Poetry: Struggle Daily

Sometimes it's funny how memories can be so sharp.

I can feel the glass, cold in my hand.

I can taste the liquor wash over my tongue.

I can feel the burn as it slides down my throat.

And I struggle daily, as the memories assail me.

Sometimes I wish I could just have one drink. 

One drink to wash away worry and stress and life.

I know that one drink is both never enough and too many.

I am an alcoholic, and I struggle daily. 

I wonder how memories can be so sharp after so long.

It's been eight years since that glass has weighted my hand.

I'm removed from my past behaviour. 

I've changed so much since then, except for the craving.

Sometimes the desire is worse now than it was at the start.

It's hard to remember the black outs, and the vomit.

It's hard to remember detoxing and withdrawal.

It's hard to remember that I can't stop when I start.

It's easy to remember the slow burn, and the taste.

It's easy to remember that buzz.

But I look to my children and try to remember the bad.

I struggle, but prevail one day, one hour, one minute at a time.

© 2013 Carrie Ann Murphy

Alcohol and other substance abuse remains a prevalent issue for the LGBTQ community. I think this is partly due to the cultivation of a subculture labeling LGBTQ people as "partiers" out for only a good time. Substance abuse should not be a harrowing right of passage that we pass along to our LGBTQ youth. We lose too many great lights to this disease. Because make no mistake, it IS a disease, and very very few people can kick this without help. 

Our Debt.

We owe a debt to those who have paved our way.

Just as we pave the way for the youth that follows.

I have hope that there will come a blessed day,

When "It Gets Better" doesn't ring so hollow. 

When parents no longer turn out their lgbt child.

Just for daring to be who they were born to be.

I know the idea is amazing, a little crazy and wild.

But I have to have hope that we'll someday be free.

Free to love who we love, and marry who we choose.

Free to live openly without fear of being abused. 

Free to know that our jobs we won't lose. 

Free of the excuses that those churches like to use.

But today we are still struggling along the path.

Today our youth are still dying because of hate.

Every single one of us must use our wrath.

To give them a chance for a better fate. 

Our youth are dying in the streets and in the schools.

Don't accept that there is nothing you can do.

Put in the time, volunteer, mentor, don't be a fool.

You might save a kid's life, it really is true. 

You might give hope where there was none,

You might light someone's way. 

You may change the mind of a kid with a gun.

Who thinks no one can hear what they say.

You might not succeed, and we'll lose some along the way.

It doesn't mean we ever stop trying.

Every child, every person deserves to be loved for who they are.

No child, no person should think living is harder than dying.

© 2012 CA Murphy 

Poetry: What is God to me?

What is God to me?
Just a word filled with hypocrisy.
Something to Justify Hate.
An entity you have to sate.

What to me is the Bible?
Just a book filled with Libel.
A book that teaches not love,
a book having us look to help from above.

Our time is better spent here on earth,
rather than looking to others for our self-worth
We need to make good our lives here,
rather than ruling our actions with fear.

What is church to me?
A place that tells me who to be.
A place that tells me, love is a sin.
A place that never welcomes me in.

There isn't a place for me in your Chistianity.
For surely if I believed I'd lose my sanity.
I refuse to hate myself to serve your faith.
To bow down to that would be a disgrace.

I long ago abandoned your shallow teaching,
because there is beauty in souls worth reaching.
I can't stifle my light for you.
To my own heart I must be true.

If you want to see God, look to your sisters and brothers.
If you want to see good, stop looking to others.
Be the good you need to see
For only then will you be free.


©2012  CarrieAnn Murphy  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Poetry: Done

DONE

I don't like to use the word hate, 

but sometimes I hate you so much my throat clogs

with words I want to say but shouldn't

words that if they had power would destroy you. 

You act like you think I live to serve you

That you can walk all over me like dirt 

That I am no better than that after everything

I am not dirt, I am not yours to walk on anymore.

My feelings of guilt over things I couldn't change

Let you walk on me, let you use me in the past.

I never betrayed your trust like you did mine.

My guilty feelings were over things inside myself.

The shame I had is societies shame, no longer mine.

I couldn't make myself feel the way I thought I should.

That doesn't make me less, that makes me human.

That makes me someone who won't take abuse anymore.

But I am done with self-recrimination.

I am done with your lies and subterfuge.

I am finished with the half-life I was living.

I am moving on, better, stronger, and happier than before. 

CarrieAnn Murphy

©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Poetry: One Last Time

One Last Time

Fingertips brush down my spine

Lips nibbling near my ear

The slight tug on my hair

As you pull my head back to accept your kiss.

Tonight We hold each other as if its not ending

Loving the way our bodies sing for one another

This was not where we went wrong

It was everything outside this room, this bed.

My love for you hasn't died

Your love for me never truly lived.

I tell myself I'm okay with that

I am only lying to myself

Your body spooned against mine

So close, I can't tell where you end and I begin

Lovers just for tonight, One last time

Tomorrow will come too soon, ending the spell

~ CarrieAnn Murphy

© 2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Poetry: Lies

Lies

A lie starts so small and innocent,

but has the power to shape nations

to crumble otherwise stable foundations

to end that which you spent a lifetime building.

