Everyone can Use The "T" Word....It's The One That Won't get You Dirty Looks!;)

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Oh, Irene.

Wanting to seek revenge on her ex lover of a coastal wind, she decided that the beauty behind the make pretend had to end and umm...frankly, she didn't care who she might she offend in the process. She made a master plan for days on end and kept it no secret, she encourage the announcements and red flags so family and foe could grab their loved ones and best rags , and move to higher ground so she could have her way. Her plan was executed in no rushed manner, stirring up winds one city at a time making sure to cry tears bigger than dimes so that the world would know not to take her lightly.

Turning over sized broccoli spears into waving bunny ears, cutting them no slack because she knew that they'd grow back. ...eventually. She may have seemed like a woman who could care less, but she made sure to keep her wrath along the edge so that at least it was a proper representation of where she was standing before giving us this test. She liked the fact that she could make people wait all day on her and then BOOM!..jump out as we were least expecting her, making children cry tears of uncertainty  as parents remember how they once were. She didn't do the quick salsa dance of her old friend tornado, or intense moves of a rhythmic hip hop dance like cousin earth quake, she just cried her tears of pain and despair and she thought about her soon to come fate.

She knew that as she moved and emitted her energy of wind gusts on the shelters of the east coast's inhabitants, and as she played around and whipped up the ocean's waves like a bowl of defenseless pancake mix, that eventually...she wouldn't even matter anymore. This angered her to no end and so she took her time, making sure that each and every waking second would make people wonder, "where does she draw the line?!". Taking the life of a small boy whose repeating dreams probably consisted of playing in dirt and with small toys, while his family now begs and pleads to talk to him just once more. Not allowing him to even have the moment to himself, she claims the fault for more lives lost and loves the fact that as she fizzles out she won't have to pay the indescribable costs.

Awaiting the hours when she knows the world will fall into a slumber, to bring her greatest force with power and might, way scarier than a bout of thunder. To test the strength of windows and doors, that lead to the soul of the home you call yours, to test a sheep's faith to see if he is shook, wondering if his solace will be n the great book. Getting through the night will be the ultimate test, and she'll be gone in the morning just like all the rest. Oh, Irene.

Be safe during the storm and I'll see you all when the sun comes back out!


It seems like I've been waiting forever..to GO. In everything, there's something that starts a process,and something that ends it. Every time I feel as though that touch of change will come, someone pushes rewind and I have to start all over again from the blue print. Marching in place,at a steady pace..but going nowhere.The place I inhibit can be filled with happiness at times,sadness at others...but what I'd love more than anything is to be able to see what's around the corner...up the street...on the other side of that sky scraper that represents the fears I dare not meet. I long for a guide though, the one that gets our unconditional love even without our permission, the one that has a universal name but has her own rendition, the one who knows who we are better than we do ourselves, the one who served as a vessel when God decided he wanted another piece of him on earth who would have no fear, and now the one who I see within myself when I look in the mirror after all of the layers are removed into the atmosphere.

When she introduced me to this ever changing world, her job was supposed to be my life's tour guide, the example by which I modeled, coveted, cherished, and would always have will to follow...wasn't it supposed to continue?...at least I thought so. My hand is still reaching out waiting to meet its wise replica, but all I'm seeming to get is the feeling that I was"left hanging" with the sign saying "Someone will get ya". Left hanging....left hanging....to just walk alone. In taking first steps, a child is dependent on the trust that their hands will not be let free until they have balance, stability...confidence to stand alone...right? What happens when it's the opposite way?...You stand alone..assume you have balance...assume you have stability..but you're never really sure and every single stride is a fight. You take those steps alone....but you know that if you were to suddenly lose what you had to accomplish on your own, that the fall is only aided by the emotions that are already tainted with uncertainty. Those tainted emotions soon wear the MASK of strength, confidence, balance...and create an "image" of what one should have been if things were....different.

All I long for is that our understandings meet in the middle, at the centerpiece of my heart's dinner table....and to hold on so tight that no force can have the power to pull them apart like a riddle. Knowing that it is feasible by the grace of my never ending faith, I've been doing my part for a pair of decades plus one, but my other half just seems to always miss her turn in this game and continuosly takes the option to run. She knows the order...it remains constant and hasn't changed against the test of time, but as her turn approaches and calls for action she has no words for satisfaction and takes on the livelyhood of a mime.

 Everything goes on a never ending pause and when it resumes it's someone elses turn, giving their all of what they see missing but never being able to fill the space that's reserved for the one who started my life from merely kissing. Her piece stands still on the board, at attention as if ready for war, when really it's just a cover up for a life where more than a heart and favorite teddy bear were tore. The pain that she bottled up served as my feeding tube, as she inadverently nourished me with all of what she thought she'd left behind and never have to tell me, stunting my growth with the epitome of a hassle that she failed to see. Now eating on my own, that first feeding became part of my make up, hiding all the scars and blemishes she had plus mine so I intentionally lay on the foundation to make sure it cakes up. Trying to find a resolve is like literally looking for a needle in a hay stack, because all I get in return for that search is more pain and a bumpier road to get back.

 Playing a game of tug and war with the authorities in blue on earth, for who I see as the reason I'm here but to them she's nothing more than filth and dirt. Countless attempts to speak reason into a mind so overcome with the ways of the world and a boat load of bad habits due to crime, I'd do better talking to a cage full of animals because at least after some time they notice sincerity in your voice and are willing to give some attention even if sublime. As the ticks and the tocks lay sound to the moving father of time, I stay standing with a head held high even though what I carry exceeds the weight that the doctor said was mine. Until her turn approaches again, I'll pray that he delivers my message in any way that he can and that she's finally willing to meet my waiting hands in the middle so that we both win....I'm ready to move.

Thanks for reading,