Cadence Poeticahttps://cadencepoetica.wordpress.comI am a lot of different things in one package. I am a geek, a poet, a thinker, a seeker. I am passionate, curious, resourceful, stubborn, independent. I'm an "extroverted introvert".
I am a spiritual person. I believe in destiny, I believe in fate. I want to be a better person. I want to help make the world a better place. I see life as a journey, an opportunity for constant growth and learning.
I like sushi and sea turtles, a good cup of coffee, fluffy cats, the shuffle function on my ipod, a walk on a beach on a grey day, a thunderstorm, a nap in the shade on a warm afternoon… Simple things make me happy, small moments of grace make me smile. :)
My entire life has been a series of me drawing boundaries with people, and having them go, “Yeah, nah I’m good thanks,” before walking away. It’s been a long history of showing people who I am and making myself vulnerable to them and then being sidelined or rejected. I’ve had people tell me how great and wonderful and amazing I am, but there’s never been anyone who has fought to keep me in their lives, unless it was for their own selfish reasons.
I am not a fucking Nutrimetics party. You don’t get to come to the presentation, play with all the products and talk about how great and wonderful they are and how yes, you can certainly see the benefits; then when the time comes to put your money where your mouth is, you make some excuse about why you can’t afford it right now, or you buy the cheapest thing in the catalogue to be polite.
I get it. Some people aren’t into what I have to offer. They can appreciate the value but it’s not for them. That’s fine. But when every single person I’ve ever tried to have a real connection with – including the person who willingly married me – says “thanks, but no thanks”… It gets a bit much.
But I keep doing the right thing. I keep doing the gracious thing. I keep thanking people for their time and their consideration, like it’s a fucking job interview. I keep breaking off pieces of my heart, like it’s a demonstration product. “Here, have a sample of me, have a sample of what my love could be like…” until finally I will have no heart left.
That, my friends, will be a wonderful day. No heart = no hurt. And when you’ve been hurt as much as me, when you’ve sustained so many emotional scars that there’s no room for one more, achieving a state of numbness feels like entering Valhalla.
Depression isn’t always Visible scars, it’s not always Sitting in your bedroom with the blinds drawn, In week-old pyjamas, listening to The Smiths And fantasising about who would come To your funeral.
Sometimes depression is White-knuckling through your day job, Trying to push away the negative thoughts And just focus on the thing That keeps a roof over your head And the lights switched on.
Sometimes depression is Sitting in a crowded mall Hurrying to enjoy a cappuccino Before the cracks appear, Fighting a losing battle with the tears Everyone else pretends not to see.
Depression is getting home and collapsing Because you no longer have to keep the mask on, But that was the only thing holding you together. Depression is ice cream for dinner Because you’re too exhausted to cook.
Depression is holding your cat just a bit too tight And crying because their toe beans are so precious. Depression is laying on your back Staring up at the ceiling and sinking Into a warm black hole of molasses And burnt marshmallows. Depression is being overwhelmed Because tomorrow, you know – You have to get up and do it all over again.
Depression is the dark shadow That spoons you as you cry yourself to sleep. It’s the good morning kiss Of a day that’s not quite as bright for you. It’s the weight of chains around your shoulders That no one else can see, chains Around your ankles dragging you down into the deep. Depression is staring hard in the mirror, And for a split second not recognising your own face, Because the person looking back… Actually looks happy.
Depression is what keeps your tongue Still and your mouth closed, Because other people don’t know That talking about your problems Or popping a pill (Which to choose – red or blue?) Isn’t going to make the loneliness go away.
Depression is hanging on to the corpse of hope, Because you’re too afraid to let go Of the thought that things Could still get better for you. It’s in that stab of jealousy you feel When you look at others And see life, warmth, joy and happiness; All the things you’ll never be able to hold Without fucking it up for yourself And anyone who loves you.
Depression is not the thing that kills; It’s the thought of living your whole life this way That eventually pulls the trigger.
sometimes I wonder if Mary breastfed Jesus. if she cried out when he bit her or if she sobbed when he would not latch.
and sometimes I wonder if this is all too vulgar to ask in a church full of men without milk stains on their shirts or coconut oil on their breasts preaching from pulpits off limits to the Mother of God.
but then i think of feeding Jesus, birthing Jesus, the expulsion of blood and smell of sweat, the salt of a mother’s tears onto the soft head of the Salt of the Earth, feeling lonely and tired hungry annoyed overwhelmed loving
and i think, if the vulgarity of birth is not honestly preached by men who carry power but not burden, who carry privilege but not labor, who carry authority but not submission, then it should not be preached at all.
because the real scandal of the Birth of God lies in the cracked nipples of a 14 year old and not in the sermons of ministers who say women are too delicate to lead.
