Poem: Crazy Home Over

As soon as you stop
taking the abuse
they have no use for you.

Locking me out
she is a prisoner
in her own home.

I should have seen it coming,
but perhaps I have learned now.

She took everything she wanted
and threw the rest
out the door.

Where will I go from here?
On to my future,
with God as my guide.

I will not stoop
to this level
of hers.

No anger, resentment, or hate.

There are just a few things
she's stolen
which I still want.

But if I cannot get them,
life will go on.

Doe she think
that by keeping my things
I may one day come back?

No one knows
the Mind of Insanity.

Poem: She

And she was all of the
abusive people
I have ever known;
Screaming and ranting
like a baby.
She said
every dirty thing
she could
finally ending with
"I'll bet you think you're hot shit,
don't you"
as I walked out the door.

She had said it all before,
yet somehow it didn't hurt me
this time.
I just felt sorry fopr her.

If I wasn't there
she screamed at the local shildren.
If they weren't there
her cats got the brundt.

Suddenly I wasn't hurt
or angry.
I didn't feel sorry for myself;
"that I had been abused so."
I just felt sorry for her;
that poor, ill woman,
filled with rage,
only for herself,
perpetually venting,
at the world.

Anger wants to beget
anger.
To make the fire grow.

Hers had found
no fuel in me.
Leaving her to bare
her burden
alone.

Poem: Girlie Games

Girlie games
and squirley games
dareing you now
admit your shame
left and right
and back again
this games key
you just can't win

So laugh it off
and take a breath
admit they're cute
and pass their test

Poem: Not My Problem

So she's a flake;
it's not my problem.
So things get put off;
it's not my problem.

The flaws of others,
in relation to me,
are not my problem.

My problem is living
and enjoying,
every moment,
of every day,
to the fullest extent possible.

Not spinning my
wheels
in useless frustration.
Taking their burdens
into my heart
and festering in pain
over things
I can do nothing
about.

My problem is myself.

And the Answer
is
to
Breathe.

Poem: Content

Affection
without sex
is like
an ice cream sundae
sprinkled with rose petals
warmth and intimacy
glee and caring
with no fear
of repercussion
or complication.

Two children
rolling and giggling
in the grass
content to breath
content to play
content
to Love.

Poem: Cuddly Me

I think I'll stop
having sex
for a while
and start up
with the cuddling.

Put away the penis
start using my hands
in innocent acts
of comfort.

I'll hung one and all
give massages too
with bodies on bodies
I'll never be blue.

To love with my heart
no longer my groin
to be like a kitten
will make my life fine.

Poem: Where?

I have no part
in this sick person's rage.
So why does it hurt
when directed at me?
Where is my fortress
of Self and God
to protect me from
the flaws of others?