Oh, Death...

I do not profess to be John Donne or Emily Dickinson with regards to death... it's not fickle like fame, which Ms. Dickinson proclaimed. What I do believe is that Death, death, however you choose to regard it - formally, informally, with respect or not - it happens... to all of us. Why then is it scary? It's the ONLY guarantee we have in this life... so are we afraid because of the perception that we will not accomplish what we set out to do in our life time? That our lives will not amount to anything or anyone, mostly ourselves? OR are we afraid that because not everyone knows how or when they'll die (I say this because some folks with terminal illnesses know that they will die because of their illness) we are afraid of the unknown - that Death, or death, will take us unawares in the middle of some great project, or idea, or relationship, or movie, or commercial break?

I am afraid of the unknown. Right now I feel I'm gonna die from lack of funds... okay, maybe from being humiliatingly incapable of being able to find a job with my educational standing. I'm over-educated and unemployable. But, death seems to come in various forms, at various times, without invitation because it's the only thing that is given an open door to anyone, anywhere at any time... regardless of educational background, race, social or employment status, and amount of funds in the bank account.

Death's sting stings. It hurts to lose someone we love regardless of their age... it hurts to lose. Death is a game we can never win and aren't even really allowed to play without losing. People have beat the odds in some instances, but again, we all know that Death ultimately has the final say over EVERYONE, and previous odd beaters will succumb to the inevitable. Maybe there should be some solace in this... maybe. And maybe there just isn't. Because at the end of the day, or the end of our lives and those we love, we all seem to end up feeling like we didn't get to do or say or be something that Death has and will rob us of, making the end so definitive.

So why the tears and the heart ache? Is it outlined in the above? Is it merely from losing something we didn't quite grasp or give our all to... a project, a person, a place - ALL the nouns that we didn't give apt adjectives to because we were so busy being self-involved missing out on what would end up being permanently missed out on? Missing out on that which can not come back with a drop of a quarter in the slot to play again? Game over... before we began... we learned the inevitability of the formal assured promise of Death's arrival to everyone and everything we have ever known... and it sucks... and I can't figure out why since I know full well that it approaches and lurks around awaiting to take our hands and souls for a walk to the other side... maybe that's just Death's job and some other entity does the processing.

Well Death, I have not enjoyed your presence in my life. I ask that you stop trying to be so coy behind your sooty black hoodie and show us another face - one that promotes peace and the welcome invitation you so desire being shunned by all us mortals because of your immortality and job description.

I am the Judge

Today and yesterday I encountered some rather disturbing people... well, they didn't know they were disturbing because I judged them as such. For as much as I like to think I'm an advocate for having justice served to those deserving of it, I act just as much as judge and executioner to those that don't know what's going on in my mind regarding them and the inconvenience their presences make on my life's stage.

What happened yesterday night was like a scene out of a horror movie: Nothing too new in a big city this side of Heaven; a man begging for money... with a cardboard sign in hand asking for monetary donations. He leaned to the right with every step. The horrificness came from the angle at which his right ankle curved. It looked like he had been hobbled like the man in Stephen King's Misery novel. With every step he took he looked like he would fall - teetering on the edge of a cliff. His calf jutted a little south-east from his knee and then turned with a 90 degree angle exactly above his ankle, ending with his right foot turned slightly toward his left foot, almost pigeon-toed. The skin on his legs looked leprous. His hair was matted and the smell of urine saturated his clothes and wafted through the air diving into my nostrils feet first without invitation.

Maybe that's too harsh an assessment - his life looking like a scene out of a horror movie. It's his life. He seems to be living it just fine and does not seem to mind asking for others' to help him finance his way of life on the corner of Randolph and Dearborn - the theater district, making him an appropriate character in this play, on the stage of my life.

