one way one way. blog this day by blogtramp ray

Intoxicated Moratorium I don’t know where or when they lost their way Rebounding off relationship Through purgatory, antisocial subgroups, slipping Into spray-paint, one-way, narrow toll express-lanes Following They brake and roll in constant crowds Of drone bees swarming, Helplessly addicted to the hive Of honey-sweet possessions and instant gratification Frantically alive White knuckle hands clutch steering wheels While speeding, lost, to screaming stops As coffee spills and tires squeal Chaos interference in crammed roadway slots, Their rear-view disappears Regressed to extended adolescents, Curled in fetal shells of need, consuming goods Sad shufflers of bourgeois descendents Feeling frozen and misunderstood Pill popping in repression See them race for name and status Automatons so blind and faceless Failing to breath, or look in mirrors more for vanity, They cry in dark dilation tunnels, Surrender, in blood shot eyes All along, each link, Extends the moratorium one-lane human chain Every new relationship Begins again, the same, again… The same One way One Way Fast lane, human chain… Institutions of minds and of each other - Such is Constant, on March 17th 2002. And I imagine such pain As we open through a split seem, Blind while lodged between the concrete and the absurd Entirely submerged but we cannot swim Crawling through birth Drowning yet waking Racing through a stream to light Fighting for that first breath Strangled by the very noose that preserves us in our sacs, and held back Awaiting dilation and thrust through the dark and dangerous canal And the suffocating force of cruel reality, cramping and crushing Blood smeared and purple, breathless from fear and stress A tangled and shriveled mess of unknowingness and need Contractions squeezing us like a vice Subverting subdivisions of the sublime, uncanny In every overtaking thought, unfinished and nauseating Throwing up inside of the black and white tornado Dropped in unfamiliar surroundings, sweating panic in the search lights, caged and digging our nails into its bleeding walls, we slide and fall Slapped and prodded, Poked and studied Choking and crying Soothing, sucking on the synthetic pacifier Nurtured by our friendly manufacturer We’ve entered an institution It provides for us It keeps us safe It teaches us It becomes us It is accepted It is God And I should feel such pain We beg to the institutions for an answer A direction We repress and become unconfident, incompetent, intoxicated and scared Desolate We lose our appetite We regress in an unknowing dark where the monsters are And the institution mothers us back to sleep And sings us the popular song She sings in colour and whores around her Victoria secret lingerie and rubs her sweaty billboard crotch in our fat, foaming faces And I see such pain, Several days on the afterbirth. Mother’s water broke while she was being fucked by the system She was strung out on crack and lost in a horrible whirl of terrifying repetition The institution provided her a gun, a mirror, a baby and the streets The essentials for a hard learned lesson She shot at the mirror, watched a cloud of flashback shatter Left her baby for another gun A gun that made her matter A gun that made her madder A gun so much more sadder A gun that killed her slowly A numbness and an exit was her wish But she got a longer death and utter loneliness It burns And we burn on For several years When seasons change with a stuttering heartbeat New things happen so fast While pace quickens before we’ve chosen our track While we spend our first three morning hours stirring cups of an instant We come to, crammed between yellow lines Perfectly in formation Following equie distant Some strange force pulls us along on the pavement Feeling as if we could nail the son of a bitch in front of us Feeling pressured from the rear But we are kept constant, in radar traffic and flat speed In the innermost pit of our machines, rattling and ticking We turn up our stereos, hide in media, call it mindful therapy We pull over and find calm places to park We seek solitude in the getaway Sometimes the doors we close behind us let us back in through the windows We take breaks behind a warehouse south of the city, still running Inspired somewhat and hushed as we are de-escalated by the very sight of wheat fields bending in the easterly breath that whistled through the railway path Of four seasons constant, yet changing Wind Under the twilight, of the twilight and because of the twilight, She ages Our mother On the mountainous and deep divide that we look to in the furthest distance Watery, rocky, dense and rolling in the sunset Shedding in the whisk of change that sweeps and brushes her natural beauty away like tangles and knots of burs and weeds as industry tears her down and rams her when she’s most vulnerable and true We change our films to highest resolution and snap a shot for the archives and cry As we drive the earthmover over her and think about our families plans to go to Florida Separation She opens her skirt, on stage of the horizon of tense, day and night, dark and light Opening, as the highway races through her, spilling fluid and burning rubber She turns and collects us and all woes and tears Polluting her oceans Eroding from years and years of constant motion Spreading open her clouds to show her dark, damp cavern to humanity That the institution tells us is inappropriate to see The wind and shrubs sway against her prickly pines and rose petals and thorns and moist landings creating friction and wear back and forth, and mudslide until she moans and bleeds from being delighted and pricked, as tears and sap drip from her orifices And she lies still