As like my poem “Last Time” I am going to let this piece speak for itself first — and allow whoever reads it to not have their perception of it affected by my own until after it has been read.
Of Worthlessness & Worth.
I forgive you.
Because you’re worthless.
You took something from me.
Because you’re worthless.
Something I can never get back.
Because you’re worthless.
I’m a better person now.
Because you’re worthless.
I have perspective and understanding now.
Because you’re worthless.
You are worthless.
I hope you become of worth.
This world needs more of that.
I hope you become of worth.
Bitterness is a poison.
I hope you become of worth.
My wish for you is to learn humility.
I hope you become of worth.
People do not need the pain you are capable of weaving.
I hope you become of worth.
I will never stop loving you.
I hope you become of worth.
Be worthful.
This poem has a bit of a double meaning for me. I have written it to represent my journey about a betrayal from one of my very closest friends of whom I cannot any longer give myself to. They hurt me too much, and in a way where as egotistical as it sounds; they do not deserve my presence. Ever again.
This poem also represents me speaking to the woman who molested me in pre-school. I have not been able to express anything about it in writing since I first remembered of the ordeal in high school. It has taken me this long to write something towards her.
As usual, this piece has given me great release and closure from these experiences. I feel I can properly move on now.
On a more positive aside — this is the very first thing I have written in my new book for poetry. It was purchased during a friend’s birthday at the Renaissance Festival this past weekend and is pictured in the featured photo. 100% handcrafted paper and hand treated bound leather.
I felt this piece was the perfect starting point for this new book, and for this chapter of my life where writing is once again a part of me. I feel whole again.
Thank you for reading.
If you have interest in reading anything else I have written please check the Table of Contents, here.
Feeling like the story about this poem is much more interesting than the poem itself. My friend Dave that I met in Hawai’i while we speak infrequently now, is like a brother to me. He ended up having to go back to Maine before our first semester completed.
A few nights before he left town us and the rest of the Ohana went out for a night of fun. Dave and I decided that we were going to hold on to one cigarette in each of our ears for the whole night. To see if we could make it last.
Both of our cigarettes made it — discolored from sweat, though his broke in half. I remember sitting on a log after nights’ end watching the sunrise. I believe we were all together at that time. Myself, Jack, Kainoa, Kisa, & Dave. Gavin & Neal were not a part of the festivities yet, unfortunately. While sitting on the log I pulled out my pen and wrote this poem on the cigarette that had made it through the night with us.
I read it then and there to Dave, and smoked it by myself fairly saddened — after he left the island.
Cigarette for Dave.
Here’s a cig from me to you,
It wasn’t the last, nor one of the few.
Just remember when it’s over, it’s not through.
Yo guy, hit me up when you need a true crew.
— To my Maine-iac in brotherly arms.
Dave and I chatted just recently about getting back together again one of these days, or in Valhalla. Whichever comes first. I can’t wait the give the asshole a giant hug.
No long article today, didn’t have the time as there was real work that pays the bills to be done. New poetry, though!
Had a conversation with a friend yesterday. I was being supportive but truthful. He wasn’t exactly happy with me but I wanted to tell him I care in the only way I can, honesty.
I told him I love him and care about him multiple times, regardless how angry he may feel at my words. He didn’t walk away from the conversation and we ended it on, I feel, really good terms.
I got to thinking about how often I use the word love, which is quite often. I love to use the word, and I mean it when used. This is about being more free with the use of the word love. The kind of difference I think that can make.
Send Love.
A word held so close to the chest,
it’s as if it was directly in tune,
with your heart’s,
best —
beat.
What if we didn’t hold it so close?
Sure, a higher chance of being morose, romantically —
what if we toss that stance,
romance.
Love of family and friend,
let it be free,
allow it to support,
give it a lend.
There’s a lot more can be done with a kind hand,
eye,
or voice.
You just might find in due time,
if you give love a send,
Keeping right in theme of my School piece posted this morning — I present a poem I wrote in September, 2008. I believe this is the very first thing I wrote when I first got to Hawai’i.
The impact of this poem is still there with me. I wish I had better kept in touch like I planned, but such is life.
Homesick.
Where I found myself, is not where I am now.
Where I am now, is not what it was then.
I am happy here, maybe moreso.
But I can still look over my shoulder,
and hope there’s one of you there.
We rise in September,
And don’t fall in the summer.
I love the weather, my new friendships, and my school.
And in the end, as the sun creeps slowly down the horizon.
My mind loves to wander towards every little moment,
I spent in the alley,
I spent at the 19th street hill,
I spent in Thailand,
Mexico,
School.
I miss all of you,
And every moment you spent helping me find myself.
I love you Sep kids.
And can’t wait to visit.
Looking back, I think this is a fairly positive and calming piece. This was a good time before I began my real descent into madness. The featured photo in this post is the first photo of me in Hawai’i I can find.
Two new things today, rather than one old. I got inspired last night to write my first poem in years. A poem about one of my best friends, Tony. I don’t have a picture of him to use, and he wouldn’t want it shown anyways.
I don’t know his last name, because I never cared to ask and he never cared to tell me.
Tony was homeless but boy was our home together in our hearts. Tony gave his life for me and I will never forget him for it.
Better Than Sex.
Remember that time you told me shooting up was better than sex?
How the needle would make you feel inside, when you would flex.
