the windows are dirty
the doors are locked tight
the altars are built
of barbed wire and bones.

the wind blows through
the rain pours in
the bells don’t ring
the dead don’t die.

the child in the corner
looks for his shadow
his eyes are frozen
he cannot cry.

(PDF version)

Today’s poem, “body memory”, is from part seven (“hints of daylight”) of Iron Man Family Outing.

For those who are not familiar with the term body memory, here’s my brief take on it from a post I wrote a while back called “the body is the gateway”:

The body is a container, a vessel, a vehicle for the expression of energy. Sometimes energy gets stuck or trapped. This can result in physical pain, discomfort, structural problems, or illness. A story is also a container, a vessel, a vehicle for the expression of energy. Energy can be trapped in the body in the form of a story. Some stories that emerge from the body are literally true and verifiable in terms of one’s real world experience. This type of story is often referred to as a body memory.

Today’s poem came to me quite spontaneously one afternoon many years ago as I was lying on the bed having a little rest. In another previous post entitled “poetry, dreams, and the body”, I wrote about the changing nature of my relationship with my body at that time in my life that opened the way for this poem to express itself to me:

I was also, at that time, coming into a new form of relationship with my body. I’d been treating my body like a mechanism for most of my life, a strange and mysterious other that felt external and separate from what I thought of as myself, an unreliable machine that suffered from all sorts of inconvenient problems and breakdowns that no doctor I’d seen could explain. I know now that this sort of separation and dissociation from the body is very common among men and boys in my culture. I also know now that it’s common to another demographic group of which I am also a member: adult survivors of childhood abuse.

Somehow, and I honestly can’t say how this came about, I found that my body was, like my dreams, another rich source of imagery and information that expressed itself well in poetic language. I believe this discovery was largely stimulated by the emotional processing work I was doing at the time, in which I was taught to tune into my body as a way to locate and unlock the psychological and emotional energy I’d been forced to repress as a child. As time went on, I gradually began to see my body as a partner rather than as an adversary. I also found that my body had something to say. I only had to give it the time and the space to speak.

The violent incident recalled at the conclusion of this poem is explored again from a slightly different perspective in a poem called “out of body” from my new book, Scapegoat’s Cross: Poems about Finding and Reclaiming the Lost Man Within.

For more poetry on video, visit my YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/rickbeldenpoet.

I’m the scapegoat
I’m the mole
I’m the one they blame.

I’m the one who wouldn’t pretend
I’m the one who wouldn’t buy in
I’m the one who broke the rules
I’m the one who broke the pact.

I’m the one who broke the seal
I’m the one who broke the silence
I’m the one who spilled the beans
I’m the one who has the problem.

I’m the one who put down his cross
I’m the one who jumped off the train
I’m the one who’s got it wrong
I’m the one who doesn’t belong.

I’m the black sheep
I’m the scapegoat
I’m the mole
I’m the one who told.

I’m the judas
I’m the traitor
I’m the one they blame.

(PDF version)

I’ve posted some preview material on my web site at rickbelden.com/new_book, including an excerpt from the introduction and some of the poems that appear in the book.

I’m also making preview copies of the complete manuscript available to those who’d like an early look. Please see rickbelden.com/new_book for information about getting a preview copy.

* The Body – Thoughts – Feelings Connection

* Depressive Realism

* Self Care

The Kellevision blog has been up for a little over a year. It contains a wealth of perceptive, practical information about psychological health and self care, and is updated regularly. I plan to revisit it often to explore the archives as well as to keep up with the latest posts. Highly recommended.

treat your body like a poet
not a whorehouse.

treat your body like a park
not a war zone.

(PDF version)

This blog post is part of Zemanta’s “Blogging For a Cause” campaign to raise awareness and funds for worthy causes that bloggers care about.

what’s the half-life of a lousy childhood?
stranglehold tentacles
come out of a house where
nobody I know lives anymore
body and soul clench like a fist
when that hairy hand tries to pull me down
I need lights
I need noise
I need naked female flesh all around
else I implode.

how do I give up what I don’t understand?
this home isn’t broken it’s blown to hell.

now here’s a place where I can be unhappy in peace
totally safe and unbelievable
a crime against everything I was brought up to be
a slap in the face to that guy who thinks
he knows how it’s supposed to be done
a tight connection to all those old friends
I thought I’d left behind
whores just like me
who knows what they sell themselves for?

last chance for ro-mance
take care of these ladies and they’ll take care of you
why do I need this?

the weird thing is I don’t even see
most of these women anymore
not even as objects.

can’t buy a thrill?
sometimes I can sometimes I can’t but
I don’t need a thrill
I need a break.

(PDF version | Video version)

my skin remembers
slap of the flyswatter metal wire handle.

my tongue remembers
bar of soap shoved in my mouth.

my hand remembers
spilled milk on the first day of first grade.

my stomach remembers
crying in front of everyone ’cause I lost the fight.

my knee remembers
wait for me daddy before I fell + broke my leg.

my feet remember
please teach ricky how to skip
pinned to my kindergarten shirt.

my chin remembers
falling out of bed into a
daddy’s mad again hot sunday night.

my nose remembers
can’t breathe comic books in ragweed darkness.

my fingers remember
building model rockets in a cool summer basement.

my neck remembers
father’s hands closing tight around my throat.

my ears remember
mother screaming stop it dick stop it.

time passes but nothing is lost
I can’t fool myself
my body remembers everything.

(PDF version | Video version)

The mission of 1in6 is to help men who have had unwanted or abusive sexual experiences in childhood live healthier, happier lives.

Our mission also includes serving girlfriends, wives, partners, family members and friends by providing information and support resources on the web.

The 1in6 web site is rich in content and well-organized. Many of the books recommended on the site (including Iron Man Family Outing) can be borrowed, without charge, from 1in6.org. This is a wonderful service and a great way to make these materials available to men who need them and wouldn’t be able to obtain them otherwise.

I wholeheartedly support the work of the 1in6 organization and I’m honored that Iron Man Family Outing has been selected as a recommended resource for visitors to the 1in6 web site.

my shoulders are connected to my head
my arms come out of my ears
my legs come out of my back
my hands come out of my chest.

I’m a hunchback
I’m a razor blade
I’m a boy scout
I’m afraid.

(PDF version)

when I breathe I feel
the pressure of my sorrow
the weight of 10,000 uncried tears.

when I breathe I feel
the power of my shame
a jagged chunk of black ice lodged
deep in my throat.

when I breathe I feel
the animal life
animal fear + animal sadness
animal panic + animal loss.

when I breathe I feel
the screws in my chest beginning to loosen
+ the life I’ve known for so long
coming to an end.

(PDF version)

anger leaking
venomous
blind.

broken bed
guilty feelings
lying here
paralyzed.

isolated
vacant
staring
feeling like a broken branch.

maybe I’m
a broken person
maybe I
can’t be fixed.

(PDF version)

The folks at Gift From Within are doing great work on behalf of those whose lives have been impacted by PTSD and I’m honored that my book has been reviewed on their web site.