You came into my
world so sweet
Little brother of mine
Hair like sun,spun golden wheat
Little brother of mine
There was a time when you
held my hand
Little brother of mine
But the winds have changed
bells have chimed
Little brother of mine
I hear your laughter
in my ear
each confession
so sincere
how you make me
smile and cry
little brother of mine
For a few moments you
were a man
little brother of mine
The wind is cold for now
you are gone
little brother of mine
Almost an atmosphere animated
Blustery billowing and bellowing
I’m counting lovers
instead of sheep
In these sheets I struggle to sleep
Remembering these
threads of me
Woven at times
Incongruously
And the sheep I know
skip no fences
In their defense, it is electric
Much like my synapses
A bit too spastic at these times of night
Still I fight for rest, I am unable to own
Nights long past, not spent alone
But in this loneliness I have comfortably grown
Sleep will come when my lonliness I postpone
E,
Well, I am home. And sort of in disbelief that I am here. It is so wierd. I went out tonight despite not sleeping for over 48 hours. I saw a bunch of people from high school. I didn’t want to talk to them; they looked really lost. The same old people hanging out with the same old people since God knows when.
I was glad I wasn’t them.
Then I started thinking… in your own little way, you are those people.
And throughout our relationship I tried to be those people despite the fact; that inside, I really didn’t want to be those people.
This is neither bad nor good. It is just yet another thing that makes us different.
I’ve never wanted that lifestyle. I feel, something else awaits me. Somewhere else.
And that’s okay. I’m willing to search until I find it.
You too will find something.
The “same old, same old” routine fits you, and you enjoy it…
Maybe you always will. Perhaps it fits your comfort level.
I am still waiting on my niche.
E, You are amazing in your own ways! And so creative; please, never become so comfortable with things, that you forget to expand your mind and your inspiration.
I am stoned right now. Sitting in a pop up camper in my parents back yard.
This letter probably makes no sense, but regardless, I am going to write it.
I always thought you put on the facade of “the well adjusted funny guy,” but as I have gotten to know you; I see that even you doubt yourself at times. And sometimes “sort of comfortable” is just comfortable enough.
Spread your fucking wings, E! DOOO IT! You can!
Listen to me, BAH Miss Wyoming.
I’m sorry we couldn’t just have our sweet perfect last day. But just as our first meeting paraded as perfect, we lived a farce and tried to birth truth and perfection…AHHH, how we tried! No worries.
We loved, we were wrong and diseased in our own ways.
We learned, we lost eachother, and gained knowledge.
Luck, and blessings to you.
I gave you my love, and part of my heart… but you must know I will ask for it back sometime down the road.
You can have yours back too…ya know… for someday down the road.
Good, bad, we did it all with passion and intensity. Thanks! I don’t hate you and never will. I am glad I feel this way.
I love you, boy. And the maturity we both need is just over the hill, almost at hand. But we both know, we are going to have to let go of all we know and accept as “normal” and “comfortable” to get there.
It’s just another leg in the journey. See you at the end?
Love you still and in my heart
To remove myself from the impending miserable situation, i am composing this;
agreed upon this date and time
i compose this little rhyme
about a girl in a bit of a mess
a situation leaving her feeling less
boy less drama and petty woes
homeless and poor
but on her toes
….this sucks, to add to a list of woes in my life, I have forgotten how to write. Or perhaps I have lost inspiration. Good poetry is born of misery? Who is reading happy poetry? Worse yet, who writes happy poetry?
I’d be happy if I was busy. And if I was busy, I wouldn’t have time to write poetry.
Those who are writing poetry and professing to be happy, sure must have a lot of time on their hands.
And this is some same old feeling… like I was 12 again.
Have I really matured?
How could it be that I have changed so much, if I still feel the same?
In this state of mind I am not sad about the current issue. At this moment I am completely detached from it.
Yes, I wish things were more convenient but it really isn’t a big deal.
You have people willing to help.
The things I am so attached to, about this relationship, are not things I need.
YOU, are independent, but you are required to be more responsible.
Watch your money, and don’t get too frustrated.
None of the people willing to help you will let you spend a night with out a roof over your head.
Regardless, it is your job to get out of this situation where you need help.
