Contented

O the sun is setting
now on my youth
it's ideal dreams
and it's search for truth
leaving it all
to where I'm now found
on the pivotal point
between womb and the ground
pray my days are still plenty
before my time is done
and by God I'll live each
as if it were my last one

Don't know where I'm going
but I've made it this far
so to love, peace and pleasure
I'll hoist up my jar
no longer pining or regrets
for that life not chose
through the kicks in the bollocks
and the smells of the rose
to be here is sweet
with music and friends
and when toe taps the bucket
I hope that how it ends
may the road rise to meet us
while we're on our way
and always seize the day

For Me Ma

My name it is Gloria

And my life’s a troubled thing

My husband, he would smack me round

But I still wear his ring

Despite his infidelities, his drink

And shite and lies,

For though long ago he left me

I must consider gossiping eyes

You see, to be a single mother

In these conservative constricted days

Is not a very kindly state

And I must respect our ways

While three of my four babies

To misfortunate death I’ve lost

I can’t afford this shame you see

So I’ll conceal at any cost

Motherhood is trying

And oftentimes I don’t feel well

The resentment, depression and anxiety

In my mind and heart does swell

And when I feel I can take no more

To the point that I might crack

My son suffers the brunt of my pain

With wicked words and with a smack

Sometimes I can not control myself,

The sting in my flailing hand

It falls and falls as if on it’s own and why,

I can not understand

My self-esteem is all but gone

To a guise of dignity

That’s why I cling to my “Mrs.” Name

Though that I’ll never be

By God it’s such a torturous task

To face yet another living day

Resentment murdered all my dreams

And it’s driving my son away

My words are harsh and hurtful

Thinking not of their future price

For all the tolls that time is taking

A baby, another then thrice

And though my pride is all I have

In the only surviving one

I fear that he’ll turn out like me

Never to become someone

I push him hard in his school

Though I, myself, can’t read,

And every time I beat him blue

It’s of want for him to succeed

I know that this is all fucked up

But I’ve nowhere else left to go

It’s so hard to wake each day

And put on this pathetic show

So this is my existence

And my gracious lot

To accept the little that I have

With hopes others don’t talk

All I pray is in the end,

Some God will wait for me

To give me something beyond this bullshit

For the rest of eternity

For my name is Gloria

I’m old, and now I stay

In the house where I was raised,

My son a nation away

I pray now for forgiveness,

And still live with my shame

And still I wear my husband’s ring,

It’s band near worn away.

Edmonton, AB, Canada

An Ode to Guinness

glass filled ebony
head, yellow cream, silky gold
friends sharing darkness

View From Meditation Room

Chickadee dancing
red berries, branch flutters crisp
Autumn's feathered breath

Link to my Main Blog

Dear Visitor,

This is one of my side Blogs. My main or "motherblog", MASOCHISTIC TRIALS & TRUTHS, where I write most of my ideas about a plethora of topics ranging from Yoga and Eastern Philosophy to rants, letters to editors and recounting of assorted life adventures, can be found at:

www.realerant.blogspot.com

Jenny



Her brown eyes they have saddened
O'er the past 14 years
and I fear that I have left her wanton
the cause of her raining tears
though I know it's not been perfect
that it's cramped in our embrace
I hope she knows I love her
beckon back the light of her face

Never was it intended, cruelty,
that we've battled is a fact
it's all in the process of solidity,
putting the strength into our backs
I dream we'll be together now
as the years go by the score
She'll always be my Jenny,
the girl that I adore

We wed for life and eternity
for richer and for poor
I regret how we have found ourselves
in the latter more and more
the ring slipped on her finger,
it's lilywhite, gold stripped band
my dreams are buried with her hopes
and for her I'm a better man

Life is our anthology
and always on the cusp
N'ere have I wanted more,
nor no one more do I trust
I pray she will remain with me
through the ebb of the ocean's tide
for I'd be washed away without you girl
and my soul it would subside

Masochistic Me


Me father beat me mother
he'd beat her black and blue
then he up and left her
with another mot to screw
me mother in her agony
on me her pain did vent
and I grew up an angry lad
bruised and somewhat bent

then one day the world did open
and I walked in through it's door
I left the shite hanging over me
and knew I wanted more
but this world is not a kindly place
to a young man with no means but dreams
frustration and motivation
left me bursting at the seams

Never knew just who I am
a wee bit brash and lazy
bit the bollicks the best I can
drivin' me self crazy

First I crossed the ocean
and lived in Dublin town
after paying respects to my kin
buried in County Down
first night in the city
I drank with Ronnie Drew
amidst bodhran's and fiddle
filling the craic in O'Donahouge's

Upstairs lived a lass named Mora
a lawyer for Sinn Fein
and I dreamed of being a rebel
playing in the patriot game
but of hate and violence I had my fill
wanting no more in that way
you'll never get peace filling a violent land
God rest the I.R.A.

Never knew just who I am
a wee bit brash and lazy
bit the bollicks the best I can
drivin' me self crazy

After many months in Erin
I roved through Europe's cobbled streets
and seemed to make a lifelong mate
with everyone I'd meet
spent some time in Slovakia
and really loved it there
shooting Slivovice
with the lasses o so fair

another six months after
I found me self in Leeds
still searching for that something
to satisfy my endless needs
but I never seemed to get it
there or in my native land
I just seemed to be wanting more,
feeling cursed and damned

Never knew just who I am
a wee bit brash and lazy
bit the bollicks the best I can
drivin' me self crazy

Now I've found me self settled
in such an unlikely place
Forty years are in my bones
but there's still something that I chase
I find it hard to settle down
to be thankful for what I've got
though by Christ I'd never trade away
the things that are my lot

Nothing's ever good enough
no matter what I do
still haunted by my childhood
and still feeling fuckin' screwed
for me mother in her agony
on me her pain did vent
and I grew up a tortured lad
battered and somewhat bent

Never knew just who I am
a wee bit brash and lazy
bit the bollicks the best I can
drivin' me self crazy
Never knew just who I am
a wee bit brash and lazy
bit the bollicks the best I can
drivin' me self crazy