Off With Your Head

"I love you,
Is that not what you said?"
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
Off with your head."

"Why did you go,
Leaving me in dread?"
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
Off with your head."

"Why does your memory torments me
As I lay in my bed?"
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
Off with your head."

"You continue to come to me,
Lightly you will not let me tread."
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
Off with your head."

"My mind is broken,
Why my delusions have you fed?"
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
Off with your head."

"When will you release me,
Let me be dead?"
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
Off with your head."

"When will this end,
Off with my head?"
You smile, "It's quite simple my dear,
When you are dead."

Drowning

I feel like I’m drowning.  I can not breathe.  I’m not really hungry.  I have no real energy and I can not even steal energy from anyone.  I feel dark and cold inside.  I feel alone.

Try as I might I can not shake how I feel.  I hate myself, not for how I feel but how it makes those around me feel.  That hatred turns into anger and it’s directed at myself.

I feel like no one knows how I feel, even though I know that’s not true.  If I was strong I could shake this but that’s just it, I’m not strong.  I cry, I weep, I am dead weight.

Like any dead weight I bring those around me into my abyss.  If I do not cut the tether that binds them to me I bring them a sentence of pain and suffering.

As I sink into the abyss my hand reaches out.  The light grows dimmer the further down I fall deep into myself.  Medication will not work on me, I have tried.  It’s a death trap for my mind and soul.  Numb by pills or by pain of my own torment, either way inside I am dead and gone.

Dāsu Rōnin

I am Dāsu Rōnin.  I have no code, no honor.  I am a slave with no master and a master with no slave.  Each life I live I must suffer with the pains of loss for I am forbidden seppuku.  Seppuku is reserved for samurai, warriors with honor, of which I have none. 

My soul is dark, my heart is cold, the evil inside is pure.   I do not run from a fight but I will destroy those who oppose me.  For this reason I must hide my true self.

I say this as a warning to all that I meet.  I am to wonder an eternity in this way for I am Dāsu Rōnin.

Last Night's Battle

I am convinced that when people die in their sleep, they are actually kidnapped into another dimension through slumber.  Since the physical body can not go with, that’s how it happens.  How do I know, it almost happened to me tonight.

I am not afraid of Death, I am ready whenever the Reaper is, but I will not go easily nor without a fight.  Because of this Death sends shadow men to take me away.

As I slept I was just there, laying in my bed, no dreams that I could remember.  Even though the room was dark, my surrounds began to darken into blackness, until I could not see a thing.  My body felt like it was floating down, unable to control my decent.

I found myself no longer laying down but standing up, my hands in front of me, feeling for something, anything, to let me know where I was.

My heart felt cold as my stomach sunk low.  Fear was slowly filling the air.  I wanted to call out to anyone who could hear me but as always, my voice was silenced.  I was truly alone deep inside my own personal abyss.

Suddenly a small light appeared directly in front of me.  I could see a shadow motioning me to come toward them.  Fear kept my feet firmly planted.

The fear in the air turned to anger and my body filled with panic.  The light grew wide in an instant and the single shadow figure turned into four, flying through the open light toward me.  I tried to turn and run but I was ambushed by another figure, clothed in black shadows, blocking my escape.  He is who brought me to this place.

I was pushed forward toward the shadow men coming at me.  As I stumbled forward I fell to the floor.  Hands wrapped around my arms as a deep laughter began to fill the air, overshadowing all that was happening.

I struggled to break free but their grip only grew tighter.  I threw a punch, hitting one of the shadow figures.  The laughter grew deeper as I continued to fight.  It was not long before I was being beaten and overpowered.

My heart began to beat faster with each panic breath.  I tried to scream and still, my voice was silenced.  I was fighting for my life as I was being dragged toward the light.  Suddenly and without warning I woke up, my heart beating out of my chest.  I was tormented for fun, by being from another dimension, or as you might call them, I had night terrors.

 

- Max M. Power

Just Leave Me Alone

There’s an internal struggle going on deep within each person living with a mental issue.  It’s so simple and basic yet so difficult to understand at times.  When a storm begins brewing these emotions grow deep and strong.

We want one to win out over the other but usually the one that does win is not the one we want.  Deep inside we are screaming which we want yet those screams rarely reach the surface.  We are left spiraling deeper into our own personal abyss.

We sabotage ourselves by saying we just want to be left alone.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We are at our most vulnerable when we make this request.  We truly believe that if we are left alone no one can hurt us.  But we hurt ourselves more than anyone else ever could.

Like a static electricity charge, our emotions build up with each passing moment.  Just like when you touch something that charge is released, it’s the same when we have human contact.  A hand resting on our arm, sliding back and forth across our back, or even fingertips holding fingertips, this contact helps to discharge our build up.

A hug will often work best but sadly, we will shrug it off.  Do not take this personal, it’s not us but our demons lashing out, wanting to drag us down into that abyss deep within our soul.  We must do battle with this demon and no one else can do it for us.

