January 14, 1987

Getting dressed for the 6th grade

A grey mini dress

It's a Tuesday

A ringing telephone

Disjointed, indistinct whispers

"Crystal's Dad???"

I ask my stepfather, "What is it?"

No answer

But honestly, I know the world has changed

Sitting on our ugly zebra striped couch

Numb

Momma pulls in from working the night shift and out he goes, practically running

They talk in the gravel drive

She sobbing

No one is talking to me

I stare blinding out our plate glass window partially obscured by crocheted ivory curtains

I wonder how my life has changed

Know instinctively that I will never see my father again in this life

There are no tears

My mother sits to my right, pulls me to her

Sobbing into my shoulder, she whispers in my ear

"Baby, your Daddy is gone"

I don't react

I don't even ask how.

A stream of people entering

Everyone hysterical

I observe

Take in every vision, feeling, word, tear

More whispers… a gun, such a shame, so young, instant death, dressed in his wedding suit, only 28 years old, doing that meth and drinking for years, no wonder really…..

How is she taking it?

I watch "Johnny and the Cruisers" on HBO.

By now, I know the details: Came home drunk from a bar, showered, dressed in his wedding suit, laid down on his mattress

Shot himself in the throat, instantaneous, left very little mess

Which is good,

My grandmother and my 4 year old cousin find the body

My mother asks if I want to see the body at the funeral home

Encourages closure

I agree

But there will be no closure

Not even 20 years later.

I never cried

Not then

At the funeral I can't touch his body

I still can't forgive myself for that

In retrospect, his Sunday night phone call prior was a warning

"Baby, no matter what happens, I love you"

He was sobbing

I was 11, and what the fuck does suicide mean to an 11 year old

I missed the signs.

It never ends you know.

In my dreams and my poetry

It never ends

Closure shall not be mine to claim.

Jeff Bentley Brown Jr.

9-23-1958 ----01-14-1987

Crystal French

2/21/2008

"The Lost Siblings" or "The Forsaken Child"

Souls irreparably damaged by the same SIN
Forced to walk the world alone
Separated by fate, guilt, time, and the frailty of the decision maker
We lost one another
Wherever they walk in the world
I hope they fare better than I.

Easy

Another one that...well, may make some uncomfortable

Easy

I came for you today
Don't ask me why
I ran my fingers down my body
began to touch myself
slowly at first round and round gradually picking up speed as my breath
comes in short bursts
eyes closed imagining your body your face the feel of you on top of me
inside me
the look in your eyes the taste of your mouth
rocking me close
being one with you
the thrust of your hips and my answering motions
faster and harder
beginning to burn
watching your face as mine contorts in pleasure and pain
hearing you say my name
coming down and holding you so close to me
I don't last long
you make me easy
after I fininished I crawled into bed
and cried

Why I re-added the first two terribly ugly and dark poems that are the first you see.

I initially did not publish these two on here because they were so dark and tended to scare people away from my less dark stuff. However, I decided, quite honestly, I want them up here, they are mine, and dark or not, they are as personal to me as any of the others. Feel free to skip them if they bother you, most of my work is not that dark and messy. I just have no way to move them or hide them behind the others because the newest posts show up first.

Truce

TRUCE

blood on my face
blood on your fists
blood on the rose patterned sheet
a gift from my mother
your erection tangible proof of your sick desire
trapped beneath you
your sweat drips off my nose
my lips
and tastes as salty as the blood
my lack of tears makes you madder
makes you fuck me harder
as the sweet scent of wisteria drifts in through the open window
under my trapped right wrist
a cracked photograph of a younger me who had
hope
unreal
I sense your surprise
as I start to giggle
Defeated and suddenly flaccid
you retreat to your pipe
high already fading
Both of us aware this is not over
a momentary truce
Until...
10/13/01

We Don't Sell Crazy Here

"We don't sell crazy here,"
he says as he cums on my leg
Drifting into his high he throws one hairy calf over mine
His face settles serenely and in that moment he is as beautiful as a child
With loathing and self disgust I roll him off and stumble towards the bathroom
Shutting the door behind me I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror
In the rainbow of colors my face has become I see he has broken my nose again
His hand print is still vivid on my neck as my lip trickles a trail of blood down my shirt and onto the floor
With my big toe I fumble the syringe still laying on the tile near the toilet
I wonder where I have gone
Even the tears don't come easy these days
For now the monster is sleeping but he will be back in time for his next fix
on that I can count
You see we do sell crazy here and we are always open for business
10/13/01

