alive and well

Raise the glass to my sorry ass,
From the far side of the bar,
I stumble across and swipe that smile,
It crumbles and falls to the floor.
Stalking out, drunken louts,
A slap to the face, punch to the head,
Another in self-defense,
Or so I claim, all in vain.
Somehow made it home,
Vaguely remember shouting,
Arguing about six months prior,
Vaguely remember downing the pills.
My heartbeat represented by waves of light,
Went through various levels and rings,
Down to the very last one,
Reddish-orange and strong.
But then it stops, fades into nothing,
The heart beating in my chest,
The beating heart of the sun,
The burning center of the universe.
Still, still, still, echoes into nothingness,
The last beat the loudest of them all,
Echoing into endless tomorrows,
Fading beyond sight and sound.
Eyes half open, breathing labored,
Frothing at the mouth,
Face swollen, overdosed again,
Taken to the car and driven.
Couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think,
Thoughts just kept going round and round,
Circular motion, endless loop,
Couldn’t finish a single sentence.
I kept repeating the same things,
Over and over and over,
Head spinning, words spinning,
Everything spinning outta control.
They stripped me down in the E.R.,
Hooked me up to I.V.’s,
Catheter to drain my bladder,
I was barely getting enough oxygen.
Ten hours later finally let go,
But I forgot to mention,
I was under close supervision,
And I was let go to another facility.
Telephoned up to use the elevator,
Walked me through double-locked doors,
Into the closed area, no escape,
No laces, no belts, nothing.
Nothing that anyone could use at all,
To harm themselves in any way,
No mirrors, no razors, no scissors,
Not even a TV, just six spare rooms.
Marcus in the padded one, all alone,
Talking to God, who lives in the ceiling,
Gina talking to herself, while wetting her bed,
And Jim—Vietnam Vet—disheveled and gone.
There was also the one-armed man,
Just out of prison, wasted the last ten years,
April with pneumonia, hair like Jim’s,
And Doug, always punching himself.
They fed us well, if you like American food,
Decaffeinated coffee and pop, no smoking,
Starches and canned fruit, drank lots of water,
Ate burgers and cold fries, and whatever else.
I spoke to doctors, nurses, techs,
Even social workers, explained to them,
Just as to everyone else, what happened,
At least what I could remember.
I blamed it on the booze, sent me over the edge,
But that’s not quite half true, less than half,
The fault lies with me, and my petty views,
Taking it out on whomever I choose.
B stayed with me almost all day,
That first long day in the E.R.,
I think I would have lost it otherwise,
No lectures, no anger, just support.
If she had cut me loose, let me go,
Would have fallen apart under lock and key,
She told me it would be all right,
And sometimes hearing that is enough.
I didn’t crumble, I didn’t fade,
Told my story, see how it played,
Pushed for release, little by little,
Put on my best face, blamed the booze.
So they let me go after two days,
Almost unheard of—minimum is three,
But somehow, some way, I stepped out,
And I have to work on fixing my life.
The things that I’ve done to myself,
The beliefs I cling to out of spite,
Somehow some way, she still believes,
Still stands by me, despite all the grief.
Selfishly doing what I selfishly do,
Putting the blame on so many others,
It’s me-it’s me-it’s me-no one else,
Doing these things to me every day.
And still she sticks around, still worries,
Won’t allow me to destroy myself,
Won’t allow me to throw it all away,
Just out of spite, out of anger, fear.
To that list of people I owe,
She is foremost forever more,
Can never repay her in this lifetime,
Might take me a couple, three or four.
I do love you, that I know,
And again, I hurt you beyond reason,
And hurt the children, again,
Seems like I’m only creating pain.
So here we begin anew, another day,
Another view of the same old thing,
But today is different, something changed,
Can no longer keep on staying the same.
I had said that I needed to go on retreat,
To fast or go to the temple and meditate,
It seems like life gave me no choice,
Put me in a place where I had to shut up.
I am free to come and go as I please,
No longer on lockdown, no longer being watched,
Laughing at everything, laughing my self,
Seeing things for the very first time.
Too much wasted time, too many wrong turns,
Living my life the wrong way, waiting for what,
“Do as I say, not as I do,” a negative example,
Try to explain all this to my children and wife.
I forgot to tell you about my dream that fateful night—
Was told to live my life for someone else,
Stop living it only for myself, focus on others,
Before I destroy myself living it as I do.
What’s not to understand, can’t be simpler,
Shut off the noises inside, doubts and paranoia,
Focus on that which is without, open to life,
Experience the here-and-now before it is gone.
Give up my daily meditations on hate,
Of the constant struggle to justify the self,
Live this life and let go of illusion,
Break free of all my delusions,
Make life better for my loved ones,
Before my work on this earth is done,
Toil for those have kept me alive and well,
Through heaven and all my self-made hells.