The body says, “This is too much – I cannot endure.”
The heart says, “This is too much – I cannot endure, this will kill me!”
The will says, “This is too much -I cannot endure; This will kill me, I have to fight this!“
So the will bolsters the heart The heart rallies the body And the motion of the body calms the mind. Confidence soars; Surely this too will pass. The pricks are kicked against, The salmon swim upstream, The good fight is fought, The trucks keep on trucking.
Until one day you realize: You’re still standing on ground zero, You never actually left square one. No one is coming for you. Nothing will ever change. No effort made will ever matter.
Then the will says, “I give up.” The heart says, “Just let me die.” The body says, “What’s one more burden?” And the mind – The mind is numb, and says nothing.
sometimes, when you’re angry, what you really are is hurt… and disappointed, and sad, and confused. but it’s easier to claim the anger; because the other stuff is a tangled ball of yarn, and it’s tidier to shut it away In an old shoebox and promise yourself you’ll find the end of it and untangle it one day… when you have more time, and patience, and distance between you and the person who broke your heart. but you know it’s a lie – the truth is, that day never comes, and all of our closets burst with shoebox coffins for string so knotted and frayed that it will never again be useful to anyone.
There’s always a last time for everything we do. The last time you ate at that restaurant, the last time you took part in a hobby, the last time you spoke to so-and-so.
Sometimes we know our “lasts”. Our last day at work. The last day of a holiday. The last time we will see a dying relative this side of the veil.
But often it’s only much later when you’re reflecting that you realize you never did go back to that Greek restaurant before it closed, or see that friend before they moved away. You stopped going to a particular club because you wanted a change of scene, then the scene changed while you weren’t looking and you got lost along the way.
Of course we can’t live our moments as if they are our last. We can’t force ourselves to live at a manic FOMO pace. But sometimes I argue with someone special and I think, “What if those are my last words to them?” Or I share an intimate night with someone and wonder if that will be the last time we would be so close.
Some regrets are for the things we do. Others are for the things we didn’t. Nothing seems to sting more than the regret of a squandered opportunity. There’s no ‘undo’ button for life. There’s no way to save and re-load an earlier checkpoint.
Trying to recreate a past happiness never works, even if you come close, it will still be its own thing. So the only solution is to come to terms with loss and learn to deal with endings that don’t come with closure.
There is a way to move forward though. Learn to live in the moment, be mindful and appreciative of what you have. Live with gratitude as a constant companion. Take nothing for granted. And say ‘I love you’ as often as you can.
I’ve always loved this spoken word piece by Henry Rollins, and this video is perfect at capturing the mood. I don’t relate to everything in the poem but there’s parts in here that resonate for all of us weirdos and outcasts… I don’t know if this is based on any of Henry’s actual experiences, but it feels too real not to be. If so, I like to think Henry’s eventual success and the person he turned out to be was a massive vindication for the way “they” treated him.
I know you You were too short You had bad skin You couldn’t talk to them very well Words didn’t seem to work They lied when they came out of your mouth
You tried so hard to understand them You wanted to be a part of what was happening You saw them having fun and it seemed like such a mystery almost magic
Made you think that there was something wrong with you You’d look in the mirror trying to find it You thought that you were ugly and that everyone was looking at you
So you learned to be invisible To look down To avoid conversation
The hours, days, weekends, ah the weekend nights alone Where were you? In the basement? In the attic? In your room? Working some job just to have something to do Just to have a place to put yourself Just to have a way to get away from them A chance to get away from the ones that made you feel so strange and ill at ease inside yourself
Did you ever get invited to one of their parties? You sat and wondered if you would go or not For hours you imagined the scenarios that might transpire If they would laugh at you If you would know what to do If you would have the right things on If they would notice that you came from a different planet
Did you get all brave in your thoughts? Like you were going to be able to go in there and deal with it And have a great time Did you think that you might be the “life of the party”? That all these people were gonna talk to you And you would find out that you were wrong That you had a lot of friends And you weren’t so strange after all?
Did you end up going? Did they mess with you? Did they single you out? Did you find out that you were invited because they thought you were so weird?