It’s always easier to fight our demons with someone by our side rather than watching from a distance.  Never leave us alone, no matter how hard we roar.

For those who do not have these issues I know it seems so easy to say, “Stay,” but those words can not escape our lips, no matter how hard we try.  Just because we do not utter the word does not mean we want you to go away.  Never leave us alone.

- Max M. Power

Exhausted

Goodbye My Fair Lady

Saturday, April 16, 2016, at 9:15 am, Pacific Standard Time, my grandmother, my mother’s mother, took her last breath in this realm.  While we knew this had been coming for some time, the sting of a final goodbye still hurts.

Her pain and suffering has come to an end.  No matter what your belief, or hers for that matter, I can take some comfort in that fact.  Yes I should be in great pain, yes I should hurt as my family hurts, yes I should break down and cry, and I may yet still do so, but as of right now I am numb.

My grandmother, one of the strongest people I ever met, had a good run.  Actually she had a great run and no one can ever dispute that fact.  To say she left a legacy in the wake of her great wave in this life is an understatement.

It’s amazing how such a small woman has literally touched hundreds of lives.  From her spirit has spawned numerous souls and ways of lives that her spirit will truly live on forever, so long as those of us who loved her pass on what she has taught us.

You only need to look at any of her great grandchildren to know this has come to be.  The passions she possessed are evident in their personalities and will be passed on to the next generation to come.

A love for the written word.  While most in this generation will not read anything that is not on social media, for those of us connected to her, this is not so.  We will always read for fun, for information, for the mere fact that it was written down and needs to be read by someone.  Electronic or physical, we will always read something.

Homemade tortillas.  Just the mention of the words “homemade tortillas” will bring found memories of this little lady standing at the kitchen counter, rolling masa, slapping it from hand to hand before throwing it on hot metal, cooking it.

It became a cat and mouse game, trying to steal one as soon as it came off the stove.  It was a miracle that any tortillas even made it to the dinner table at all.  She always made extra masa because she would allow us one, otherwise we would eat them faster than she could make them.

A love of sports.  While I’m not one to watch sports on television, if I’m there live, you will see a different side of me.  Since we lived in a large city, when I was little my mother use to take my little brother and myself to the major league baseball games.  Not until I turned 12 did I understand why this was such an important thing for her, it was a lesson she learned from her mother.

Coming from a small town in Northern California, our baseball team was a minor league team but they were our team and we needed to support them.  That was a lesson I learned the first time she took me to a baseball game.

It’s a lesson I passed on to my child when we went to minor league hockey games.  While people always told me that they didn’t count, they weren’t major league, I didn’t care as I heard my grandmother’s words in my heart.  I would repeat them before talking trash to the other team.  It was the only time trash talking was accepted and allowed.

The same applied to football and wrestling.  You could not take the trash talk personal and you could only trash talk as long as you could take it in return.  It was a way to cut loose, have fun, and release stress in a healthy way.

While she had fun, and taught us to have fun, she also had her serious side.  You were never too old to get a slap upside the head if nothing else, or a scolding.  She didn’t stand for disrespectfulness and always spoke her mind.  As she got older she slowed down in what discipline she dished out but the last time I seen her, there was still discipline to be dished out.  Taking personal responsibility was something she believed in and made sure we all knew it.

I am glad her suffering is finally over.  I know the past few days have been hard for everyone to see but I like to think her last days of suffering was to spare certain people she loved from further suffering.  While April 16^th will always be a dark day for all of us who loved her, the 13^th, 14^th, and 15^th are dates that should have joy for three of us.

My birthday is on the 13^th, my aunt, her daughter, was born on the 14^th, and my older sister was born on the 15^th.  My personal feelings was that if she was to pass on one of our birthdays we would never really be able to celebrate it the way she use to celebrate it for us.  I was told she is waiting for something, because she was supposed to last only a few hours more and it’s been three days now.  That was her final act of love, her strength wouldn’t allow her to cause us further pain.

I know this may sound selfish but it’s what I believe.  Now she could pass on, in peace, and she did.  I will love her with all my heart for she helped to raise me, even from a far.  She helped shaped me into the man I am.  She gave me many life lessons, some painful, but all were wielded with a gentle hand of love.

To honor her legacy I will pass on what I have learned and I know it will be passed on to my grandchildren.  They will learn great lessons that will span over more generations than they can imagine from a strong powerful woman they will never know.

Happy Birthday To Me

On Wednesday, April 13, 1977, Jose and Clara welcomed their fourth child into the world.  That’s right, today is my birthday.  With that being said, there are a few things I know will happen today.

My mother will call me to tell me the story of my birth.  This is something she does for all of her children.  When we were younger she would call us to her room, pull us into bed with her as she gave us kisses while she whispered the story into our ear.  It’s a memory I will cherish, a jester I will appreciate until I die.

I will put on a smile and say thank you to those who will call, text, or tell me in person warm wishes of a happy birthday.  I am grateful for them, truly I am.  I will have cake with them.  Have to have cake of some kind.

