For the woman. Our children.
The cats. Neighbors, parishioners
and patients. The broken I know
and the broken I don’t.
For the passionate creators,
for the scenery I pass each day,
good coffee, good food, good company.
the painting over my desk,
for the God who could have should have
abandoned you, but never did.
for my devolution and survival,
for restoration. Silk on skin.
Perfume of Lilacs and Phlox.
The ocean. The journey.
All of it.
For betrayal. Abandonment. Cruelty.
Gaslighters. Those who hurt others
and those who ignore, those who use
and abuse. It matters not if they are here or there,
I hate them.
Liars and those without empathy.
Toxic and selfish.
Hunger. Useless, toxic hunger(s).
Empty things parading as full.
Weak parading as strong.
The inconsistent who pretend
Those who tear down and leave the rubble
for someone else. Despair.
even the existence of love/hate relationships
with anything leaves me mad.
Not angry. Mad as Odysseus listening
to the song of the sirens
tied by ropes as his ship sails past
the island just before the rocks of Scylla.
About this poem
I hate mixed emotions. I know they are real and part of life, but I hate them.