pour the waves (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Oct 12 2009

Some days,
the music just has to be loud
loud enough
to drive out all temptation to believe in lies
to drive out the numb that doesn’t try

The music just has to be moving enough
to keep me moving
has to remind me of
everything that matters
everything that moves
there is never
nothing
I can do

I can do
something with this
even if it’s
just feel it
even if it’s
just be here

be here
and don’t leave
don’t obliterate myself
on rocky shores
don’t release my grasp
don’t follow their lead
this is what there is to believe-
this is all there is
and this is all that matters

some days
the music just has to be loud
loud enough
to remind me

I just have to be needy enough
to pull it in
anxious
angry
enough
to demand more

pour the waves
pour the waves
pour the waves

my skin is bare
my throat is dry
my stomach waits
my heart aches

pour the waves
pour the waves
pour the waves

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Field Work- documentation is so important (by Rebecca Chasteen) Saturday, Oct 3 2009

There is a psychology to everything.

You’ve got to know
I gather my field observations
and slide them under my microscope…

you’re still driving me crazy
your hands are still warm
warm
on my skin

they are still
the only hands I ever really want

we don’t even have to talk
I can hear your thoughts
we could go forever
we could sit in silence
it’s really all the same

That’s what I already told you

That’s just the truth of us

there’s not a stitch
wrong with what we sew

we hold our borders well
until-
for just a while there
I thought we were mindless
we were
shaking everything down
we were
going to lose all our senses-
drive away,
never come back

I get it
I’m right there with you

I’m placing your hand in mine-
it fell into me this time;

you
aren’t ice
you don’t just shimmer past

what would you have done
if your name rolled off my tongue?

That has me drinking
That has me holding on

my god,
you are
exactly…

you need more time, so do I

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Life’s Breath (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 29 2009

I’ve always loved the recklessness

the road warned against

supplies

the breath of life

comes from choosing feeling

the road suggested

comes stealing conviction,

suffocating belief,

handing out grief,

it will work a spirit till it’s weak

and considers falling in line

happens all the time

to even the most headstrong

poison in the heart

making it all seem wrong

making what’s not

look so good

making what is

look like something no one would

hold on to

And the choosers forget why they choose what they choose

and don’t know what is true

or what to do

clarity comes

in so many forms

looks like perseverance pays-

seeking the soul of things

till

the chooser gets back the reigns

and can see

what it feels like

to have been right

from the first step

of recklessness

the gritty sweet

of life’s breath.

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Tamper proof (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Sep 24 2009

This is
keeping my head above water
keeping my hands off those bottles,
most of the time

this may be a lie
but this is mine

I
do more than survive
with this inside

I own everything-
everything is within my range

as long as there’s room for movement
within this

I wrap myself in it,
it cushions every fall,
it walks with me through every wall…

this
may be a lie,
but this is mine

and this is
keeping my head above water
keeping my hands off those bottles

most of the time

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Pilgrim Heart (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Aug 20 2009

I’ve got a pilgrim heart
it gravitates
to caverns
and mountains.

Move
spirit
move.

I seek You
in every place
I ever go,
In every face.

Faith and love and light and rest
coincide with
darkness and
dirty hands.

Deliver,
design,
guide,

my heart’s travels.

Keep me close
and in the perils,
substantiate
every thing.

I dive in
to lakes
and graves
seeking every permutation
of beauty,
every version
of love and faith.

You are every where,
I am set on
finding You there.

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The Axis (by Rebecca Chasteen) Saturday, Aug 15 2009

The sadness

just

carries-

same as always.

The same ache,

and there’s no one

waiting.

We are worlds apart,

galaxies between.

And somehow

that doesn’t dull the drive,

the curiosity,

the hunger,

the need.

It doesn’t slow the sadness

at my axis-

that which I spin upon-

can’t separate myself from.

Who would I be

without this?

Would I stop moving?

Would I combust?

Would we…

Of course I can’t ask that

we still have lightyears to cross.

