The Iron Hippo

Somewhat rough, a little melodramatic but here's to poetry and exhaustion...

She laughed and I laughed
"Isn't sad we're both fat hippos?
The hippo or hypocrisy is in every individual 
It is relative in size and sometimes can't be tied
Hypocrisy and Irony
The laws of life that torment us
Because our parents taught us and the worlds' rules forced us

God has an arsenal up in his heaven
His favorite knives to use are
Hypocrisy and leaven
The forbidden things that can cheat you out of heaven
They sleep close together inside his drawer 
Ready to be drawn to make us poor
Poor you poor me
We're both worthless meat
We stab at each other like we have critique that's concrete  
We use our tongues like little flames to burn and sear at our own mental chains
Because we're hurting, and need someone to blame
Hypocrisy: telling others or correcting others who are in the wrong
Like your hair is ugly
Or you're seeing this relationship wrong
Isn't funny how we're all great fat hippos 
bellies full of iron irony 
to feed us when we hungry
But the Iron Hippo will never be slated, its taste for inconclusiveness leaves us to be hated   
By ourselves
For others
By others
And for ourselves
"Isn't sad we're both fat hippos?"

That Post That Was A Poem.

Inspiration struck- I typed, this is the result. A lonely poem posted out of the blue because well... I had to! 

Shall I say of myself I long to be unhappy.

Shall I say that happiness

Like cheap gum loses its flavor quickly

That to be happy for one moment too long

One moment spent happiest

Is the most unkind

That sadness and discord of the soul

Are what fuel this mind to keep out mold.

But then shall I also say

That music

The best of sorts

The kind that lifts your heart and eyes to

Look heaven word

Well, this I shall say

This is the music I enjoy

Shall I also say that love and all things holy

Are what I crave for myself

That the peace of goodness

Is the sense of whole-ness.

Shall I also say that there is an infinite struggle

The fight for fright and life

The battle of two separate minds

Logic and faith

Fish and bait

Wanting to be early

But then again being late

The being and the maybe will be

The has been and the now it’s hurting again

Shall I also say there is an infinite struggle

That leaves my mind in mushy puddles

If I ponder too hard what will I say of you?

I should invalidate your taste and person

I should not let you affect me in person

I should shut you and I away in separate boxes- boxes of light and dark

Of mind and heart

But this is not of art

This is out of not wanting part

I don’t want to hurt you

I don’t want to love you

I don’t want to make you part of me

I don’t want to look at the inside because indoors is where ego goes to horde

Stores and stores of priceless precious opinion

Stores and stores of mooring-less points of derision 

Everything in me wants to run away

Run away

Block out

Shut up

Shut down

Shut out- open the door

shaking and anticipating

that maybe something hopeful may come out.

Shall I say of myself, I long to be happy.

Shall I say that the presence of hope is the best way I know how to cope.

Shall I say I love to be happy

Shall I say of myself, the pain is worth the sunshine

That the sun will shine

That happiness can be mine.

-dh

TheMOS: The Past.

 “I hate looking back on old photos. In fact, I stay away from them as much as possible.” 

She announced, her eyes were hard with defiance and an immature flame of anger.

“Really? Why?” He asked, flicking a cookie crumb off his sweater.

“They’re stupid, they’re just embarrassing. I think living for the future is living now. Plus, my old self isn’t even me, people say I wasn’t that bad but trust me, it was really bad.” She had a tinge of bitter laughter in her voice as she lifted her wine glass to her lips.

“Well didn’t that sound like a journalist’s answer. How about for real? Aside from your work, there’s really nothing except embarrassment in your old family photo albums and home videos?”

“Yeah.  Plus, if you think about it, if anyone ever finds those old things, think of what it could do to my social life!”

“I’m sure your other friends were just as self-assured and blissfully rebellious as you were in eighth grade.”

“No, I’ve seen their pasts. They all had great childhoods.” She exhaled and then looked him straight in the eyes.

“So-” She started.

“Are-” He paused and then continued.

“Are you ever tempted to look at them-?”

“No.”

“I wasn’t done.”

“Oh?” She said lightly and took another sip.

“Don’t you ever just want to peek? just to see how far you’ve come? To me, that’s what those old memories are for. They’re for living happily in the now and feeling good about your future. If you could be the person you are now with that past, who knows what you could be another fifteen years from now?” Her face changed, her hard brows expanded and the stress in her jaw relaxed a fraction. 

He knew she was still annoyed, still running and definitely still fighting to be right.

 But he could see, she knew, they both were aware that he had gotten dangerously close to convincing her that she was okay. Close, but no cigar.

She swept her hair off one shoulder and threw him a look across the table,

“Well then, maybe you should be the one writing for the papers.” She smiled a bit, and set the empty wine glass down on the table with a faint clink. 

dh

TheMOS: PLUGGED IN

A bedroom door creaks open, light washes through the dusky room aiding the small desk lamp that’s lit in the corner on the desk where books are piled high. A girl sits hunched over and inches away from her textbook and phone which are sitting side by side on the cleared space on the desk. The light from the screen illuminates her face in a sickly blue wash, her twisted head phones entwined and connected to the device like some alien umbilical cord.  