Your little lies cascaded into a waterfall

the deluge eroding the love we shared

My heart hardened by the flood of pain

Not able to believe in what you say.

You want me to forgive you and move on.

Forgiveness, when you aren't even sorry?

I will be moving on, without you.

Wary the next time pretty words spill from pretty lips.

~ CarrieAnn Murphy

© 2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Poetry: Whispers in the Dark

Whispers in the Dark

Pretty curves half hidden in shadow.

Perspiration drying on your heaving chest

Eyes heavy lidded, and satisfied

Lips parted, still panting from exertion

You are so beautiful, perfect.

Limp limps lying on our bed.

Relaxed, and ready for sleep.

Still you reach for me.

Your hoarse voice whispers love words

My own voice returns them

I look at you, and know I'm lucky

You look at me, and know I'm yours.

~ CarrieAnn Murphy

©2012 All Rights Reserved

Poetry: I loved her

I loved her


I loved her once.
With all the fiery passion my body could hold.
I hated her once.
With all the cold fury of a love betrayed.
Love wasn’t enough to hold us together.
Tears were enough to keep us apart.
Sometimes I can still smell her perfume,
Though many years have passed since then.
Sometimes, my arms can still feel her,
Even though I know she’s being held by another.
How can I move on when her phantom haunts me?
Ten years later the emotions are still fresh and new.
Sometimes all I want to do is pick up the phone,
Just so I can hear her accented voice roll over me.
I stop myself, knowing that its over.
I loved her once.
I love her still.
© CarrieAnn Murphy 2011 All Rights Reserved

authors note: True story, but at the end of the day, if you asked whether I would go back and do it again knowing what I know now. Absolutely. I don't regret anything. Tis better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all. (timeline in reference to 10 years is a little off, but other wise 100% accurate)

Poetry: Finding Myself (NEW)

I also posted this on tumblr: http://engineerqueen.tumblr.com/post/15435163687/finding-myself

Finding Myself

I have found myself only in glimpses.
In small sections of clarity that never last.
The essence of me is just out of reach
Even at its closest too elusive to grasp.

I wear many labels sometimes jumbled together.
Woman, Daughter, Lesbian, Mother.
Roles that I play for a time perhaps
Writer, Poet, Dreamer, Musician, Lover.

I spend so much time alone
Spinning the wheels of my mind.
Frustrations build as I am still seeking.
Sometimes wondering what I hope to find.

Its hard to love what I don’t understand.
To embrace this person that I see.
I want to, but at times I see only the flaws.
I need to let go I guess and just be me.

There isn’t choreographed steps of what is.
There are no lines to be read.
There isn’t a clear cut path to follow.
I shouldn’t care what is said.

Like everyone else I am searching
Figuring it out as I go along
It doesn’t matter if I find myself.
It only matters that I stay strong.

©2011 CarrieAnn Murphy

Soldiers Kid (POETRY NEW)

My soon to be Ex-Husband is currently serving his 3rd tour overseas.  He is one of my best friends, and the father of my 3 children. This was written in honor of him, and our three monsters. The military family makes sacrifices that few can understand, and even fewer can endure. They are an amazing bunch of people that I have been very very blessed to count myself a part of my entire life. As I am getting ready to sever most of those ties, it is with bittersweet emotions. Thank you Military servicemembers, and your families for the prices you are willing to pay for an oft times ungrateful nation.  ~CarrieAnn~

Soldier's Kid

Daddy has been really busy. Mommy says he's going far away.

I know its his job, and he has to go. But I wish that he could stay.

Daddy is a soldier, and he's been called to war.

Its Daddy's job to serve on a far and very distant shore.

I try to be brave, and not to cry, but its really hard to do.

Daddy says not to worry, because he's crying too.

Its only for a year or so, and we'll write, and call.

We'll get to see him on webcam, but I still wish he was down the hall.

Daddy's getting on the bus to take him to the plane.

We cry and hug and Mommy tries to be brave.

We stand and watch until the bus gets too hard to see.

Its hard to be a Soldiers kid, but I'm so proud of my Daddy. 

© CarrieAnn  2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Poetry: Alone (OLD)

Notes: this is from Rogues POV, and really just an exercise in
boredom. Enjoy.
TITLE: Alone
AUTHOR: Redd
RATING: PG.. Maybe.. for the word Breast
ARCHIVE: Lists, All others Ask and ye shall receive.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Rogue, but these words are mine.
FEEDBACK: Please.


I am alone here in this place.
Yet people surround me.
I am in a bubble of cautious space,
The sense of touch taken from me.

Will I never hold a lover in these arms?
Or an infant to this breast?
Although this package has its charms
There is no one unafraid of the test.

So ever the outsider looking in,
I watch these couples touch.
I think that wishing should be a sin,
When it begins to hurt this much.

I can only accept quietly,
What I long to rage against,
And every day it weighs mightily,
This power that makes no sense.


side note: the above poem is Copyright 2002 C. Kennedy please don't
use without author's permission.