KEEP ON TRUCKIN’

Good Day! I apologize for my absence. There are a few health issues that I am dealing with. Waking up with pain on a daily basis takes its tole. Thank God He has given me the gift of words and writing. This is my outlet that keeps me sane.

When you become up there in age everything starts to deteriorate. You’ve got to start ordering new body parts to replace the decrepit. These are some of the things I am experiencing at present. I tell all you young people exercise often and eat right. Take care of your bodies. No one knows when, it may be today, next week, or next year that one of your body parts malfunction. Only God knows what is to become of us.

I don’t know how many times I’ve said to myself, “If I would have known then what I know now…” Of course, that does no good. If we were supposed to know then what we know now, we would have known it then…right?

I am not complaining. I just Thank God for every day HE blesses me with. As long as I have breath in me, I will keep on trucking’.

BEE STREET

A load of hurtful memories, fibers deep
The House on Bee Street;
Under each layer of my skin
The footprints of where I’ve been;
I hear that annoying voice
Who never gave me a choice;
It lingers
Like a bumble bee stinger;
“Good for nothing, stupid, and dumb”
The very words that made me numb;
I see that evil facial scowl
That thick red belt that made me painfully howl;
Suffocation
Wall to wall domination;
My own private battlefield
I was forbidden to reveal
A life that was true and well concealed;
Anger in a tormented tsunami
Praying for a real Mommy;
Everywhere I went she had to tagalong
Repeatedly yelling, “Your way is always wrong!”;
She never allowed me to forget, “I am who I am and no one will change me”
“This is who I will always be!”;
A resident of Looney Tooneyville
Off in left field;
The negative chit chat
Were false words at that;
Mother always exemplified an attitude of ‘poor pitiful me’
“I’m being abused, can’t you see?”
Always on the scheme
The Mother of all Drama Queens;
With a dark marriage
My first tiny baby in a carriage;
A happiness that was pretend
A family that didn’t mesh or blend
Thank GOD it all came to an end;
Now I am grown
Living a life of my own;
It’s something I’ve never forgot
Every time I arrive on that Bee Street Lot;
There is no name
For people with an abusive brain
The innocent are never the same
Looking over their shoulder in guilty shame;
I left it there to stay
The day I moved away.

 

THE OLD GRAY MARE

WHEN WE ALL GO THROUGH EACH LIFE STAGE, ALL WE HAVE LEFT IS TO AGE.

It is inevitable. The aging process. You may not be there today, but you will arrive sooner than you expect.

Our youth don’t have the capacity to see what lies ahead. They are too busy wondering what this thing called Life is about. They face new challenges on a daily basis. As some of us are taught to roll with the punches, others may find it difficult to cope.

By the time graduation from High School arrives, some of us have made a career choice. Having the security to know what you want to do with the rest of your life is a step in the right direction. Therefore, when life begins to happen, we must acclimate ourselves. By this time we may or may not be parents. For those of us who are parents, days and weeks seem to rapidly pass you by.

Because we are in the middle of a pandemic, in quarantine, no one knows when this younger generation will have the chance to comfortably experience any safe travels or recreational activities. Nonetheless, time travels fast. Before you know it, your reflection in the mirror will inform you of the true reality. What will stare back at you are tired eyes and intersections of facial lines. Along with this you will feel those inevitable aches and pains, in the joints, spine and hands. What was once vivacious and virile, is now saggy, baggy, and frigid. That reminds me of that phrase, “The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be.”

I have always been told, “All you have to do is just age gracefully.” What is graceful about aging? Nothing! As women, we inherit the waist of a chicken. Men are better at aging than women. They develop that “distinguished” look, while some women tend to look like ninety year old grandmas. (I speak of my own reflection in the mirror).

Many youth have no respect for the aged. I often hear snide remarks such as, “Old people are slow, mean, dirty, or they talk too much and don’t make any sense.” Young people, open your eyes. Like a jet that passes over head, that’s the way life travels. It’s just a matter of time. Like me, you will soon arrive at the Elderly Bus Stop, and wonder, where did it all go?

Life goes by too fast. Live each day as if it were your last.

A SISTER’S SOUL

Rhythm and Blues
An African Dominican Muse;
Hungry for the true love of a mother
Of a rich mahogany color
As their life lessons are like no other;
Trapped in a body that’s pale
As if I’m living in an ancient tale;
Stuck in the skin
That I have no business in;
On parole
A sister’s soul;
Standing true and strong
Searching to belong.

UNFASTENED

An unrestrained beak
Always prepared to critique;
Inappropriate tongue
Loves to talk it all in fun;
Often corrected
No ill will intended;
Harsh but humble
Repeatedly stumbles;
You get what you deserve attitude
Often ends up in solitude;
A character assassin
Off the chain unfastened;
Like bees to honey
A natural comedian that’s funny;
A soul with a beaming light
Her way is always right;
Forever wearing her crown
Refuses to let anyone down
She’s a permanent resident of Toon Town;
It’s no sham
Zip boom bam
This is who I am.

INCONSOLABLE

A building full of fire and flames
A body that’s useless and drained;
Looking to be mope less
Instead it’s hopeless;
A conscious push to advance
Is now a sabotage stance;
A daily exhaustion drain
Will not let go of my brain
Crushing down on my body like a steel crane;
With every movement
There is no improvement;
Each crevice is strangled
Head to toe mangled;
Wishing there was a way to unload
Hit the road
Instead I will explode!
A squeezing of my nerves
With no descriptive adverb;
Pins and needles in my scalp
Dear Sweet Jesus I need your help;
My eyes have dropped to the back of my head
At times I think I’d be better off dead;
There are no pain free enhancers
Narcotics are not the answer;
It is uncontrollable
I am inconsolable.

 

HEAD TO TOE

I’m not wealthy
I may look healthy;
Truth be told
My life is quite cold;
Seal me in an envelope
Put me under a microscope;
High and low
In assessment head to toe;
You will see
My multiple disabilities;
Eyes, nose, arms, and knees
Besides my temporary brain freeze;
I may look like I’ve been gifted
But please, don’t get it twisted.

OFFENSIVE

I don’t lie, cheat, or steal
I just speak what I feel;
A bit apprehensive
For what I say can be offensive;
My way with words
Is for the birds;
I won’t flinch a muscle or joint
My alphabet soup is straight and to the point;
Lo claro es lo mas desente (Clarity equals decency), they say
Let’s see what’s on my mind today.

A HUMAN MESS

(For those of you who have followed me from the beginning, you are familiar of my battle with Chronic Pain. This poem describes the way I feel when the dreaded flair-ups pay me an unwelcome visit. My consolation is to believe that this too shall pass. A Happy Sunday to all!)

Asleep for decades
In my own private head parade;
If I close my eyes
Will I still be alive
Or is the clock just giving me five?
The weight of the world is daunting
The future is haunting;
The light of day
Is destroying my excruciating headache today;
The painful heaviness
What a human mess!
How do I make it better
With a self-addressed personal letter?
Point me to the button labeled suspend
How do I become normal again?

A HEFTY PRICE

It takes a lot of energy
To be Me;
The back spasms
The sarcasms;
The sewing projects
Wrestling with logic;
Personal sorrows
The time I borrow;
Not much of a hottie
Donning an eighty year old crippled body;
I can only pray
As I rise each day;
I would pay a hefty price
If I didn’t have God in my life.