Tag Archives: Anger

Poetry: Swift To Hell

Poetry I have written for my wife, Rebecca. Presented for the first time anywhere. Visit her blog at My Faces of Life.

I shall lay waste to cities
fell mountains to rubble
drain oceans azure green.

I will melt arctic ice
eviscerate whole planets
shoot the moon dead.

I will vaporize the stars
pull the sun from orbit
tilt earth on its axis.

Aye, these things I’d do
to find the vile demon
that has harmed my love.

And if he should be
cold dead in the ground
lying there falsely.

Then to his coffin I’d go
crush him bone to bone
and send him swift to hell.

Poetry: I Capitulate

A cold cloak
chills
my aged bones it
belies
those crimson eyes
those smoldering orbs
those smoking windows
of despair

and yet
I draw closer
I capitulate
I accede
in the knowing
of what is
and what was
and what will
never be
with one touch I’m
entombed
then asphyxiated
then extinguished

my ashes
barely glancing
your frozen ground
your dead horizon
your nuclear dust
before they are
pulverized and
obliterated
beyond the echo
of your
terrifying laugh.

Poetry: Therein

Therein lies your beauty
testify to me no longer
of dandelions and daffodils
of butterflies and bumblebees
do not chant as crows
beyond sight scatter
then gather
in frigid naked trees
diseased with
discord
disaffection
malfeasance.

The recompense for
transgressions
lays waste to beauty’s cache
of finery
of magnificence
of splendor
do not disgorge sorrows
breathlessly
from your heaving chest
that conclave of muted
dreams vague and dreary
do not yearn
for lovely things
that
evade you
elude you
avoid you.

Talk then of
gnarled paths
overgrown with weeds
and thick brush
and rotting moss
sing soft melancholies
into indifferent airs
scatter
your tributes breathlessly
entreat this soul
to yearn ache desire
for hues of sustenance
those colors
those images
those portraits
of secret truth
lying in wait
for the impact
of despair
dismay
distress.

Therein lies your beauty
your truth
and your essence
yet do not brave
the chasm for
it is conquered
it is besieged
it is occupied
by forlorn sages
aching to know
what chance their hopes had
from casting dreams
and illusions
and secrets
undetected
into blackened pools
of wonder.

Even dread Beelzebub
hot with rage
blindly jealous
with furious hatred
ravenous for vengeance
who rose from putrid ashes
who rose from rancid death
who rose from deadly hell
fiercely intent on doom
is but feeble
and infirm
for scarcely could he
barely could he
set ablaze
reign terror
wreak havoc
on one tenth of
the thousand worlds
within this volatile
and eremitic imagination.

Before Recovery:  Part 5 – Constant Chaos

This is the story of my terribly traumatic childhood, the teenage years of self-discovery and chaos, the onset of alcohol abuse in college, my life as a soldier, the years of drug use, the disintegration of my family, and the dark descent that landed me in jail. I wrote this portion of my story as part of a recovery exercise while I was in treatment. What it lacks in detail, it makes up for in the sheer volume of chaos that alcohol wreaked upon my life.

Part 1: Trauma LegacyPart 2: Wandering LostPart 3: Worlds CollidingPart 4: Heavy Burdens
Constant Chaos
Matthew – Nick – 1997

…..

I went outside my marriage many times. It was easier to have those kinds of experiences rather than to devote anything consequential to my marriage and child. I was devoid of emotion. I was a highly functioning man with hell living in his soul. I began to collect Article 15 Discipline Reports for stupid things: For showing up late for formation. For talking back to an NCO, uniforms not up to specifications…I stayed away from my young family for entire weekends isolating and drinking and suffering. Toward the end I was a drunken mess.

As my orders came through for a deployment back to the USA, I rotated my then again pregnant wife back to the States and promptly got myself charged with an OUI in Germany. In August of 1994, after such a brilliant start, my military career was over. They started Separation Proceedings on me for “habitual misconduct;” this, just after I received my Good Conduct Medal!

