Tag Archives: personal growth

Tougher (60yrsb20yrs)

January 1, 2020 By in poetry Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

comin’ up fast don’t fuck with me
twenty years older than dad ever got 2b
doc says my blood looks fuckin’ good
livers living good
bloods pumpin’ good

got nothin’ 2bitch about
no tears 2cry
someday in 40yrs i’m gonna die
’till then just get outta my way
’cause nothing you do is gonna
stop, stop, stop me

im tougher at 60 shit
than ive ever been
been fucked with
fucked over
and still standing and strutting
not being knocked down
so fuck you, you, and you
for thinking im gonna stop
or even take a dive
to make you feel good

still kicking, alive, screaming
bloody murder and never
gonna give up my path
’cause im tougher now
than i ever ever have been
’cause 60 is gonna b my 20
more is comin’
just you watch
just started growin’
watch your back
watch your ass
im havent even started
with you yet

copyright 2020: all rights reserved

photo: 1cufflink 3wedding bands 1set of ivories (Herdic Inn, 2020)

four-1 (yrs) on no1 2tell

December 15, 2019 By in poetry Tags: , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

stories told
days left empty

four-1 (yrs) on no 1 2tell
re: battles fought
victories claimed

success i 8
shoveled on my dish
w/o rhymes or metre
2 make cents
out of nonsense

all that flow, flow, flowing
throws me out of kilter
words splinter my soul
visions unknown

seeing all i believe
believing all i see
me 2 believe in me

so mean rt now
full of btw
thrown like darts
missing bulleyes
missing battles

losing lost (again)
finding new challenges
living new stories
told in
four-1 (yrs)
2 no1

copyright 2019: all rights reserved

photo: Rt 549: 41 Yrs on. (Mill Creek, 12/19)

Stillness Now

November 26, 2019 By in poetry Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

stillness in the form
of the hawk circling
above aging headstones
and my timeless love

warm sun embraces
the tops of my bare feet
and the grass–their grass
tickles my toes and soles

i am here now with them
meditating at their resting places
breathing with none
of the urgency–of the fear
they had so freely given me
when they walked Earth

the sun drifts lower
as evergreens and the hawk
protect me and my breath

yet i feel safer with Mom and Dad
hearing them speak
directing me to tell
my brother how much they love him
sharing that greatness
is headed my way
confident that my ex
will do well in her new life

hawk, trees, sun
all breathing with
my bare feet resting
in the warm cozy grass

literally grounded right now
i re-affirm my pledge
to not get wrapped up in doing
and instead endeavor
to embrace being

stillness now
forever now

Thirty-Nine Years On

May 14, 2018 By in blog, poetry, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

 

July 14 2015 Sedona and Phoenix 093

 

How broken me nineteen
Bits of pieces scattered around
A room, rented
Out of money
Out of home
Out of love
Out of time
Nothing but a razor in my hand
And determination to stop being

No hero me
Just a child felt tossed away like scraps
For the flies and carrion birds to feed on
This homeless victim orphan drop-out

T-shirt faded
Wrapped ‘round my bicep
Shiny razor in hand
Scratching, scratching, scratching
From wrist to elbow to wrist to elbow
Steel and skin waiting their final
Dance into oblivion

Eyes mine saw hand upon my steel
Mine all mine all mine all mine
My choice my action made so ludicrous
Just then and then and then and forever

Hand mine holding death’s instrument
Like a pen in search of my blood’s ink
This is what I am doing to do what I must?

