If I'm gonna do this, I gotta keep it real! I mean if I'm really going to be a "blogger" I have to be able to say exactly what I want to say, when I want to say it. Of course, I'll not purposely hurt anyone but at the same time I don't want to be limited in what I say based on the consequences of whomever reading it.. With that in mind, I feel like it's pertinent to share this conversation I had earlier this evening with my mom on Facebook. I do this not out of spite, nor as a show of disregard, but as a testament of personal affirmation and, upon reading it several more times after it was sent, I thought,
Boy, that really came out nicely... I've been meaning to say that for a long time.
But being a poet, primarily (thus far) the aforementioned candor as well as said conversation conjured up the recollection of a few poems. This first piece is over three years old. I first began writing it not long after I got out of the hospital back in April/May of 2010. It's name signifies my feelings then about the situation I was in and now about the ordeal I face in being forthright in my writing. I hope you enjoy.
No Place for Modesty
Day 3 in the I.C.U. and pe-eeew! I need a bath. When I
lift my arm and sniff I get a whiff reminiscent of a Cesar salad doused with
onions and Miracle Whip.
Gross! I think as
I lay awake past midnight plotting my escape: First— I’ll pull up and flip out
of bed, careful not to land on my head. Next—I’ll scoot across the floor and find
my chair; I know it’s in the room, back
there somewhere Then—I’ll reach up, grab the arms, try to push with my feet,
lift and pull, find the handles, twist and turn, and finally sit up in the seat.
Now I’m back in my power-chair; I get my bearings and my
breath, find the door and I’m outta there. But before I consider where to go
first, I remember all the I.V.s I’m hooked up to, including the catheter and a
tube protruding from my neck
Damn! That will
surely foil my plan. At 2 a.m. tonight’s nurse, Shannon, comes in and sees I’m
still awake. She says it may help me sleep to get cleaned up a bit, but before
that she has some more patients to see and needs to grab a quick bite to eat.
Finally at 4, just as I start to snore, the bright
florescent lights flick on; it’s Shannon’s voice saying she
hopes I don’t mind, she brought some help this time. I can’t see yet because my
eyes haven’t adjusted to the light, but I’d just as soon keep my eyes shut
tight. There’s at least three of them; they casually talk about boyfriends,
weddings, and in-laws, as they wash my hair, unbutton my gown and scrub me up
and down. I picture them all relatively young and good-looking, although I’m
afraid to look.
They wash my underarms, my legs and thighs, and then it’s no
surprise when I’m asked to roll over… With an Easy Wipe, I’m wiped—my butt, my
balls and gooch—all very quickly, and I think: Gosh, that WAS easy. Lastly, Shannon
says she has to clean around my catheter so it doesn’t get infected; she does,
all the while a voice goes off in my head: Don’t
get a boner. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner.
All done, she
announces. as she heads for the door, urging me to sleep. Okay, I murmur, as I start to weep.
Man that sure was a riveting experience, one that I hope to never repeat! But before I lose sight of the original intention of this entry, I want to show the conversation that Mom and I had which triggered this whole thing.
Me
Hey mom, what's up? Are you mad at me, or something? First off, you leave
without even saying goodbye. Then you don't answer my call later on that night,
or call me back and now today I call you again and you don't answer. Now, here
I am, again, waiting for you to call me back, but I get the feeling like you're
not going to. So I got to ask, what have I done this time to piss you-offi?
Then again, maybe there is a perfectly logical explanation. If so, I
apologize. Call me back on my house phone: 309-0172.
Mom
Sorry Jude I love you so much it hurts and I only mean the best for you in
all my worrying about things with you and/or your house but I just feel so sad
and disconnected every time I'm around you. I really feel like I'm the last
person on earth you want to be around and I just can't take it anymore.
In times past it hasn't seemed to matter if I tell you by or not you never
even come out of your room sometimes to "see me off" like I've seen
you do with other ppl even though you know I'm loading up and getting ready to
head out. I don't know when you started hating me so much but I feel like you
do. And like I said I'm just tired of being so sad because of it. Sometimes I'd
just like to kill myself to get rid of the pain.
You and I seem to argue about just about everything so "talking it
out" doesn't seem like an option anymore.
Me
Wow!! Really?! You really feel that way... Why do you think I always call
you (almost) every week? And why do you think I make sure and find out when
you're coming up, what your progress is? It's so I can make sure I'm around so
we can get together! And as far as arguing goes, what do you expect? We're
mother and son. That's what we're supposed to do! And I have really been making
an effort not to argue with you so much when you're up here because it happens
so seldom! Take this latest visit: I thought it went pretty well. Did I argue
with you about what movie to go see? Or what restaurant to have dinner? No. Not
at all.