Brit'ny was sagging her jeans, unintentionally. She hadn't eaten in who knows how long because I didn't ask, but she asked me... for my cell phone and some of my food... like this: "Have you ever had to ask someone you didn't know for something... never mind..." I said, "Brit'ny, what do you need?" "I'm hungry," she replied. I offered her some of my Trader Joe's spicy sushi. She took one bite into it and then looked at the innards quizzically as they dangled on the precipice of her finger tips. A piece of sushi nori (seaweed paper) was hanging down with sticky, starchy white rice hanging on for dear life. I didn't have the heart to tell her what it was and told her so... she proceeded to shove the piece in her mouth like she hadn't eaten in many days... and it could have been the case. I lied to her when she asked for money. I threw the girlfriend I was with under the bus asking her if she had money and she coughed it up as I coughed up only one dollar. Brit'ny also used my cell phone to call Thelma. Maybe Thelma would be picking Brit'ny up on Wabash and Roosevelt so they could take a road trip and drive the car into the Grand Canyon... her life already a canyon filled with broken dreams and promises... and she scared me. Her neediness. Her lack. They both scared me and I judged that which I didn't know about what I was observing and making up in my mind... another character cast in the play of my life of  sometimes inconveniences on a stage without a curtain.

Then today, the food court in Union Station. My eyes were privy to see a homeless person digging through the trash receptacle fishing out discarded bags of food that had leaked out into the bag it was discarded in. Leaking ecru milky spittle from the corner of its mouth - could not discern the gender of this one - while bent in a right angle at the waist in order to use the left arm as a crane lifting out the wreckage of garbage now found as a delicacy - I instantly became nauseous. The friend I was dropping off and trying to enjoy lunch with had no idea what was happening behind his back four feet away. I didn't dare tell him. He would have shrugged it off. Not that he wouldn't have cared; he would have said something to the effect of, "It's the choices we make that land us there." And as nauseous as I was before this episode/scene, I continued to eat my blessed meal and made a concerted effort to only look in the eyes of my lunch mate. This homeless person found their lunch in the trash can and made away with it... happily ever after? Doubtful. Feasting on someone else's left-overs? For certain.

After the above character left center stage, who should find their way into my field of observation center stage right, but a frail little bald headed boy. So bald his scalp shined more so from the overhead fluorescent lights. His arms looked like they would break just from a  much needed hug I felt compelled to give him... but I didn't move from my comfortable orchestra seat. I just observed what was being played out before me... his other siblings didn't treat him with the kid gloves of my imagination. They treated him just like the leukemia that almost ravaged him: harshly, derisively, without concern for his age or small stature... but it seemed to make him a survivor...

And like all three of these characters and their varied challenges and sad circumstances (what I perceived as such), they all seemed to find the light in the down stage center of their lives, let it fall on them, and smile... while I cried observing.

Reaching THIS Goal

So it's June 1st, 2012. I made it. I wrote 366 poems, not 365, because it was a leap year. I was inspired by the playwright Suzan-Lori Parks. She wrote a play a day for 365 days. Like her plays, not all of my poems are good. Also, please do not be deceived. I did NOT really write one poem a day all 366 days. Some days I wrote multiple poems and scheduled them for "release" on the day they were due. Other times I wrote multiple poems to catch up, but other times I would sit down and write one poem for the date on which I wrote it. Some changes occurred over the year: Google decided to change some of the formatting on its blogging site. This was good for me because it meant I could post date poems I didn't get to write on the day they were due... it also meant that the poems that I merely post dated on the title/subject line were changed to their "original" air dates. This was a HUGE thing because back in mid-January I fell off the face of the blogosphere planet and stopped writing and didn't pick up the pen... uh, put down my fingers to the keyboard until right before my milestone birthday. I just felt I needed my blog, this HUGE accomplishment, to be up to speed because I was turning, let's just say, a certain age that meant I was REALLY a grownup now and I needed to make good on this promise, if even just to myself.

So, I can take a breather now... right? Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I don't think I can ever stop writing. I started creatively writing at quite a young age. To stop now, would be odd, uncomfortable, like losing a necessary limb, etc., etc. - it just wouldn't seem right to not write.