Homeless orphan drop-out failure loser me
Put down that blade
Loosened the stained t-shirt
Felt blood flowing just then
From wrist to elbow to wrist to elbow
Still within my veins beneath that scratch

No disappearing that day or nevermore
No matter labels no matter wounds
No matter pain no matter losses
No matter solitude no matter fears
No disappearing that day or nevermore

Turning pain into prose poetry
Suicidality into intuition empathy wisdom
And all that into abundance love bliss
From weapon of self-destruction to warrior
From self-hating to sending healing
From lost in darkness to flying into sunrises
Living each day each moment each now
Even during this glorious anniversary
Thirty-nine years on

Copyright © 2018 John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
Photo: Sunset Rainbow (Sedona, July 2015)

Snake (Transmutation)

May 12, 2018 By in poetry, trauma, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , Leave a comment

Snake (Transmutation) Image May 11 2018 IMG-3866

This road that punctured my skin
Injecting venom into my viscera
How it stopped me on my path
And brought death so close
That I had to stop living and breathing
And just be in the flickering twilight
Where language lost all meaning
Where love lost all feeling
Where time lost urgency
Where will lost all power

Too scared to move as the creature
Wrapped its head around my world
And sprayed its stream into my every limb
Rendering each lifeless and flaccid
I knew not life
I knew not joy
I knew not me

No pain I felt except in thought
As numbness now coursed through
My each and every fiber of my being
Freezing everything and everyone about me
Paralyzing me in my poisoned pool of me
Others could not see because I did not show
Others could not hear because I did not speak
Others could not know because I did not educate
As what I called life was sucked out my veins

No crises answered could they try
As this road’s fangs were mine to remove
From my violated flesh though this beast
Not an enemy to be once removed
But instead placed gently on a heated rack
For it to bask so that I will always know
The lessons it had brought in changing me
From that someone I had once been
And no longer need to be

Copyright © 2018 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
Photo: Sky, Land and Road Through Windshield (Windfall, 2018)

Dreams August 28 Night

August 29, 2017 By in blog, poetry, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Raffery Bedroom Ceiling August 2016

Dream two:
I am shitting
On the toilet
In the office
During the meeting

I am self-conscious
Though everyone shits
On the toilet
In the office
During the meeting

A lace tablecloth
Covers my lap
So delicate
So white
As my colleagues
Take notes
And speak of projections
Revenue streams
Writing notes

I shit self-consciously
No one gives me notice
It’s my first time shitting
On the toilet
In the office
During the meeting.

Dream one:
I am driving an 80’s Caddy
At winter’s night
From the passenger seat
The driver is half-in, half-out
We know each other well
But we are on snowy roads
And I need his help
To turn on the windshield wipers
I tell him and he obliges
We are both comfortable
With my driving
With his half-in, half-out
In an 80’s Caddy.

© Copyright 2017 by John David Higham. All rights reserved.
Photo: Dreamspace Construction (Lewisburg: September 2017)

I Am Here

August 26, 2017 By in blog, poetry, tarot, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

I Am Here 8 26 17

I am here
Alive and ready for this path
No matter the joys the pains or how often
My feet may pause or my tongue may become still
Though my eyes may not appear to see
All going on around me on my path
And my ears my not seem to hear the laughter the crying
And my hands may not move to heal pain to defeat evil

I am here Smelling the trees as they quietly grow season to season
And looking over the grasses and the flowers and the skies
And sending joy out to all who look upon such scenes
With their eyes with their imaginations with their memories
As they seek refuge in their darkest night or to make their noon brighter

Together, we grow our strength ever beyond strong
Fed by hope and love even as whirlwinds uproot lives all around us
And give rise to fears from hellish pasts or intimidating futures

In the stillness of our souls as the power of The Universe
Cleanses our every cell, flowing through us replenishing us
No matter how far apart we are measured by mere miles mere lifetimes
As we remain eternally joined through our souls

We are here
Alive and ready for our intertwined paths
As The Universe’s DNA
 

© Copyright 2017 by John David Higham. All rights reserved.