And it REALLY may mean putting some things on hold for a while to get other things in order.
Besides, you have postponed certain things til this point anyway.
Things may suck, but you really don’t know, a REALLY BAD situation. But you sure are afraid of experiencing one.
I know you think you can’t afford that right now…
First priority…make some cash.
Get out of where you are, take all graces, with gracefulness and respect.
Stay friends. Do not burn bridges… You may not plan on crossing them again, but you sure as hell have no reason to burn the one you exited across.
Not talking for a while is not as hard as you are making it. Just make the decision and stick to it. Get over it, stop being so dramatic. This is only going to be as dramatic as you make it.
You were expecting it, and you always said you would just “let it go.”
You are strong. You don’t need the attention you are seeking.
You can handle this . You can be calm and rational.
Better things are waiting.
If you keep freaking out, better things will never happen.
Roll with this, PLEASE!
You need a place, and a car.
Ugh, more bills? More responsibilities?
Comes with the territory.
Where you want to be depends on the individual importance.
Enroll in instruction?
blah blah blah… programmed. ugh.
Few of you may know, that I went to jail in early 2005. The charges were “domestic dispute with a misdemeanor of assault I went to jail that night for about 16 hours. It was by far one of the strangest things I have ever encountered. I don’t talk about it as a respect to the other party, who really loves his privacy on such matters. Regardless, I really do try and keep a good mindset about all things. And though the jail thing was hairy, I endured it. Upon seeing a court evaluator, I asked “what is the most the court will ask me to do?” He said community service and classes on domestic violence and drug and alcohol abuse. I got the info and got in right away. I found a community art gallery and donated my time to the cause. I wrote this piece two days out of jail… but I had to wait 7 months for a hearing with a judge. In the mean time, I did everything the was going to ask me to… ONLY I DID IT BEFORE THEY ASKED.
At the end of the trial ( there were people on the jury, who had totally bought a pizza from me a Papa Murphy’s) where I was found guilty, the judge talked to me off the record, wherein I shared this piece of writing.
She was impressed with what I had done, and said I could have my record expunged after 4 years, if no other incidence.
There has been no other incidence. I have been single for 7 years. That was my last serious relationship. It ended weird and now I have a mark on my record… why? Why haven’t I had it expunged? Because I would rather put petrol in my car, and buy a six pack then pay yet another $85 dollars into the system I found myself indebted to.
How did I win? Well I guess I cut a lot of drama out of my life after all of that, and yet, at moments knowing what I know; I find myself still fearing the law. Fuck me.
Your Honor,
I come before you a humble and humiliated part of society
my brain screams
“girls like me, don’t belong in jail”
but I compromised what allows me to be free
My reality, assault in the fourth degree
a fight
domestically
Luckily not another tragedy
just a young woman
with too much to drink
a tendency to over think
and a bottle of rage packed inside
These things I over looked
came back to bite
and now I know what a night in jail is like
I can’t remember the succession in which it all happened
Only I know
I don’t want it to happen again
I don’t want a record
or a label like criminal
Since that day
I pay for my actions
Two hundred and fifty
of my cash
goes to bail I owe
Not to mention the
broken double pane window
My brain gets lost when it thinks
of these court costs
My humiliation is evident at my job
with this broken nose
and black eye
No way to disguise.
Humbled as a daughter
who had to call home from a holding cell
didn’t go over so well 2000 miles away.
I’ve been waiting to talk to Your Honor
for weeks, just trying to think what I could do
for Deschutes County to drop these charges against me.
I confess I am willing to do anything
I can to lessen the charge
counseling or deferment
I don’t know yet
I ask your Honor for help
so that I can contain the stress
that made me burst outward
with violence
It makes no sense to me,
how I could act irrationally
but then again
it was that dark part
that comes out with that depressing friend called liquor
it gets that range pumping quicker
until your mind goes black
and you are ready to attack your lover
The marks on my face
disgrace me
Public Humility
evidence of the darkness that exists inside all of us
once let loose
I am only here in Bend temporarily until March 10th
Then I send myself back to middle America
I swear it’s my word and your judgement
Your Honor, I trust what you decide, will fit the crime.
I appreciate you, for allowing me, this time with you.
I am ready to do what you ask me to.
Madge Midgely 