January 14, 1997

Getting dressed for the 6th grade
A grey mini dress
It’s a Tuesday
A ringing telephone
Disjointed, indistinct whispers
“Crystal’s Dad???”
I ask my stepfather, “What is it?”
No answer
But honestly, I know the world has changed
Sitting on our ugly zebra striped couch
Numb
Momma pulls in from working the night shift and out he goes, practically running
They talk in the gravel drive
She sobbing
No one is talking to me
I stare blinding out our plate glass window partially obscured by crocheted ivory curtains
I wonder how my life has changed
Know instinctively that I will never see my father again in this life
There are no tears
My mother sits to my right, pulls me to her
Sobbing into my shoulder, she whispers in my ear
“Baby, your Daddy is gone”
I don’t react
I don’t even ask how.
A stream of people entering
Everyone hysterical
I observe
Take in every vision, feeling, word, tear
More whispers… a gun, such a shame, so young, instant death, dressed in his wedding suit, only 28 years old, doing that meth and drinking for years, no wonder really…..
How is she taking it?
I watch “Johnny and the Cruisers” on HBO.
By now, I know the details: Came home drunk from a bar, showered, dressed in his wedding suit, laid down on his mattress
Shot himself in the throat, instantaneous, left very little mess
Which is good,
My grandmother and my 4 year old cousin find the body
My mother asks if I want to see the body at the funeral home
Encourages closure
I agree
But there will be no closure
Not even 20 years later.
I never cried
Not then
At the funeral I can’t touch his body
I still can’t forgive myself for that
In retrospect, his Sunday night phone call prior was a warning
“Baby, no matter what happens, I love you”
He was sobbing
I was 11, and what the fuck does suicide mean to an 11 year old
I missed the signs.
It never ends you know.
In my dreams and my poetry
It never ends
Closure shall not be mine to claim.

Jeff Bentley Brown Jr.
9-23-1958 ----01-14-1987

Crystal French
2/21/2008

Manic

Or Damn, Toto, this sure don’t look like Kansas

Fever bright eyes
Dilated and darkened
Precursors to
Crazy with teeth
Maniac smile
The smell of lightning
Ozone
Synapses firing
Pop, Pop, Pop.
Thoughts beginning to circle
Clockwise
Chasing
fasterfaster
Cyclone
Gaining speed
Losing form, structure
Spinningspinningspinning
Until
A debris field in its wake
Cycling cycling cycling
Look Ma, no hands.
Despair
1/31/2008

Prescription

Sun kissed bangs hide
glittery eyes

heavily medicated
sparkle

2 capsule happiness
an American cover up
the millenium answer
to feeling

predatory
seductress
he called them bedroom eyes

no one sees the
victimization
the self destruction
they see only a
green light
01/02/2008

A Lesson Learned

I reached out for you,
my fingers steamed.
I reached out for you,
my fingers singed.
I reached out for you,
my fingers scalded.
I reached out for you,
my fingers scorched.
My fingers scarred,
I can't reach out for you again
1/28/2008

How funny. My poem "Daddy" is being published again in an anthology. I am always surprised cause in my opinion, "The Unanswered Question" is better, but, hey, I"ll take it!

Self Reflection

Under a sailor's moon
on a night made for lovers
I sit alone
pondering my image in the glass
and unconsciously twirling a strand of hair
round and round one finger
as a haze of cigarette smoke drifts around me
I sip my white wine
and lets my thoughts wander
trying to determine exactly where my head is at

the healing is still hard and has taken much longer than I expected
I must now discover what it is I want--from life, from love, from me
always a work in progress
and it will soon be time
to begin that work again
the intellectual, spiritual, and emotional advancement
of my heart
of my soul
I know I don't have most of the answers
or even most of the questions
but I think I am again ready to move forward
and that knowledge assures me I will be okay
so I am free to finish my last couple sips of wine
light another cigarette
and enjoy that beautiful moon.