This may be the most important thing anyone ever told me,
Meth, Coke, H, etcetera, or Ex. I tried it all, except for the next,
Level,
Shooting it into a vein,
I felt like after Tony told me if I did it,
I’d never be the same.
I wish Tony had a chance and became,
something,
more than a man who gave his life for me, and proved to me, a virgin my vein,
would take no blame.
Tony passed in an embarrassing way,
He was in the dorm bath-room,
needle in his arm.
Head cocked back with saliva to drip — on the floor soon.
Something I wrote March 2nd, 2010. I think at the time I was feeling pretty abandoned by a lot of my friends because we didn’t have much in common anymore. I had to be sober due to legal and mental problems, and they did not want to subject me to any substances that could hurt my recovery.
I know now that they were just trying to support me in the best way they could, but that doesn’t mean that in that time it didn’t hurt. I do not hold on to these feelings any longer, but I feel like reflecting on this piece and by extension our lives — can teach us something.
Former Self.
I find it funny,
That my family and my girl are the only ones who see me for me.
Not who I was while smokin’ trees,
I kinda like feelin’ the breeze,
to fall and heal a scrape on my knees.
What is it with people and the falseness they precede to breathe?
A fakeness that presides to feed into selfishness and greed of this once arrogant steed.
He used to need,
now the mind’s open and free,
the crises left to a solid creed.
Leaving behind those breaching the void,
with a broken future to avoid.
Annul this boy of his past’s ploys for he paints a bright picture he now deploys.
Unsure of the moist sponge in his hands, the picture has now plunged into a plan, facets collide and make a stand.
See me for me.
And not the former self canned.
It seems my plan worked. I no longer recognize the person featured in the photo as myself. Photographer unknown, but I believe it was one of my friends whom we consider ourselves Ohana — they know who they are.
I want to preface this piece by saying that I have a good amount of friends and I care for them all deeply. Moreso than I can express. This is about one friend, though. The one whom through most length in my life has always accepted me for who I am and loved me regardless. Without him I do not know what I would do.
Not shortly after my mental break with reality I told my friend Alex Thiessen.
Alex Thiessen is not just a friend. Alex Thiessen is the closest and best friend I have ever had in my life. He is not the only person in this category, but he does have a category of his own within it. Just as each of my friends does.
Alex Thiessen literally owns a piece of me, and not by choice.
He is someone who I am uncontrollably myself around. Whom when we do not speak for days, weeks, or months at a time — it feels as nothing. We are the same as always. Like a rock in the sea. Life bashes against it and it changes over time, but in the end it is always the rock. Ever the rock.
It was not but 60 seconds into the phone call that Alex told me he was flying himself to Hawai’i.
You have to understand — I was a nineteen year old recently bailed out of jail/mental rehabilitation center dragger on, and he was an eighteen year old hard working, putting himself through college badass.
Alex didn’t think twice about dropping everything to come and see me. And I didn’t have to wait long at all. If I am remembering correctly, I was able to pick Alex up in the used Lexus that was purchased with one of the last drops of my college savings — which wasn’t going to legal fees, less than a week later. That car was too good for me.
One of my favorite things about Alex is that whenever I get around him I just want to spend time with him. We were always using our imaginations and playing trading card games. We can talk about video games, Pokémon, comic books, really any kind of media that until recently wasn’t all that accepted in pop-culture — for hours.
Even though Alex and I are odd ducks that got into real trouble in our teenage years, we never got into any with each other.
I think, mutually, we never wanted to be a bad influence on each other and we never wanted our parents to dislike us spending time together. So when Alex and I spend time together, we spend time together. It’s almost like no one else is there, because honestly I don’t think in those moments they are.
I think something that people don’t understand about true friendship is that it is true love.
I have a relationship very similar to Alex that I have with my wife. I tell him everything. Everything.
Alex is one of the friendships in my life where I have true love for him, and him for me. We always try to end the phone call by telling each other we love one another. There is nothing subtextually or overtly sexual, but I love Alex Thiessen with every fiber of my being. He is one of the greatest people I have ever gotten to know in my life and we have both helped each other improve as human beings over our time together.
The morning after Alex arrived, the first thing we did was take the car for a walk to go to the rental store.
I can’t remember if it was a Blockbuster or not but I do remember that we grabbed a few movies and video games. The games being Prince of Persia (2008), and Infinite Undiscovery. We also grabbed an unhealthy amount of junk food and soda.
This was further rehabilitation for me, support.
Something that I believe anyone from any walk of life who goes through a hard time needs. I had a lot of support from a lot of people, which a great many people unfortunately are not afforded — and that is a tragedy. There is a lot of self-fulfilling prophecy that goes on in a person like myself’s head & life when we do not seek and gain the support we need to function.
Alex’s support was exactly what I needed at that time.
I’ve been trying to find a meaning within the words to end this piece on and support is the word to focus in on. I could probably write 30,000 more words just about Alex, but I think being as concise as possible can more often than not get the point across most clearly.
Please support your fellow humans, you do not know who they are or what they have gone through.
I feel if we spend more time supporting one another and less time judging one another then maybe we can accomplish more than we already have as a species — and that is a pretty cool idea to think about.
Give a homeless person extras while walking to your car, give a glass of water to a person working in your home, give a person who looks alone just a little bit of your time and introduce yourself. Just a little can do a lot. I have seen it and experienced it myself.
Support and give to your fellow human beings, you never know when they need it most. Give them friendship. Give them love.
Trevor's Notepad 