The Narcissist – March 23, 2016

involution
written from somewhere inside
a fantasy
or mystery
but who holds the pen

and those words echoing
across a sea of static
unheard
and yet so well-known
who speaks them

there
in a murky wilderness
without rhyme or reason
unbeknownst to anyone
he walked by
snapping a photograph

he caught … the narcissist
reflecting upon his soul
preening in dark waters …
mysterious are the words written
this  bright spring morning.

© G.s.k. ‘16

Photo Challenge #105

Morning Haiku and Waka – A Phoenix Arises – March 4, 2016

Tree of life

those vicious teeth
hidden behind happy smiles
and open doors
shuddering in armour
tend your bow for battle

and friends
walking in other valleys
remember you
how the days passed in silence
awaiting the dove’s coo

after the storm
even the clouds are silver
denying damage
what are a few fallen trees
what are crumbled houses

from the ashes
again the phoenix rises
in a pocket
ink flows from a stolen pen
upon hidden bits of paper

walk tall
no need for shame
life takes its toll

© G.s.k. ‘16

Recently our fellow writer and blogger and one of my dearest friends had a breakdown … she’s now beginning to arise from the ashes of this event and has shared with us the haiku and waka she wrote whilst in hospital.

It’s easy to hurt people in our virtual blogging world.  Often we don’t even think of the people we connect with each day as real live flesh and blood people with their frailties, fears, hopes and tears.  It’s too simple to lose sight of their reality.  Sometimes narcissists reflect themselves in us, easy mirrors for them,  preening themselves as mentors and admirers. Picking the scabs of wounds they know nothing about … because it makes them feel powerful.  At other times people ingenuously bare their souls thinking they’re in a private safe world … when they’re under the eyes of absolutely everyone.

The world of Internet is actually just like the rest of the world with all its monsters and marvels.  The only problem is, we sometimes don’t have our defences up not realizing that Internet is truly like being in a glass house world – we are vulnerable but think we’re safe because we’re sitting in a safe place and writing alone.  We sometimes even think we’re just writing down our thoughts for ourselves.  Then we push “publish” and potentially 7 billion people can walk through the meandering world that is our thoughts.

A while back my friend had a close encounter with a narcissist and like her, a few other women I’ve been in contact with through blog writing over the past couple of years, have been visited by him.  She has had her problems being a survivor … he found an easy prey.  He is not the reason she had a break-down but he was the person who first pushed her out of her balance, out of her wa or sense of harmony.  I mention this only as a warning to others.  We write, sometimes we bare our souls and so we are open to predators who look like admirers or mentors but who are only narcissists seeking to use us to reflect their personal vision of their would-be greatness.

Be safe – be cautious – be warned.

Bastet

From Mamma to Mamma – June 19, 2015

mommy picked-up all his toys
made his bed and shared his joys
Mary always backed him up
especially if he were in a funk
Mabel listened in rapt joy
swooning at his every word
and all he’d say was “me, me, me”

years went by and like Dorian Grey
he saw the world as his own thing
women came and women went
building his ego before they left
until there came a time
when all that he could see
was a shadow sitting in a mirror
and still he only said; “me, me, me”

he never lifted a finger once
in all the years he walked the earth
Narcissist and a three-year old
were freer than our hero, see
he knew all the words
how fine he spoke …
but his words were empty, just so much smoke
behind them were just “me, me, me”

and when he passed out from this world
he’d never learnt to be a man
he was only there to canonize
his own shadow and his own words
he inspired love that is true
but others lived and others grew
for him the world was his own image
made up of so many “me, me, mes”

© G.s.k. ‘15

People talk about woman’s lib, and of course, what we’re really talking about is the right of women to be able to prosper in the world without having to compromise in a world where men hold the purse strings and social power.

It’s long been my opinion that what we really need is a male liberation movement.  Starting with mothers who should insist that our sons take an active part in creating  relationships that “work” … and by this I mean that we should help them grow up and go beyond that stage in life where everything is “just about me” … on about three years old.

This is a common problem in Italy, land of “mammismo” or where mother’s dote on their sons.  If you happen to go into an Italian home where there’s a daughter and a son, you’ll see that she’s the one who helps around the house, is expected to be an understanding and attentive person, while he walks around like a fancy cock whom everyone adores, especially his mamma.  This is a common problem in Italy but it’s my experience that more or less, this is true from Africa to the U.S.A., the only difference being first of all in degree and secondly that in Italy the problem is recognized and sometimes (but not often) corrected.