PTSD

Poetry and Conflict, Take One.

When in doubt, read poetry. Works for me. Besides, I'm going for a Mother's Day theme this week.

Attila Joszef

I really love you,
believe me. It is something I inherited
from my mother.
She was a good woman. After all,
she was the one who brought me
into this world.

We may compare life
to a shoe, or a Laundromat,
or whatever.
Nonetheless, we love it
for reasons of our own.

Saviours, there are
enough of them to save the world
three time a day and still nobody knows
how to light a match. I’ll have to give up
on them.

It would be nice
to buy tickets for a trip to the
self. It must be somewhere inside us.

Every morning I wash
my thoughts
in cold water.
That way they come out fresh as a daisy.

Diamonds can sprout
good warm songs,
if you plant them under your heart.

Some people will stay
pedestrians no matter what they ride,
horse, car, or airplane.

Me, I just lie around
in the morning song of larks
and still make it over the abyss.

Let us carefully save our
true souls
like our best suit of clothes
to keep them spotless for the days of
celebration.

posted by Elizabeth @ 1:30 PM