Some Good, Some Bad, Mostly In Between

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Hello WordPress. Coming to you in my (very awesome) Fall Out Boy Bomber Jacket (I’m not walking around with this on, it was just for this pic), I’ve been more or less tired as of late. Mentally more than physically.. the days have really started to become blurs. Maybe it’s just the season, just the cold, but it’s a mildly oppressing moshpit of activities. Thanksgiving Week will be weird since Mary’s Gourmet be open Tuesday and Wednesday, which are days I usually spend reading and writing at home or at a park/coffee shop somewhere. Anyway. I’m an aspie holding a customer service job for nine months. Kinda crazy, but it’s humbling and a reminder of how far I’ve come. Customers are always telling me I’m such a wonderful presence, and that I’m always fast of my feet and finding solutions. Heh. Guess I blend in better than I thought I could. Or the gluten free diet is working. I haven’t been exactly GF though. I did order a gluten free pie from one of my favorite vendors at our farmers market for thanksgiving, so #Progress.

Registering for college next year. Now that my dad isn’t around to fuck up, I can actually get the school my tax information. Can’t believe he cost me a year, and way too much embarrassment. Haven’t really done anything school-related, which has allowed me to write a ton. Also, reading. I read Catcher In The Rye over the summer (hated it), but it was nice to have so much free time. It feels good to be writing, but not poetry. Been feeling down lately. Mostly upset with the lack of response from publishers about my book.  Blog views are down. Also having a hard time integrating at my Teen Arts Council. I was there last year but this year I can’t get there on time (work), so I miss about half a meeting. I felt like this year would be better, but I actually feel worse. I just can’t make friends. And none of the girls are interested in me. (Asks someone why). They’re gay. That’s news. I’m not upset, but it does explain the…I dunno how to put it. 

Been published twice in the last couple months on SpillWords….

http://spillwords.com/failure-for-all-to-see/

http://spillwords.com/dear-her/

Here’s my interview with https://mademoisellewomen.com

https://mademoisellewomen.com/2017/11/12/blogging-for-business-with-devereaux-fraizer-of-maryland-poet-blog/

You Were Meant To Know The Night Writing Prompt 

https://braveandrecklessblog.com/2017/10/13/you-were-meant-to-know-the-night-writing-prompt-challenge-devereaux-frazier/

Letting Go for https://tanyatale.wordpress.com

https://tanyatale.wordpress.com/2017/10/27/poetry-with-devereaux-frazier-letting-go/

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Real Talk

 

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Criminal minds dance on the airwaves
telling the minorities that they’ve come to save
all the forgotten, all the lost peeps
always a shot away from 6am news
on these dark streets
you can feel the beat
of a glock nine
or a car crashing into a stump
oh, is it time
for another riot
no need to buy it
smash the windows, loot the church
real life Empire
nowhere able to retire
cause my daddy never taught me how to work
just work the system
take the cash don’t worry
who’s givin
givin head
these girls I see
three babies already
but she ain’t even seventeen
what’s going on
with the black community
growing up
I didn’t understand
but now I see
that honestly
we’ve lost sight of who we ought to be
we write music
selling drugs
throwing paper
but where’s the glory
for the creator
where’s the honor
in a father
who runs the streets
forgets his daughter
she’s in a pageant
I’m glad to say
but he never knew it
couldn’t remember her birthday
and by the way
I know it’s not right
but this just happens to be my life
so angle the sights
on the intruder
can’t find me
I’m in the future

Only My Guilt Knows

solace

I descend a staircase

littered with shreds of newspaper

and leftover condoms

the lights are dim

and the air, stale

but the memories are bright

and here, rise high

my leavened bread

eaten everyday by anguish

shoved in my face, they know I need

the drain in the center

is rusted and clogged

with people I left long ago

they tried to buy my love

a piece of my fire

so I cheated them time

now look what they made me do

surrounded by my muses

pale white skin and shrouded face

silk curtains her backdrop

virgin ignorance is a see through robe

I draw from her eyes

lonely telescopes into the vast blackness

of my pirate heart

I weep from her part

a lonely ballerina on a stage

and silence her only spectator

I take what I need and leave

as she breathes alive and well in me

made and broken at what she sees

I don’t love her but can’t let go

so I lock it inside

for only my guilt to know

 

