The Weed

[Poets]

You know, I don't think it hurts any longer. All those things that use to hurt. Use to burn my eyes. Use to singe the flesh from my fingers.. all those things, no longer sting. All those things.. all those things.

Sometimes I forget all those things. Forget the people I use to call family. Forget the fear I use to think was love. Forget those things. Remember only a full stomach, heat which actually works, lights that come from covered lamps instead of exposed bulb?s. I have closets which don't smell like bacon grease, and people in my life, which from time to time smile, and not just at an other?s pain.

I remember a time, when I didn't need to lie, because I never spoke. I didn't need to hate my body, because it did what it was suppose to. Carried me through years of experience. Stuff my eyes saw, but couldn't really recall until years later. And by then it was too late, for the brain wont remember the details like you would want for them to.

The brain can't or wont recall the things which almost did it in, drove it to desire death, drove it to desire comfort, drove it to love everything but itself. My brain has hazy bits of barely remembered details, where there should have been class trips, science projects, loving parents, a healthy diet, and a chance to grow.

I thought myself a weed, which grew, even when you plucked it from the ground. It's roots were strong, and clung to what little life and and sunlight it could get. It thrived again, only to annoy you. Only to be in the way. Under foot, and out of focus.

Yeah somehow, I grew to be a big bright flower, which grows where it's seeds blow, with no thought or direction. It's only function is to live. And it will live anywhere.

Living anywhere has it's downfalls. Has it's upturns. Has it's ways of turning you inside out and backwards. So that you learn to bite the hand that feeds you, and kiss your own ass. These things I've seen might make you mean. Might make you hate, and think of escape. It might make you bitter, or it might make you eternally hopeful like a lost puppy that can't find it?s way home, and grates at your nerves with it's every whimper.

Violence isn't really all that uncommon. You see your father's violence against your mother, feel your bother's violence against yourself and think it's normal. You don't think anything's wrong.. until the moment you realize it is. Drugs and Abuse, are pretty common things, seen inside the walls of poverty. Dress it up real pretty, nice new coat of paint. Doesn't hide the plastic crap that litters the lawn, or the screams and slaps you hear from through the wall.

You sort of wonder if he liked it when he smashed her not so pretty face against the floor with a dull thwack. She fell down the stairs again. Clumsy girl. Clumsy girl who balances 7 glasses of water for her thirsty children on the playground throwing wood chips at me and the other kids. We loved this game.

Clumsy girl, who handles 6 children, and several more of us while our mothers worked to support their husbands habits.. she does 4 loads of laundry, 3 loads of dishes, and chain smoking two packs of cigarettes a day while gossiping with her neighbor, on their concrete porch. Such a Clumsy Girl.

They were weeds too. Raised in the same streets. Thought the cops were heroes, with baseball cards, and candy. Till they're knocking on your door. Telling you to send your men out. Send 'em out, and in their cars. Take them away.. barefoot, across broken beer bottle driveways.

I wonder about them sometimes, as I struggle to pay my bills, in a nice neighborhood, away from the noise of those streets. Wonder if they still struggle beneath that hot July sun, baking their feet, as they inhale smoke to choke their lungs... wonder if they're still there. If they still live in dingy apartments, with the smell of burnt popcorn, and bacon grease.

This is Me.

[STEVO25]

CUTE
FUNNY THAT U MENTION FEET
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YOU CAN'T CHANGE ME..DON'T EVEN TRY..IF YOU TRY YOU WILL FAIL

[This message has been edited by STEVO25 (edited July 27, 2001).]

[frivolousme]

Wow........this was really amazing to me. So many of your words could have been telling my life. Your diction was perfect. I felt that it really enabled me to understand your thoughts and feeligns. This is one of my favorite pieces.

[Poets]

Thank you. I know too many people who could tell a similar tale, unfortunately. Too many...

Thank you though