writing

What It’s Like Now by Meryle

I want to smoke cigarettes and hate myself.  

I’m so used to it, it seems like the right thing to do. 

Like getting frustrated and animated at things I can’t control 

At things that aren’t that bad, 

Like I’m not validly existing 

Unless I am performing annoyance like a boiling kettle screaming steam.

 

Everything is ok

Everything is gonna be fine

Just gotta get uncomfortable while I slip between that rock and a hard place

But I know I’ll slip through 

I’m more malleable than I know.

 

But still

The glamorous sad keeps pulling at the back of my shirt

Sometimes tripping me and choking me

 

I’ve changed too much

So slowly

In such a short period of time

 

I’m looking around surprised at what I’ve lost. 

Looking for memories of the time everything vibrated with daggers into my senses

But now its iridescent pink bubbles, and rose petal clouds swirling around me 

Sometime reality smelling like farts or screaming like police sirens, 

But only for a minute 

Only for a moment 

Only for a second.

 

And then my body settles back to that soft wind tickling through the fresh uncut wild green grass.

And lilac trees bloom around my mind

Like a fragrant halo.

 

Neighbourhood Politics by Meryle

Sitting on the back steps, facing east at quarter to six in the morning, the mid summer sky is already bright before sunrise. In front of me the small, mansion parking lot, the back laneway and the morning sky framed by two 1970’s apartment buildings.  The huge trees from the neighbours' yards hanging over the parked cars in their rented parking spots.  Everyone can see you here, and you can see everyone.  Including the local animals

 

A white and ginger cat tiptoed in front of me between the wood and chain link fence and the first parked car.  It heard me, and suddenly shy, it shrunk away and ran back to the cover it came from.

A few moments later at the south end of the wood and chain link fence, I catch the cat stretching upwards from the ground-cover ferns, attempting to climb up the wood of the fence.  Again, seeing me seeing it, the cat slowly slunk down into the ferns and hid.

After a few minutes of observing the cat’s attempt to hide from me, I chirped and made a cat call.  A ginger ear poked out between two fern leaves.  I chirp and call again and the cat, came out of the bushes and enthusiastically trotted over and started rubbing itself against me and walking back and forth on the steps in front of me.  After petting and butt scratching the cat for at least 3 or 4 minutes, I observed that the cat kept nervously looking around, then marking the stairs as it's territory with face rubs.  Almost as if my presence made the cat feel safe to mark territory the would normally never dare mark.

“You are afraid of my neighbors' cat Loki, aren’t you?”  The cat kept walking back and forth and rubbing against my legs and hands.

 

After a few more minutes, a robin perched on a branch near us and started loudly chirping.  Like it was making a neighbourhood announcement.  Like it was this robin’s job to follow cats around and scream their location so other cat prey can stay safe.  

After 6am now, a squirrel joins with the robin from a tree on the other side of the parking lot.  Chittering and making noises I recognize as territorial declarations, I look and see the squirrel in the tree starting at me.  I regularly feed the black squirrels by leaving raw cashews and pieces of sweet barley cakes in the same spots around the mansion lot then watching them eat from inside/a distance.  These squirrels know I am the source of their treats.

Suddenly, with the robin and squirrel chirping and twittering and staring right at us, the cat goes into full affection/territorial display, walking up and down the steps, rubbing my back and neck, trying to drink from my mug, and then sitting stately at my feet while surveying all the trees. Am I the middle of an urban wildlife territory standoff?

Eventually, the squirrel left and silently came back with one of the other squirrels.  To watch.  To witness.

Perhaps they felt betrayed that the food leaver is ok with the cat who tries to catch them.  The robins usually don’t have a problem with me, will they now gossip and tell each other I’m a cat lover??  That I fraternize with a bird murderer? 

My coffee finished, I say goodbye and go back inside, leaving drama in the animal neighbourhood and sweet barley cake all over the lot.

8 specific people who, in the end, were the same bad medicine by Meryle

I had so much anger to give you.  For the hurt and the disrespect, the entitlement, and blind dismissal of who I am.  The using and disregarding of my inherent worth and needs so you could take from me to feed your narcissism’s insatiable shame ego.

 

But then I reached out my hands, 

and I touched the ground, 

and it all dissipated. 

 

And now I’m tired.

And I’m sad.

Sad for you.

Sad for all the hurt inside you.

The pain,

the abandonment

the disregard for your welfare,

or even the threatening of you life,

from everything that was supposed to love you and protect you as a child.

 

All that stuff that made you so awful inside

and I see that now,

that resplendently grotesque entity looming over you like a crown.

 

And can’t even be angry at your abuse anymore.

 

Just sad.  For you.

