Twiakus & Briefs

~ stale :: like crusty bread :: hardened by exposure ~
10/16/12

~It was biting cold ~ but we felt the heated passion ~ our fingertips stroking the rose ~ upon the other's velvet cheek~
12/13/2010

~the morning sun warmed ~ white dwarf fades with dawn of day ~ celestial echo~
12/10/10

~ in the house <><> rabid dog <><> seeking its prey <><> i watch from the rafters ~
12/08/12

Sumtimes, I have 2 lock the door so the voices aren't so loud. I'll open it perhaps, when they calm down. For now, their distance is relief.
12/06/2010

spinning :: broken record in my head :: reeling :: baited with accusatory blame :: running the line until it breaks :: taming the reel
08/05/2010

lost ~ nerves exposed, mind confused, heart displaced ~ somewhere between raw and gaping
08/03/2010

throwing out pills ~ cleaning out the medicine closet ~ tossing tubes ~ body full of memories ~ glad to be free
7/24/10

****************
Some originally posted on Twitter on an account now deleted.
****************

45

~ jerk ~
* retard *
~ idiot ~

broken record in my head
whisperings of defection
blotch on humanity
I am my own worst enemy

~ stupid ~
* fuck up *
~ moron ~

demon's finger
holds the stylus in the groove
gramophone of defeat
abrasions of self destruction

round and round
over and over
again and again
same damn growlings

at least they could expand their vocabulary


judithpiper
august 3, 2oo7


***************
The tyranny of self-loathing is a wretched 'invisible' prison.The blight of impossible standards feeds the ruler of such tyranny.

I'm thankful that such tyranny and fodder has been malnourished now from my soul. Occasionally, an unrelenting standard crop grows. Yet these days, it is more readily purged than prior decades.

Glad the days of this defeating self-talk are mostly by-gone. Still, I hope I never forget the mental torment and anguish of the dis-ease.

***************

Penny Thoughts

"Your past does not predict
your future.
Change is possible at
any moment."

Your hypocrisy would be laughable
if not for its expense
Peoples' hearts littered along
your change bye-way

Now, you begin again
Deja vu
History repeating itself
No real change

You are a prime example
of one who 'forgets'
his past
Erasure isn't change

False change
Monopoly money
Words of sweet praise
Aspartame

No, thank you
Keep your change
preferably in a
zipped
locked
pocket


judithpiper
june 8, 2012

Pinhole View: Prose 1

My heart, so heavy.
My heart, so empty.
My well of love, dry.

I look inside.
I look to God.
I look
but my heart remains low.

Where has my passion gone?
Where has my life been thrown?
Where can I find the way?

Father, daily I cry within my heart.
Daily I want to run away.
Daily I feel a desperation.

I know not where to turn.
I know not how to find answers.
My tears fall continually inside.

Will you hold my hand?
Will you manifest what I am to do?
Will you make it clear?

I ask timidly,
with doubt of my every move.

My heart, so very heavy.
My heart, so very sad.
My heart, so very empty.

My soul, flooded with tears.....


judithpiper
june, 2005
__________________

I left The Way in October, 2005, four months after this poem was written. I had found a place to turn.

This poem is Prose 1 of 3. All three parts can be read here:
Pinhole View: A Trilogy

Prose 2 can be read alone here: Pinhole View: Prose 2
Prose 3 can be read alone here: Pinhole View: Prose 3
__________________

Head-on Collision

I enter the giant building
Aseptic walls, sterile scent
White robes, green scrubs
Beeps and hydraulic hisses

I enter your glass-door encasement
On your back, more still than night
Able only to move your eyes
Staring at the white ceiling

Harrowing sight before me
Your body stretched like a hammock
Metal halo encircles your skull
Held tightly with stainless steel screws

Our eyes meet, tears spill over
Trickle of pain flows down your cheeks
62 years now behind you
Uncertain terror of what lie ahead

Never again in this life will you know

Thrill of the hike
Glory of the golf swing
Wind of the ski slope
Frigid chills in your toes
Warm touch to your thigh

To hold a hand
To stroke a cat
To tie a shoe
To lift a child
To button a button
To zip a zipper

Flip the steak
Carve the roast
Pinch Mom on her bottom
Dance a Glen Miller swing
Click the camera

Foreign to the life that awaits you

Only dead weight beneath your shoulders

C-4 sever
One split-second
Cataclysmic aftermath


judithpiper
august 19, 2007
_____

In early July, 1983, Dad was in a head-on automobile collision. Life forever changed.
To read more context, click here: When Limbs Go Quiet

_____

Feed

Feel the hatred.
Feel the hatred.

Let it boil over
pen upon the page

Why do I allow
your deception
to haunt me
to steal my joy
my energy
my thoughts

You will work
your new crowd
as you have worked
others
hoarding sympathy
to feed your need

Grifting praise
to nourish the supply

Like a vampire
who promises
eternal life
you seduce and gorge

How long will this tour last?
Another ten years?
Perhaps six?
Maybe just three?

A far cry from eternal

May your lies be exposed
your heart laid wide
vultures be nourished
their livers, the filters
disposing the carnage


february 21, 2012
judithpiper