than he was before
rending his clothing
his flesh
screaming of the one who does not exist.
Oooooohhhhhhh
I no longer exist
which means that there……
there are no consequences for acts done.
No need to not try to change
disrupt
agitate
the populous so trodden down
losing hope
beaten
to rise above their pious Lordlings
toss them down
erase them from this life?
Am I truly evil?
Am I Danger?
Have I fallen off the wayside?
Am I truly Lost?
Or am I retribution?
Off with their heads
no cake for the wicked
soon I shall cast off this cowl
making myself known.
Down and down
the Rabbit’s Hole I fall
each level
a new experience
tying me to this place.
 
January 10/19
Photo by Viktor Forgacs on Unsplash
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Lost

‘I was lost
but now I am free’
shrieked the madman
hiding behind the tree.
Hair matted
gimlet eyes
screeching about end times.
I have watched him.
His mathematics
calculations
ruminations
formulas only he understands
as he tries so hard to discover
the date of the last day
when the world shall die.
Since I fell down the Rabbit Hole
I have seen…..
Many a breathtaking wonder.
Many a fascinating strange thing.
Many a wicked frightening thing.
None of which
captured my attention
like the madman.
Sitting upon desert sands
blown upon grass so green
I watch
waiting
wondering what shall be.
‘You are the menace.
You are the demon.
You are the downfall of all men.’
I looked around
wondering
to whom he spoke.
It was I.
None other dared to be close
save for myself
the very malodor of him
a tangible taste upon the tongue.
I waggled my fingers
a sardonic grin
twisting my lips
as he stood
imploring
begging
beseeching
help to arrive
to defend him from the She-Demon.
The one who did not belong.
January 8/19

Choices

This is a continuation of River Styx, Desert Red, Waste/Safe Land, Harlequin and My Knight.
We travelled
mostly in silence
chirps of birds
chittering of squirrels
sometimes the only sound I heard.
I sensed
felt
knew
that somehow I disappointed
this gentle giant.
I did not know how
nor what I could do
to rectify my mistakes.
We avoided cities
towns
any sign of civilization
until the abuse done to me
physical abuse
had healed.
The scars on my mind
woke me
screaming in the night
from nightmares
where Harlequin still ruled.
He began to train me.
Sword.
Knife.
Skulking.
Shadow hopping.
Every conceiveable way
I could now
protect myself from harm.
I woke one morning
to find him gone
disappeared
into the mists of my past.
I walked alone
ruing my mentor‘s departure
for I still did not know……
where I was?
who I was?
what journey
what choices must I make?
Sept. 18/18
Photo by Anders Nord on Unsplash

Harlequin

***This poem is a continuation from River Styx, Desert Red and Waste/Safe Land
Peddler man
left me at the edge of the grassland
indicating
I was to meet the next guardian
through my travels
in this blindingly green world.
Abraded
flesh
soul
reborn
my heart was light
joyous even
as I followed the path.
I saw them before they saw me.
Soldiers gleaming gold
in burnished armour.
Squinting I move forward
to find myself surrounded
by men with pikes
with swords
desperation vivid on their faces
as they took me into custody.
Forced to kneel
before the Harlequin
believing
he was to be my next guide
I was caged
jailed
forgotten
for a small time.
Imperious Harlequin
an intricate dance for two
chained by his side
I sink into disrepair.
Sept. 16/17
Photo by elen aivali on Unsplash

Waste/Safe Land

***This poem is a continuation from River Styx and Desert Red
Travelling the desert
a hundred days
I felt sand
scouring
flaying
devouring
flesh from my bones
molding
forming
another me.
Peddlar man
quiet
plodding along
but inherently
seeking oasis after oasis
as I needed rest.
he refused to answer
any
all
cajoling
questions.
Shaking his head
not in annoyance
more like a parent indulging their child.
We crested that last sandhill
my mouth fell open
a silent o
as before us
spread out
a verdant sea
tears spilling down my face.
Sept. 15/18
Photo by Robert Lukeman on Unsplash

Desert Red

***This is a continuation from the poem River Styx.***
I climb
over burnt amber sands
piled high
reminescent
of snow hills
I played on as a child.
Glaring sun
no respite
I stumble along
unsure
where I am going
what I will find at the end.
Moving one foot before the other
cracked lips
I can feel the skin on my face
blistered
charred
no agony
no pain
Is this trial by fire?
Will the sins staining my soul
finally be erased?
An oasis I seek
mirage
what I find
until finally I fall
unable to move further on.
finds me
face down
covered partly by sand.
With surprising strength
he picks me up
placing me on his wagon.
‘Rest little one.
I am the next to carry you further.’
Sept. 13/18
Photo by Mason Field on Unsplash

