systems change under stress

New rule No. 1:

No intermediaries.

Anyone who wants from me, talks to me (or emails me, etc., you know what I mean)...I'm tired of dealing with people, giving to people, caring for people who don't have the stones to speak to me directly. It's not an issue of my character anymore, it's an issue of those who take but do not give. It wastes my energy, it wastes my talents, it wastes my soul, it wastes me.

Too many of those in my life, in my past.

In my future? Yeah, I'm too much of a nice guy by instinct to completely eliminate that, but I'm going to try. When it gets to the point I have to ask someone to check to see if and where I can send a present to a family member for Christmas, it's past neurotic. It's wrong.

More new rules later. Now, the poetry:

Here's a new piece I wrote the other day. It's based on my own state of being, but was somewhat inspired by a line from "Apocalypse, Now!" in which Captain Willard exposits his vision of Colonel Kurtz' mental state:

"He broke from them, and then he broke from himself. I'd never seen a man so broken up and ripped apart. "

The work is called "torn from the flesh".

he spoke
he broke
and the pieces fell like leaves
in an autumn shower
the power unplugged
as the ground was hugged
by the air
seeking solace in the dirt

no more
he swore
still sore with the teething grief
of splintered mysteries
as the histories fell in place
like a puzzle of a stranger's face
finally
making sense of of the hurt

the pain
can't drain
and thus the pressure builds
beyond the predicted curve
where every nerve should rip
and a keystone shall slip
to let fall
the palace to a rubble, inert


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I'm okay...it is in the furnace where I get my tempering. I'm in my element.