December 9, 2009

Boy, life can through one a punch, and sometimes the punches connect better than previous times. Marriage ad relationships have never been my forte. I 've been married 4 times and divorced three. And between all of them, I have 5 children and one stepson who I consider my own. I suffer from depression, and whether you admit it or not, 50% of you do too. Add a war, child abuse, and life will throw you a few curves that change your thinking forever. Sometimes I retreat into my room and won't see sunlight for a month or more, burying myself in poetry, writing, reading, studying, and other pursuits. I literally isolate myself from others. I'm better now and am adjusting to living in a very foriegn southeast Asian country that resembles Vietnam in a lot of way but isn't Nam, because most of the people are catholics, not Buddhists, and don't live in a geographically flat area. When I left for the States, the states had changed radically. Everyone it seemed, were on drugs, fighting wars, and were naive enough to think they could alter the thinking of the rich and powerful who in actuality control the world even those that are democracies. They're are no true democracies in the world today. It takes a rich man to get elected and the contributions from the big lobbies and companies, make many politicians, political prostitutes. Can I ramble on or what? I went home from one war to another, and found Id' adjusted to the Asian way of life and no longer felt comfortable living in the U.S. I love the U.S. and am proud to be called a citizen, but tolerance for differences, alternative thinking, and the artistic way of seeing life in this part of the world is more to my liking. It's a financially poor country and the politicians here are for the most part corrupt and given to graft, which I despise. I am not one for small talk and don't feel a need to justify everything I do or say. I don't live to be another's mirror and following the norm to me is boring. I'm am a retired educator and when I taught, I taught those other teachers didn't want to teach. Maybe my suffering from depression and PTSD gave me an empathy others lacked but I was successful in changing many students lives. Having been where many of them have been, I oftentimes feel their frustration and anger; the psyche in them screaming to be loved and accepted.

That's all for now. I have reality to swim through and sometimes it just plain sucks! And sometimes, it's a giant wow!

i watch a

young girl slither

into the

tall elephant grass

smile she calls home

the war

here years ago . . .

rustling grass

why the frown,

the grimace, your arms

stretching

granite mountains into

salt water taffy

espresso . . .

two shots of barako,

and you

an e-mail . . .

someone i respect

handed me

the rose i needed

this afternoon

maybe i

should disappear . . .

blade of grass

she ignores

my texts and calls . . .

a game?

incoming tide

without fish bait

tired of

games and childish spats . . .

rose thorns

long after

noon, i woke up to

my wife's eyes . . .

playful, longing,

asking me to rise

cloudless sky . . .

clear eyes after a

good night's sleep

two, the

number that settled

my soul . . .

crossing rainbows

kissing shadows

crimson sun . . .

mirroring the fields

below it

the plastic

cockroach she handed

me last night

at the mall, and a photo

of my ex-wife

sleeping with

carabao underneath

heaven's river

she nails

herself on the cross . . .

her father

placed on the christmas

tree they couldn't afford

shoots of grass . . .

a playground for

loose prayers

tonight we'll

put chili on the

ac wires . . .

our dog hates it when we

feed her to a shy moon

clumps of cloud . . .

saying no to an

outstretched hand

laughter . . .

somewhere beneath the

bamboo,

shabu shabu monks

bow to glass gods

twilight, the

mute song of stars

with stone eyes

inside the

the bayawak's throat . . .

a dragon

riding in the hollow

of a jeepney

sundown . . .

the unseen and seen,

lacing stars

jumping for

joy, the way we have to

bring a child

into this world . . .

drinking margaritas

her spirit . . .

a dove nesting

in clouds

i let you

be the whore tonight

like we wanted . . .

we kid ourselves thinking

God'll reward us

over now . . .

the curtsy of a

budding rose

they treated me

like a god, breathing

psalms into

the the lungs of bargirls

for ten dollars a night

a next time?

hundreds of black spiders

laying eggs

flurescent . . .

the in-coming tide

dances with

the shoreline like

a long lost lover

you set out

to do a job but . . .

feeeeeelings

the look

on the teacher's face . . .

at the bible

college when i skate

boarded down the hall!

coy smile . . .

the loves the way deer

sniff her limbs

become one

with me for an hour

and the world

around you, swallowed

by sea monsters!

yesterday . . .

the mute song of leaves

worries me

30 minutes

into intercourse, you

stop to pee . . .

and dont, your chores

the greater feeling

the unsaid . . .

how to use it

in a lie?

we share the

same dream,bayawak . . .

staring through

rusted bars at

granite buddhas

the unsaid . . .

buddha doesn't hear

a man's tears

what can live

in this green brown

water creek . . .

an old woman's

memories?

those eyes . . .

disappointment,

a fall leaf

her baby

on another island waits

for her to

take him home after

the final pedicure

the clash

of wind, the fading

of flowers

deep inside

maria's chest,

a poem

waiting for someone

she'll never see

you woke up,

Maria. A bad dream?

one cloud

can we

adopt a bar girl's

phil/am child?

pretend i'm the father

dancing with dugongs

will you hate

me for the blossoms

you can't have?

she said she'd

try once to bare

the child

we want but can't . . .

damned tubligation!

vigilant,

the trash collector . . .

thinking rice

having been

to hell without a

way out,

i don't always

think too clearly

robert d. wilson

©2009