I went for a walk
alone with me
this morning
not far
not even around the block
and yet
the simple act
of venturing forth
alone
made all the diference
poems
Memory Stains
from a distance
of years
decades
nearly half decade
I stare
down the tunnel of time
at the stains of childhood
the dirt and detritus
sweat, tears and smiles
The songs remain
to lift the heart
a snapshot in time
like dandilion fluff
stuck to grape jelly kisses
angry words
that cut way deeper
than the merely physical
they stay too
haunt the memory
had I been born in a cream can
rather than what a bird shit on the steps
I would there remain
The smell of sunshine
the taste of lies
I hold in my hand
in my mind
my heart
the memories
snapshots in time
a shoe
stone (Andy Bandyman’s Shoe)
Hand drawn birthday cards
blanket
puked on and stained
they live
in me
and they color
me
my vision
the way
I veiw
all
spilling out
from my eyes
from my pen
to the page
and bloom
in the beauty
for me to remember and treasure
Laundry
Laundry
The smell
Linen Cotton Silks
line dried in the sun
the promise of
a beautiful new day.
Fold and tuck
fold and tuck
into the waiting vessel
laundry basket
growing fat and full
at my feet
relieve the tension
revel in the tedium
Down come the dried
sweet smelling chores
safe before the storm
And I
I don the freshly smell
of my afternoon’s work
and abandon all pretense
that chores
are but work.
Being Aspie
I hate being aspie
I hate
caring about how things smell
like towels
and the sink
and my clothes
I hate caring
about how things taste
like coffee
and tea
and almost furry strawberries
and the air
when the air is stale
or heavy with smoke
or worse
I hate that it matters
that the spoons and bowls
are not quite clean
that the towels
on the car seats
are messed up
but only
after you drive
that I have to care
how you want to spend YOUR vacation
but that it never matters
that I want to spend just five
just five little minutes
listening to the sea
I know you don’t care
I know you don’t understand
I KNOW it isn’t fun for you
I know it’s your vacation
I know I don’t count
or matter
or most of the time
actually exist
I know
I hate
the snuffle noise of you sucking up your phone
the banging noise of dinner cooking
when I don’t matter enough
to not care that I can’t hear
if I turn down the volume enough
not NOT hear the snuffle sucking banging tearing
but have to say huh when you don’t talk
lound enough to hear
I hate
always having to be entertaining
after very long days
when YOU are lonely
but i have to be on and on and on and on
and I can’t
I just CAN’T
I hate
most of anything
that you don’t
can’t
won’t
understand
because I know it doesn’t matter
enough to understand
that I’m not just being a bitch
that I’m not just trying to get out of a job
that I”m not just trying to get rid of you
I just can’t
and it will never matter
I hate
that
you can’t ever be alone
because you are lonely
and need to be fed
and I need to be alone
and can’t be
because you need
your ego fed
I hate
that people
laugh
and yell
and ridicule
and jeer
because
I don’t care
about their lame litlte problems
I’m not paid
to hear
about your marvy new media room
your wife’s car
your hot date without your wife
in town
I don’t care
I don’t have to care
I hate
I hate
I hate
I hate
and yet
I love being an aspie
because
I can smell the tea
and instantly
be back
at the kitchen table
shaving the bark
from the sassafrass root
I’m back in the barn
smelling the shit
I can tell
cow from horse from pig from chicken
is that weird
I never realized
I can smell
one crunchy leafe
and be back
jumping in the piles of my childood
I can taste
flat rootbeer
and be back
at Grandma’s house
at the chipped steel and granite counters
drinking
from aluminum glasses
teal and blue and purple and lime green
I can read a book
and hear the voice
of the author reading it in my head
if I’ve heard the author ever speak
I can hear the sea
and see the shore
and smell the spray
and feel the sun
rising
silently
and hear
the cry of the gulls
daning in the waves
I can taste
the strawberries
of my youth
feel the ice of the creek
behind Laura’s house
by hearing the sound
of the wind sighing in the trees
I will not use
aspie as an excuse
any more than
I will use it as a crutch
it is who I am
it is the way my mind
my soul
my everything
works
it is all that I am
all that I’ve
ever been
It’s the dyslexia
and the way I can understand
what no one can see
It is the freak
and the creativity
the ability to not fear
the aloneness
that sometimes creep into your life
and makes me fear
the aloneness
that sometimes
creeps into your life
all at the same time
I struggle with the lables
and strive
to live up to
Einstein and Tom Hanks and Miccelangelo and Gates
while all the time
trying
to fade
into the background
the insignificance
the judgement
of others
of the me
Looking Glass
Twisting and turning
Tumbling
Through space
Through time
When is a dream
Not a dream
When it’s the reality
Of ice cold
Glass shards
Lying on the floor
No more Alice
Behind the looking glass
The looking glass
Is no more
Falling and Failing
Falling and failing
Tumbling and flailing
Into the silence
Into the darkness
Into nothingness
I close my eyes and I see
Nightmares chasing dreams
Lightning striking
The peaceful glassy calm
Of the mirror
Reflecting me
Shattering it into
Shards and slivers
That stab through the silence
And brings with it
Nothing
Wednesday Fog
Drive away the silence
Lost in the gloom
No breeze to blow away the fog
It settles
Twists it’s tendrils round
Brain and imagination
Crack wide the world open
Hear the birds sing
Shrilly cutting through the breaking dawn
Ice cold calls grating on the chalkboard of the mind
Long for the wind to come
To clear out the grime, the scum, the milk glass
And let in the warm cashmere of
Clear thinking days
Imperfect
I am perfectly
imperfect
the sum of all
of the imperfections
and yet
more than even the sum
of all put together and multiplied
My beauty
soul
spirit
dreams
Stems entirely from
all of my imperfections
A sorry lonely world
it would be
if everyone
were the perfect
sweet scented
flawlessness
Same
It is the imperfections
that bring the interesting
to an otherwise
sterile perfect world
Gone (reworked over time)
Will I hurt you
Do I care
When I say I’m gone
I won’t be back
My life has changed
Evolution in progress
The change, unwelcome I know
but My change
Accept me?
Will you ever accept me
the me that I really am
or will I always remain
the me of your wish it could be?
I don’t fit in
Never did
Can’t
I never really wanted to
Me? never really wanted, I know
but where I am now
miles and decades away
I find
me.
Tilt my heart
I know every line
Every crease
every stitch
in the toes of my shoes
every crack in the sidewalk
that I walk every day
I count
the blades of grass
and see the ants
as they creep through their day
my neck is sunburned
my face pale
from avoiding the sun
looking down
viewing the world
from its trash and shadows
tears as they fall
leave shorter tracks
when they only fall from
the bridge of my nose
and few people bother to see
the tracks that hide in your glasses
I hide
the ache in my heart
behind the foolishness
pain in my eyes
behind laughter, giggles and almost smiles.
Fight to look
to the stars
to the clouds
fight to remind my heart
that it has
the right to fly
not hide
okay to be
the me of my dreams