Archive for the ‘Years’ Category

1978-09-13

Wednesday, September 13th, 1978

Needs and wants are our problem
if I cannot ask to have my needs met
and be equally willing to accept
both possible responses then
I’m not asking, I’m pressuring.

And, if someone asks something of me
and I’m not completely free to say
yes or no then I’m in danger of compromising myself

I seem to relax my boundaries
in inverse proportion to how much pressure
I get from someone

I want nothing but what’s freely given
and the strength to resist the tendency
to want more

If my love asks something of me
and I deny her
and she accepts without a display
of regret or pain

I will no longer think her weak or shy
but rather that she has given me the highest
form of common sense love, love of who I am,
which is also called freedom.

gallagher
september 13, 78

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1978-09-16

Saturday, September 16th, 1978

Ego, the greatest enemy I’ve ever had in my life.

It blinds me with false evaluations
and makes me act in ways
that are not in my best interest.

Simple and solid are best
unless the ego says ‘bigger and better’

The same competitive profit motive one upmanship
that I mock in so many ways
lives at the bottom of my ego.

Bitter taste when my eyes see clear for a moment
I must have risen to my peter principle level
I seem to be so blinded by the bullshit.

How can I guard against this insidious love killer?

I remember a time, but I’m not sure how,
when I used to be mostly free
but, somehow, my own advancement’s success
sucked me back in … insidious ego

All I see is a wasteland of people, just like me
bound by the mirrors in their hands
unable to let free the love
they could give for free.

gallagher

16 september 78


— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1978-09-17

Sunday, September 17th, 1978
               Coping with my disease
                  is hard enough for me alone
               yet I seem to inflict my pain
                  on others who don't deserve it.
               Sitting up in the middle of the night,
                  trying desperately to sort me out
               is an exhausting process.
                  Even medication cannot keep me forever.
               He sleeps in there - I can't disturb him
                  God, -  will you hold my hand
               through this night?
                  can you tell me about my tomorrows?
               Why is just living hard for me?
                  I am at the border of society
               always peeking in but never "normal"
                  he calls me hyper and wild.
               I have been reading his poetry.
                  He knows me well for such a short knowing:
               Am I that transparent.
                  Why, God, is change so difficult?
               These episodes of pain are wearying
                  why am I so reactive to events
               that in the perspective of time
                  are so insignificant?
                                 Helen O'flarety
                                 September 17, 78
                                 written at my apartment

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —