Raven Moore's Blog

Some people don’t know

The difference

Between allowing you

To go

And waiting

To see

If you’re going to stop

Before they get plowed into

By your confusion

You being

People who think their aggression

Is winning

Rather than

The other’s patience

That got mixed up with

Forced kindness

That they too

Could not explode

Burst through

Pretend that their carriage

Was the only horse in town

And everyone else

Equaled ants who if stepped on

Were inconsequential

Expected

Too bad

But too bad

For you

You don’t see them coming

You see them stopping

Thinking they’re fearing

Not knowing the existence

Of their patience

In the presence

Of your aggression

Not knowing that you’ve got just one

More chance

And that one day

They won’t wait

to participate

They’ll just go

They’ll just collide

With their gear on

And you’ll be the ants

Who were

Out of

Pure luck

Down

Came up 

A speck of brown dust

That rose

And wafted 

In the air

I looked

I dared

And the crack from which the dust rose

Exposed

A deeper crack

Beneath it

And beneath that

Another crack

A heat pulsated

And pushed

And burned the wood

Making the embers

That rose up

A rush

A bang

A click

And a roar

The Chinese vacuum

Came once more

Over 

The crack and back

Again

But the dust still rose

And wafted

And

tricked

Me into thinking

That this was it

But the crack beneath the crack beneath the crack

Was hot and burned 

Underneath the surface

The Chinese vacuum could not get beyond 

The flat

Hard wood

At the top

It could not get rid of

What had been burned 

And was

already gone

Long, long time ago

Come
here

and look at my

pinpointed pupil

unlearning you

constricted 

and

asleep

as if

you weren’t even there

as if it were 

dark
outside the lens

Or,
as if you were

here

reading me

as if you didn’t know

those poppy seeds,

I
sprinkled on your bagel

because your mother

and father

didn’t think 

you needed breakfast

and let you walk to the bagel store

half awake,

could not somehow give you a positive outlook

on life

instead of a positive 

drug test

could not somehow

make
you

wake
up

and get straight A’s

and become immune to poison

from bad people who mix your

Cocaine
with your carfentanil

in hopes that you would

lie down 

like an elephant

and pour your entire bank account 

into their Facebook account

come here pupil

taste my morphine on your lips

smell my red brown, bleeding bulbs

I
promise you 

they will become

flowers

that you can smell

and choke on

when your hay fever gives way

and your sore throat starts

to pray and itch and call for 

this
cough medicine

with just enough codeine to get you 

right 

before

your bedtime story

that would bore me

if I liked fentanyl 

with my tea

in my book-of-the-month

picture 

on my Facebook page

which is the only page

I
can barely see now

where the flash of the camera

made my already pinpointed 

pupils 

disappear

made this oxycodone

look like candy

and my naloxone scream

Bloody bulb!

I need to create

boundaries

between me

and them

I need to stop taking

unsolicited advice

when the season is
nice

when the flowers are
fresh

I need to stop
getting sliced

up with

my side of rice

my potatoes and
greens

can we not be mean

today

while I sprinkle my
Old Bay

seasoning

all over my despair

do you not see me
here?

I need to stop
listening to

my life forecast

with my info

on blast

my life

on display

for anyone

you forgot

was along the way

at Smashburger

while I’m eating my
fries

enduring my forced
intermittent

cries

for help

get me away from you

who wants to analyze

my every step

while taking no steps

with me

not showing a moment
of gratitude

for me being alive

or even peace of mind

I need to stop taking
advice

with my free peas and
rice

no such thing as free
peas and rice

Lingchi sounds

like lynching

it sounds like the sound of

fire put up against

flesh

as the hairs curl back

and the skin becomes

hot

then

red

then brown

a nasty bubble

white formations

on end

wondering if the healing process is really happening

because every transformation

after the Lingchi

stops

feels like another cut

another bruise to heal the bruise.

Lynching sounds like Lingchi

Crowd around me

as you give me my out

Let the ghosts come and feed on my flesh

as I’m taken away

by the barbarity of your caring

which you call caring

because you cared

that something happened

so you intervened

only really to make it worse

only really to take out

all of your frustrations

on the final sign of disrespect

for you

you’ve had enough

so you throw paper at me

to hang me

because you know

I won’t be able to see you

cutting me

while I’m scurrying to pick up

and count the money

which is no longer money

because you’ll never give me

what I want

I have to take it

What does it mean

to be a ghost

writer

does it mean you are
a ghost

who writes

or a writer

who talks

about ghosts

or a writer who
writes

on behalf of the
ghost

population

or does it mean

the words disappear

from the page

as soon as

they’re written

only for you

to wonder what was

there

something you can
feel

but not see

something you know
happened

but you don’t know
who made

that thing happen

or

why

they could not just
show their face

say their name

celebrate themselves
on the page

too

with their words

perhaps a ghost
writer is

a medium

and the ‘real’ writer

is not really real

it’s just someone the
ghostwriter

imagined

up

channeled

from another

life

of their own

because they were

too afraid

to say

‘I wrote this book’

this was my life
before

and I want it to be

no more

There is a look that certain people have

a resilience behind a fear

it’s like those people imagined

that it just had to be

this way or that

But, then it wasn’t

and the question became

when will it be that way

instead of

will it be that way

this created the resilience behind the fear

instead of the fear behind the resilience.

some people want to believe

in things they have never

seen

or things they have seen

others

do

or

others

have

they assume

they will have

and do

those things

too

But, thinking is different than doing

and the people who have

do

or are

given

the people who do

do

or they discover

If you’re looking around

wondering

waiting

when will someone give, do, or discover for you

well then the question

in any event

becomes

when will your resilience

come out from behind your fear

to the front

of your imagination

you want to believe

but you don’t believe enough

to actually get down

on your knees

and scratch the dirt

up under your finger nails

so you’re sitting there

looking like

a paralyzed

genius

in waiting

and everyone sees it

but no one understands

what you’re waiting

for

Time and ageless things

Are happenings

that illuminate the soul

beyond a thought

or a memory

freedom rings in various places

none all too well-known

fighting for a sunlight

a sunbeam

a second horizon

a coming of the dawn

which looked like the coming of a night

thunder begins to strike

and confuse the beautiful

haze

in the distance

it seemed fair

that it would always be there

but then the day got up close

and showed

itself for what

it really is

time and ageless

but here

and gone

forever

This is not a poem

This is a manifesto

A treaty

A mantra

Pass go

Collect $200

Do not go to jail

This is a warrant

for your success

Freeze frame and walk through

unfettered

unbothered

unconcerned

Now, you understand what it
really means

to get to the finish line

means to knock everyone out
of your way

Sauté

Dodge

Flip

Scramble

Hide

Climb

Smile

when you really want to

explode

implode

ingress

and egress

be done with it all

don’t miss the point

it’s supposed to be like this

and how can you know

who you are

unless you win

My manifestations of genuine

feeling

betray me

I say things

I later

regret

but

it’s that life you’re in

no such thing as thick or thin

no such thing as high or low

go slow

it’s gone and you never imagined

it would be

other than

what you did

what you said

what you saw

what you remembered

what it was

a regret is just a memory

poorly imagined

it’s gone

so forget it

or

remember it

as if you couldn’t remember it

because you know

you can’t

do

what you never did