 

Death Calls From Not Long Ago

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Raw lines

slip from the corner

of thawed eyes

shattered in slowness

of overwhelming disgrace

streaming from my face

goes the purity I once called breath

now I am inhabited by gorges

and craters that leave me speechless

vast emptiness unexplained

unfulfilled

except for when paper is placed before me

and I have a certain time to kill

I hate violence until it’s for you

I hate flesh unless it’s poetic

to chew and digest

these words not yet my best

I tinker and toy without rest

not because I’m a proofreader

but a mercy seeker

ravaged by a past I only bow to

and ask for subtle forgiveness

I must scorch your hearts

with the brand of my missteps

the blood of a poet

is never ending ink

unfinished is his business

until the grim reaper

does sit upon his grey chest

and his heart

he drinks

 

 

The Autistic Man

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No one considers

The plight of man

The autistic man

Cunning but curious

At the things he must do

To feel such emotion

Power and powerlessness

In the palm on control

He never knew

We grow up as outcasts

Because we don’t know

How to play

Special interests dominate

What we think, do

And say

Selfish we must be

To put out of our minds

Everything

Except for this magical thing

We cannot seem

To do without

Our posture is funny

As is our fashion sense

The way we hold our hands

Or stare into the crowds

 

We may be silent

But in ignorance of our presence

Breaking normality

We speak loud

Growing up takes a toll

No friends in school

Or very, very few

Unable to be ourselves

Or else attacked

By you

Who don’t recognize

The beauty

In neurological difference

The possibility

With our magic

Exponentially endless

But we keep it locked away

Hoping to survive

Another day

Before you discover us

And the mask

Is stripped away

Love is equally understood

But not in finding another

Who thinks the same

Frightened by bare honesty

Ashamed by difference

And brain washed by culture

That they need a strong

Muscular

Out going man

They ignore us

Laugh at our advances

I see these things

And know them

Because I lived them too

I will never be accepted

By the majority of you

Consider the plight

Of the autistic man

And ask yourself

If all there is to one

Is what you see

How can you ever accept

The infinity

That will set all beings fee

I don’t know what the world

Will to do us

I don’t know if you will ever

Have what we want

But through this poem

Being read by you

No longer can you say

I never knew

My Woman, My Maker

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everyone has one
everyone knows one
whether you know them
appreciate them
or care to ponder their existence
they care about you
naturally keen to nurturing
and always lending a hand
in encouraging
they are the winds of change
upon the decadent heart of man
sensual and slatternly
it pumps sperm and hormones
in and out an overstimualted world
without them, we’d all be dead
unkept and without proper bread
these ones take the first step to see
children are looked after
at home or abroad
we are neighbors to all
and I think they grasp that best
both adult and youth
are told we’re alike
but that’s far from true
completely unique
motivations rarely in sync
her dream could be my dream
but I’m afraid to admit I came from her
without her, I wouldn’t exist
I lose a hint of hubris
but gain an eternity in respect
for a body not made to be gazed on
in pornograhic desire
but to be appreciated, and if in matrimony
be lifted even higher in regard
because without my woman
men could not go far
they are our creators, and our caregivers
they teach us, correct us, embolden us
the first eyes I gazed upon
entering a blistering new world
the first and only voice
I’ve ever truly heard
I love my women
in ways no man will ever know
because without the courage
to be humble to those above
how can your supposed love
ever show

 

Living Just To Die

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why do we live

just to die

if life is simply birth, death

and a deep, dark sleep

underneath all that we’ve left behind

why do we try

what inspires us to wake

day

after day

after week

after month

after year

what inspires us to take all that we have

and throw ourselves into the whirlpool we call life

with little or no regard to fear

what makes us so dignified

that in fighting for those we don’t know

we would lay our heads low

it’s not for a flag, or for skin

but for the breath we all need

to begin

and again

what keeps us happy on Earth

the only planet we’ve known

when there’s a universe to be explored

but we call one, tiny place: home

I can speak little for myself

so hardly for humanity

but this desire to do, not do

and do too much

was placed inside of us

because it makes us human

unlike anyone else

and I wouldn’t have it

any other way

 

