past

i wish i could strike myself deeper so my ink could flow.
the rages and shallowparts that lie in our culture fight to survive.
descending to feed on our senstive skin-
i wonder again at the way some fly and some crawl.

it was like this. two people spoke that day
words tied together with myth to make stories...
One heard,
the other forgotten.
The unheard followed
the ways
of the drunkards
the other rose to great heights and
laughed when men stumbled.
both died.

the bohemian respite

whose song should i sing
my ration has extended the
place i call safe
but still, drifting on waves
the ocean had infected me and
my blood tastes of salt.
the soul-place with iron walls and rusty
locks
you remember, the place we hid from the
mourning? the sunlight,
the daylight, the twilight.
How dark the night and cloudy skies-
remember the day we played in
the rain? You laughed at first,
but the glistening light
reflecting off the raindrops
running down my face was infectious.

patience

sometimes
i sit and think too much, not well.

i have no Zen
my reeling emotions often overtake my insanity
my cliché’s are no longer cliché

i'm trying to again master my pen
force it to succumb to the abuse i assail upon it
again and again i force it down, but find no release.

do you have the key i seek?
i talk too much... look into my eyes. you can't see in
the shroud i have mastered

with outsides well scripted
the words i craft clues to the listener
to the truth that belies me.

try my ways, try my cracks
hold my hair back, i'll return the favor
when you face the fear that is yourself

the new blood that i seek
ripped from my soul with the words i speak
riddle you this as again i tease with promise of trust.

realism is too prosy for my poetic nature
but how can you fit content and self-loathing
inside the same creature?

so I'm a housewife

technically, at least. I'm at home most of the day with my son, and I'm a wife. though i'm at home because i run a design company with my husband, and i'm a wife because i fell madly in love... i did not succumb to the greatest fear every female with liberal leanings who was raised in a conservative home secretly denies possessing... that of marrying a man because i saw no other choice.
we eloped. i nearly ran away... as in nearly got on a bus when my soon-to-be life mate was paying for the gas... but fortunately, for once i put aside the familiar urge of running from what was too good to be true and walked with him down the aisle. Well, parking lot, into a garden, but it worked for us.
When you find someone you love, don't push them away. Step out on that shaky limb and let them know you love them. There is nothing more beautiful than finding out that you are loved, even when the person doing the loving has seen you at your worst, or in my case, my most neurotic. I couldn't scare him. I tried, damn it, but it never worked. I'm still trying, just to be sure.
One drawback to marriage... I find it has somewhat lessened my creativity. Or rather, it has lessened the frequency of what I termed creative outbursts which, though I still admire their rawness, I wouldn't want them published for anyone to see. I have developed a suspicion that they weren't really that good.
I think the main drawback to my release on paper is now i have true release, in many senses of that word. I have a captive audience who thinks I'm brilliant. So I tell him all my thoughts, and then have no need to write them down. I think I'm going to write the profound ones down before I tell him so they can be preserved. Why, just now, when I was sitting on my porch... smoking a really nice clove I might add... they're so undependable with the loss of filtered Internationals... I thought of at least five.
However, now that I made my way into the house and sat down to face my screen I find they're lost. There's no telling the wars that might be prevented and the lives that would be forever altered if I could keep my thoughts in my head for a little bit longer...