There’s chow littered on the staircase floor.
I scramble to clean up the spill before it’s all consumed
By the cat that brought the family bad luck since the late spring.
Here I go, like I always do,
Holding my tongue on the job
While I hear you shout
While I hear you try to crush me
While I hear you goad me to scream.
It confuses me why an act of kindness and good intentions
Can wrought so much volatile sentiments.
I’ve been hesitant to feed the little one because I don’t know his tastes.
Never did I anticipate that her gluttonous habits are what triggers you.
Or is it he? Wow. Just wow.
Anger does wonders to the hippocampus.
My curiosity about how long you’ll live after that squabble fascinates me
But it concerns me at the same time.
Mad people live shorter lives than those that can stay calm when there’s an inconvenience.
To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.
To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.
And your temper is my poison.
Just today, while hitting the road, I thought we’d find common ground.
Keeping our cools while the mama cat is away
And a kitten comes out to play
Before it helps us seek four crystals in need of recovering.
When all that is done, I thought we’d go out for
Bagels and quiche for old time’s sake.
I enjoy the little interactions and activities when your temper is below zero.
Sadly, tonight once again broke the streak
That counted consecutive days we got along.
This always happens growing up, yet I never see it coming.
To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.
To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.
And your temper is my poison.
If you think the black cat is getting pudgy,
Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?
You’ve put on more pounds than she did.
Or he did? How did you get the genders mixed up in the heat?
I guess anger does wonders to the hippocampus.
You’re the reason why I have to keep my temper in check.
And why I prefer tears over beers.
All for the sake of my own well-being so I don’t turn out exactly like you.
Your temper is my poison and I won’t let it fester.
The only antidote to my ailment is knowing that I’ll be out of this roof
Happier than I was living under it just like I was for the past two years.
I know that as a guppy, Mother said to be considerate of you and
I was told that deep inside, you do care.
Sadly, it’s excruciatingly difficult for me not to judge this book by its cover.
I just can’t pry it open to see the pages no matter how hard I try to interpret your rage.
But if this little message hurts your feelings,
It’s a dish served hotter than the volcano in the back of your head.
To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.
To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.
And your temper is my poison. It will always be my poison no matter how old we get.
Being pulled on
From both sides
I'd look to see
Who is torturing me
But I know it's you
Who can't let go
You won't let me breathe
Or speak another name
Without losing yourself
And therefore
Pushing me away
I wish you could see
What you do to me
The damage done
To my heart
And my self-esteem
The pain
Once again
Screaming in my head
So deafening
I'd try to cover my ears
But you can't cover up
What you can't see
Can't disguise
What is buried deep
I long for a break
From the drowning
The gasping for air
The flailing
Reaching out
Touching nothing
Because you are so lost
That you can't see me
Nor hear me
I wish you saw me
Heard me
And knew I wouldn't hurt you
I beg of you, please
Give me a break
Set me free
Find your inner peace
Torrents of hazy clouds begin to block out my happiness as I sit waiting for my mind to release me from my perpetual imprisonment from these chains of broken people and run down lies I tell myself to keep aloft in these dark days. As I look around, bare gnarled trees flex their fingers and are the only witnesses to this hell that I have incarcerated myself within. The sky goes darker as I find nothing within me to brighten the few stable thoughts that I have recycled too many times. My affection for the desire to breathe and take my revenge cements the chains and acts to drive the few things around me that have not already made their escape from my black hole of cycled misery. The grass goes black and the ground dries to a bone like state as I scream to stab my torturers.
The field is dead and I am its killer, so filled with loathing that my acidic personality caused it to shrivel and become a lifeless waste where even the worms of self pity and vultures of depression dare not tread in fear of dying due to the lack of prey: My happiness long since dried up and the few ideas of self righteousness consumed by my horrible self. I try to unclench my fist but as I do so, my bones break and cease to be flexible. I shriek in an effort to portray that I care about this, but I don't.
I know I don't.
I am the shadow, fading into silence
I am the words you shoved in a box
I am blood, sex & violence
behind the symbol of peace
I am light enraptured unto the void
from a thousand years of cosmic darkness
chasing the souls of stars
I am the mirror you wish to avoid
with the tears that coiled down the drain
& the years wasted on nothing--
but what you thought was yourself...