And to tell you the truth, I was a little hurt and surprised, when I woke up
Sunday morning and you weren't here. Why? Because I would've liked to see Mamaw
and Papaw, and Sherry, and Leslie. You know I don't have a car and can't see
your side of the family are as much as I'd like to.
And as far as thinking about killing yourself to get rid of the pain, how do
you think I feel? I think about suicide AT LEAST once a week! When I broke up
with Elizabeth
my life got dramatically worse. And for what? Because she was trying to control
me? Because she was possessive? Controlling? So what! A lot of women are like
that. Okay I admit, she was a few flakes short of a bowl of Special-K, but at
least then I was happy. So yeah, I think about offing myself sometimes. But I
don't. And do you know why I don't think I ever could? Because of you all: my
family, you, Ben and Dad. I know how much it would kill you all if I did that,
just like it would kill me if anything happened to you all. And I'm not
sadistic enough to inflict that kind of hurt. And I hope you never would
either.
So, this shit about me hating you? Put that out of your mind right now! I
don't know how that idea ever fostered in your brain but it's absolutely
ridiculous!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm all outta talk.
So again, I need to reiterate: Mom, if you're out there reading this, please don't interpret it as an exposure of a private conversation, but rather a doctrine of the perseverence of the unconditional love we have for one another.
Lastly, I feel compelled to share a couple of poems about my ex. The first was written in the spring of last year, a little more than halfway through the duration of our relationship, and the other was written just in the last couple months. Both of these have been read publicly, at the
Holler Poets Series open-mics, here in Lexington, Kentucky.
A Mental
Misfire All to Hell
Me and my old lady were together
ten months. I thought she was the one,
and by the one you
know which one
I mean. The one I’d spend the rest
of my life with; the one that would settle
me down and make me forget all the other
women in the world; the one I’d grow
old with, love to the bitter end, till death
do us part. Now when I say old lady, I
mean OLD LADY, literally, she was
nearly twice my age anyway. So growing old
together was never a possibility; guess I
orta said: ‘The one I’d age
with.’ Course
who knows how long that’ll be; neither me
nor anyone else knows what age they’ll be
when their number’s called. Only God knows.
All I know is, she proved to me that maturity’s
got nothing to do with age. It wasn’t long
after our courting began that I began to
realize that she wanted the rest of our lives
to be right then,
and in retrospect, I guess
I’m the one who misconstrued the two.
And anyway, till death do us part is
another one of those not-to-be-taken-literally.
Parting, like parting
ways has a connotation
of finality; spending time apart, though,
is only temporary, in fact, it’s healthy!
But explaining this to her exactly like
that was like talking to the broad side
of a barn. Any time I’d go somewhere it
was like I was breaking her heart,
for real breaking
her heart, like I was
leaving her for someone else. So when
I was gonna be away a few days I had
to go through the same old rigmarole. Lordy B!
it was like dealing with a fifty-year-old
fifteen-year-old – frantic tantrums of insecurity.
Alright now, allow me to offer a preemptive
apology for any innocent ears out there:
It was her pussy power that compelled
me to stay. I coulda danced a ditty
not having to worry about unplanned
pregnancy. But the last straw
came when
she tried to make me forget
all the other
women in the
world, including my own kin!
Because family runs deeper
than blood,
I had to choose between the
two. So I said
HELL NO, you gotta go! and
that, I presumed,
was the end. But between me, you
and the
fencepost, I gotta half a mind
to go call her again.
I recited this one just last week:
Time’s A-wastin’
While everyone I know
is gettin’ married
or havin’ kids
I’m startin’ over
I lost my baby, my lady
lover best friend
significant
other
and just when I was
comin’ close to
settlin’
slowin’ down
closin’ up shop
I realized I was makin’ a big mistake—
(well what other kind would be worth mentionin’?!)
what I needed was
`
another
lover a new best friend
and if she’da been my significant
other
what would that’a made me: insignificant?
The way I figure it
I deserve better deserve a lady
ain’t gettin’ stuck with no ball-and-chain
baby
and sure ain’t settlin’ for someone crazy! no sir-ee.
it’s my life we’re talkin’
which is short already
least that’s what they say
but they sure say a lot, don’t they?
they say I’ve already lived mine half way—
(yep, God’s sure got a god-
damn twisted sense’a humor,
don’t ee?)
To anyone out there who may be following, this outta keep you busy for a while!
