Welcome

Being unemployed gives you time to think. It is a rare opportunity to reflect on who you are, and who you plan to become. Financial difficulty is a life defining experience when faced with homelessness. I have a belief that everything happens for a reason. Having a chance to live outside of and observe a system we strive to be a part of, which will eventually destroy us gives life a new perspective. At times deep in thought I remind myself that the test of success is graded in your ability to face failure. As a young man aspiring to be a rapper I often wrote of my fear of failure, and my desire to succeed. It wasn't until age 30 on a windy October day that I embraced the idea; stagnation is like dying, all successes in life, love, and finance involve risk and accountability for your actions. The fear of failure is the same as the fear of success.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

CPR





I didn't mean to strike her
My fists were sledge hammers
Her chest became cracked concrete
Over-passes passing over her heart
I didn't know she was so fragile

There were scars beneath scarves
She had become scabbed skin
Structure concealing raw wounds still gaping
Her hands held bleeding hearts
My love was just a Band-aid

I first saw her alley in her eyes
Mine meeting deadlock determination
Disgust disguising desire dressed in dingy dignity
Bare body beneath borders
Made by torn blouses held closed
She asked that I look away like the others

Somehow less whore and more hero
I could see through her cloudy facade
As transparent as facial film
From men who had freshly fucked her
All she needed was home
A place in someone’s heart

I watched men enter her over and over
Repeatedly leaving pieces of themselves behind
Building abandoned warehouses of regret
Hope became hot hangers and cervical scaring
Souls were deconstructed buildings and empty lots

Love like gravity that pulled her from me
Her escape was the short flight
Between bridge and black water
A crash landing wreckage
Of release and heartbreak

I became panic and doubt
Reaching out with slippery fingers
Tear soaked searching shorelines for lost souls
She lay limp where they landed
I tried to breathe life back into her
Prayers became snow flurries
That melted away when they landed on us

She had been french once
Vouloir c'est pluvoir
Where there is a will there is a way
I kept pumping trying to push my prayers into her
De troit, mon cherie avec l'amour
Je tu donne ma tout

These narrows, my sweet with love
I give you my everything
Just breathe...
Respier
Breathe

Breathe..

Breathe....

Please

3 comments:

  1. My Brotha Chris
    It is hard for me to find the words/adjectives
    to convey my heart felt feelings that I hold not only for CPR but for so many of your works. Chris, for a man your age you scribe with wisdom and passion far beyond your years. It's your gift, your light, never hide it. Love and Peace
    Carlene Gist

    ReplyDelete
  2. Good stuff! Some good imagery in here, and you convey a very raw tone. I enjoyed it!

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  3. Great read! Please translate the French for us. Her lost LOL ;-)

    ReplyDelete