Yeah, I think I know you You spent a lot of time full of hate A hate that was pure as sunshine A hate that saw for miles A hate that kept you up at night A hate that filled your every waking moment A hate that carried you for a long time
Yes, I think I know you You couldn’t figure out what they saw in the way they lived
Home was not home Your room was home A corner was home The place they weren’t, that was home
I know you
You’re sensitive And you hide it Because you fear getting stepped on one more time It seems that when you show a part of yourself that is the least bit vulnerable Someone takes advantage of you One of them, steps on you
They mistake kindness for weakness But you know the difference You’ve been the brunt of their weakness for years and strength is something that you know a bit about Because you had to be strong to keep yourself alive
You know yourself very well now And you don’t trust people You know them too well
You try to find that special person Someone you can be with Someone you can touch Someone you can talk to Someone you won’t feel so strange around And you found that they don’t really exist You feel closer to people on movie screens
Yeah, I think I know you You spend a lot of time day dreaming And people have made comment to that effect Telling you that you’re self involved and self centered
But they don’t know, do they? About the long night shifts alone About the years of keeping yourself company All the nights you wrapped your arms around yourself so you could imagine someone holding you The hours of indecision Self doubt The intense depression The blinding hate The rage that made you stagger The devastation of rejection
Well, maybe they do know But if they do they sure do a good job of hiding it It astounds you how they can be so smooth How they seem to pass through life as if life itself was some divine gift And it infuriates you to watch yourself with your apparent skill in finding every way possible to screw it up
For you life is long trip Terrifying and wonderful Birds sing to you at night The rain and the sun The changing seasons are true friends Solitude is a hard won ally Faithful and patient
And the article says, ‘The Mexican government confiscates approximately 30,000 illegal firearms per year.’ When the guns are taken they get dismantled and the metal is used to make other types of weapons that will later be utilized by their military. In 2012, Pedro Reyes, an artist from Mexico City, convinced his government to donate the guns to him and he turned them into musical instruments. So somewhere there’s a tambourine, a drum set, a guitar, All made by things that were used to take people’s lives, But now they create sound that puts life back into people’s bodies, Which is you say a weapon will always be a weapon, But we choose how we fight the war, And from this I learned that even the most destructive instruments can still create a melody worth dancing to, And sometimes don’t we also call that a battle? I wonder how long it took to convince the first rifle that it can hold a note instead of a bullet but still fire into a crowd and make everyone move. When I was 6 I was taught how to throw a punch, And in the 80s that was the Anti Bullying Movement. The first time one of my classmates took a ‘Yo Mama’ joke a little too far I remembered my training, So I turned his nose into a fountain. My fist 5 pennies, I closed my eyes, Made a wish, I came home with bloody knuckles and it was the first piece of artwork my family hung on the fridge. I remember staring at my hands the same way you stare at a midterm when all your answers are correct. I didn’t know what class this was, But I did know I was passing, And isn’t that what masculinity has become? A bunch of dudes afraid of their own feelings, Terrified of any emotion but anger, Yelling at the shadow on the wall, But still haven’t realized that we’re the ones standing in front of the light. We learn how to dodge and jab. We learn how to step in before we swing. We learn that the heart is the same size as the fist, But we keep forgetting they don’t have the same functions. We keep telling each other to man the fuck up When we don’t know what the fuck that even means. We turn our boys into bayonets, We point them in the wrong direction, We pull their triggers, And then we just ignore all the damage they’re doing in the distance. The word repurpose, It means to take an object and give it amnesia. It means to make something forget what it’s been trained to do so you can use it for a better reason. I am learning that this body is not a shotgun. I am learning that this body is not a pistol. I am learning that a man is not defined by what he can destroy. I am learning that a person who only knows how to fight can only communicate in violence, And that shouldn’t be anyone’s first language. I’m learning that the only difference between a garden and a graveyard is what you choose to put in the ground. You see, once, I came across a picture of a strange-looking violin. The caption said that it was made out of a rifle. I thought to myself, ‘Someday that could be me’.”
Only through Ghostly echoes Of old posts and emails Can I point to any given Moment and say: This… This was the beginning Of our end;
Only now that the smoke Of my affection Has cleared Can I see the place Where my last, Desperate attempt To keep loving you Died.
When I was in it, I thought I’d hang on Until The End of the World; But I guess The apocalypse Came and went While I was looking The other way.
Now I’m adrift with Memories sudden And unbidden: Your smile, your laugh Your gesticulation – Scattered ashes; A corpse is required for a resurrection You didn’t even leave me a grave To mourn beside.
