In the red chair
I sit and watch people,
Sail in —
Boat out —
Stop and cafe —
Talk and exhale —
Look at each other
And out at this local marina,
Near the airport.

My pallet dries for tomorrow,
The net for mending later,
Hook, that’s a big-ass fish!
I sit amongst the calmness of my life.
My own glass behind me,
In the kitchen<
Through the green door.
My bed upstairs,
Behind the shutters above,
For my own exhale tonight…

For when people stop walking by,
Late at night,
Knowing they watched me,
And wondered what my day was like,
Now that I sit
in my red chair.

—314per—Cavtat, aug2024

My rag doll life
With broken limbs and parts
Too many to stand me up.

I flop
I wait
I morose
I loll my head to the side and watch.

Emotional abuse breakage from a weird marriage — broken arm
Losing connections with my children — the other broken arm
Physical abuse from a relationship — broken leg down the stairs
Related public time — the other broken court time leg
Inept and micro aggressive work place to resignation — broken collar bones, broken heart
Running to get away — compound fractures, scrapes, and bruises.

I flail limbs over the display stand
Arms of those
Legs twirled around this
Head leaning here.

Socks wet
Tears pooling there.

—314per—

My Dad died
And I have no room
For anyone else’s heartache.

I wasn’t ready for it
He didn’t wait for me to be by his side
To say goodbye
To hug him
To kiss him one more time.

His big coffee warm lips
And smiling face
When I was a kid
Is all I want to remember.

He confused me
He had angered me
And frustrated,
Annoyed,
Made me cranky and inconsolable.

But we were mending
We were living
We were in each others’ lives
And it broke me to lose that
Lose those opportunities
Those times
That sharing of love.

I had so many things I hadn’t said
Wanted to say
Needed to say.

I don’t think I feel anything
When others tell me of their loss
Their grief does not flicker on my emotion radar
I can appreciate
I can understand
I can be with
And I can console
(maybe not effectively though).

(unfinished poem)

—–314per—-

A short focus on ‘a’ (while in Croatia) v2

…

If this world

Is what we see

Then it is a truth

…

If this world

Is what we hope to see

Then it is a fantasy

…

If this world

Is what we think we see

Then it is a myth,

…

But,

We need to ask,

How are we looking at this world?

…

…

Kratak fokus na “a”

…

Ako ovaj svijet

Je ono sto vidimo

Onda je to istina

…

Ako ovaj svijet

To je ono sto se nadamo vidjeti

Onda je to fantazija

…

Ako ovaj svijet

Ono sto mislimo da vidimo

Onda je to mit,

…

Ali,

Moramo pitati,

Kako gledamo na ovaj svijet?

…

A short focus on ‘a’

…

If this world

Is what we see

Then it is a truth

…

If this world

Is what we hope to see

Then it is a fantasy

…

If this world

Is what we thought we saw

Then it is a myth,

…

But,

We need to ask,

When are we looking at this world?

…

…

Kratak fokus na “a”

…

Ako ovaj svijet

Je ono sto vidimo

Onda je to istina

…

Ako ovaj svijet

To je ono sto se nadamo vidjeti

Onda je to fantazija

…

Ako ovaj svijet

Ono sto smo mislili da smo vidjeli

Onda je to mit,

…

Ali,

Moramo pitati,

Kada gledamo ovaj svijet?

hilarious laughter hahahaha!

The no nonsense gang 🙂

They will
Forever be,
In my mind,
And in my heart.

They let me be,
A teacher I knew I could be.

(my time at Ministik School, and the grade four class)

Help
Me

Help me

What

Who
Am I right now?

I watch me walk through this life
doing good things
Because I see they accept what I do
But I don’t think
I understand
I don’t think
They understand
I don’t think… which can sometimes leave me lost.

Who
What
Do they see?
I
Try

And then I spend copious amounts of time reflecting and remembering
And then agonizing and focusing compulsively,
On what happpened,…

But without another,
Someone who can listen
Appreciate
Commiserate
Deflect

Because then for any voice in the machine,
I can hear your disdain in your voice
I can hear your disregard
I can hear your disrespect
And you know nothing of me
Nothing of why I am

Nothing

Of me.

What am I missing?

— . – —- – —–
(may 2024)

I am fat
I am a whale
My brain is fat
With anger
And hate
And disgust
And loathing
For me
For them
My mind is sharp
And on top of every thought
I can think like
Monet, Fields, Nobel, Bandura,
But I don’t care
Because I am fat
I care so little
About the value of my life

And through my fat
I see you
And know you are good
More than good
I care so much
About the value of your life
Because you are perfect
And I love you.

The centre
of circling
and floating
and gyring,
a slow dance
of buzzards
on hot breezes,
make an eye
to the ground,
a centre
of turning
death in the centre,
life in the air
turning around death,
flight and escape
turning around death,
still, decomposing
like a worm
caught on a rock
after the rain
drew it out,
sun baked
life baked
cookies in the tray
browning in the heat,
eyeball
jelly
oozing
gummy,
unflinching!
eyelidless
looking up,m
at the keen eye looking down,
floating
circling
life
around death
uh huh.

— . – —- – —–
(may 2024)

Pickled and brine

Shattered and mashed

Buzzards and turpentine

Circles and swirls

Mopping and blood

Bits and pieces

Life now lived

And tragically ended.

— . – —- – —–
(winter 2024)