What's The Temperature ?
poetry
I re-discovered a poem that I wrote in July 2023. It seemed fitting following “No Kings” protests and Father’s Day weekend. As June is supposed to be dedicated to Pride and includes Juneteenth, I’ve been considering how and why it’s the narcissists that continue holding attention?
Narcissist is not a term that I throw around casually; my own Dad is one. I have forty+ years experience in falling for the traps and learning- through therapy and continuous self work, to zoom way far out, so that I can see the pattern of that particular abuse cycle.
June, July, and August are months in which reported violence rises. Temperatures peak. There are more social gatherings involving extreme alcohol consumption. People are encouraged to spend money to blow shit up in celebration!
So, I suppose I am sending this out as a reminder, to my friends that are feeling nervous in an anti-climactic aftermath sense, that pattern recognition is a super power. Once you can recognize the abuse cycle that belongs to someone else, even if it’s a nation, you can begin to distance yourself in a mindful way. You can begin to create your own counter rituals toward the kind of life you want to see reflected back.
It is important to take a look around your own small existence and re-route where you see fit. Find others embracing peace. Keep a list of your boundaries- but recognize that the narcissist isn’t wired to ever care. They are fixated on admiration because of their underlying inferiority. Mag(a)netized to a strict vision with the inability to zoom in or out at’ll.
Zoom in: change happens in our own homes and especially when our own home is problematic.
Zoom out: the United States of America belongs to Natives long entrapped in a cycle of abuse.
Take care of one another with nourishing food and dancing. Send love. Hold space.
Re-route the predictable toxic energy and find peaceful ways to combat the cruel Summer.
What’s The Temperature?
Daddy long gone. Mean discipline.
Deconstruction headache. No sleep.
Social mute. Wasted youth.
The new mantra: We don’t owe you.
Food fuss. Routine mutt.
Whine because nothing is ever enough…
Yet, continuously oppress us.
Family fault lines.
Balding biting _____holics.
Know it all who don’t grow.
Child mind but not the curious kind.
Stuck up
on the hot roof where everything is surface.
squinting through your small scope
aimed at our rusty paint peeled
DO NOT TOUCH sign
(would you mind):
NO savior complex
NO self - harmer
NO bad listener
NO neglect
NO no emotional connect
NO “I can do it all alone”
NO addicted to telephone
NO faux elbow rubbers
NO more I want to fuck every Mother