Broken Glass a Biography

Utah JayStarred Page By Utah Jay, 12th Dec 2014 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/s2cw-bnr/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

I wrote this last night after seeing that I feel short and for what, surely nothing that matters in the scheme of things, a little biography, a true story that hope someone enjoys.

Broken Glass



Broken Glass


Life is a tenuous thing,
In order to survive
We must first be fit,
Strengthen our passions, our compassions,
That’s what they say.
It’s a simply thing really,
Just think of it as reaching higher
Than the length of our reach,
Dreaming that impossible dream.
No! No!
It’s not the clothes we wear,
The color of our hair.
How big our house,
How new our car,
Nor the width of our smile.
It’s all in the effort, in the motivation,
The drive of our minds, our soul,
Our desire to serve,
The way we fly
When our feet are nailed to the ground floor
As our whole world
Spins round and round,
Out of control…I told you
It’s a tenuous thing
This dream of being free
When no one is free
From the night, the darkness.
And no
I’m not impressed
With mercy, or kindness,
Or smiles.
Smiles are merely a contraction
Of face muscles.
Something that can be achieved
With a well place wirer
And nothing more,
But who is it that smiles these days?
The children, the wife, the little brother
The big sister,
Or me?
See me smiling now?
Now do you believe in monsters?
No, it’s nothing personal,
It’s just the way I am, the way God made me,
Changeless and eternal.
Having the ability to endure all things,
Be all things.
A rather large disappointment
I know,
In the color of our dreams,
The impossibility of my situation.
I told you
Life is a tenuous thing.
Now give it back!

Imagine



Imagine

The night, when out of darkness
Rises the abhorring sunlight,
What it must be like,
To be all things
To everyone and to be nothing inside
And all at the same time.
It’s sublime and relentless
The number of lives
We have to count
On each side of the great divide
Between the good
And the bad inside.
It’s how they manipulate things
As to how manipulative
You can be
Keeping separate
The good from the bad.
It’s very sad
Really
When you come to think of it,
To know the way of it.
Holding back your face from your smile,
Your plastic masks,
One for the light
And one for the night
In the realms of your round table dreams.
One face
That you keep in the morning mirror,
And the one you hide
Under your table at night
Where you keep it out of sight
From your loved ones,
From those
Who you don’t want to see
The monster who lives
Inside of me.

Human Beings


Human Beings

Are funny things
Thinking there is a divide
Between day and night,
Good and bad
And yes…Evil exist
Even in the brightest of light.
You see, there are no thin lines here
In this cold, old world,
Just variables , half ways
And sort of’s, and kind of’s,
Maybes and maybe nots
Between the comings
And the goings,
The buying and the selling,
A blurred effect
Between your heaven
And my hell
…I told you!
Life is a tenuous thing.

I Remember You


I Remember You

The very first time I saw you.
You were so very beautiful
That you scarred me near half to death,
But I had to have you.
I thought I was back in high school,
But I couldn’t let you go
Until I asked you
To have lunch with me
And we’ve been together
Ever since. More than thirty years now.
Oh Baby, I never meant to hurt you,
Put you so deep into my hell
Until we fell
Back into your heaven again.
I couldn’t have done this without you.
I couldn’t live that way
Again, not without you,
My heroine, my leading lady,
My love.
But it is a tenuous thing
Living on the edge, like this,
Ten years in the raw and thawing out
And yes, there was always a doubt.
I often wondered
Just how in the hell I lived
To be such a ripe old age?
Oh I know, I know
The good, they die young
But I was too damn busy
Out on the town having fun.
And these are the hidden wounds,
The pain from my mother’s womb.
That’s when it all really started,
This war inside me, inside my soul, my brain.
One side with my arm pulling
And the rest with the other
Each side trying to stretch me
To their side of the room, except Beth
Who didn’t want me in her family picture at all.
I told you it’s a tenuous thing…This dream.

What Was I


What Was I

Eight or ten
When the old man sent me
To the barber next door
And what do you know,
There sat little Boozy Walker
Waiting there
With his white, white teeth smiling
In his black, black face. What a sight to see.
And when the old man
In the barber’s chair
Who only had one hair
Was finally done and shaved
Behind his ears
The hair cut man looks at me
And says “your next young sir”
And I say “no man”
“he was here first, first come first serve” I say,
But he says “no sir”
“if I cut his- - then I cut his daddies too”
“well if he needs a hair cut man” I say,
But Boozy was on his way
And then me too.
I remember
We spent our daddy’s hair-cut-money
On coke and candy
Down at Fat Sadie’s Ice Cream Store,
And when we finally came home
Broke as a joke and hair too.
Well we both got ours, you know,
The old one-two,
But what did we care
We were friends forever,
And forever came
With Boozy’s overdose

Nine years later.