Stalker

I have become a stalker
hunting through the shadows we used to frequent
looking for the man with the audacity to walk away
the one who hasn't died from my defection
who taunts me with his obvious well being
refusing to play by the rules of the game he created
turning my love into obsession
raping me of my dignity and self respect
disappearing into a place I cannot follow
leaving me to dangle on the rope of my own making

I thought I had to much pride to beg
apparently there is no end to the humility
brought on by the word Goodbye

Silent Tears

I want to
scream and yell
rant and rave
stomp my feet
at the injustice of your attitude
the unfairness of your stance
how you won't let me speak
won't let me apologize
I want to bite, scratch, punch, and spit
hurt you like you hurt me
kick your superior ass straight to hell
but you have stolen my voice
effectively silencing that which you choose not to hear
and all I have left
are these silent tears

What I Want

You asked me what I want so I made a list
I want to matter to you in a way noone ever has
to be the defining moment in your life
the one you could never forget
the one to heal you when you hurt
comfort you when you are scared
drive you crazy with lust, love, and need
to make you cry and pull your hair in frustration
stomp your foot, hit the wall
I want your emotion, your fire, your intensity
to make you feel every second of this life
the way I do with every cell in my body
to rejoice, scream, grieve with all of you
without your precious walls
I want to save you, hurt you, fuck you, use you, love you
to be your first and last thought of everyday
I want your body, heart, mind, and soul
and my Dear, that is basically it
if I think of anymore I will let you know.

Advice

You cant do that.
You need to do this.
This is the way forward.
This is what you are supposed to do.
Do this.
Do it now,
first thing tomorrow
What is your problem?
Why do you feel this way?
Where did it start?
Why do you keep hurting yourself?
Why can't you get over your past?
What do you want?
What would make you happy?
What do you want for your future?
What do you want for your children?
Do you really want them to see you this way?
Is this the way you want to live your life?
Why are you killing yourself this way?
Why can't you just stop the damn drinking?
Why do you act like this?
WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?
Swirling, Swirling, Swirling
till I feel like I'm fucking crazy.

Burnt

Drug lust out of control
can't do enough to ease this burn
eating up the midnight hours
when will I fucking learn
can't stop the thoughts from flowing
tangled in the sheet of my desire
the sweat thats pouring down my face
still won't douse this fire
my phone ain't ringin
ain't no knocks at my door
all alone with my my mind
layed out on the cold wood floor
can't see your face through this fog
can't even say your name
I am burnt again baby
and still I feel this pain
10/13/2001

The Last Time

Tonight a choice was made
the outcome was not in my favor
your mistress her call is too strong
and the burn in your veins is the only voice you heed
this is not the first time but it is the last
all along I thought I could save you
that our love would somehow prevail
but this battle has been fought alone
and I am wearing to my very soul
last night with your head in my lap
you cried
and I stroked your dampened hair
it was like old times
before want become need
I listened to you talk about all the future could hold
if only I would just believe
I knew this was goodbye
we made love
and this time it was me that cried
tonight you left again
no words from me to make you stay
there is nothing left to say
and hope is something I no longer have
you looked back only briefly
as you closed the door that final time
I realized you knew
but you didnt turn around
I watched through the window as you made your way up the street
and as your shadow faded
I wondered
who's been fooling whom?

Mother

Snuggling
your two year old budda belly
curled into my body
warm soft cheek to cheek
drifting
awash in the smell of your baby curls
giddy with mother love
a tender river pure flowing
filling all of me
in love
you
demanding bossy stubborn 4 year old
a standoff
stomping tantrum
tyrannical
manipulating me into concessions
beating me into submission with your inexhaustible demands
frustration anger
an urge to flee to run
escape
into nothingness for awhile
blessing
curse
mother

Boston Children's Hospital

The city spread out below our tenth floor room
the heavy hum of the elevator as the floor
and my knees drop out from under me
the bustle of people moving fast
no words and no smiles
the concrete enclosed smoking area
dark even in daylight
where ambulances come screaming in
and the security guards stand a lonely vigil
bright walls and bright rooms
flowers and balloons
adding to the complete unreality of this place
the sweet sad smiles of the children
the parents faces a mix of desperation and exhaustion
pain despair anger frustration hope
click whir ding slam
silence
waiting waiting waiting
too much time to think
08/20/2001
I wrote this when my daughter Amber had to be treated for 4 days at Boston Children's Hospital in the summer of 2001 for 2nd stage lyme disease.

