Saturday, 11 November 2017

November's Tears (November 10, 2017)

Once more
November's gray skies
Hover over my soul
Draining me.

A time
Where death comes forth
Like the fiery Santa Ana winds
Claiming it's due.

Find myself
Struggling to keep afloat
As the holocaust threatens
To consume me
In it's embrace.

Time isn't 
On my side.

As the growing darkness
Looms larger
Upon the horizon
Before me.

For the coming downpour
That leaves my soul
A frozen shell
In the desolate landscape.

As I have one foot
In this world
With the other 
Straddling the line
Between life and death.

That November is
The month of death.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: November 10-20th, is one of my darkest period on the calendar, in which, many somber remembrances and anniversaries are observed. On top of my SAD that usually last from November to mid--March, before I can leave the grip of severe depression. Although, over this past year I have been dealing with a chronic depression, except for brief periods, hasn't left me.

Monday, 18 September 2017

The Reversal of Dorian Grey (September 18, 2017)

We're told
That gray hair is
A symbol of wisdom.

And yet
Why do we make
These same mistakes
Over and over

Like we're trapped
In an endless loop
That only ends
When the power
Is disrupted.

Is it vainglory
Or a sign
Of our hubris
That we try to hide
Our aging shell?

Viewing it
As a sign of weakness
To be despised
And hated
For our impending

Coating our locks
In a colourful sea 
Of natural
And artificial dyes
Like it never happened.

In a flawed attempt
To deceive ourselves
That the biological clock
Will stop for us.

Of one's wealth
Social status
Or income level.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Over the past 6 weeks, I have notice more and more gray strands in my hair, whenever I look into the mirror. I realize having spent almost 5 decades on this plane of existence, this would eventually happen to me, but thought it might be delayed for another year or two. Why I may not like this, I won't be lining up at the local salon or drugstore, to purchase this false sense of youth, in dying my hair to an unnatural shade. Having already tried this, earlier in my life. While I liked the look, it didn't last long, as my hair rejected the dye. So no blue hair rinse for me. 

Saturday, 9 September 2017

Freeing The Gorilla (September 9, 2017)

Once more
We stand
On the brink of madness
As world leaders
Rattle nuclear sabres.

In heroic poses
Like a 19th century statue
Covered in bird droppings
And other waste.

As egos direct
The tilting windmills
Towards North Korea
And Washington, D.C.
With their eternal dance.

Where political dogma
Reigns supreme
Over logic.

Rattling the metal bars
Of the zoo cage
By the trapped beast

To release it
Is utter stupidity
Of the highest order.

And yet
We have done so
In our anger.

May the heavens
Forgive our follies
For doing so.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: I fear the rhetoric of President Donald Trump will inflame the worsening North Korea crisis, to the point, one side or the other will renew the fighting. Thus breaking 64 year truce, between the warring parties. 

Wednesday, 6 September 2017

After The Tears (September 2, 2017)

They fall
From the heights
Of Mt Olympus
Down our face.

With the toxic slurry
Of our lives.

Those times
We've been told
By others.

We're bleeping useless
Pieces of waste.

Never stopping
To realize
These words were
Never meant for us.

The outward expression
Of those speaking
Their own inner hate.

Scared and envious
Of us
In our boldness
To be true.

By being
The ultimate person
We can.

In saying
I love myself
Despite the hate
Tossed at us.

So wipe away
That bio-hazardous flood.

And remember
Their words can
Only have power
When we give it
To them.

A hard thing
To remember
As our soul crumbles
Under this weight
But necessary.

For Rome 
Wasn't built
In a single day.

Shall our healing be
Until that day arrives
Please be gentle
And compassionate
To ourselves.

For we shall have
Our good and bad day
On this journey
To wholeness.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Reaching out to someone, who's having negative self-doubts on her healing journey.

Post Labour Day Thoughts (September 6, 2017)

The parade is over
Marchers have gone home
Leaving behind their garbage

Protesting against
The favourite cause
Of the week.

A dwindling voice
From another era
And time
Of the union movement
Searching for direction
And relevancy.

Where true equality
And gender rights
Are yesterday's news
Meant to be forgotten
As last year('s) failures.

Replaced by
The latest brightest
Sexy causes and slogans
To be chanted.

As another generation
Is lost and forgotten
By society.

They're solved
And logged
Into some dusty
And forgotten
History book.

As a single mother
Struggles to feed
Her family
Living below
The poverty line.

That $15/hr wage
Won't cover
The basics
Of her expenses.

As social assistance
Punish her
With their draconian
Claw backs.

As she sacrifices
Her present
For her children's

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Under Ontario law, a person on social assistance (general welfare or disability) can earn $150/month, before losing 50% of the additional gross income that's reported to their caseworker, from their assistance cheque, until it's all claw back. Regardless, if one is receiving welfare or disability, these people are living well below Canada's poverty line, as food banks have become part of the system for getting the bare minimum of their food needs, to avoid starving for the rest of the month.

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Thursday morning thoughts (August 31, 2017)

Gray skies
Fills the morning view.

As if
Someone had forgotten
To tell Mother Nature
It's still summertime.

And not

Next Tuesday
The kids go back
To school.

Are the falling tears
The raindrops
Of nature?

She sheds
With hope and lost
For the coming years.

Drowning us
In a seemingly endless deluge
A wall of water
That falls
Day after day.

Like a colony
Of drowned rats
We crawl forward
Towards the tunnel
Of muted light.

Moving blindly
Into the muddle
We call
The future.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: My second new poem that I have written since July 1st.

Saturday, 26 August 2017

A Dream Postponed (May 10, 2017)

To some people
I am
A freak.

Who dreams
Of giving birth
To my own children.


Genetics stopped
That biological clock
At conception.

Without great risk
To myself
Or my developing child
Outside of the womb.

How do I explain
To you
This feeling
Of incompleteness
I have.

In the early days
Of the late 1920's
And early 1930's
Doctors would've transplanted
Female reproductive system
From cadaver donours.

My chance
Of a normal pregnancy.

At great cost
Of rejection
For the transplanted organs.

Unlike today
Tissue typing
Wasn't done.

And anti-rejection drugs
Weren't developed

As many transwomen died
From the shock
Of organ rejection.

And still
This siren call
Beckons me

Of one day
Being able to hold
This bundle of joy
With stem cell research.

We are cis
Or transwomen.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Given my age and medical condition, this remains a dream for me.  

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