Nelsapy

By Kirsten Voris

I was going to let this anniversary go unacknowledged.

I must have known it was a big deal. I wrote it in my calendar. One year out. July 26th, the day I took the decision to sit down for a specific amount of time, on specific days every week, to write. No matter how I felt or what else was going on.

Guess what?

For one solid year I have been sitting down, for a specific amount of time, on specific days of the week to write.

I wasn’t going to mention it. But that’s just false modesty. And feeling shy about outing yourself is counterproductive when you’re in the business of writing personal essays.

You might be wondering how I did it.

I had some help. From the Tucson Writer’s Table. What we do, is write. For two hours. Together. At a table. Every Monday. After…

Your body is not small.

The total surface area of the human lung could be spread to the height of a brachiosaurus.

If you want to heal,
you must first
find every bruised place.

Your body is not obvious.
It sheds forty thousand cells
every minute,
and who knows how many of those
were the last to remember
the bruising?

Just in case,
count their ancestors
in your census
of pain.
Even a cell can inherit a wound.

Next,
you must tell somebody
where it hurts.

You have to be specific,
and this may take some time.

The human heart beats 100,000 times per day.

If you want to speak to someone about the beat that was broken,

they will want to see it. They will have to search for it.

They will sift through everything you keep in the pockets of those rhythms.

Together, you may find some old…

I bought Twinkles because I loved her voice, and right away I knew that there was something special about this bird.  The owner of the Pet Shop told me that she was a rare cross breed between a canary and a puffin and she may be the only one of her kind.  I was looking for a canary and I didn’t know anything about a puffin bird, so I asked the guy if puffin birds puff up like blowfish.  He said that would be very cute if they were able to do that, but their name stems from them having a dense and puffy covering of down feathers when they are babies and this keeps them warm when their parents are out hunting fish.  He told me that he had been feeding this crossbreed tadpoles, which it seemed to enjoy and he said that he always kept a fresh supply…

I forgot that my water had been shut off because I was late paying my bill and when I woke up this morning I headed straight for the toilet.  Ranger hates the noise made by the landscapers when they cut the grass, but I never expected to find her hiding inside of the toilet bowl and hey, I had to go really bad.  I filled her treat bowl and showed it to her and she climbed out of the toilet.  This can’t be a cozy place for her, but it is only natural to hide from danger and I guess that cats will hide out any place where they feel protected.  It is scary and confusing for her when she hears the lawnmowers, and even though they come every week, I don’t think that she will ever get used to these scary monsters being outside of her home.

She has always…

പുലർവെട്ടം / Pularvettom, Morning Reflection / Meditational Morning Message Series by Fr Bobby Jose Kattikadu OFM Cap. Source: – Official Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pularvettam.book/

yielding —

Sanity gets all I’ve got.

The eyes of the storm
Blows my every thought.
So, I’m forced to learn,
And know what I’m not.

I still fear the repetitive,
The near and the tragic.
I still confined to time,
And double yellow lines.

I still steer, not to collide
With an oncoming traffic
In my ever tireless mind.
– I am just trying to live.

© R|CARDO.

RS:REV||VER
— Ricardo Sexton

silhouette —

– The shadow
that follows me;
It is not the one
that avails me.

If I walk, it walks,
If I run, it runs;
And is happier than I
Doesn’t get sick or die.

© R|CARDO.

RS:REV||VER
— Ricardo Sexton

self detached —

I was grieving for the loss; it’s clear
Your love was a part gift, part theft
A last farewell hug on a sinking pier
A carousel that has no children left

Then I laid there among the carrion
Thinking its flesh would gain flight
I’m the passenger with no carry on
I’m no stranger to strife’s oversight

A guessing still messing me around
As I’m always lost and never found
Itchy, homesick in blues hometown
Chasing a break and clues to perish

Shouting prayers from their religion
A blind shot at glory. A fair decision
But, you belonged somewhere else
Beyond the sum of care for yourself

© R|CARDO.

RS:REV||VER
— Ricardo Sexton

the finger —

Since I was a kid they point me it
In Lady’s eyes I can sense: “angst”
I grew up thinking… I was worse!
I’m a thief by who robbed me first

– The pot calls the kettle “black”.
I got to take it back; or I do that,
Or everything would be in vain;
…what My Ancestors bled then.

Where I come from, “ALMOST
EVERYONE DEPEND ON ME”.
Here, everyone dreads my NO!
And everyone expects my YES!

– From the peak of these hills,
So many… plead for my LIFE.
– From the top of skyscrapers,
Plenty… hope for my demise.

I stand. In the eyes of a Mother,
I can understand… my Brothers.
I promise to solve our problems;
and do it in the most honest way;

And yet they will call me: Thief!

© R|CARDO.

RS:REV||VER
— Ricardo Sexton

no deal —

– Inventing senses to “Life”
While the sky stays silent
For, “Happiness” is divided
Between hatred & passion

Maybe one day, you may
Still pause for a moment
– To remember… at least
“One Thing” that is gone!

– “Love” is now a business;
Though the deal is wrong
“Peace” won’t sleep a wink
Unable for the above sum

I ask myself… – “Why do I
Tend so much in persists?”
– When no one else wants
To know; or cares it exists

© R|CARDO.

RS:REV||VER
— Ricardo Sexton

jack and jill —

– Sanity is exchanged for a Peak
Spoiler alert… “Everybody Dies”
A flower attempts not to speak
And a conspiracy nobody denies

Fear not its cell. Under is above
It still simply a ‘good nightmare’
Sweaty bodies try to sell a love
Leaving a misunderstood stare.

Remain “Free”. Passion is prison
Chains agree; the scent is poison
Look Up. Nonsense brings down.
The hill’s feet are broken crowns

© R|CARDO.

RS:REV||VER
— Ricardo Sexton