Mask Be Gone

Today will be another 2 post day but I will leave the second one for later on. It is a fun filled one about T and me last night.
I need to give credit where credit is due with regards to the posts where I have a lightening strikes moment and insight happens.  All of them, at the very least 99.9% of the time they evolve out of conversations that I am having with friends. They will make a statement or ask a question and suddenly boom there it is. And I talk it out with whomever I am talking to at the moment. The vast majority of them are broken down between two people of whom K is one of.
Today she is going to make cold calls for the company that she is working for. Dropping off flyers/information packets at the business around the area. When in the office for the most part she can go casual. Today though, she was not sure if it would be okay to wear casual or make a better impression if she dressed up. What did I think. And I thought about it.
Sales Person=Professional look=suits/slacks w/dress shirt for men. Pantyhose/skirt/slip/blouse/dress pants/blazer/dress/heels/flats/purse
for women. Damn uncomfortable being dressed up like that all the time. I have done it in the past and best place I have ever worked was for a company that was in production. I was in Customer Service but could handle this because I dealt with the salesmen not actual customers and I  could wear jeans and sweatshrits to work. I was in my glory. (To be honest the first day I started I wore dress pants in and was told I was dressed up too much.)
I explained that that was my definition of a sales person’s dressware and K agreed. She is going to throw her flair into it though and come out looking awesome. I began to think though as we are talking about what facades we put on. We are programmed to think and feel about certain people and careers solely based on how they are dressed.
Ex: A meeting is taking place between 2 competitors with a company. Person A arrives for the meeting casually dressed because he/she knows that the product they are selling is exactly what the companny requires and at a fraction of the cost even with a few bells and whistles thrown in of their competitor. Person B arrives for the meeting in business attire. Their product essentially the same as Person A’s but with extras that the company does not need nor will they ever use. And it costs triple the price. In the end despite the fact that Person A’s product is what they need for a great cost the company choses to go with Person B.
We immediately disregard people if they do not fulfill our preconcieved notions of how they should look. How does one know that the lawyer who wears jeans and tee shirts to the office did not graduate at the top of his law class while the lawyer in the $1000 suits who charges hourly did not? We give so much creedence to how we present ourselves to the world, that we forget who we are.
At work I have a facade. Chipper. Always happy. Smile on my face. Flying around here there and everywhere. Stopping to talk to people. Helping customers find what they need. This is the face that I wear day in and day out, 40 hours a week whether or not I feel like it.
Before Dec. 23rd, my entire being was a facade. I smiled and pretended I was happy. I laughed and talked and tried to be the world’s best problem solver. As I type this I recalled a moment just before that saturday which made me realize how much my facade was me.
I had been helping a customer and chatting away with them. When done I went over to another till to bag for one of my cashiers and her customer. All of us are chatting away and both of them mention that I am always happy. My mask slipped for a brief moment when I admitted that I was not really 100% me. And both of them told me that they never would have known. That I certainly did not show that things were not quite right.
Maybe if I had not been so intent on presenting myself as a strong and capable woman who required no assistance someone might have noticed a little earlier as the cracks began to appear. Maybe if I had been willing to be truthful with myself, I could have, no there is no could have. My facade had become me. I had become my facade.
Now I can look in the mirror and see me. This morning after I put cream on my face and set my glasses on my nose I took a really good look at myself in the mirror. And I saw me. The real me. The one who’s eyes are sparkling, clear, not fogged and drug numbed. I no longer look haggard and tired. I am still sleeping the same but again, there are no drugs at play deadening my sleep. I feel good. My hair is not looking brittle and ready to crack. Nor is it falling out in handfuls any longer. My skin is clearer and smoother as well.
There is another part of me that fell beneath the illusion of my facade and the role I was playing. That was my brain. My brain has been fooled and stupified and drug numbed for so many years I am damn surprised that it still functions. But it is there. With ideas and knowledge and truths that I fought to hide from for so long. I am open to the changes that are tearing down the ugliness that I wore to fool the world and replacing it with me. The real me.
I began thinking this was going to be a random reflection based on what K and me were talking about. Instead it opened my eyes further to the changes that I have wrought both inside and out. I am not going to wear masks any longer. What you see is who I am. I want to be accepted for the person that I am, not the person that society expects me to present to the world at large.