Greystone is neither grey nor stone

But, I feel its weight on my shoulders

What was it like when Woody Guthrie walked these halls

When Robert Zimmerman traveled from Minnesota

When Huntington’s and schizophrenia were as one

Would the wind still have blown and the times a-changed 

Whispers nag, voices in my head

Brush your teeth

Do your homework

Don’t be late

Make your bed

The world’s most boring schizophrenic make I

A Feeble Attempt at a Sonnet

Oh what thou art hath seen with eyes so pure

And words hath spoken loud for all to hear

Wilt not thy heart and lonesome path endure

Wipe away all doubt, banish all thy fear

Alone, alas, thy spirit wonders nigh

Among the mass of people, ghosts of friends

True blue acquaintances with thee ally

In search of the peace that comes with amends

But peace shall not be your fate in this life

Abandon your grief from innocence lost

Release it, revoke it, avoid all strife

Find contentment inside, avoid the cost

So long as you live, so long as you breathe

Allow not your grief to ensnare and enwreathe

Headaches damn headaches!

Thumping, pounding, banging, boom!

Headaches really suck!

I have a cat – a Kello cat

A big, fat, orange, flabby tabby that jiggles like Jell-o

Kello’s a lovable ol’ man of a cat

Bonded to my baby, he lets her do what she will

Flip him, flop him, throw him, and cuddle him so tight he nearly goes splat

Kello pretends he’s a stuffed animal all for her pleasure

He’s sweet and clean and nearly a perfect pet

Kello has just one flaw

He’s a stoner cat and this is no joke

If there is cat nip to be had, Kello must have it and have it right now

I tell you the truth, this sly little guy is dumber than dirt unless there is nip to be found

The stash he uncovers is wrapped up in baggies

But he scratches and gnaws and he works without rest until he gets to his prize

Then he chews it and snorts it and rolls all around in that pile of nip

This silly boy gets higher than high

He rolls on his back, paws straight in the air, eyes kinda glassy

And I can't help but wonder if he’s dreaming of HoHo’s, Ring-Dings, and Doritos, too

Tears stream down my hot, sweaty cheeks

My arms, my back and legs sting

Burning, bright red welts rise

I rest my face on the cool tile floor

My hair sticks to my face, my neck, it falls into my mouth

The baby is strapped in her highchair

Crusted with strained peas and pureed chicken

She cries for her Sippy cup dropped on the floor

Banging her fists and banging her head

She cries, she shrieks, she kicks the legs of her chair

I see his feet dangle above the ground

She holds him up by his wrist with one hand

Her silver slotted spoon in the other

Swoosh-ka-thump  – a blow lands on his back

He writhers and twists in the air, unable to get his footing

Swoosh-crack – a blow lands on his elbow

Swoosh-thud – a blow lands on his thigh

Swoosh-ka-thump, swoosh-clunk, swoosh-thud

Crying, I push myself up on one elbow

I reach into the air

Stop, I cry, stop you’re going to kill him

Swoosh-crack, swoosh-thump, swoosh-thud

Please, please, please stop I cry covering my eyes

She drops him and settles into an overstuffed chair

We both lay on the ground, we can’t look at each other

She lights a cigarette taking a long, deep drag

The baby is strapped in her highchair, the Sippy cup on the floor

Feed your sister, she says, make her stop crying or I’ll do it for you

Mescaline and mushrooms in plastic sandwich bags stuffed in the back of drawers

Nickel bags in the pockets of suit jackets stained with beer

Empty bottles – Coke, Rolling Rock, and prescription – festoon the living room

Grey cigar ash covers the coffee table

Passed out on the sofa in dirty pajamas

A half-eaten ham salad sandwich in one hand

A Leica IIIf in the other

A stack of die-transfer proofs slowly slips to the floor

Bills and envelopes addressed to Resident scattered on the ground 
The mailman pushes more through the slot everyday

The cat scratches his cheek against a stack of thirty-three and a thirds

Brigitte Bardot purrs on the Serge Gainsbourg album still playing in the glow of the amp – or is that the setting sun