“So I talked to Chris about his sister today.” The girl announces who just walked in. The other girl removes the head phones but not taking her eyes off the screen. The gadget blinks and notifies her of another reply.

“Hmm…?” She answers back to the girl standing there.

“You know Chris’ sister was in the hospital earlier this week for attempted suicide, right? I know I told you about it.” The other girl walks to the bed and sits down on the edge, leaning forward on her knees.

“Oh, wow, yeah. Now I remember…” Blinks, rubs eyes.

Silence.

“Don’t you want to know how she’s doing?”

Silence.

“Yeah, sure.” The screen blinks again, this time vibrating the papers beneath it a little. This time it’s a photo notification.

“She’s okay. She’s stable and everything. The doctors want her to go to rehab or something for a while.”

Silence.

“Chris doesn’t want her to go to rehab because it’d mean she would be moving for a while.  Honestly, I agree that isolation like that would not be a good idea for her in this situation. Don’t you?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Aleah, Chris’ adopted sister, she shouldn’t go to rehab.”

“Why not?”
“Ugh…you don’t even try… do you even care?”

“Yeah I do! And what do you mean I don’t care? I do care.”

“Then why didn’t you respond when I told you about her going to rehab?”

“Who? For what?”

“Aleah Carpenter, my ex’s adopted sister who I used to be really close with and we got along really well. That girl.”

“Sorry! I just forgot for a second. Gosh, you’re so temperamental…”

“Sorry! Maybe you should get off that stupid phone one of these days and actually listen to people. I guess it’s not like you’re obligated care about Chris’ sister anyways, even if she did just try and murder herself.”

“I’m sorry okay! I’m just really stressed with school right now, the texts were from my professor.”

“Oh, so you’re just too busy right now?”

“Yeah-”

“Great! Fine...”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it? Anyways I’m leaving now. You can study in peace.”

-dh

TheMOS: Peace/comfort.

He lie awake in bed, one hand loosely tangled in her hair and the sound of the ceiling fan whirring lulling everything into reflective thinking and memories. He was thinking of what he missed the most back home at that moment, thinking of home and thinking of peace, quiet. Comfort.  

One thing was for sure: his comfort was vastly different from hers. He was tall, broad shouldered and well built. He was often the one whom people went to for their own comfort and ease. He was friendly and huggable. But He had a very different sense of when things were the most comfortable to him, the most familiar and most safe of all places on earth. She loved bookstores, fresh sheets and overstuffed furniture which made her feel cozy and safe inside and out. Small things ensured her own personal peace in an instant. But for him, he only had one thing that really settled him. 

That place was the dock at Morrow Cliffs, by the sea and a few miles away from the closest market. The dock went as far as a mile out to sea, worn by the wind and salt but sturdy and old and craggy as an old fisherman. The bolts in the wood were rusted and crusted over with grime and the lamps along the way were dim and foggy. The dock was almost always empty and that’s why he loved it so much. To him, solace was found simply in being alone, with only one way back to the shore and the wide open sea at his back.

He had nowhere to run but he had the choice, at least, to go back.

Go back, walk the two and a half miles to that market and get a drink and maybe a sandwich. It was all simplified; there at the dock. Life was distilled into that one choice.  And that made him feel at peace more than anything.  

TheMOS: REGRET

The light above us was dim and amber yellow, throwing tall greenish shadows against the tiled walls of the kitchen and making the room feel very empty. Nights like these were not rare, they were in fact a regular thing we enjoyed now. Sitting quietly, sometimes talking, with lukewarm coffee mugs in our tired hands and resting our elbows on the dining room table. The moon was high in the velvety blackness outside before she said anything. Then her quiet, emotional voice broke the silence:

"When we had gone our separate ways I realized I had never had any intention of listening to him as a partner, a lover or a friend in any long term effect. The whole time we were together we didn't listen to the opposite’s heart or mind."

"How did you stay together then?" I asked.

"We had been very open, we shared a lot." She said frankly, her hazel eyes thoughtful. But her eyebrows were drawn together as she continued,

"But despite that, we couldn't stay together in the end. It was too much and we seemed to be okay with that by the end. We had dated for three years..."

"What a waste of your precious time." I said with a look I hoped she'd interpret as sympathetic. 

"No," She responded quickly, "I'd say it was more like a huge waste of an opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?"

" For both of us to grow up. If we had only stopped for a few seconds to think of how we could benefit the other, I think we would still be together." The tone of regret was deep in her voice as she said the last few words. She sipped her cold coffee and sighed.

"We'd better get some sleep..."

Series Kick-off: THE MEMOIRS OF STRANGERS

All of the next few posts are about fictional people and fictional circumstances that I've thought often about or have had randomly pop into my head and written down. I strive for realism and lifelike description in this series so it may come out sounding quite bland but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways!

-dh