Lies Swirl Down Your Throat

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I don’t ever take credit

for what I do

I won’t ever take credit

for what I’ve done

I’m just a sinner like you

under the eyes of a watchful sun

broken and bewildered

I claw at every day

one day I’ll break the ribbon

one day, when I find my way

compliments can fall

for hours they may laud

but as long as I’m true to myself

I’m free from it all

Stares don’t ignite

anxious flames alight

foul tempers run amuck

but in carefully placed glances are stuck

because I’m not who I was

this time last month

so kiss that bottle

and let the lies swirl down your throat

because they choke at my indignation

in the rear view goes their exclamation

I feel free from the weight

and they can never hold me down

because while I feel alone

my friends aren’t far now

when the reign is on a rout

stillness comes on a single cloud

and confidence is restored

hear me loud

 

Sometime Long Ago

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sometime long ago

when the house was always hot

and I’d stare out the windows 

to taste the tip of a glorious breeze

or when the winter snows came

and I’d bury my head underneath comforters

and watch Jamaal Charles highlight videos

sometime long ago

when I was skinny, reckless, and angry

and I’d stare at the plaster pour

from the walls I’d beat senseless

until I was sure they felt as much pain as I

or when I had ignored my anxious tendencies

and my parents scolded me for something I couldn’t control

when I cried until my nose ran red

and I was sure I had a pussy instead of a penis

sometime long ago

when I refused to go out

I’d miss god, family, and the restoration of Jerusalem

if it meant I didn’t have to show my face

mu ugly, zitty, scar-ridden face

or when people would talk to me

and I’d just look away

hoping, praying, that if I ignored them enough

they would go away

sometime long ago

when I didn’t know who you were

and I’d spend my nights looking at women

I never should have known

I was like, six, and I just didn’t know

it’s okay to look at pretty women, right world?

I’m 18 and now I see

the pain of my past will always live with me

watching my father leave

friends leave

my world is always collapsing

 

now I realize

that sometime long ago

can be just that

if you close your eyes

let the scars burn

the blood dissolve

eventually the cocoon falls off

and what’s left is the most beautiful

butterfly anyone’s ever saw

 

 

 

 

The Cure (?) For Autism, Part One

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I’ve lived eighteen years on this wonderful planet, but only in the last five have I known I was on the autism spectrum. I barely knew anything about the condition except for that people who had it were not treated kindly, there was an organization that supposedly strives to raise awareness, and they are often very smart. My own personal story has made me reconsider much of what I thought about autism and how I respond to what people say about us in the news. I used to think that if someone changed their opinion too much, they couldn’t make up their minds.

 

Now I know it’s essential, when gaining new knowledge and insight, to always be changing. You cannot gain and stay the same. At least I couldn’t.

The last five years of my life have easily been the best. I needed a window out of my confusing and easily angered childhood, but early on my Aspergers diagnosis only made me angrier. I hated this weird sounding name that made me feel more obvious than I already knew I was. What I needed was an example. I wanted to find someone, anyone, out there that was succeeding. If they could, in spite of our numerous limitations, then I could too. That’s when I discovered John Elder Robinson. I read his books, and more importantly than the information I gained, my entirely different outlook on my new life.

I wasn’t just the angry, confused, autistic kid.

I was the weird, informed, confident (and somewhat arrogant) autistic kid.

Over this time, my life has changed drastically. Some ways were obvious, like my need for music. I spend a great part of my life just listening to it, and I feel stronger when I do. The silence (without being silent) is immensely therapeutic, and I thrive when I have this balance. I’ve also gotten outside more often. Not only did my job require it, but I’ve felt the desire to get outside and, yes, even be around people. Contrary to the garbage that comes from Autism Speaks (among others), people with aspergers don’t mind being around people. In my individual case, it’s how many for how long. Being around two or three people for a couple hours is totally cool with me. Surround me twenty people for less time (funny, huh?) and I’m a disaster on the inside.

(The second, and most critical, part of this piece will feature tomorrow night. I hate to be so blunt with the ending but I wasn’t sure how to end)