At the dining room table, she tries to do the work brought home for the evening

But stares out the window

She takes her anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, anti-feeling pills

And goes to bed – maybe he’ll feel better tomorrow

There was a time when I longed

To be on the road

To travel from Bear Mountain

To Denver to San Francisco and back

I dreamed of dark coffee houses

Thick with cigarette smoke

And an upright bass, bongos, poetry

And hipsters, beaten down, smoldering with rage

Where isolation, alienation, and Thorazine seemed romantic

Where potato salad and Dadaism intersected on the grounds of Greystone

Where thoughts were like yellow roman candles exploding in your mind

Where games of William Tell were played and justice was arbitrary

Where madness seemed synonymous with living, talking and being saved

Oh how the road beckons

Intoxicating and enchanting

Anonymous and senseless

On the holy road 

Sartre said, “hell is other people”

And I know I’ve had days when

Pounding my fists at the sky, I screamed

Hell yes! They certainly are

Misanthropic self-pity is easy

When things don’t go your way

I’ve been there a time or two

Haven’t you

But people are really hell – in the worst way

When you need them so much

Desperate for love

Dependent

You’re left all alone

Fending for yourself

Unprepared, unskilled, and really not ready

Taking a drag off their cigarette, they smirk as you flounder

Of course, that’s not everyone – it’s just one or two

They cut you so deep

It’s hard to know what to do

Pick-up, dust-off, move on to the next

Most people, my friend,

Are as wounded as you

They’re desperate and dependent

And searching for you

There are monsters

There in the dark

Behind the closet door

No matter how much light shines in

They won’t go away

Persistent little buggers

Guard her confidence

Guard it well

It can be lost in the blink of eye

It may not happen when you say

No one wants to watch you play ballerina

But it could happen just that fast

It may not happen when you say

They only invited you for the present

But it might

It may not happen when you shrug off her efforts saying

Well, if that’s the best you can do

You just never know what will do it

So remember this

Your words are your legacy

And your gift or your curse

Without further ado, I give you a poem by Chippy!


We’re all looking at the clock, three minutes, two minutes.
 
The teacher doesn't realize no one is paying attention.
 
One minuet, my heart skips a beat a grin on my face as I exchange looks with my friend.
 
5. 4. 3. 2. 1. RRIIINNNNGGGGG!!!! 
 
The class shoots up out of their chairs simultaneously
 
Grinning from ear to ear I scurry back to where my backpack is, ripping it off of its hook
 
The front doors bust open as everyone trampling over each other.
 
The hallways flooded, it’s hard to breathe but I push on.
 
And I’m there, in front of the same bus that had brought me to this prison months earlier
 
A few minutes pass, but it feels like hours
 
Summer. Has officially arrived

For Baby

How can I prove a negative
How can I show you that I won’t leave you behind
I see you tilt your head when I go to work
Your dark brown eyes can’t hide your questions

Sometimes it’s hard to explain why I do the things I do
Like hand you off to that lady in white
I wanted to cry when I saw how you shook
But she brought you back with much needed medicine

I wonder what happened to make you so scared
How many times have you been left behind
How long will it take for your fear to wane
When will your days be without worry

How can I show you that you’re safe
Sometimes I get mad, it’s a part of life
But I’m more often happy you’re here
Actually, ecstatic and blessed with your love

How can I prove a negative
How can I show you that I won’t leave you behind
How can I show you that I love you, too

Heaven

When I was small, I thought heaven held all the answers
Like why does God answer some prayers and not others
And was there a shooter on the grassy knoll (I really did care when I was eight)
Why did God decide to make the sky and the ocean the same color
And why had God made me

I didn’t really care what heaven would be like
Like what would we eat or where would we sleep
As long as God would tell me all the answers
Did Marilyn kill herself or was it conspiracy
Do aliens live on other planets and do they speak English