Please feel free to take a gander. I welcome and LOVE comments so please comment away. Oh, if you have suggestions for future poems please feel free to offer them up. Sometimes I asked the students I was around to give me a word or an idea to use as a starting point. They enjoyed that... being part of the creative process, and I liked what it did for me in making connections. Writing has always been a solitary activity I have used to escape - as a refuge - a place to retreat, in order to recharge... IF I liked something I wrote I would then invite someone in, but for the most part, I have kept people out until I started this blog and began to "share" on a daily basis. There was no method to my madness. I would just sit down and write. Like I said earlier, if I needed an idea for a starter, I would ask a student... or, at times, I would just look around me and draw inspiration from whatever was in my environment at the time. I have noticed I wrote a lot about my relationship with my boyfriend, and men, in general. In other poems I wrote about love, the lack thereof, and relationships in general. I tried to tackle as many topics and not get stuck on any one subject, but sometimes that just didn't happen and I would end up penning something quite melancholy and depressing... this is life... or at least has been part of mine. Some of the poems are just silly or I would try out a particular style. I had one poem date that housed 13 Haikus on the subject of an ex-boyfriend in high school. The classmate of mine who "stole" him from me didn't realize he was my boyfriend and that I liked him as much as I did until she read my Haikus and made a comment. That was quite humbling... but, I didn't stop uncovering and peeling back layers of my heart through doing this blog. I kept going. I didn't always like that I made this commitment, but I had to be a woman of my word and finish what I started... and actually, this wasn't even my idea. Another girlfriend of mine suggested we do this. I had FINALLY finished my thesis document and didn't know what I would do with myself and all this time I now had on my hands and so I agreed to this endeavor. It was worth it. I discovered it is a gift I have and have had for a long time.

I really am so grateful for this gift. It may not always be presented as a pretty present wrapped up all fancy shmancy. Sometimes my "presents" are wrapped simply in the Sunday comics sealed with masking tape. Other times I used the finest silk material with satin bows... but offer up as gifts, I did/do. I do not come from money, nor do I have a lot of it. I live month to month on just enough. I would like A LOT more money, but, for the most part, I'm content with what I have... except I find I need to give away my words - again, as gifts because they carry pieces of my heart in each of them... when they have been read a little piece of me has been implanted in to you. Take care of the pieces you acquire and thank you for stopping by for these little gifts I offer without charge.

If by chance you are offended by anything I wrote, I do not apologize. That is the nature of art - sometimes it provokes. I am hoping for the best kind of provocation. DO NOT REPRESS; EXPRESS!

Much love to you!

Keep the ideas flowing!

Sincerely,
JoLynn
P.S. A few of my "favorite" poems will be marked with an asterisk* next to the title.

366 Words for 366 Days

To come to the end is not over

It just begins a new beginning

Laying in clover

Covered in the fine dust of

Living extra robust and

Breathing in the air of life

Filling the lungs full to

Capacity – the sagacity of

All of this is just starting to

Make an impression in the

Wet cement of my mind whilst

It dries out and creates a cast of

A memory derived and thriving

On that which can be anything

Conceived in or out of bed in

Your head – mind’s eye – seen

For what it is or was or what it

Can be – however – whomever –

Wherever as long as it develops

Blooms into the taxonomy of

Living large and in charge

Barging ahead as others gather

Theirs’ in a quest for quieting the

Sleeping giants within who have

Been sedated to deal and not keel

Over the hull of this vessel set

Sail in utero and birthed through

Various themes, devices, ideas and

Words, words, words – so good, so

Free from the guilt that surrounds the

Count down to “victory”… hasn’t the

Victory already come in the form of a

Quiet – so quiet no one even knew –

That this was it… “finishing is

Better than starting,” as long as there

Is a method to this madness – which

Witchy broom sweeps this up into a

Fresh frenzy of ideas translated into a

Multitude of numbers accounted for

At each and every line whether breathed

Or not – even if he so much as tries to

Figure it out or average it up –

Statistically speaking, how could I

Possibly lose to numbers that stare me,

All of us, in the face until we reach our,

My quota… even as my eyes begin to

Cross and I can barely keep my

Eyelids peeled like the frozen grapes

They resemble – I must ride this

Trusty steed to the finish line no matter

How long it takes to make it there –

When I do cross the line you and I will

Both know that it took each of these

366 words to get my point across

Even if it’s crazy - I find nothing lazy

To fault me for trying to accomplish

this GOAL!!!