My bones lay cold under the rock where the water runs brisk. Preserved for years to be found a day when last I know to be at risk. No sound to be found, so quiet, so dark. Trapped before, trapped now, never at peace, let me die please. Forget my sorrows, let there be no tomorrow, I thought god at least in death, would have given me no unsweet sorrow. By Rob Casteel
November.30.2000
Trisha Barrek Hopkins
It's almost here
End of time
A drop of a tear
A drop of a dime
The sudden fear
Of losing your mind
Knowing the light is near
It's nothing from man kind
All you know
That's the direction you stear
The pain you have you try to show
But no one is taking notice
Not even trying to care
They would be happy to see you go
It's not really fair
The hate from people you know
Yep it's almost the end of the line
We're either God or the devil
Who takes your soul
And people always thought you were fine
They didn't look deep enough
But yet it is your most challening goal
You even thought you were tough
You haven't figured out yet
But it all changed when you two met
For God to take away
From his horrible sight
You don't want to take another day
You don't want to take on your tears
You don't want to fight
Or face your fears
But in all of this
When someone asks what's wrong
The answers are at miss
And you have nothing to say
You have no reason to live
You realize you're not strong
You don't want any more tasks
To try to take on all by yourself
You need someone to help you
The end of time is near
Someone you need
One that will stick by your side
A love to feed
Someone that's true
Someone who won't hide
Their feelings
Their happiness
Their meaning of life
Their heart
Their love
You need it all
To pick you up when you fall apart
To tell you you're elegant
And beautiful as before
As pure as a dove
Please wipe the sadness
That lurks in your eyes
You don't want that anymore
The madness
That stops you from having blue skies
You try your hardest to ignore
But that in a million years
Will never happen your soul begins to die
By the end of time
I will be weak
To have any love to send
Or any power to seek
The power to mend
That special love
That special friend
My luck has run out
Because I never had none
I feel so trapped
To scream too much it hurts like a ton
IT's so disturbing I can't even dream
I've tried so hard but they have won
I've given up and tried to stick with it
But only for awhile
That never lasts
It goes out of style
And once again
I relive my past
When will it all end
My heartaches
Tears that run like a river
This pain never gives me a break
How do I survive
I then get sick and start to shiver
And this depression is so thick
I no longer feel alive
The end of time is so close to me
I'm dying inside
I just want to be free
I no longer want to hide
Copyright
August-17-2002
Trisha Barrek Hopkins
You can't protect me from everything
You can't lock all the doors
Can't keep me from doing my own thing
Because soon enough my anger
Will soon hit the floor
If I choose to do something
You can't keep kicking me out
Because you don't like what I do or hang with
Or because its not on what you want
Just to let you know keep it up
And my soul will ghostly haunt
Can't you see I can't breathe
With you holding me down
Or trying to force my way
"This is what's good for you"
Listen it's not me
Everyday you never see I always hide my frown
And I put on an act with a smile
So happy all joy
But understand it can only last for awhile
Sooner or later I'll break
And that is then my soul God shall take
Can't you for one minute look
And see that this pain runs deep
And that cry you hear at night
It's me
Letting my tears free
Because sometimes the pain hurts so bad
I can't sleep you even make mad
These emotions won't set me free
I remain trapped too over protected
You are driving me up the wall
Why do you care when for me someone calls
It's none of your concern
Why can't I go out and explore
Just to go out and find what I can learn
My freedom I want more
Stop trying to lock me in this hell hole
Let me make my own path
Before I get too old
Let me decide my future all my own
Let me be me
Before I'm too grown
Too over protected
Set the thought free
Copyright
Where the darkness ends, a soul begins
Defiled and impure you seek the allure
of another soul's contention
In a chaotic dance, you elicit romance...
for a reign in Hell's ascension.
Brushing against the Cedar he takes in its pungent, fresh scent.
The Juniper berries sink into the moist ground beneath his feet,
and next spring a sapling shall breach the ground anew.
He stops in his trek for a minute and closes his eyes.
He focuses on the the sunrays warming his face and smiles
as a light breeze caresses it in a loving embrace.
Out here, on his own, he can enjoy existence.
Despite all the hardships of life, here he
can just be and experience.
Why have we complicated life so thoroughly?
He asks himself. Why can't we be satisfied just
to walk through nature's beauty and grace?
Why raise skyscrapers and reach ever higher?
Back in the gray of the city his life is hectic.
Everyday he has somewhere to be,
something to finish, someone to meet.
He's in a perpetual rush most of the time,
and the days and weeks flash by in a blurry haze.
He has no time just to stop and look around him.
Even if he did all he'd see is the sweltering blacktop and concrete.
All that he enjoys here in the wilderness, is absent there.
So when he is here he simply stops, observes, and lives.
He tries to take it all in, remember it, so he can
recall it in his cramped cubicle later.