as we use and abuse her And she is far from a virgin now As we plough through her path with our heavy boots and sharp blades Weeding her and deflowering endlessly But we just keep taking more of her And she keeps giving In a dusty moonbeam Her tears of acid rain singe crevices and canyons deep into her mustard skin of sorrow and lament So do we Cracked, dried out wastelands, landmarked by greedy fingers of science forensically dating her In ignorance to the faint cries from salt water pools, becoming puddles in the hot sun Incoherent gargling, written off in the social work books as alley way waste-aways Or as a breakthrough finding of an ancient sea scroll buried by the ages of suffering Still, The same We spend centuries digging to find that so much has remained constant Yet so many of us fight to bury the present So we ask why And we project blame Some God Some Say I know such pain A train thunders right through the middle of this dry-freeze golden brown And diminishes as it chases the green and yellow on rusty rails Riding time’s tracks And the wheat field snaps back Westward, startling me into reality and routine as I consider possible outcomes of future roads yet to travel As my thoughts oscillate from the field to the highway I slip into gear and remember what has gone away, Lies ahead And keeps me here Fondly, thankfully, and sadly And it all blends as uncertainty In a rocky horseshoe, out of eyesight and earshot as the fan kicks in to cool this anxious and overwhelmed heart And I feel such a strong pain Torn We acknowledge this as the fan halts And the water runs dry only when we first notice we’re thirsty While the engine still hums, ticks and rattles We pretend that we are still healthy Accelerating with a heavy and desperate foot Running in circles but imagining differences in continuity Staring at our Dali skies and Picasso blues and Van Gogh fields And most terrifyingly, our Orwell buildings And thinking of Shakespeare, seeing the humour in tragedy suffering and ruin When in Rome, they say As they turn on the T.V Yes the moment slips behind us but it’s claws, they’re in our stomachs, Digging The falcons and the gulls, and the crows too And the meadowlark alone, off there distanced and cautious of so much O’er this field in our rearview mirrors Do they keep or care for pace and formation? Or do they be? As is And accept it for thee Simple and honest Very toeist But don’t they still chase? Are they a scant fearful too? If they glide for too long will they falter? Will they sink? Will they become constant? Will they die? Do they? Every living thing has a pain Does every living thing have a plan? Does a clear lake represent our purity of conscience? Our depuration Our catharsis? Reflections of the mountains, sky, sun, clouds, leaves, stars and all that moves The trains too They keep pace They fall behind They’re scheduled They’re timed They’re on linear lines Many different boxcars, housing separate cargo, Traveling to many different places, all on the same ride, all together, all with similar walls, all for different uses, and on them hangs so many different customs But all with doors, and all with windows, although so many now are barred and locked So many still have mirrors We become fearful, confused and lose confidence We change course and turn back We steer We split wind, changing highways It separates into new directions and gets lost, cycling to reconnect We travel or keep quiet to forget We purchase vaults We store without sorting We keep such pain We keep constant We bleed We need to talk And I write such pain As my engine hums along My fan clicks on intermittently and cools me Low and living Mortal and grounded And I move on Around this turn again Looking for and finding all sorts of different things All sorts of different things All sorts of different things Rolling, swirling, cycling, spinning, turning, swirling, circling All sorts of different things Around this turn again Afraid of something, someone Dying Wounds and blood Chasing and redefining destiny Looking to the stars for answers Looking through an electron microscope Looking to the stars for answers Looking through the microscope Going to confession Blaming Doing it again Looking deeper next time For healing and nursing Not going But cycling and searing Acquiring infection Afraid of our desires It makes us desperate And I feel such pain Destiny? There are quests and questions and many different answers Since the first seem was split Since the first warm white cap wave flooded over the valley walls, Into the Natural crevices of her moist and fertile soil By instinctual force and did tear her rosy petals To slide back away in retreat, back into dark places To leave her burdened, scared and disheveled To watch her child leave and go to war to fight for his peace As a nursery rhyme changed to nightmare And I feel Fire, wind, and storm A hunger too I miss I want And I feel the scythes Missing my field And wanting too often when not sure if needing When on the yellow linear line is killing me So is this segregating and all conforming way So I’ll reach for my sharpest weapon of escape And spear it into my biggest and bluest vein Pumping the ink of life support Into my body and freeing my mind for a while Along this constant drive so cyclical Each foot, each step, each kilometer, each claw mark A new high A good poison in my blood for a change A stream of purple fueling me Keeping constant Keeping cool Singing Flowing Killing off impulses that only multiply to divide and repel one and other In utter war and strife Soon to be completely drowned in pools of boiling purple bursting to cause orgasmic creative convulsions And I write And I write! And I Write! I stab again, staying