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Poetry Short Stories The Birth of -Gatlin

Therapy

I

They used to have aweful fights.
His hand would break windows
As he would try to reach for her.
Try to get to her.
Just because he was drunk
And wanted to beat up on her.
I never seen it.
I was always sent to my room.
What I saw was in the morning
Of the next day.
Where I saw sometimes the broken 
  front window
The broken car windshield,
And the clothes spread out 
On the back yard and hanging from the tree.

I always continued to do 
My morning routine
And get ready for school
While they were both gone to work.

II

My mother tried to commit suicide
It was some night
I had worked and cam home
To where I found my father yelling
   into the phone
So I had gone to my room wanting
   to avoid him
But he came in, Throwing my door open
And he said to me
That she was gone
She had taken a bunch of pills
And had walked out of the back door.
He told me I should go and find her.

I wasn’t the one to find her, 
But I am the one who does care for her.

III

I had came home one day
To find all my father’s belongings gone
I
Called my mom on the telephone
I had been laughing at the time
Why?
I was happy he was gone
But I didn’t realize
How much trouble it brought.
With dollars still due to doctors
And dollars still due on the house.
We had to sell cheap and leave
Without a penny to out name.

Yet we made it through

IV

It’s happier times now
Yet I think about the past
Memories to often surface.
I’m told to let it out.
I  call it therapy,
But I think It would be better
If I just forgot the bad things
For they take away too much
From what is good.



Night Outside

The quiet outside
I can hear the night
Beyond my window
So still and peaceful
And laying here
I can feel it’s cool breeze
On my naked body
As it’s gentle wind run’s it’s hands
Through my hair

There are distant sounds
A constant stream
Of tires on a road
But so steady
That it is motionless

Then a bird sings
Out of place with the painting
I notice it, think upon it
Then turn over in my bed
Feeling the warmth 



Passing Time

Moist
Soaking through the cloth
My back is wet

The dew has came,
Already, with the cool air
That is easing through the grass,

While i am looking
to the sky, and
seeing a streak of color,

Purple blue stretching,
A rubberband across the sky.
What is it?  as it reaches to the full moon.

Then there are the stars, suns of light,
Dots placed across open terrain
All joining at this point

for me to see.
I have always 
Enjoyed the night.
			        


There is still more to see

I came from a mother’s womb
Into the world with innocent eyes
That vanished when he turned
His hand through the window
    to meet her face...

And I have never seen the deer run

I group up in a cell in which
I  tryed to cut 
                        myself off from everyone
Not wanting to open my door
And see him there laying on the couch
Gaurding me, his paternal prisoner

And I have never seen the deer run

Turned sixteen, got a lisence 
got a car,
And drove as far as I could
Coming back at the end of the day
Too afraid to escape

And I have never seen the deer run

Shortly after my eighteenth birthday
I came home and his stuff was gone
I laughed and called my mother
And she sighed a tone of relief
We were free

But I had yet to see the deer run

Shortly after he left, the money
It was short, and the bills were many
I joined the army, thinking 
it would help to pay the bills...
I went to another place

And I have never seen the deer run

I came home, disgraced in my heart
I said lies as to the reason why I 
came home so soon...I failed
And no one knows the truth
but me

And I have never seen the deer run

Now back at home, money is not the problem
My life seems  easy, and I have seen so much,
but yet
Still I have not seen the beautiful deer
Running, across a field



Bedtime

I opened my bag to put in my books for another day, but once opened I looked inside and seen
the day I've made it through and I thought...

Is this my life
Old books out
New books in
Nothing in between 
Nothing else to do

My birthday is coming up
I'll be twenty
Am I close to death
Why does it keep bothering me

I close my bag with my new books forgotten, wishing I could accomplish something to make me
live on.  Something so that when I die, I do not die.  But will I live long enough to do 
that.

I stumble to my bed
Sleep
I hope I wake up tommorrow...



George Washington in Illini State Park

Pioneering president walks 
upon a well walked ragged line,
No beach, but shore.
To watch the river flow
And he sits in his tired soul
Upon a bench.

His life long ago had
started the nation and
lead it.  The leader he was

	Gone now he sits along,

Now he is at peace
And watches the river,
A wind slightly pushes
it’s way through the trees
behind him.
The mellow grass, rustling
as fall leaves run across 
the empty behind him.

The river, again the gentle wind.
The river, being caressed by this 
It’s gentle widow’s kiss,
Solemn is the late day,
As the orange blossoms set under 
the bridge.

The pioneering president closes his 
eyes,
And disappears into the wind.



Have you heard the song?