While all of these positives should make me happy, there is and will always be a sadness that haunts this day, no matter how hard I try to overcome it.  For years I have kept this secret buried deep down inside and never told another soul, not even my best friend, who knows more than most.

I have seen death before in my young life, but I was too young to understand what was going on as we stood close to an open grave. I remember to this day thinking, I hope I don’t fall in as we all walked around, dropping a flower on top of the casket, then walking to say our sorrows to the family.  I am not sure who it was that was in the ground but I think I know.

As I got older death touched my soul, awaking the demon inside that I would wrestle with for the remainder of my days.  This was the year I lost the innocence of childhood and learned the world is a cruel evil place.  I was silently spiraling out of control and there was no one who could help.  How could they when I hid it so well.  We didn’t talk about our problems.

I remained the “good son,” smiling, going to church, doing all that things I was suppose to do, all the while, evil was growing in my young heart.

That summer we migrated from Texas to California, something we would do every three years it would seem.  It was always suppose to be just for summer vacation but it always turned into a full year.  So here I was starting a new school, the ever dreaded Jr. High.

Students and teachers alike saw me as an easy target, picking on me, calling me out, smiling as I was being “punished” for being who I was.  I just took it, having to bottle it up inside because it’s a part of growing up.  I learned to endure it, to live with the pain it caused.  I learned how to push forward until one day I didn’t.

I was in band and we had just coming back from our first marching competition.  All the marching bands in three counties were competing and we came in last.  I practiced and practiced as hard as I could leading up to the march.  I memorized the music, I had the notes down flawlessly, I was perfect in the songs we were playing.

My problem is I could not walk and chew bubble gum at the same time, as the expression goes.  My marching was always off by a half second.  I got the snaps, the cues, the looks down, but my footwork was always off.  I have always been a slow pace walker and could not keep up.  I wanted to quit but if I did I would be out of the band I loved music too much to give it up.

Like a drill sergeant in the Army the marching band teacher, different from the band teacher, would treat me like a new recruit.  I ignored the screams in my faces, the shoving me, the spit flying in my face as he called me names with bouts of “you’re worthless” added in for good measure.  The other students started repeating his words and I took it.  Sticks and stones.  Sticks and stones.

As we marched through the streets of my city, I did my best.  The instructors were not allowed to march along side of us so I did the entire march without someone in my face.  This was our first competition and in my head I thought I was doing great.  Heck I was even starting to have fun.  Then one of the other students kicked my off beat foot and tripped me.  As I fell and rolled to the side the band marched on, but not before a few stomped on my leg.  Now you know why we lost.

The bus ride back to the school was long and silent, for me at least.  Threats were made, things were thrown at me, and the instructors did nothing.  As we got off the bus I overheard the drill sergeant tell his assistant that the world would be a better place if I just offed myself.

I had to walk home, since it was a Saturday the city bus did not pick up in front of my school.  It was a long mile and a half.  Alone with my thoughts, the voices of the other students running through my head, and the suggestion of the drill sergeant ringing the loudest in my head.

As I got home I put my happy mask on once again.  Cousins had come in from out of town and everyone was playing outside.  I gave such a good acting performance I could have won an Oscar.  My demon, however, was not going to let me off the hook that easily.

I use to take the city bus to school.  There was another member of the band who rode the same bus.  She was always quite and played the flute.  As I got on the bus, there she was, sitting at the back of the bus, her walkman headphones on as she stared out the window.  I sat at the front.  She was too smart and beautiful to ever be friends with me, besides, after what happened, I doubt she would ever talk to me at all.

The bus dropped us off at the corner of the school but I got off a few blocks early, trying to gather up strength before having to face the band for first period.  As the bus pulled away I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  When I opened them there she was, standing in front of me.  Without saying a word, she took my hand in hers and started walking toward the school, pulling me to keep up.

The next two weeks were bearable only because she always sat with me.  I didn’t know any better, I was young and stupid and in love or at least what I thought was love.

As March was coming to an end, she asked me what I wanted for my birthday.  I told her my family didn’t celebrate it and that something bad always happened to me at school on my birthday so I was going to skip school.  She talked me out of it, promising to bake me a cake herself.  How could I refuse?

On Friday, April 13, 1990 I was riding the bus to school alone.  She had told me that her aunt would be dropping her off at school and that she would give me my cake in band class.  As we were getting closer to the school we heard sirens passing us by.  I got off early because the police were blocking the street and the bus could not get through.  I thought to myself that there must have been another drive by shooting, since we already had two so far.

I was right.  While no one had even been hit in the past two, someone had this time.  She was standing in the doorway, facing the corner, holding a birthday cake that she had made the night before.  She had wanted to be the first thing I saw as I came around the corner to school.  Instead I saw an ambulance driving off, with her in the back.  She died enroot to the hospital.

So while others are wishing me well wishes, in the back of my mind I think back to what happened and why I hated my birthday for so long.  I know it was only a childhood crush but it felt so much more than that to me.