mantra addict

the voice that i hear is a pain in more ways than one. it tells me i'm not good enough, I'm not worthy of whatever . . . it's not just pessimistic--it's fatalistic.
the voice says that there is no point to any of this (buddhism/skateborading/life--anything) and that i should just give up. on my bad days i allow this voice to paralyze me-- or i try to run away from it.
on my good days i don't care what the voice says. i live. i don't judge. i just do. not sure what to make of all of this, but i've been trying to be more positive in my outlook.
remember the last line from the Suicidal Tendencies song, "Institutionalized"? i liked it because it was silly, stupid, and so over the top--"it doesn't matter, i'll probably just get hit by a car anyway."
the problem is, that is the way that i have been living my life. that is the mantra that i repeat to myself day-in-day-out.
i need a new mantra. i never liked mantras much, i always viewed them as being tools for the weak. well guess what? i am weak. i need to admit that. over the years i have used various mantras-- it was just something i did almost subconciously. if i was chasing after a girl, her name would just repeat in my mind. after each of my children were born, their name would be utmost in my conciousness.
i need more positivity, need to have more "happy thoughts" like the Saturday Night Live skit. if nothing else, i need to end the stream of negativity that flows through my conciousness each and everyday.

spoke too soon

Depression stalking me as I pretend otherwise,
Spoke too soon spoke too often,
Always talking but saying nothing.
Promises made left unfulfilled,
Like the pile of leaves rotting in the yard,
Never quite made it to the curb.
Saying what should not be said,
Not saying what needs to be,
Going along resentfully resigned.
Thought I had learned from my mistakes,
I keep making new ones,
Another day another disaster.
Ruthie talking about her daughter in the kitchen,
Living on fish sticks and cheese burgers,
I ate ravioli and drank Faygo.
Either or reminds me of the blackest times,
I never mix the two together since,
Lest I unleash long buried demons.
Trying to forge a new path,
Asking for others to come along,
Journeying to cleanse myself.
Plans I make falling apart already,
Just wanted to do something positive,
Something out of the norm.
Jumpstart my new life,
Leaving behind the sordid ugliness,
Reaching for something uncomplicated.
My calls go unanswered,
My messages not returned,
And so it goes and so I shall still go.
Tired and sickened by the toxic youth,
But not a youth anymore,
Will choose something new.
What and who am I,
What do I want to be,
Within reason, within reach.
I wanna be free like Marley said,
Free from roadblocks along my way,
But there is no outer protagonist.
There is no policeman threatening,
Asking me for my documents,
There is only me.
Blocking my own way,
Tripping myself up,
Not willing to believe.
Sorry about the bombast,
Sick little puppy,
Striving to get well. . .

joy in suffering

This game called life-
sandwiched between the extremes of birth and death,
so full of joy but yet so painful at times.
Anxiety and worry overwhelm me now,
Home and security threatened—
The almighty dollar rules this life.
To live and be happy,
Was everything to me,
But happiness has proved to be elusive.
Fleeting moments here and there,
Followed by chasms of struggle and grief,
Eons of regret and longing.
What do I want?
Do I even know?
And who is this I that wants or knows?
There are few answers,
Just more questions—
Vicious circle spins round and round.
I buy and buy,
Accumulate so many needless things,
To stave off the day of reckoning.
I buy into the lie,
The illusion that possessions,
Will somehow shield me from reality.
I accepted the terms and conditions,
Sealed the deal,
Oblivious to the damage and consequences.
Reckless heedless youth,
Plummeting toward disaster,
Awakening at the point of impact.
So much blame,
So much second-guessing,
So little action.
The time is now,
As it always has been,
Only this single constant moment.
Life begins and ends at this moment,
Is lived out in terror and misery,
Or in happiness and joy.
In the final analysis,
What is all for,
Of what use is any of this?
The living to keep living,
And the dead to remind us that life is fleeting,
But yet we take such joy in suffering.