#2

Touching a #2 pencil is
Like touching #2...
When you're constipated -
It's hard and scratchy and
It just stinks... you gotta
Force ideas out of it and
They just don't flow out
The pointy graphite tip.
Sometimes they get stuck
In the shavings inside the
Sharpening machine
Collected for the garbage
Not to be recycled...
Maybe.

Are these just the 1,002 steps
In the process of invention like
Edison's light bulb?

Phoenix Rising*

Rising out of the horizon
Fire aflame in her wings
Flapping furtively until
Touching the sky and
Taking flight to flit away to
Another time and place to
Perch upon a precipice
Precariously poised and
Ready to release the
Built up tension stored in
Her lungs - out it comes...
Exhaled on to the winds of
Change and she rises and
She rises and she rises and
She rises and supported by the
Surrendering of her wings
Embraced by the invisible
B
        r              e                  e
               e                z
                      
soars...

Memorial Day

Purple pulsates plumminess
Dripping down your chin
While lapping up soon-to-be
Summer succulence slithering
Blithely by in the breeze by the
Lake, languidly lazing in a
Bowl, pitted - dewy droplets
Embracing the small curvature
Of the cheery cherries skin
Before they meet their makers
On the incisors of many mouths
Welcoming the beginning of
Summer memorialized by
Memories of those who fought
We've since forgotten standing by
The Webber grills awaiting a
Tube steak or burger they no
Longer get to ingest because they
Were served a different meal of
Service to these United States.

Under My Control

It's so easy to get him
Under my control
Mind control
All it takes is a
Genuine
Gen-U-wine
Whine
Whined
Handwritten
Hand-delivered
Note of gratitude and
An adjusted attitude
On my part...
Start living like Him
Eat the fruits of the
Spirit and serve them up
On a platter of
"Thank yous" and
"You are the sweetest" and
Really mean it even though it
Goes against my sinful
Nature vs. nurture
What do I want the end
Result to be?

It's under my control...
Only IF I give Him my
Control panel and eat the
Spread He places before me
Even if it's humble pie and
An apology served to the one
Who doesn't deserve the
Food fight of inedible, moldy
Fruits thrown without warrant
Prompted by the devil.

Waving the white flag.
Please come to the rescue of me.
I surrender.

Funny Nun

I used to be funny.
I used to be fun.
Now that money
Is my god I run
From the sun.
I hide in the corners
Completely broke
As I choke on
The tears that
Collect the only
Interest I accrue -
Who ever knew
That loving'd be
So challenging?
No return texts
And barely a call
Unless he's at the
Door ready to
Come in and then
The plates start
Flying as I aim
For his head to
Knock some sense
In to his rather
Dense cranium -
He runs from
The truth or
Sharing his heart -
I open my mouth
And too much
Comes out -
I'm afraid I'm the
Problem... I've only
Made it this far
Twice before and
Was dumped.

I have lost my joy.
I have lost my boy.
We don't laugh
Together and I cry
When we're apart
Because I realize
I'm the problem
From lacking in
Trust - he seems to
Be hiding and I'm
In a cloud of his dust.

This is why I'm not funny.
This is why I'm not fun.
I'm working so hard at
Trying to be a nun...
None of it's working and
I feel like a crumb.

Chicken Nuggets

Parts and pieces conglomerated
Into the shape of a Christmas stocking
Waiting to have its toe dipped into
Sweet chili sauce - to swim around
A little before Santa delivers it
In the shape of a gift certificate above
The hearth where he slips "LiquiGlide"
Into the heart valves of millions of
Children and adults who are craving
And addicted to the addictive
Properties found in the crispity,
Crunchity, hot-with-grease
Nuggets they chomp to stop from
Actually cooking a decent, nutritious
Meal on Fridays...