Pariah

Depression
like a roller coaster stopping sickeningly at the top
before plunging to the depths below
screaming in my head
writhing to stay on top of the pain
feeling it pulse beneath the surface
tearing gouging
waiting to take me down
judgements like small knifes piercing my skin
I bleed but I dont cry
tied to a cross of my own making
the sinner
Pariah
Flirting with my own self destruction
laughing cause I dont care
everyone with their answers their quick fixes
as if it should be so easy
refusing even to name my pain
keep your answers your fixes
your scarlet letter judgements
what do you really know about me
the thrill this darkness brings
feeling totally alive while destroying my soul
I couldn't see your hand reaching out if I wanted to
I can't see and
you can't help
9/30/2001

An Open Letter

Sat down to write about us tonight
try to work through some of this bullshit pain
ended up with a string of "lajdlfhaslkdfhakjjdhfkajhf"
and a pile of crumpled paper at my feet
How to explain this loss
the hows and whys
I dont even understand it yet
I must first
sort through the us
from the start
marinate my brain with memories
of what made us what we were
and what we eventually became
how you came to mean all you meant
and why there was no other answer
why all of this has to be so fucking hard
and who is to blame
I dont know how to make you see how desperately sorry I am
If it helps to know I am hurting
I am..sad in ways you wouldnt believe
I know it will get easier
that time will bring closure
but the bridge from here to there looks eternal
must to far to walk on foot
and I am so tired
Just know this
It was not a journey I wanted
not the path I would have chosen
for we had a special love a special friendship
for a time so deeply connected
and I wont let goodbye take that from me
You will matter in my heart for always
I will carry your memory long after time has taken
your face
your voice
and
my heart.

Jaded: The Loss of Innocence

your body turned away from me
partially obscures your face
the tears you are trying to hide
light shining on your castdown head
turns your hair into streaks of gold
and I long to touch it
through the haze of cigarette smoke
and dancing dust motes
I search for the words to take away your pain
your golden boy existence, altar boy past
didn't adequately prepare you for the bare, scraping rawness of betrayal
the sting of loss
there was no way you could have known that I was not the girl you dreamed of
that I was bursting at the seams of the mold you created
just a role play of ego, a mask for the masses that I clung to
but the bitter truth has risen beyond its glittery facade
and you know me for what I am
the trash pretending to be treasure, an actress playing a role
with award winning acclaim
and you may never look upon the world again
with the happy innocence of yesterday
but with the jaded gaze of one who's been burned
and for that I am truly sorry

I Drank Because

I drank because...
As alot of you know I often used alcohol to excess in the past two years to deal with emotional issues ...

I drank because
I was weary of my skin
unable to escape the endless stretch of minutes
and the roar of my thoughts blocked out the beauty of starlight
I didn't know what to do with myself
I drank to forget
This is as true as I can get.

September 10, 2007

____ Ash Ln. Apt. # 1421

_______ Ash Ln. Apt. # 1421
I bet you could fill in that blank
Who, but you could tell our story as well as I
The story of the last fifteen years
Who but you could…
list all the addresses of all the places we’ve ever called home
name the exact time our children were born
describe the pattern on our wedding bands
point out the pets,
friends,
places
in our photo albums
remember
long, desperate months at boot camp
our babies’ first steps, first teeth, first haircuts, first days of school
camping trips, fishing trips and sunburns
our first apartment, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first tree we decorated
scars, illnesses, surgeries, Pericarditis, Lyme Disease, miscarriage
the funerals of both our grandmothers
the thousands of meals, miles driven, movies watched, early mornings, late mornings, breaths, sighs, laughs, tears, hugs….
Only you could tell that story as well as I
but….
THE END
______Wildwood Circle South Apt. # 611

September 29, 2006
Crystal French

Brandon's Poem: An Unread Letter

"I will never get over feeling like Lady Macbeth. You will be the spot of blood I can't clean from my memory."