So now that I’m tall, at least as tall as God made me
I still don’t know all the answers
And I sure do hope that someday God will reveal them
But now when I dream of heaven, I dream of all the people I know there
The family, the friends, and teachers, too
That’s really all I need for heaven to be true

In the desert, standing on the pillar, the monks pray at his feet
Water with cumin and pepper instead of wine
A few leaves of lettuce for sustenance

He forsakes his mother and his life
Though he longs to run on the soft earth
He stands on one foot to prove his love for his God

I don’t understand even though I thought we worshiped the same God
Where is the happiness, where is the forgiveness and the grace
My God is the God of joy and love and life

When I needed help on the swing
He was there and he pushed me higher and higher

When I didn’t understand my chemistry homework
He was there to explain it again and again

When I hosted a screening of Triumph of the Will for a school project
He was there to make sure the conversation remained civil and safe

With every break-up I endured, his heart broke a little, too
And with every success I achieved he beamed even brighter

So when he got sick, I wanted to take care of him
To make him comfortable and to let him know he was loved
But he said, don’t worry, I’ll always be there for you

Even now, ten years on
Out of the corner of my eye
For a fleeting second
I think I see him standing there
Watching over me

Luke 24:1 – 12; 36 - 42 – On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.

TULSA, Okla. — Two men were arrested Sunday in a shooting rampage that left three people dead and terrorized Tulsa's black community, and police said one suspect may have been trying to avenge his father's shooting two years ago by a black man.

While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” Then they remembered his words.

Police identified both suspects as white, while all five victims in the rampage early Friday were black. Police and the FBI said it is too soon to say whether the attacks in Tulsa's predominantly black north side were racially motivated. Police spokesman Jason Willingham said that investigators are considering many possible motives but based on Facebook postings, revenge appeared to be a factor.

When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles. But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense.

In a Thursday update on Facebook that appeared to have been written by 19-year-old Jake England, he angrily blamed his father's death on a black man and used a racial slur. He said Thursday was the second anniversary of his father's death. "It's hard not to go off," given the anniversary and the death of his fiancée earlier this year, the posting said.

While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”

A family friend, Susan Sevenstar, told The Associated Press that England was "a good kid" and "a good, hard worker," who "was not in his right mind" after losing his father and the January suicide of his fiancee, with whom he'd recently had a baby. "If anybody is trying to say this is a racial situation, they've got things confused," said Sevenstar, who described England as Cherokee Indian. "He didn't care what your color was. It wasn't a racist thing."

They were startled and frightened, thinking they saw a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.”

Acting on an anonymous tip and backed by a helicopter, police arrested Jake England and Alvin Watts, 32, about 2 a.m. Sunday at a home in Turley, just north of Tulsa. The two men were roommates, and officers went to their home, then followed them several blocks to another home, where they were arrested without incident, police said.

When he had said this, he showed them his hands and feet. And while they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement, he asked them, “Do you have anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence.

The Rev. Warren Blakney Sr., president of the Tulsa NAACP, said the arrests came as a big relief. Black community leaders had met Friday night amid fear over the shootings and concerns about possible vigilantism in retaliation. "The community once again can go about its business without fear of there being a shooter on the streets on today, on Easter morning," Blakney said.


Matthew 28: 16 – 20 Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”


This morning we processed and sang
We read scripture and hunted plastic eggs filled with tiny pieces of paper containing the Gospel
We prayed and worshipped
Alleluias filled my heart

We gathered for the feast of Eucharist
Then gathered again for our family feasts
The day was fully infused with You, the living Christ
And I felt hopeful and saved

But sin and suffering don’t take a holiday
My heart dropped and filled with sadness
Then I remember

Even for those that are depressed and desperate
Alleluia! You are risen

Even for those who commit senseless and despicable acts
Alleluia! You are risen

Even for those who leave their families in the middle of the night to make communities safe
Alleluia! You are risen

Even for those who mourn today
Alleluia! You are risen

Alleluia!
Alleluia!
Alleluia!
Christ the Lord has Risen today for all sinners, including me.





