Friday, July 22, 2016

A Half Wing Short Of Flight


I hash tag drudgery
with planned procrastination,
erase some thoughts,
put a lock on my tongue.

A half wing short of flight
I camp out in my dandelion nest
waiting for the sky to deliver a sign.

Three shadows closer to frantic
I spoon feed my spirit artificial calm
and pray patience isn’t a written exam.

Just before despondent reaches wit’s end
magic pockets its glitter to jewel
my silver lining with heartbeats of onyx.

I always thought angels wore white,
but the ones dropping at my feet looked
more like mourners in their tar feather best.

With claw and caw they plucked self pity
from my breast while admonishing,  
“Sitting won’t bring the wind’s urge to soar.”

Like a cloud stealing doom they rise to pencil the sun
with a watchman’s oath, “We’ll be your eyes
when midnight curtains your view.”



Tuesday, July 19, 2016

The Woman I Am


"Lend your voices only to sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength to that which you wish to be free from
Fill your lives with love and bravery
And you shall lead a life uncommon"

Life Uncommon ~ Jewel



I am not war
I am peace

I am not division
I am unity

I am not a voice in the desert
I am the microphone

I am not chained
I am free

I am not tomorrow
I am today

I am not in a man's shadow
I am the light

I am not a token rib
I am the spine

©Susie Clevenger 2016


Thursday, July 14, 2016

My Elpis


Drunk on sea breezes
I brush stroke my hallucinations
across a virgin canvas.

There are no streets,
no crust throated complainers,
no dreamers without vision.

A willing target of my muse’s arrow
I feel the blood letting of imagination
spill from my hand in rainbow colors.

Optimism stares back at me
bold eyed, scarred, unconquered.
My Elpis freed from Pandora’s Box.

©Susie Clevenger 2016




Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Few Can Bear The Wait


Everybody is looking
for an answer, but
few can bear the wait.

Too long is a prison song
whitewash can’t erase.

There has to be more
than sidewalk blood
writing names into tears.

We can’t hear if we
choose to be deaf.
We can’t see if we
choose to be blind.

Too many feet
walk the divide
while peace cries
from common ground.

Freedom, every soul
begs for freedom,
but acid tongues
keep throwing stones.

©Susie Clevenger 2016

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Prescription Tour Through Addiction

Yesterday I posted this as my Facebook status.

"Another day closer to breaking my addiction to Neurontin (Gabapentin). What else would I call it? I have experienced itching, nausea, (social) + general anxiety, depression, Insomnia, anger, pain. I never abused the drug, just took it as directed. I am not advocating everyone who is on it to stop taking it. I am talking about myself. I would get up in the morning and experience what I call Neurontin drunk. I stumbled, my thoughts jumbled, speech effected. I have been stepping down from the drug for months. I am finally down to 30 mgs from my highest dose of 600. Yes, what else would I call it but addiction when I want to say screw it and go back to taking it again so I won't have to deal with "stepping down." Charlie has been patient, thoughtful, and loving through the process. I am so grateful he is there, my girls and for prayer, my own, and those who have prayed for me, those who have spoken kind words of encouragement. I am getting there one step at a time."

I feel so guilty about ever letting myself get to this point. Fibromyalgia had me in so much pain about ten years a go I was desperate for relief. It was the perfect set up for addiction. Forgiving myself is part of the journey. I know it will come.

Prescription Tour Through Addiction
  
Ink ticket poured
into a bottle,
a prescription train
tour through addiction.

Pain brain feeds
on who you were
as a pill morphs you
into who you aren’t.

Back bends from
the monkey on your back
grinding lies into white powder.

Exits fly by faster
than your will can reach.
Today empties your pockets
while tomorrow begs for change.

Addiction is a cat with nine lives.
It purrs so loud it drowns the sound
of reason urging, “If you get off here,
you can cut that bitch down to eight.”

©Susie Clevenger 2016

My struggle with Neurotin is why I recently wrote and posted this poem.

Dandelion Strong

I am moon, the northern star,
the wild woman gathering
mulberry shadows.

I am weed, dandelion strong,
growing where impossible
fertilizes the soil.

I am wild moon weed
turning shadows into star light,
a dreamer resurrected from killing fields.

©Susie Clevenger 2016

Friday, July 1, 2016

Dandelion Strong

I am moon, the northern star,
the wild woman gathering
mulberry shadows.

I am weed, dandelion strong,
growing where impossible
fertilizes the soil.

I am wild moon weed
turning shadows into star light,
a dreamer resurrected from killing fields.
  

 ©Susie Clevenger 2016

Friday, June 24, 2016

Cigarette Burnt Whiskey



This bar smells like cigarette
burnt whiskey with a splash
of Saturday night desperation.
I’m having a hard time wading
through the hormones splashing
against my shore, yet those
green, sea glass eyes of yours are
tempting me to test the water.

There is something about
the hook in your pickup line
that makes me want to get caught.
I feel tiny lust fed goosebumps
pepper my skin with raised flags
of surrender, but my brain
has a Baptist sin book preaching
I haven’t even reached the bottom rung
of Jacob’s ladder from my last backslide.

I don’t know why I’m arguing with myself.
I’ll bookmark hell with a few more
of those guilt shaming sticky notes,
and find out just how far we can swim.
Even if we’re star crossed Shakespeare failures,
it will beat babysitting that wilted bar flower
next to me who keeps bleating about
how her ex didn’t appreciate the amount of
cash it took to keep her in heels.

©Susie Clevenger 2016

Real Toads ~ Bits of Inspiration ~ Amber Rose Tamblyn