I was discharged in August of 1994 with a General under Honorable Conditions. Even though it was an Honorable Discharge, it was a crushing blow that I never recovered from. My lovely second son, Matthew was born 5 days later. It didn’t matter; my life would never be the same again.

Filled with sadness and misery, resentment and depression, I spent the majority of my adult life drinking and drugging my life into ruins time and time again. From 1994, until my divorce in 1997, I drank and began doing cocaine on a nightly basis. I used to only drink on extended weekends. However, since joining the car business, my frequency ramped up in a hurry. The automotive industry was an environment full of anything you wanted, when you wanted it. I was extremely successful and worked as many hours as I could, barely present in the home. I couldn’t handle the newfound wealth. I blew most of it and still had money to pay all the bills. I acquired and lost many, many jobs during those 3 years. I alienated nearly all of my friends with my drunken babblings and blackouts.

Nick’s Holy Communion – 1998

My relationship with my wife and her family was irreparably damaged. Eventually I spiraled down to the point that I simply left my family and moved back to NH, hell-bent on regaining my footing before I completely destroyed my family. But I had already told my wife I was leaving her in the Fall of 1997, and she promptly served me with Divorce Papers. I couldn’t blame her one bit.

I was never fully present in that relationship. I didn’t know how to be. Prior to my divorce, until I started getting regular visitation, I never gave fatherhood a chance. I was too distraught and too (seemingly) bent on my self-destruction; fixated on watching my world disappear into an abyss of drinking, drugging, nightmares, and misery. It took a mere three months for me to fail; for me to alienate dealership staff.

I was fired because, though my customers liked me, dealership employees hated me. I always thought it was because I was better at my job than they were. Yeah, boy was I ever wrong. I descended into the black wormhole of my despair and self-loathing, although I had no money to drink or drug. My nightmares, flashbacks resumed with a vengeance and I had panic attacks every time I heard noises outside my door.

I blacked out all the windows in my apartment. I ate toast and drank water. I went into the worst depression I had ever known. I lay on the couch for so many days straight I had to be given morphine for a massive ear infection I contracted for being on one side for so long.

I was not drinking or drugging the entire time I was in NH; perhaps that is why I crashed, I really don’t know. During the last week of January, 1998, I purchased a gun and ammo. I threw out most of my belongings and packed up the rest. Before I decided to kill myself, on my 35th birthday January 27th, I called to say goodbye to my children and my ex-wife promptly called the police who were charging through my apartment door in what seemed like minutes. It scared me so badly I vomited and threw the gun into the kitchen. I voluntarily committed myself to the Portsmouth Pavilion Hospital in Portsmouth, N.H.

Portsmouth Pavilion

After being an inpatient at the hospital for nearly two months and getting medications that turned me into an unfeeling zombi–I left heavily medicated—I left feeling guarded optimism. I secured a new position in the car business and my drinking was curbed to almost nothing. After about 6 months I was offered a better position at the Ira Motor Group, made too many drinking and drugging friends, and quickly fell back into the pattern of being a huge success in the car business and an utter failure personally. Cocaine had contributed significantly to my depression and ever-growing paranoia and panic attacks I experienced. But under its pull, I felt invincible and took the punishments with the highs…to be continued.

Part 6: Balancing Act

Before Recovery:  Part 4 – Heavy Burdens

This is the story of my terribly traumatic childhood, the teenage years of self-discovery and chaos, the onset of alcohol abuse in college, my life as a soldier, the years of drug use, the disintegration of my family, and the dark descent that landed me in jail. I wrote this portion of my story as part of a recovery exercise while I was in treatment. What it lacks in detail, it makes up for in the sheer volume of chaos that alcohol wreaked upon my life.

Part 1: Trauma LegacyPart 2: Wandering LostPart 3: Worlds Colliding
Heavy Burdens

….

With my life apparently going nowhere—I was unable to secure a job as a teacher upon graduating from College—I thought it would be great to serve my country and see the world.  I have always been exceptionally patriotic; something my friends during those years used to think was ridiculous. I did not.  I found something to believe in when I had no faith in myself.  My first attempt at joining was in 1990.  While I awaited enlistment far from my home in Trenton, NJ.