Note: The news article came from The Huffington Post

By JUSTIN JUOZAPAVICIUS Associated Press writers Rochelle Hines in Oklahoma City and Erica Hunzinger in Chicago contributed to the report

Gethsemane

I want to stay awake
The grass is soft and cool against my face
Let me slap my cheek and pinch my arm
But my eyes are just so heavy

I want to keep watch
Leaning against this rock is comfortable and relaxing
I’ll change positions so it’s not as restful
But my body is just so tired

I want to pray
The night air is perfect for sleeping
I will keep my mind focused on you
But the temptation is just so overwhelming

I know you’re only asking for an hour
I want to comfort you in your sorrow
To stay awake, to keep watch, and to pray
But I am just so weak and so I sleep

Some holidays

Some holidays just feel like they should be captured on infrared film
The John’s Hopkins forensic lab
– one of the few places that will process the film –
Scratches and tears and bends the prints expecting them to be filed away in some doctor’s office

Weeks later when the manila envelope arrives, it’s ripped open with hopeful glee
The pictures show lots of smiles and hugs, kisses and grins
And a table groaning under the weight of perfectly smoked meats and potatoes mashed just right

The colors are vivid but the reds a little too magenta and the blues a little too purple
And it’s all shifted just a little towards green
Like the unspoken skeletons that permeated the day with a gentle mist of derision

Dayenu

Why is it so hard to pray to God, Dayenu, and mean it every single day
It should roll off my lips a thousand times, times ten

Had He brought us out of Egypt
No question, Dayenu!
Had He split the sea for us
Of course Dayenu again and again Dayenu!

Had He given us Sabbath, or brought us into the Land of Israel
Had His son fed the poor, healed the blind, or died for our sins,
Dayenu! Dayenu! Dayenu! The most joyous song falls from my lips
I dance in the grace of our God

But when I pay the month’s bills I can barely sputter a thank-you to God for paying all the bills
When I lie awake at night stressing my troubles I can barely acknowledge my warm comfortable bed
When I have that certain craving that I can’t quite identify, I’m tempted to curse God rather than feel blessed by all the healthy, tasty food I have at my finger tips

So this year I will again eat my unleavened bread and charoset, my Easter bunny’s ears and hot crossed buns
And when I next toss and turn, I will tell God if you had given me a soft bed and not given me a cozy blanket and downy pillow
Dayenu, it would have sufficed

Some days it’s hard to find words
Everything swirls so fast
Like Dorothy’s tornado
An image whooshes by but
Like Miss Gulch on her bicycle it’s gone before I can grab it

The smell of gardenias, sweet and thick, tickle the back of my nose
Grandma passes the green beans and bacon to grandpa
Sorry sweetie, she pats my back, didn’t mean to reach

The smell of gardenias mingles with burning oil and hot exhaust
We’re almost to grandma’s house she says and smiles at me
We bounce along on the hard seat of the old VW

The smell of gardenias is faint on my homemade Barbie dresses
Barbie and Stacy prepare for a day at the beach while I slip on my footie jammies
But then we decide it’s time to dress for a wedding

The smell of gardenias envelops me as I cry
My head on grandma’s lap I wanna go home
Of course my mommy will be awake and waiting for me at 2 AM I plead

The smell of gardenias, sweet and thick, tickle the back of my nose
Look at this great new perfume I found, my daughter squeals, isn’t it divine
Yes, I smile, I love that smell

Yesterday my friend, today you’re not
What changed; My body wash scent
Is my cell too old with too few apps
Perhaps my curls don’t flip in just the right way
Or my clothes bear the wrong label

Today my friend, yesterday you’re not
The fortunes of sixth grade; you’re way too fickle

Two little words hang in the air
Like bricks above my head
Ten centimeters he says
I must be jumping to conclusions
New treatments he says
I must be misunderstanding
My mouth becomes dry and so does his
He flips through the chart
My temples pound
There’ve been others with good outcomes he says
But what is it I whisper, hoping
We’ll get you into a specialist he says and leaves the room
I must be wrong
But I'm not