I had you there for me
I wanted you there to hold me up
To listen to my stories my pains my fears
To be my companion every second of every day
So I never had to be alone
My default
My lover
A stand-in
for the obsessions that controlled me
You treated me the way I'd always dreamed he would
You gave it all
All
Anything I wanted or asked for no matter how unfair
you gave it no questions asked
I wanted so much for you to be THE ONE
for my compulsion for the other to go away
so that the feelings I WANTED to feel for you might come
but I couldn't make it happen
I dont know why honestly dont know why
I know that I couldn't trust you to keep the crazy at bay
Couldn't trust in your ability to take care of me
You were still so inexperienced as an adult no matter how hard you kept trying not to be
and I know what I needed from you was unfair completely unfair
but it was what I needed
to not be afraid to stop the constant nagging fear the mental defect
that made me incapable of functioning
I had you there for me
I needed you to save me
I just didn't know how to tell you how to fix it
but it wasnt always that way
There were times I was so so happy so completely filled with need for you
with love
You have every right to be angry to hate me to be furious to cut me out of your life
as you have done
I hurt you so badly and so often
treated you as if you were disposable took you for granted
but I am angry too so angry
because you never believed I didnt have a choice
that my behavior had outgrown my ability to control it
that I couldnt seem to help it
or fight the constant feelings that were driving me
You blame me like I did it on purpose that I wanted to hurt you
You couldnt understand this sickness
and I hate you for that
You gave up on me too soon
and too late


September 10, 2007

The New Day: A Tribute to a Life

The New Day:
A Tribute to a Life

The alarm rang at six-thirty this morning
just like always
Another day of family life
hair and teeth brushed
lunches and backpacks and kids packed off to school
A day like any other
but not like any other
that I have ever known
Someone new:
Told Jessie to have a good day
Drove me around to countless job interviews
Played PS2 games with Amber
Helped finish up the laundry
Raved about my cooking
Ran to the store for more soda
Helped Jessie finish her homework
Got my medicine when my tummy got sick
Listened to me talk about my day
Stroked my hair
Caught my moans in his mouth
Held me close as I fell asleep
Someone new will:
Hang the Christmas lights and help me play Santa
Attend school plays at my side
Learn my smell and my taste
Help mend boo-boos and broken hearts
Grill the pork chops
Comfort me when I’m scared or sad
Share talks and laughs and sighs
Be written into our new history
our new memories
Meanwhile
Someone else is learning:
That you can’t stand cherries
Love Chocolate Almond ice cream
Are habitually clean and tidy
Almost never pass gas
Suffer from chronic athlete’s foot, especially in the summer
Pronounce “G” and “J”
The scar across your left knuckles
The smell that always said “home” to me
The soft yummi-ness of your bottom lip
The way you feel inside them
Someone else is:
Washing the clothes I washed hundreds of times
Greeting you when you get home from work
Preparing the nightly meal
Learning your expressions when your
Happy
Sad
Angry
Scared
Sleepy
How long till this feels like normal?
Crystal French
September 28, 2006

The Unanswered Question

When they laid my infant head in your fumbling teenaged hands
Are you sorry?
When you walked out the door and left us both behind
Are you sorry?
When you chose to hear "Daddy" only Friday through Sunday
Are you sorry?
When your high opinions of me were what I needed to believe
Are you sorry?
When you touched me there and then told me not to tell
Are you sorry?
When you called to say "goodbye" your voice all choked with tears
Are you sorry?
When I stepped up to your coffin and couldn't seem to cry
Are you sorry?
When I tryed to down my pain in sex and booze and drugs
Are you sorry?
When they laid her infant head in my fumbling teenaged hands....

Crystal French
Copyright 2003

Daddy

This is a poem that I wrote in 2001, when I was finally struggling with my feelings over my father's abuse, alcoholism and drug addiction, and ultimate suicide. It was published that same year.

Daddy
The branch my mind stumbles on when I try to move forward
The mental abberation that unknowingly guides my path
The ghost that haunts me from the grave
Daddy
The past
The pain
The rage
The love
He held my little hands and helped me learn to walk
He awoke me at night with the screams of my stepmother
And the sounds of thuds and slaps
He carried me and told me he would die for me
He jaded me with scenes of madness and growing addiction
With his hands and a guitar he made music that brought tears to my childhood eyes
With his hands and a gun he took his life one cold January night
Forever proving my unworthiness
I love you
I hate you
I miss you

Crystal French
Copyright 2001