Love Never Fails

"I want to hurt you the way you hurt me,"
I actually said this out loud to the one
I love... who loves and puts up with me
One day at a time - one issue at a time -
"It is to the King's glory to overlook an
Offense." And offend I have and
Overlook has my king because of his
View of our King - why do I collect
Debris, creating a debit list of offenses
So miniscule when I am the executor of
Said offenses? I am scared of loving and
Being loved and being hurt and hurting
The one I love - because all I've seen is
Failure and love not lasting... but my
King promises, "Love never fails."

I was crushed by my admonition.
As was he...
I may have spoken the truth... but
I didn't speak it in love... I have
Wounded because I was wounded
And the One who loves us both
Hurts for us to know and grow
More in love with Him and His ways
Instead of clinging to what we may
Have experienced, even if it's wrong
And twisted and warped - it's what's
Known - I'm known by Him and
Becoming known by him who wants
Nothing more than to love me
"Right" - I want to experience this
Love - he "always hopes, always
Perseveres." We can not fail because
We love and we will continue to grow...

Humanity

Letters and numbers these
We've been assigned the
Day we were born - they
Supposedly
Identify us - are unique like
Our fingerprints and set us
Apart to be counted.
Who do we count to or
For - are we counted?
Or accounted for when we
Are forgotten in the mix of
Numbers that indicate our
Order on the chain, linked to
A heritage of humanity not
Seeing how closely we are
Related because no one wants
To admit just how similar we
Are - the letters of our names
May not be the same - but we
All contain letters and numbers
Given at birth that set us apart to
Bring us together in humanity.

Sweet, Fresh Air*

Sweet may not be the best word to
Describe the smell that tickled its
Way up my nostrils tonight as
I walked to the water's edge...
It came from the chilly breeze
Wrapping itself around my bare
Legs as I pulled and readjusted
My poly-spandex polka-dotted
Skirt down around my naked gams
In order to breathe in and out the
Freshness from the frosty spring air
While praying to God for answers
For my life... love and otherwise -
Otherwise, i will continue to grope
About in uncertainty, bitterness and
Pain like the prickles that enveloped
My right foot as it fell asleep, pinned
Under my left gastrocnemius - not
Forgetting to look up at the sky and
Cry out for forgiveness in gratitude
For its already mine IF I grasp the
Truth and believe it applies --
The wind whipped and the chill
Squished out the heat, making the
Journey back to the car, and reality,
A little painful - but refreshing to
Feel - even if it hurts, it's true...
Like the distance between the stars
I saw through the light pollution of the
City I am struggling to call home.
Ahhh, fresh air!

Touchy Much?

Everything gets under my skin so fast.
He forgets one thing and "it's over!"
Why can't I just make up my mind to
Realize I am so amazingly blessed and
Yet I keep finding fault and specks of
Dust in his eye while bludgeoning him
With the plank sticking out of my face.

I felt on top of the world... yesterday...
And then today and one minute detail
Missed means he has stopped caring in
A little more than 24 hours!!

I am the problem. I need to change.
I will remain alone and in pain unless
I deal with me and how I REACT and
Act like a completely critical Cathy - the
Thorn in my flesh is IN my flesh - it's
My mind... it needs to be renewed by the
Renewing Spirit... I must let it enter and
Do Its job... it's a choice. Everything is...
Especially loving that which is not exactly
What I had bargained for but can become so
Much more IF I allow it to WITH faith.

