Tag Archives: ex

Shake the Dust

This is one of my favorite poems, I first heard in in High School and even years later, it still rings true in my ears and heart. Maybe I’m being a sentimental and overthinking my regrets too much, but I think I needed a dose of this. I hope you enjoy.

Oh – if you ever get the chance to see him perform live, it’s breath taking and chilling at the same time.

Shake the Dust – Anis Mojgani

This is for the fat girls.
This is for the little brothers.
This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.
This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.
This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters.
Shake the dust.
This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,
for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.
This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god.
Shake the dust.
For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,
for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,
for the kid who’s always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,
for the girl who loves somebody else.
Shake the dust.
This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that is won’t come.
For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.
For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.
Do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.
This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,
for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.
For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers’ singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.
This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who’ll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.
This is for the biggots,
this is for the sexists,
this is for the killers.
This is for the big house, jail-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.
This? This is for you.
Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.
Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.
So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.
All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.
So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.
Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.
Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.
So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be.

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30DC: 04, 05, 06

So maybe I’m not very good at writing every friggin day, but I think I make it up by being slightly entertaining, no? Humor me, please. Oh – and refresher – this is the challenge.

04: Bullet your entire day

(This was for Saturday, so I guess it’ll be only truthful to write about it)

  • 9:30: wake up in glorious realization that I slept in, and hadn’t slept for 9 hours in a while
  • 10: breakfast of mock huevos rancheros (alas, no picture)
  • 10:30-2:30: more food, more rejoicing, more laziness of epic proportions (with some chores). Plan for my fraternity – deal with emails & egos
  • 3:00-6: Run around frantically at the mall, trying to find clothes to buy for my brothers
  • 6-7: Dinner with one of my old friends from my camp counseling days, reminiscing about High School horniness (which we’ve concluded that high school students have too much testosterone [male and female alike], leading in freshman year crazy sex-a-thons), sexuality, and how Coke made in Mexico is far superior to it’s American counterpart.
  • 7-7:30 purchase cheese, crackers, bread, and other anti-pasto goodies
  • 8:00-sleeping time: consume said cheese, crackers, bread and other anti-pasto goodies with lots of WINE. Enjoy life and contemplate the goodness of simple meals.
  • Brush teeth
  • check emails once more, reply if needed
  • say good night to the boypren
  • Sleep and dream vivid dreams

05: Things you want to say to your ex

Oh, dear. To be quite honest, I’ve been looking forward to this specific prompt. I’m not sure which ex I wanted to “bullet” about – one was uber douche (and now with a kid!) and the other is in the military. So, I guess, I’ll speak to the general ex since they were both part of a summer fling.

  • As mean as this sounds, the fact that you knocked someone up and got kicked out of your house is a great beginning for your karmic-ass-whooping to come back to you. Serves you right for having sexual relationships with underaged girls, you dirt bag!
  • I knew I should have never trusted either you when you said “if we started dating I would give up XYZ” – whatta line, ladies, it’s a great way to make a person feel guilty and a great impetus to date him/her.
  • I should have remembered that you were a creepy guy back then, and time only intensified it. That, and the fact that your parents thought I was “the only good one” and the frist that you introduced them to speaks volumes.
  • I’m kinda sad that you’re half way around the world, but, I think it’s for the best — you call yourself a gentleman but I know you wouldn’t be able to hold off if we met up. So, shoo! Go away.
  • I wish you were my first, instead of him.
  • You’re not that cute, with your shirt off, just showered, washboard stomach, v-cut……. HOT DAMN. I hate you. I told you to stop sending me photos you jerk! *delete delete*
  • I really hope you didn’t keep those videos and photos. I really, really, really hope you got rid of them.
  • Was I just a conquest? No, seriously.
  • For all the girls you’ve ever had sex with – damn you! Friggin bareback, I’ll never forgive you – I’m happy I didn’t contract anything. So, very, very, very, happy. No wonder you preferred virgins.
  • You were one of the reason my body looked so good back then. The 2 mile run to your house put me in such great shape for the sport season. So, I guess I have to thank you.

Now that I’ve written all of that out, to be honest, I actually don’t harbor that much resentment to the both of them. I’m in such a loving relationship right now that I’ve – aghast! – at the point that I don’t care about my ex’s anymore. Either I’ve grown up, just plain forgotten the shitty relationships I had with them, or I just don’t care anymore. I’d like to think it’s a combination of all three.

Yes, I’ve had some very poor judgement of guys, but I can whole-heartedly admit that I was a sucker for those perceived “lost, broken, emotionally scarred” type of guys. Growing up, for me, was realizing that they 1) aren’t worth the time 2) are either faking it, or really need help, and it’s best of stay in the “friend zone” for both of your sakes and 3) If you didn’t like them then, be very cautious if you’re thinking of liking them now.

Just my two cents.

06: Views on mainstream music

Who am I to judge what is sound-worthy and what isn’t? Everyone has their own tastes, from gangster, sex filled rap to the ever popular bluegrass.

For the record — I try to listen to all music, even at least once.

Keep listening to what you want. But, if we’re driving in the car together and something plays that I’m not particularly fond off, please be ready for me to counter with, at the top of my lungs, “Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy….”

Of course I’m kidding! Why would I give my number to a stranger, huh?!

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