Poets Anonymous

Hi.  I'm RMP

  &
        I'm a Poet 
                            (((Hi RMP!)))
I'm not sure when
                                or how
it started - but
I have pieces dating back to 1990.
so...
        10...
                20...
                         twenty-four years.

*sigh*  I can't say when
                        precisely
I got (air quotes) hooked,
but it was a (de)vice
I could call upon when the words failed me
  &
words
            often failed me.

I was/am
what I like to call a bottler

and poetry has allowed me
to take those poisons & expel them
lay them bare at my feet
so I might step over them and
move on for a month...
                                      a week...
                                                     a day...

Eventually, like any drug,
the effects wore off
quicker & quicker

and each time the storm threatened to
shake my nerves to the core
I'd (air quotes) write up

& poetry has always been my
          drug of choice
providing an escape from this world
stilling the caos

          a multifaceted drug
purifying the toxins within

         (pure oxygen reminding me to breathe)

every once in awhile I'd quit
go long spans of time with nothing

                    nothing

the voices in my head buzzing too
loud for me to make sense of
    or
too overwhelming to the point of not
                                                                 caring.

I've been dry now for too long & I'm jonesing
for a fix.

That's why I'm here
           to
                listen
as your words permeate the air
infusing images
               scents
               tastes
              desires
throughout the room
gathering in the rafters
where I can
                     draw them to me
                     fill my lungs
                     awaken my senses
                         &
                     smother the voices so I might

breathe...
                just
                        breathe

& maybe, if I'm lucky, unleash the build up
of impurities running through my veins & threatening
my being.

---

A bit of ramblings:  I began this piece sometime after about a month into a "break" in my writing.  It didn't really get very far...the piece not the "break."  While I have technically written a handful of pieces (I've dubbed poetics due to the app I use to create them), from the start of August to mid-February I have been silent.  As I mention in the piece this is not all that unusual.  I have often gone through phases, but each time I find my way back.  The difference is in the past I was never so conscience of the silence.  I'm not 100% sure what brought me back, but it did begin with visiting and reading a variety of voices...silently sitting at the Sidewalk Cafe just absorbing.  Eventually, I found myself stepping back through the doors...opening up my notebook & writing.  Since, I have been making a conscience effort to write and (even more so) visit & read what others have to offered.

But back to this piece...while I started this past July, I (after finding my way back) decided it was time to finish it up.  I had thought to have it up for last weeks OLN, but time got away from me and while I had added quite a bit more to it, I only managed to finish it today.  Maybe it's better this way...I probably would have help off until I could almost guarantee that I'd be the last one in the door (less people around then) and ended holding my breath instead of doing as the poem says and "breathe...  just breathe..."

Yet another hurdle in my poetic journey to added to the list.