Have you heard the song
It rings out through hollow halls
Echoing off of Empty doors

Do you see the castle
It’s my castle
        made of gold
	rubies, and emeralds scattered
	   Blinding, even in moonlight
It’s my castle
						But so far out of reach

Have you heard the song
Blasts out on the forever rainbow
Trying to Burst in on me
	clouTRUTHed

The clouds, over head
Speeding fast daynightdaynight
Time, the hands on the clock spin
And I feel the rain
Sprinkles cool in my skin and I laugh
And dance a rain dance daring
The clouds for more

Have you heard the song:
“Life is but a Dream
Sha-boom, Sha-boom



Untitled

Our own mortality
Life
Can end in...

Sitting in a chair
As a frost freezes
And a feeling inside
Says it's time...


Broken World

The dark woods have me
Trapped off the path.
Desperate,
	pushing forward against,
Hitting against a tree
that attacked me out of the black
	   -Above the leaves block out light,
		Any light for me.
I stumble forwardback
Thorns piercing through my flesh
As the pain tears my chest.

Early in the night
They had a fight
Before my knowledge
Before what was said
When came in my cell
And brought me in hell
He had came in then
And my world broken

He had came in 
And told me to find her,
Said the pills that were her painkillers
Where taking away her hurt
	-The hurt he blamed on others,
So I went to the woods.

I came into the woods
Looking for, hoping not to find,
Deaths shadow easing through the brush.

The woods were alive, filled
with hollow sounds.
A noise scurring through
the tall grass far off path.

I left the path
Lost soon in it’s darkness
The black void that had swallowed
Behind my footsteps.
The surrounding silence was deafening.
I could hear my own tears fall
Patpat, Patpat as they hit dirt
THRraouhhhh-the thunder in my ear.

Then I cam through the lost woods
A light-guiding, had dragged me out into
streets,  The town on the otherside.
	-Could she have made it this far?
If the woods or town
	-A needle in the haystack
Help is needed or I’ll never find her...

Down the street, a group,
People who know her
	-They care for her, they’ll help

I go to them.
Walking to them...

I don’t know how to be, 
How to act,
The emotions going through 
my chest,
The city smashing tornado lashing
out at me,
The lion at home, me the cub
looking for my milk
With the fear of it being forever lost.
But what should I feel
Hate for the one who spurned,
Love for her who is lost
	-Who may never return
Or is it pain.
      lovelosthistoryleaves...or no.

I go to them, my face wet
with my own red rain,
And they search with me.
So that the lsot can be found.
But before we travel far, red
lights flashing
	round and round
	       fast flying
the dove savior flys past,
And I run
Following the wings.

The tears of relieg pour
short-the moment doesn’t last,
As he comes,
	-The lions anger screams,
The kings tyrany still reigns,
Prides perfection yell to those
around him.

Her painkilled tears still fall
as the dove takes her
to heal away from her mate.
She goes-safe
But I stay in the Lion’s den
Awaiting her return.



Epitaph

How do you mourn 
A character of Imagination
Even though 
Through many years
He has lead his way 
Into the hearts of millions
And has gathered a following
More loyal than to the president
Of their own country

So when he dies
A hero death
Alone
As he had prophesized
How do you mourn his death
The death of a hero
Who has lived in television
:Longer than any other
And has been apart of movies
To save the planet, the universe
And the space time continuum.

How do you mourn the death
Of Captain James T. Kirk
Do you dismiss it as a fictional death
Or do you shed a tear
For a fallen hero



A.O.D--A.I.D.S

Daylight night
I search the sky
Like an angel for love
I am the angel of death

I come down and mingle
Find a chosen one of innocence and...
Take it away
Then take the breath away

I am the angel of death
Brought forth with no regret
To take away the chosen ones
Without innocence, they're done.



Loss

Red darkness, my eyes close
The night drags on
Death stands in front of me
I'm all alone

Death you beast
The brute of man
Why do this to me

  The knees rot
  Pain, cold strike
  The numbness, vacant
  I'm all alone

Death, please
I plead with you
No!

They come, demon men
Taking her from my arms
Try to stal her form my tears
I hold her, I cry

Death, you are the devil
Leave her
I offer me!




I see no need up in the sky for more torture chambers and bingo games
                                                       -Kurt Vonnegut
Will and Testament

What I hope for death
I do not wish a hell
Fires burning post-mortem flesh
And my soul painfully ripped from my chest;
Devil do not take me...

What I hope for death
I do not wish a heaven
The Lord's lovely song in my ears
My sadness lost to happiness
Lord please don't take me...

What I hope for death
I wish for an end
    (no hell's fire)
    (no Lord's song)
Just an end

It's strange that (people) fear death.  Life hurts a lot more than Death.
At the point of Death, the pain is over.
                                                               -Jim Morrison