Category: Penman Lounge

I’ve got a pink
Rose, that is dried
preserved forever–
won’t fade away,
no petals dropping,
nothing falling;
I’ve got a Pink Rose
that is dried.
I’ve got romance,
I’ve got chocolate,
and I’ve got a Pink?
yes, I’ve got a pink–
Rose, Forever:
and I’ll never, ever
have to
watch it die.

How do I talk to you
after all this time
You who are
the same as me
yet
so very different
You
with whom we shared
youth
and formed dreams
and through adversity
rejoiced in the
arrival of
your child
My love for you
never ended
but
the hurt you caused
runs as deep
as my love
for you now
What am I to do
Dear God…
What am I to do…
I want you back
but
I don’t know how
to let you in
without feeling
this hurt
this rage
You are my flesh
You are my blood
I do love you
but I don’t know
what to do

Copyright Catherine Anne Hayes © 2008

Take a look at my vitality
Using words to mask an illusion that has fathered me and left
Bastard credentials
Could define me, but I only try to show the best
Of a character that never was me
Never will be
One that you were never even supposed to see
But I use it as my energy, countering a tank that was born on E
So I make it through each day
Mind gassed but soul even more incomplete
Eyes fixed on ceiling, back is floor ridden
Throw some daggers out, keep the holsters in my kitchen
Grenades in my pocket, target has been set
Aiming at the ground, no need for practice in my version of Russian roulette
Perfectly aimed, but still can’t make contact
Gift and a curse of a disguise that holds lies inside and pain on the outs
Underneath it all, body lays lifeless
Never knowing what ups and downs are about
That’s why the words are glossy and the structure is well planned
But the man behind the veil can never be had
Or caught, or felt
Destroyed, or willed
To come out of a cage he knows too much about
If you feel nothing when you read these words
No emotions, no familiarity
Know that the man with the pen has tried everything to connect to the stance he is in
But no rush, or surge
Blood riddled with insulin
If you hear nothing
Then you know my voice and you see me
You feel me
Completely

What is it to you?
Perhaps nothing,
but it is Everything to me.
What is it to you?
perhaps a strand of DNA,
but it is Everything to me.
What is it to you?–
Perhaps something
to dye and chop,
but it is Everything to me.

Like Ladies in Fairytales,
Like Jewesses
Before the Common Era,
Like Ancient Greek Goddesses
Like Mermaids & Nymphs,
Like Shakespearean Women–
I, too, have Long Locks,
raise not!–
a scissor to them.

It’s like
Being
at the end
of My Line,
and then–
Hashem.

It’s like
Being
out of breath
and then–
Hashem.

It’s as if
I’ve been
Expended
beyond myself,
and then–
Hashem.

It’s as if
I Am
nearly faint,
and then–
Hashem.

At which point,
there is nothing else
But The One
what else is there?–
but one more little breath:
I Breathe Him In.

Two forces dance around
each other
trying to get
the prize…

The prize is
tired of their silly
games…
The more the forces
push closer
and dance
the further the prize
retreats..

One day
the prize said
ENOUGH!!
Then the 2 forces
Stopped.
They had to.
The prize wasn’t listening
and there was blissful
silence.

Things could begin anew.

Copyright Catherine Anne Hayes © 2008

I could say I was blind to your goodness, and unappreciative to your kindness, but I wasn’t use to being happy, or enjoying some1s company as much as I did yours. Like standing at the top of a mountain and feeling great or watching a water fall amazed, being with you I couldn’t even compare it. I want to make it all seem bad but truth is your a great person and I appreciate you. I didn’t want to trust you but you made it so easy to, and I didn’t want to love you cause of my fears of getting attached but how could some1 not feel any of those emotions for you. Always know at your best you are loved.

Skipping out from work to check my bank account. The deadly numbers scared me sideways. Slipping below pink zone. I end up shaking in an alley in early morning. Watching pigeons flip their wings diligently above church spires and telephone wires. The station looms next to the smell of the Hostess Cupcake factory. Should I return to work? Can I return? Or should I follow that man down the alley and make my own twenty bucks this hour? Hop on the number 28 towards downtown and slink back to bed where my neighbors sit screaming in their kitchen chairs above my roof.

I stop and call for coaching. Slap cold rainwater on my cheeks. Sip a coffee. Swear to go buy breakfast from the vending machine. Get up off the alley floor, drag my feet along Harrison, clenching my pepper spray. I burp up smoke. My pants sag. My urge to use has skyrocketed. When will I string together a few clean days? Days when my emotions are stable. A good one, a bad one, things seems so fractured. Meghan is gone this weekend, with Erin, mom, dad, bleeding. I’m here. Along by Slices Deli, along next to empty warehouses and the new shells of condos. What if I’m addicted to shame?

Man set his apartment on fire then shot himself in the head because he was slated to be evicted for condos. Kid shot to death for trick-or-treating. Hit the gym, hit the wall. Palin prank-called. We can never talk again Travis. Don’t call the mother police on Jill. Dinner with Maurice and Lewis. Stew and beans. Smelled Lewis’s feet from wearing heels, blistered. Would have gone to work with smeared make-up on if Jen hadn’t washed his face for him. This is today. Things will be different come four am tomorrow.

Can’t walk away, won’t wave it off, don’t try to breath to take it all
In
So you know the path to let it out
No tears fall fast to point you south
Normally, go where the rivers flow
But water cascades off of crimson slopes
This time
Cliff’s edge used as beginning of sentence for behind the time repentance
Too late
Add your blood to the pot of the dreamer’s non-place on this earth

3 miles… gone
A long way from home when the light that you see has been turned off
You see, only in memory, but determined, you are
Learned before you came here that love ain’t shown the same where
Your come from it depends on
Can’t look at world around you for something felt within
Won’t listen to mouths telling you how it should have been
That’s what I had, and all I got
So don’t tell me not to want it again, you say
That deep breaths always help
Help you rationalize, help you compartmentalize
Help you speak in a way to show people what your needs are and why
Nerves always get the best of you
Life seemed like it was always testing your will to live or will to survive
Never both… well, at least, not at the same time
So you passed, so you made it
But no one at the finish line to tell you congratulations
Others tell you you’re not done, to keep trekking
Cause when you make it, you’ll feel like it’s yours
But you’re tired
1 mile… away
And the same thing that would make you keep going is the same thing that caused the almost-turn-back
The hits, the bruises, the chains, “he’s useless”
The cold summers, the purposeful blunders, to feel all the belts characteristics and wonders
Know them better than the makers
Study the acoustics when off the flesh
The tone, the pitch
Memories still fresh and would welcome them back if only for their intent
You
Complete and utter focus, but whip is inanimate
Credit to the master of ceremonies, have to excuse the range of emotions
From neutral to rage
Love you could never locate, but actions speak louder
Some people you tell this, for you, are incensed
But you don’t ask for much
Just… intent
2 knocks… to go
This porch evokes things you promised you would never show
Thought you’d find some kind of peace in the place you once knew, but now you remember why you often forget
No one came looking for you, and that one fact should make the feelings of forgiveness dissipate
They were right, you deserve better to have rejection being your only recognition
So do you stay or do you go… in?
You’re better than all that, but once you step into those walls you start to resemble pieces of shattered glass
No reflection needed, only know where you don’t need to be
But you’re tired
And you shouldn’t have to always be on the run
Maybe it could be different, you’ve grown and achieved some perspective
Just get what you need, the cold bed they provide
Because in the end, you’ve got more than enough
Deep breaths help you sleep at night
And…maybe… you just want to be home