Mind Wide Open

Mind Wide Open
Lost in translation are the fragments of this beautiful life.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Translation please...


Perso nella Traduzione
                   Lost in Translation

          By Jenifer DeBellis

Qui si leva in piedi una ragazza
                   Here stands a girl
perso nella traduzione
                   lost in translation
prova di spostare la sua mente intorno
                   trying to wrap her mind around
momenti di innovazione
                   breakthrough moments

timore in modo schiacciante
                   Overwhelming awe
domina questa arena
                   dominates this arena
Mentre sensazioni esaltate
                   While elated sensations
intera esistenza dell'inondazione
                    flood entire existence


Friday, December 25, 2009

Kissy-face Santa

By Jenifer DeBellis

Dedicated to Ricky and Suzie Young,
wherever life ended up taking you both.
I shall never forget the night before Christmas...

It’s not every day Santa makes special house trips to visit little girls and boys during wakeful hours. So the Christmas Eve Mr. Claus paid me and my baby sister a special visit was one I shall never forget. Of course, it was Santa’s peculiar behavior that has stuck with me for all of these years.

Being an Air Force brat stationed in Germany is a lot for a four and a half year-old little girl to wrap her always thinking mind around. As the holiday season neared the big day, my anxious areas of concern were how was Santa supposed to find us, and more importantly, how would he get into our apartment if we didn’t have a fireplace?

This is most likely the reason he showed up in our doorway that Christmas Eve in ’77. In the spirit of keeping the magic alive, someone must have made arrangements for this private little gathering. Perhaps it was my mom’s best friend, Suzie, who was with us when the doorbell rang.

At the sound of the bell, she bolted for that door like her life depended on it. After a moment of silence, Santa’s chanted, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas,” could be heard from around the corner where we all sat in the living room. Well, nothing sends young and old alike scrambling to the scene of action like a familiar sound from distant lands. “Could that be who it sounds like?” was the common awed response.

As I rounded the corner leading to the front door, I caught the most profound sight: Santa had Suzie dipped back and was quite passionately kissing her. I tried to make sense of this, while I drowned out my mom’s scolding in the background as she insisted that her friend knock it off already.

Upon seeing my bewildered expression, and unexpected presence (I was sure), Santa returned Suzie to her upright position. From the embarrassment of this awkward moment, his face was the darkest shade of red. Suzie’s expression, on the other hand, appeared to be more victorious and completely void of any shame. I took this all in with my quizzical stare.

My mom began pulling me back into the other room, and encouraged Santa and Suzie to follow us. I stole one more peak over my shoulder as we walked the short distance. When what to my wondering eye should appear? But Suzie smack-groping ‘ole Santa’s rear!

What was I supposed to do with this horrible secret? Didn’t Santa know Mrs. Claus was watching over the North Pole while he was gone, and she could see who was being naughty or nice? Or how about poor Ricky, my favorite pal; what would he think of this behavior? I guess even Santa Claus acted like a bad little boy at times. This was the only reference of peace I could draw from this moment.

My daydreams were interrupted by the small pile of presents sitting next to me with my name on them. The first present was from my granny and papa all the way in Florida. I sighed inward, withholding my disappointment at the sight of footed pajamas. Didn’t they know those things suffocated you? I smiled for the picture my mom was snapping with her new camera, mostly because I knew if I acted how I felt at the moment, it would not be good for me!

Without waiting, I snatched up the next gift. I didn’t need help reading the tag because I recognized the name Jimmy on it (as this is also my father’s name that I had seen so many times, it was committed to my memory). I guessed correctly that it was from Aunt Jane and Uncle Jimmy in Minnesota. Wow, I thought, Santa really had to work hard chasing these down for us. Maybe the guy in red wasn’t such a bad man after all. I ripped the paper off of that gift with lightning speed; I knew if it was from Aunt Jane, it was going to be spectacular! And it was. I now held a giant Raggedy Ann doll. A brand new one, not a hand-me-down, or knock-off version; but the REAL DEAL!

I sat squeezing my beloved new doll to my chest for the remainder of the night. From the cozy little spot on the sofa where I was curled up, I watched Suzie and Santa through slitted eyes. Can you believe Suzie sat on that man’s lap the rest of the night, giggling like a little schoolgirl the whole time?


Friday, December 11, 2009

The Element of Pain

Pain
Its poison weaves into one’s very fibers
wrapping, pinching, pulling every which way
sending out roots; those life giving veins
filled with the insulin of established authority

An all-consuming fire
it burns through the bone and into the marrow

Which is worse:
        · The physical, immobilizing form that takes one’s breath away?
        -or-
        · The mentally tormenting configuration that makes it hard to breath?

Either one will drive a mind wild
The world’s tools cannot always tame
the beast’s tongues of repression
as they lick and spew their venomous flames

The waiting game, once consumption takes root
is its own form of torture -
       (Thoughts bridge between erasing the ache
        and holding together until deliverance is made)

What about when these two join forces?
When physical and mental combine?
       · Will a bridge be able to hold their weight?
       · Will madness ensue; can thoughts flow at all?
       · Will the only thought be to hope that the poison works fast
          so the victim’s redemption can lead to a quick death?

Living in hell, this unbearable hell
makes an irrational fool of ‘em all
When the only thought one can form in this storm
is this torment must stop, and by any means mortal
Then the battle is set for defeat and the soul has sold itself out
       (An ebbing tide, it’s a thief in the night; so slowly it does erode.
        Will the soul be hollow before time runs out?)

Pain: man’s form of torture and suffering; degrees of distress are beside
         the point. Survival's dependant upon one’s faculty function; just
         how much can one man endure?

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Exanimate’s Door


                                                  




Saturday, December 5, 2009

Season Out of Focus

‘Tis the season,
it comes like a thief in the night
Robbing the cradle
of joy, peace and focused sight
How it sends us rushing
every which way but right

Long forgotten is the reason,
the heart of it all
We’ll race past the red bucket,
annoyed by the bell
While shovin' past the cattle line
entering the mall

Our focus on finding
the perfect gift to give
While people go hungry
and have no place to live
All the while in our pride
we claim we’re proactive

We shift the focus
debating over belief
While at the root of it all
births doctrinal grief
A heart for the oppressed
should focus on relief

One closing thought:
How will you ignite the spirit?
Will you turn deaf ears
and pretend not to've heard it?
Or can you receive the message
and revere it?

A holiday thought for MCC Holiday Halfbook by J DeBellis 2009

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Full Moon Madness

I feel
disillusions bitter bite breaking skin
As I’m
racking my brain, while waiting without win
I see
Full Moon, pregnant with her illegitimate wrath
As she
washes over the earth with her spellbound bath
I sit
in this lonely place in time; 'tis so cold
And think:
Why’s it so dark under this grey light’s hold?
I hate
this aching in my chest, it’s like a hole
As I
wonder without end why I’m faint in soul