We have so much darkness to navigate,

so many rocks and ice and  flames.

I can’t do anything with this

but repeat it.

All these arrangements of letters and words,

to say the same thing.

Of all the things that change

this isn’t one.

This is

strange gravity,

pulling, spinning, ignoring me.

You are

so far,

so much.

I can’t touch anything

without the greatest efforts and manipulations-

just for seconds of hope I squeeze from your stars.

I miss everything we never are.

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Steady Line (by Rebecca Chasteen) Friday, Jul 17 2009

I see the steady line
of you and I
in the folds of time

it’s never been
anything else
no matter
how far
no matter how little
how much

we touch
on that line
so easy,
it’s hard to follow

but we’re free from everything-
you and I
on that steady line

I promise you
I saw it there
all along

I find hope in standing here
looking forward, looking back
all the roads we take
fall to, or from this track
and they all lead here

it’s what I know more than what I feel

because I feel
everything
and I usually fall down
waiting
or move forward, almost
giving up
throwing out crumbs for you to follow
forgetting you know the way

the way’s the same-
some things don’t change

I see the steady line
of you and I
in all the folds of time
Don’t you know
there’s no right or wrong?
Haven’t you known that
all along?

I’ve known
all along
about you

we are both
wind and sun
we are everywhere, there’s no where to run
we are everything, underneath it all
it doesn’t matter-

walls
fall
and there,
behind,

you’ll find
that steady line
of you and I.

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Pretty (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Jun 29 2009

Don’t be so surprised by pretty mouths full of dirty words-
the dirty is not the part that hurts.

Everyone knows
pretty only gets you so far
and it’ll come down to
what you’ll swallow
and what you’ll spit,
what you’ll reject
and what you’ll stretch or shrink to fit

Pretty mouths
have to learn
“Me first”
and
“Fuck you”
or even
“Fuck me”

Pretty mouths have to be
able to say “No”
and spit it with conviction

Pretty mouths
have to practice non-pretty ways
to secure attention

Pretty mouths
have to be willing
to dirty themselves
with
sex and money and politics,
with opinions and arguments

Pretty mouths
have to put out
exactly
what they’re told to take down
so their voice
makes it’s way around
the teeth and tongue and lips,
all the things that rest on the tips…

I’m not saying pretty mouths
can’t gloss it up,
can’t pout it out,
can’t pour out sweet,
and drink sweet down

I’m not saying pretty mouths
can’t move as they choose-
but a pretty mouth that won’t get dirty
may lose all there is to lose

So don’t you dare lay out
fairytales
for little lips
from the spoons of your mouths

Don’t enchant them
with dreams that someone else must fulfill
(because no one can and no one will)

No-
feed them
honesty and the power of vocabulary
that spans all the things they’ll ever taste or
have to demand or
suck away from someone else
to make sure they have enough for themselves

Feed them love and feed them the gritty,
just don’t feed them
the crutch of pretty.

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Debtor (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, May 24 2009

(1/31 to 5/25 2001)

O My God,
You overwhelm me.
This is more that I’ll ever deserve.
What a heavenly gift!
I could never earn such joy.

You are consistently
the sunlight that
warms and fills me
after savage storms destroy me
and leave me
ransacked,
cold
and incomplete.

I’ve allowed so many
clouds
to devour
your complete essence;
I began to believe in darkness
as reality.
Then there is no happiness,
there is no free-
only chains of pain and yesterdays,
bad dreams and restlessness that won’t go away.

But the darkness lies.
And it’s hidden the truth from these bloodshot eyes.

I’ve come to understand this:
You are my only peace,
true motivation,
chance at beauty,
and inspiration.

And even as I flounder and fall,
vainly cry out and call,
run everywhere but home,
and wonder why I’m so alone,
You never move from me.

Even as I move from myself,
even after I’ve ignored You,
You never refuse to help.