constant and barbaric, it’s almost primitively sexual as the prose speak so passionate yet flow uncontrollably as if the eventual pinnacle is inevitable and certain to erupt And ensues, a great and long awaited therapeutic release! The amniotic sac explodes and gushes And I can simply be For a while An irrational yet safe getaway And I’ll feel no pain The institution was my body The institution kept me drunk Other institutions created me Other souls kept hidden I feel them so I hope they’ll change They keep constant My pen clicks on Keeps constant And on the road I still must drive I think of such pain I deal with the pain I deal slowly and it still cycles I may escape I may endure I may challenge my pain Still uncertain, unknowing But I don’t want some people, some things to die So I’ll fight to change within what’s constant And then I’ll constantly change

poem-a-day by blogtramp ray

Miracle Bird on Rainbow Lake When you feel the light of a star advance, on your eyes, from the clear-night Simcoe sky, your mind’s in a dance, With your dreams, coming true, waltzing cool waves, soft sands Rainbow Lake, Trillium campers, hand in hand once again Gliding gull, oversees all the miracles, so true Our canoes ‘cross the shores’ tribulations gone through If you can, close your eyes, stand still n’ breath for a moment or two Wait n’ see. You’ll reflect what is shining on you Campfire-light, dazzling while all of Waterford hears Goodnight songs; sing-alongs, echoing throughout the years ‘Resonates in the glow of late August embers, Children, once lost, we’ve now brought back, ‘shed some tears Time to Remember While the wounds of hardships turn to sailboats n’ kayaks of the gifted Swimmers; splashing and diving n’ sharing Spirits lifted. The now, not the past is what brings us all together Place a flower in the glass, plant a memory to last To live forever I was so mesmerized by the children laughing n’ smiling We were all the same age, only treatment’s loving and living Brought a tear to my eye, knowing all in our lives we must go through In that moment or two, while the gull strangely flew Over Rainbow Lake Then I started singin’ again No fears, out loud, cuz’ I was surrounded by talented, miracle-bird special friends On Rainbow Lake Dr. Garach and Clinic - The Maestros of Family Dentistry Dr. Garach. Dr. Garach... the Mozart of Family Dentistry; with his chiming scaling tools; Playing my xylophone teeth like the nacht musique! Flossing’ string Vivaldi virtuosos are your experienced hygienists; Fluoride flavours scale and strike chords on my senses, like Four Seasons on my gums n’ rosy tongue buds. And even with electric polish tools, they’re all so calm with gentle care. And kind to children, they are so attentive and empathetically aware My young Emmie loves to blast off, with her space shades on while captaining the rocket chair. She lets us take some toothbrushes and extra stickers home to share! Such supportive, skilled and gentle staff; a pleasure when we come, and we just can't get be there enough! We are surprised when such a painless stay, so quickly is all done! Dr. Garach, Dr. Garach; the maestro of the rhythmic, oral orchestra’s got all of dentistry a’ singin,’ chatterin,’ even grindin,’ all are grinning! Families, for their first time, walk in; slobberin’ and whinin’ N’ after all the pickin’ scalin, spitting n’ rinsing, leave soothed, sparkly n’ smiling! All the “wisdom” that you give for proper, healthy oral practice... …thanks for “filling” us all in! We’re so excited to race home with purple kangaroo toothbrushes in our hands To hop up at the bathroom sink, with grins from ear to ear N’ brush with watermelon toothpaste; tuff for tartar to appear! But on our way out of your office door, there is one thing reception must make clear Oopsie, that’s the difference on my bill! Oh well. It’s okay! It's been more than worth it! For you all have turned my little daughters’ shrills n’ fears into one big, twenty tooth shiny-smile, sparkling, happy thrill! I hope we fit the “mould” at our appointment with you all When pearly whites are x-rayed, are we worthy of a “plaque” upon your wall! Dr. Garach. Dr. Garach, The dentist we adore Thanks to you, for our next snack, we’ll munch away on Macintosh n’ Granny Smith with mulching molars to our hearts’ content. Reminded from our happy, healthy full-mouths that our time n’ money is well spent While we’re still a'swayin’ from your tools a’resonatin' chiming’ scales n’ Four Season, Vivaldi Scores Refreshed from floss-string plucking harp angels of dentistry we’ll be a’ singin “tafe’ tiffy taye” and whistlin’ while we skip right past the candy store!

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Bloglashes: and in her eyes, i see a similar world where i sometimes stay and dream... in a place where i can get away, where ubiquitous skies and stars meet with the ocean on the only edge a sphere can have, where time blends them together, where one bright star is our beacon that intrigues and captivates us in a calm, cool wave of aquamarine and beautiful sunny wonder. your eyes are the passage, the power that they hold, that pure beauty in your eyes, her wide opened world Wherein every wale or eagle only ever floats and glides right in that blue of sea and sky, I am anywhere, still i am never restless, sad or discontent by forcefullness of circumstance, when i am alone because i am forever at her side with her and together and it sooths me, it makes me smile, it holds my heart, mind and soul and together that together floats and sways and sails and glides alive alive in the wind that skims the ocean and the endless skies in a cosmic sphere that is the beauty all reflexive in her mighty, soft and shining aquamarine eyes