Oh God



Oh God

How I wanted
To be a boy scout,
Like all my friends
Each, a year older than I.
That’s when Marv came along.
He was a rather large man
I thought
To be a scout master,
But what did I care?
He took me in anyway.
He owned apartments and shops
And when one came up empty
We cleaned it up for Marv
In trade for a swimming trip
Or a sleep over.
That’s before I learned
What a pedophile was
And what would an eleven old know
About such a thing back in the day
Anyway.
He changed everything,
Marv did.
Oh I tried to fight him off,
But he was so big
And I was so small for my size.
I remember
After that I hated everything
And everyone.
I hated the scouts,
I hated my friends,
I hated the whole damn world.
No! After that
It was just me, the drunk
At thirteen,
Just me and my new friends
“Johnny Walker” “Jack Danials” and “Jim Beam” .

I buried what Marv did so ‘f-ing” deep
That I wouldn’t speak of it
At all
And to no one
For more than 47 years
And still it hurt.

I Told You


I Told You

Life is a tenuous thing
It’s how I learned to hate
At such a young age,
And yes…Hell yes
It’s how I learned to self medicate
Every little puff of pain,
But this was just the beginning
Of all the dirty little things
I kept buried in my brain
With booze and pills,
Heroin and cocaine.
And yes, oh my yes
Those were the days
When I couldn’t move a muscle
Without my daily dose of dope.
I know, I know.
I’m such a simple monster
Standing so thin and narrow
In the shade of the long grass
That grows down by the river,
And I know, I know
I’m running low on time.
But isn’t time like a river
In the way it flows?
To smell the sweet morning air
Is all I ever wished for.
Just to breathe it in
And hold it there
Cool inside my lungs,
Filling me with something more
Than I am, than I ever could be.
More than I could hope to be.
More than that beast
Who lives inside of me,
Inside my shady, shaky, sadness.
And as I think of it,
The cool, cool air streaming in, filling me completely
As the cold roof of my mind
Screams out for its revenge, its justice,
Demanding justice
Where there is no justice, no judgment,
No revenge,
And there the river flows,
Like my time in a bottle.
Like my time with a hand full of pills
Pooped for no one, for nothing
And a heroin high time
That still takes my life away after all these long and lonely days,
And the time of my new day dying
As I exhale into the night air
That once cooled breath,
The only thing I ever wished
In the hour of my judgment,
My un-equaled revenge

Floundering, like a fish on the rocks
Of the dead and dying summer days
Lost.

I told you…It’s a tenuous thing…This dream.

All Poetry and photographs by uTAH jAY

Do you have a dream to share? Well share it on wikinut and get paid.

Tags

Addiction, Heroin Abuse, Life, Love, My Heroine, My Life, My Love, My Story

Meet the author

author avatar Utah Jay
I have been writing since the beginning of time it seems, not because I want to write, but because I have too. My favorite form of writing is poetry, all kinds and types of poetry.

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Comments

author avatar spirited
13th Dec 2014 (#)

Drowning the hatred perhaps was better than living from it every day, and giving out that hate to everyone else, perhaps in the long run, this saved you just enough to later starting swimming in God's love.

We all walk such a tenuous path as you say, but it is at least our path, and all paths lead us back to God if we stay on them long enough I feel.

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author avatar Fern Mc Costigan
13th Dec 2014 (#)

Wonderful poem and the drive you have to publish one top class poem after another, cheers my friend!

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Dec 2014 (#)

Thanks Mark.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Dec 2014 (#)

Thanks spirited, I don't know. I started drinking at twelve and it ended 47 years later in addiction. It was God who found me. At the time I thought it would end in overdose and I was just fine with that, but like I said, it was He who found me.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Dec 2014 (#)

Spirited, I think I am here to write this book, but then I've been crazy for some time now.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Dec 2014 (#)

Thanks Fern, writing, reading and woodwork (making walking sticks/canes) and wood art. That's all I do.

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author avatar cnwriter..carolina
15th Dec 2014 (#)

incredible again Utah...blessings...

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author avatar Utah Jay
15th Dec 2014 (#)

Thanks Carolina, you don't mind if I call you Carolina do you?

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author avatar Sivaramakrishnan A
16th Dec 2014 (#)

You have seen the real depths but then nowhere to go but up and up all the way for a serene life that you enjoy now - a roller coaster ride indeed! Deep feelings so well expressed, thanks for this thought provoking share, Utah Jay - siva

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author avatar Utah Jay
17th Dec 2014 (#)

Thanks Siva, with addicts like me, here in the worlds richest countries, out of a hundred in a years time 60 are using again, 30 are dead, seven have dropped out of treatment, and 1 stays clean.

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