I’m constantly
rediscovering
Your Divinity.
And I’ll gladly be
forever
a debtor.
For I’m full to the top,
And my cup runneth over.

“You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” Psalm 23:5

This is probably my favorite of the older poems from this time period. It was the completion of a section of a journey; it was the mountain I’d been climbing for so long with so many tears and words and months.

The beginning stanza always makes me uncomfortable, it’s so unabashedly praise-full. It’s no small feat to be in that place. I’m not really a “Praise Jesus!” with her hands in the hair kind of girl. That’s just not my style. But there are times that I am a face toward the sky, palms facing up or resting on my heart, silent tears down my face kind of “O My God” and that’s what this is.

This is resting at the top of that mountain, love and peace and purpose shaking my soul. This is the understanding of “us”, God and me. The love, the relationship. God is still the “sunlight that warms and fills me after savage storms destroy me”. God is still my freedom. God is still my beauty, motivation, inspiration. God is still my perfect parent- covering me, understanding me, guiding, waiting, pulling, forgiving. I say nothing of love here specifically, but this is love: grace, warmth, presence, patience, light; arms that never close. That is my God, as God has always been, and always will be.

It is this love, the acceptance of this love that changes people. Nothing will change you like accepting this kind of love. From there, anything is truly possible. Full to the top with this kind of thing makes a person brave with belief. Makes a person willing to take part in daily miracles because they can now see how many opportunities there are.

And the misconception here, the reason I think so many times we aren’t accepting this love, is because we feel we can’t earn it. But the reason we can’t earn it is not because we don’t deserve it, it’s because it’s not up for the earning. It is there, always, from the beginning. It is there for the taking, as soon as we allow ourselves to take it. The idea that we are not worthy is not of love. It’s not of God. Nothing about God supports that line of thinking. Don’t believe that. Don’t believe anyone, any thing that makes you think you need to be anything other than what you are to have love. Those are lies. And we all know the master of lies. Don’t buy his crap. He’ll sell you anything that will keep you down. Satan is a loser. His darkness is an already defeated lie. Don’t waste time on it. Just take love. Open, free, encompassing, love. Take it. Break and break and break until there’s room for it. And keep breaking if you have to. I know I do.

Everything else will come. Just take love.

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Of Dispirited Disposition (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, May 24 2009

(1-21-01)

I fall so much you’d think I’m blind.
I let this world keep polluting my mind.
I can’t stand.
I fall constantly.
And I seem to be
in my own way more than anything else.
I hold back myself
with all my contradicting desires.

My drive is feeble.
It barely moves me.
I feel so unable.
I can’t seem to be
anything I dream-

Only what I despise;
self-absorbed and insecure.
I’ve forgotten what matters.
I don’t know myself anymore.
I can’t find anything worth fighting for.

What once moved me
has moved from me.
I’m clinging to the past.
I’m striving for what I once had.

I gave up on myself too quickly.
Who will have faith in me
if I have no faith in myself?
And if I can’t love me
how can I love anyone else?

How can I strive to save others
when I’m sinking
into nothingness?

Aimless desperation
clouds desire and expectation.

I want to be
so much more than what I am.
I need truth, motivation, and beauty.
Lord, I need your hand.

“Come to me all ye who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” Matthews 11:28

I’ve always loved the first line of this one. It kind of makes me laugh, it flows, it’s exactly how it feels sometimes…The part ” If I can’t love me, how can I love anyone else? How can I save others when I’m sinking into nothingness?” is what stands out here to me, because it’s still something I have to work on, particularly in my line of work.  I have to have love for myself, within myself, before I can dole that out to anyone at all. I have to have hope, I have to believe, I have to, or not only will my life suck, but I will be fairly useless in helping anyone else do anything positive with their life. Not that I can’t be sad or feel afraid, but that I have to stay away from that dangerous spiral down from which it is so hard to see any light at all.  It’s nice to have that push though, that it’s not just about me, it’s about the people around me too (professionally or personally).

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