 

To be an angry itching ball of fire red embers burning in every pore all the time?

To hear your mind constantly scream “You are never good enough and you will never be safe”?

To know in your mind

“mommy and daddy don’t love you

and won’t ever be there for you, not really, 

not then, 

not when you needed it the most.

never”?

 

What a horror to live in that shell!

 

So why should I give you my anger?  Why should I correct your mind and show you why its you who is the wrong doer and not the hero?  What good would it do me, to reinforce your rage in you? What good would it me to remind you of your constant sense of worthless.  What good would it do you?  What good would it do anyone?

 

 

You’re a shadow ball of dark prickly energy constantly swirling around your own self destruction, drinking down the vortex, only making it worse and making yourself sicker and sicker in emotional  and physical debt.

 

So what worth would it be to give you more anger and worthlessness to carry?

Your burden of your own mind is too much for anyone.

You don’t need scolding

You need love and unloading.

And I can’t do that for you.

I will not go through that for you.

Not anymore.

Not ever again.

I don’t need that load.

Not ever.

 

So instead, 

I wish you my love,

from a far, FAR away land.

The Great Equalizer by Meryle

what if we are the storm?

what if Kali's wrath is good?

what if now is wrong and destruction's current currency is right?

 

redirect that current. redirect the narrative. redirecting the current narrative

 

the leaders and creatures will not conglom their egos for resolutions. they will not lift their shields of hubris to nobly take the mantle of protectors of ALL.

 

they will not die for us

but they will die for themselves

 

who destroys the destructors?

who erases through wiped slates?

don’t press the reset

set free the repressed

the news arched and smartly dressed

the wolf mouth bride

who swallows your flesh

digests your nonsense

giving birth to our word refreshed.

 

and the storm is awesome. 

because

I am the storm

 

- Meryle

Pillows of Snow by Meryle

"There is a holy white light to a sunshine winter day.
Everything sounds soft and the light shines brighter, there are crystals in the street.

The black lace of naked tree fracture dark veins across the sky like the stems of your own lungs.

And then you breath in ice knives and you are awake, and present, aware of every sliver of the shiver of every cell in your body, they all say:
"oh yes this is cold, like the last time I forgot, what a shock."

Is it bad to feel cold when the sun has a halo of white gold and mounds of fluffy white diamonds reflect the sky?
The feelings lose meaning when - reflective and gleaming - the light shimmering beauty infects the eyes."

- Meryle

Turner Transmission #5 by Meryle

"I turn my polarity towards music, towards expressing it all, even the good, and don’t be afraid of the bad it’s all glorious."

 

Yet such a masochist that it’s emotionally grounded in pain too.  How strange this little body, How strange this frantic mind.  Worrying about people it only barely realizes don’t matter.  They’re just a distraction and she keeps being distracted so well.  On the shackles on her thoughts, lets see if she turns around, lets see if she turns around and see’s us.  Lets see if its a story/tale or not.

 

How did we communicate before?  Always through words but the visual symbols changed so often.  Try it more, you’ll learn it quick enough, but hurry, don’t go scaring yourself with deadlines, they come, they are dead, breath your full breath out before you are gone.

 

If you think too much, move your body till you stop thinking.  Some movements work more efficiently at release than others.  Some movements must be expressed as the pure emotion they are.  

 

And if you can’t find the release valve for your expression anywhere, RUN.  Run like a child, run like you know freedom, run like it deeply matters where you are running to. Run until you can’t think of anything but how to keep your body moving and still breathing.  You have to express and run your frustration into the stratosphere and when you land back on earth with nothing on your mind, then you can start to permanently reorient your main programming.

 

So run, run till you can’t think any further, then let it all go and sing.

all the Stories never written down by Meryle

whatever.

my mind tries to take over this stuff 

its no good though 

none of it is real 

but the obtuse nature of it is hard to articulate in word 

 

a cascade of shapes 

colours 

sounds 

like words that definitely can’t be heard, 

it’s absurd. 

 

a million stories written at night 

in my head 

in bed 

out of dread 

and then sung silently through my eyes to the stars.  

 

and it trembles 

and it dangles 

so delicately into the sea of our couscous construct 

and it vanishes 

snap! 

in a nap, 

all flown far away 

never to be remembered 

ever to be repeated?

a moments passing and it has fleeted

silently slipping away on an alien wave form 

 

hitherto untethered by our slow running mind ports, 

incomprehensible chatter intersected by channels’ incommunicatively

 

forever spinning a web

just floating away on the breaze 

maybe dust 

maybe diamonds

who knows? 

who remembers?

thats the fantasy rubbing up against the real world, 

never letting penetration 

never achieving integration

 

- Meryle