Photo: Meditation Landscape (Lewisburg, August 26, 2017)

Dear Death

August 22, 2017 By in blog, poetry, trauma, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Death 8 21 17

 

I sense you
I feel your long pale fingers
As they touch and take the lives around me
Indeed, I sense the coldness of your touch
The killing frost that you are to all who could grow

Twenty-five years ago
I learned of your path into my body
You either didn’t think me a listener as you whispered
In that Reiki Master’s ear or else figured I wouldn’t feel her
Remorse when she recognized your energies entwined with mine

You fool
I had heard your dirges over a decade before
When we played together in my room late at night
A cord tied tightly ‘round my neck
As you patiently waited for my feet to step off and into your arms
Even before you seduced Mom with promises of release
As “How Long” and “When Will I See You Again”
Sang questions that I alone answered aloud to both myself
And you in the crumbling bunker of my adolescence

You didn’t scare me then
As instead the living called to action by The Angels
Forced me so deep into hell that I then begged with my razor
For you to escort me to my ancestors

As a child of nine thirteen years earlier
You caught me off-guard just once
Because then you were just something that happened
To people on TV named King and Kennedy, not Higham

You broke into my life a little at a time back then
Stealing Saturday afternoons and chess games from me
A secret companion Mom shared only after you had come and gone
On Mother’s Day as if her not mentioning you until after you stole Dad
Might make you forever disappear

I sense you
In the faces of a friend’s child
Those who ask me for prayers and energy
On Facebook
In the news
In my waking world
In my dreams or
In the future wrinkled faces
Of my children

I feel the bones the lives the families that you will shatter
As I walk among the ruins you’ve created
My tears and my grief are not for you
Even as I will continue to sense
Who you will only touch and who you will take
And how you will finally take me
But I will never again fear you
Or again deceive myself
Into believing you should
Into persuading you must
Embrace me before your time

© Copyright 2017 by John David Higham. All rights reserved.

Photo: Death (August 21, 2017)

Victory

August 20, 2017 By in blog, poetry, Uncategorized, writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Lillian 8 19 2017 Chimney Rock 1st

My battle won marked by the calm of surrender
No celebratory words or songs did I shout
As the oppressive miraculously became inconsequential
Layers of pain melted away and flowed like dirtied waters
Off my skin
Off my soul
And became forever purified
At these moments of ascendancy
When bells were to ring in celebration
And my soul would discover the highest mountaintops
On which to spread my new-found and infinite bliss
Would make my once dreary world
Would make my once dreary soul
Dance with a child’s delight

Victory
Sweet sweet victory
How I had waited with all my endless hope
All my rabid persistence and obsessive planning
To even see any sign of you emerging from life’s hellish fog

Victory
You had intermittently exposed yourself
Before desperation and despair had obscured you from my sight
To prevent you once again from accompanying me
So many conditions everyone everything told me
I would have to meet
I would have to know
I would have to be
Before
Before
Before
I could have a fleeting moment
Of hearing your voice
Of even feeling worthy
Of your briefest whisper
Of your encouraging word
Before evil and despair
Resumed their suffocating siege

Victory, now that you have made yourself
So clearly my eternal companion
And all evil has been
Defeated
Chased
Transmuted
Transcended
Annihilated
Re-framed
Forever condemned
From its perches in my waking world
And its numerous thrones in my dream world
Where its myriad grotesqueness stared me in my every face
In all the lives I lived was living and planned on living
To now merely squishing under my feet like warmed moist beach sand
I am lost, lost, lost
In a land of sunsets and pleasant surprises
Tranquility and love

What becomes of this warrior
When all my battles have been won?
When I have calmed my roughest of storms?
When I have transformed my deepest of fears into karmic punchlines
And my loving adventures have
Exterminated my fears and hyper-vigilance?

This redemption I do not know
For so long the weapons of war
I have held in my hands
In my soul
That my not grasping them feels odd
And renders me naked, vulnerable
And not nude, innocent
As Victory embraces me

Victory, how odd your warmth feels
Against my skin
Against my soul
In our forever embrace

© Copyright 2017 by John David Higham. All rights reserved.

Photo: Lillian’s First (Sedona: Chimney Rock Trail Looking North: August 19, 2017)