I had tried to get a teaching job that had forced my relocation from New Hampshire, and had gotten fired because I lapsed on my car loan and couldn’t transport one of the directors around–I tried to bury my depression, nightmares, loneliness, and self-loathing in a constant haze of booze and then, for the first time, cocaine.  I was told I was denied entry due to acne, but I know my enlistment officer knew I was getting high as I lived with him at the time.

Devastated by the Army’s rejection, I took my enlistment officer’s .357 and put it to my head and was going to kill myself; however, of all things, I let the fact that his kitten was looking at me freeze me in my tracks:  I didn’t like the idea of doing that to the animal.  I managed to save my money from waiting on tables for the mob (who paid quite well) and from selling shoes.  I saved enough to get myself to Massachusetts, where my two closest friends resided.

I managed to stay gainfully employed as a cook at the Mug N’ Muffin, my best friends family chain of restaurants, for nearly a year when the Persian Gulf War erupted;  it was then that I decided I would try to enlist again.  It was around that time that I met my future wife.  Exactly the same day I told her I was enlisting in the Army, in February of 1991, she informed me she was pregnant.  I decided for once that it just wouldn’t be right to leave her hanging with this baby by herself, that I would grow up and take responsibility and try to somehow make it work.

Though Basic Training was tough for me—I was 27 surrounded by much younger kids able to adapt more quickly than me—I was enthralled to be serving my country.  I think that experience somehow forced my hand by having me prematurely propose to my girlfriend on the phone during Basic Training, knowing full well my gut was telling me NO! I would have to hide in the latrine and cry and wretch as my nightmares threatened to collapse my sanity. But I gutted it out. I made it through Basic and completed my Advanced Individual Training in the top 2% of my class.

I married days after graduation.  In that dark and dreary church, with two friends, I knew I was making a terrible mistake.  But, true to form, I simply was incapable of thinking for myself and did it anyway.  I was assigned to Augsburg Germany as a Records Specialist straight out of AIT.  I loved being able to serve my country but I was very unhappy about being assigned to a country that committed the atrocities that it did. 

Before my spouse was allowed to come over, I had to make preparations and finish entering my duty station.  So I went to Germany and was alone from August of 1991 until early October.  Then the worst thing possible happened: my phone woke me up in the dead of night; my wife was screaming into the phone that she had lost our baby; that she had a miscarriage.  I will never forget what sounded to me like my mind literally tearing.  I will never forget telling God that night that I hated his f*&$-ing guts. 

A few years after I exited the Army, and only after many hours and hard drinking, the friend who had driven to South Carolina to be in my “wedding” years later, finally managed to convince me that my ex-wife had made up the story that she was pregnant.  After all, where was the body of my 8 month old dead child?  At what hospital did she have this miscarriage?  How did it all go down? 

After investigating those and other questions through hospital channels in and around Milton, Ma., I discovered the disgusting truth—though she never discussed it or would admit it—it was an impossibility that she “lost” our baby.  It took me a long, long time to forgive her for that.  I knew I had to if I was going to be, and stay, truly recovered.  I hadn’t given it much thought then.  But at the time of our marriage I did wonder why she didn’t show at all in August.  I did wonder at her seemingly calm demeanor through it all, when I was a hot mess.  Anyway, it must have creeped into my unconscious as our relationship eventually unraveled in time over in Germany.

I barely managed to keep things together with such back to back terrible incidents in my early military career.  I excelled at everything military and I quickly racked up military accolades and received a merit promotion with less than two years of service, even passing the Officer Candidate School Exam after two tries. 

However, Rob1, carrying heavy burdens from his youth and the sudden loss of his child, was slowly festering with a deep, unending sadness and depression. My highs and lows got higher and lower. I was slowly beginning to drink more heavily, retreated further into myself and withdrew from my ex who by then was pregnant again. I welcomed opportunities to get extra duty so I didn’t have to manage emotions, just manage the undemanding work of guard duty. Even the birth of my beautiful son Nicholas couldn’t save me…to be continued.

Part 5: Constant Chaos
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