With questions like – “Why do you bother?” and – “Why don’t you find something you’re actually good at?” Or – “Leave it; I’m better at this kind of stuff anyway.”
And because I love you, I stay.
It continues with small, unsupportive acts, designed to make stressful situations even more stressful.
It continues with subtle but insidious social isolation, until you are my entire world.
It continues with holding me to one standard and yourself to another, while somehow convincing my rational brain that that’s okay.
And because I love you, I don’t say anything.
Because I love you, my will becomes smaller and smaller until there’s very little individuality left; I have no more needs except the need to meet yours.
Because I love you, I buy into the lie that this is the fairy tale I’ve been waiting for, and that any cracks that appear are my job to fix.
My panic attacks, the chest pains, the hysteria and the sleepless nights, they all go away when we’re happy… (and we are happy, some of the time… that makes all the bad stuff worth it, right?)
We spiral down, each rock bottom giving way to the next…
My mouth tastes like cigarettes So does yours, and it’s great; Your moustache tickles my face, And when you ask if I’m your girl I blush, cos it tickles my feelings. I like the way your fingers move Against my belly when you’re in A playful mood, and I like That wicked look in your eyes – The one that turns my legs to jelly, The one that says: Come here, I wanna do bad things with you…
I know every expression you own Studied them like textbooks Hoping they would lead Like roadmaps to your soul. I know some of your nuance Your light and your shade But it still doesn’t bring me Any closer.
You say, we’re friends and lovers But I don’t know if you’re my friend You’re more like the Joker And I’m Harley Quinn We met each other at opposite ends Of the spectrum… I was looking for love I was ready to fall again And you – You were looking for a distraction A port to sink your anchor in.
I knew from the start Your heart was not a prize easily won, And if I messed up, fell in love, The chances were slim to none Of you reciprocating. You’ve got your guards up, And your walls, the only Parts open still raw, And still belong to the one Responsible for your breaking.
But…
My Netflix queue is full of shows We watch under blankets Tangled together, You give me whole-body laughs When we’re in the kitchen making dinner. You call me baby and beautiful And ask how my day’s been; The line between friend And lover get blurred And we refuse to admit it.
And when you sleep in my bed – Not once, or twice, but Three nights this week – I can’t help but wonder Where this is leading. I’m fine with the slow train If we eventually get there I just can’t afford to invest in a lie… Not again, not this time.
But my selfish heart makes me wait, Unable to decide If I should ask you to go… Watching this bubble of heartbreak grow Ready to burst at any moment. And there’s a masochist in me That lives for tortured romance I’m not even sure I’d be able to love Without tragedy…
I want to let you stay Let you touch and tease Let you play those games You don’t even know you’re playing; It’s not entirely your fault That loving you Is like licking a battery.
Trying not to fall in love with you Is like having a pineapple allergy And drinking pina coladas anyway; Because the absence of Your smell on my skin And your taste on my tongue Hurts so much more. Pretending you love me back Is a dangerous game I know I shouldn’t play – but I do, A little more each day, Even though playing it means You’ve already won.
I’m trying to stay convinced That goodbye kisses are not part of the deal, That your hand isn’t mine to hold. But how can I resist Your strong arms wrapped around me tight Like salvation on a stormy sea… And in the depths of your Unfathomable eyes I can read the fine print of my soul. One kiss and I am drawn Like a bee to your honey. One touch and I surrender All of my defenses. I could stay lost forever In the space between words With you.
You are my lover and my friend; The universe has brought you to me As a gift – and I’m afraid That if I forget myself, If the words drop from my lips, You’ll cease to exist; This newfound bliss I’m Warming my toes against Will disappear and I’ll be left Craving something I was never Equipped to claim as my own.
So I commit myself to carpe diem, Living one sweet moment To the next, never making plans, Just taking life as it comes to us. And this is happiness for me Just chilling out with you watching tv Sitting on the front porch talking shit And watching the world go by. This is my happy place, but I’m Trying not to hold on too tight, And I apologize if I Step over the line sometimes; I’m just mesmerized by your Sexy face, and all that you are.
And if all we have is this, This is enough for me; I’m learning to trust again And how to open up. I’ll show you everything – Anything you want to see; I’ll kiss your mouth and call you friend, I’ll let you into the deepest places in my head If you are not afraid, then take my hand And let’s go on an adventure.
Cadence Poetica 