The Chokes*

Dry and crusty
Filled with government
Issued protein slices
Flocked to out of
Routine for feeding
Time - a time relied on
Reliably delivered daily
Without question or
Judgment - judged by
What is lacking -
Has lacked due to
Birthing order... the
Order of the lives
Choking...
"Life without decency is
Unbearable..."* choking
On the chokes, choked
Down without as much as
A glass of water... and, yet
With gratitude and eagerness
As many days as they were
Delivered and not on a
Silver platter - just dis-
Played in the hands of a
Public servant - a requirement
Of the job - choking back
Tears, often delivering the
Only good news or meal
They'll see... for the longest.





*quote from the movie, Albert Nobbs.

Love...Mine...

Who knew it would take so much work, that
It would be a daily, moment-to-moment
Decision to love... to be in love and in turn
Allow someone to love me and all my warts.

I want to love my love's warts too... he has had
A hard time allowing me to - for fear of
Public
Displays of
Affection...
I kind of get it... I don't want anyone being
Voyeuristic, if you will, but I certainly don't
want to be left holding my own hand or the
Bag with my heart in it that gets snatched by the
Local bad boy who goes about smashing hearts...

Oh, the pain, and the rapture that love provides.

I have flown high on its chemical that has
Held me hostage and I have wanted to kill
Because of this same chemical... reaction.

And react - I do - to not being loved the way
I had hoped: with flowers, candy and little notes of
"I love you."
"You light up my life."
"You make me whole."

To carry on... do I need these?

I know I need honesty, affection, and
Good old fashioned laughter... love, too,
Obviously... for mine to last.

Rest in Pieces

500 per ream derived from the
Pulp of trees that once shaded and
Housed millions of beings.

Packaged for our consumption
Thoughtlessly, daily - package
Ripped open and thrust into the
Printer drawer - churning out
Documents that demand justice
For causes that don't support the
Pieces of paper they are printed on...

Sadly, forgotten for their support of
Numerous causes while they are
Unused, blank and balled up by students
Used as an unbouncing sphere sunk
In the circular file hoop where they
Rest in pieces in a non-biodegradeable bag.

Scandaliscious

How do we miss all the creative twists and
Turns of Shonda Rimes' characters housed in
Grey's Anatomy and Kerry Washington's
Perfect being? Just keep tuning in to be sucked
In to Taye Diggs' dark chocolatey guns and
Picture perfect sparkling smile of ivory held
Behind pleasingly plump lips awaiting the kisses of
Thousands of admiring fans and done by
Kate Walsh for weeks until the Bratt arrived and
Added yet another hunk to salivate over and
Become full of lust for - these "perfect" women
Getting to make out with these "perfect" men
Have ruined millions of viewers lives with
Disillusionment... the truth is, regardless of
How you look, LOVE is a lot of work and
Is a daily decision... now that's what I call,
Scandalous and it's quite scandaliscious.

Dr. Who?

What, who, when and where
Will I end up? In an alternate
Universe with aliens and other
Beings not of my human realm?

David Tennant or Matt Smith?

Who predicates what you see in
Your imagination? What you prefer?
English or more English?
Cockney or not? What is understood
Through the accent is not lost in the
Wonderful imaginings portrayed on the
Little screen of imaginations throughout
The Internet, PBS and BBC.

Bikes

Pedaling, pushing, and pulling
Using legs and feet to fly forward on
A little metal frame supporting a
Malleable frame of muscle, skin and
Bones - broken from flying over the
Handle bars trying to handle the
Competition of racing best friends
Through the neighborhood - landing on
Gravelly pavement - lodged into ankle,
Palms and head - knocked blind,
Only seeing clouds - asked name and
Date - George Washington, 1776.

Through the cloudy haze the look of
Fear upon Momma's face - she, the
Nurse - afraid for her flesh - then the
Release through laughter...
Name said, and real date, but question
Asked, "Will I be blind?"

Pedaling, pushing, and pulling
Using legs and feet to fly forward on
A little metal frame supporting a
Banged up frame through the halls of the
ER... Tour de France of the East Side,
Lost to gravity, concussion and pride.

Cookie

Cached in the memory bank
Photos, ideas, words and thoughts
Rummage around for an outlet
Not plugged into a wall -
Let out through the mouth,
Mind, heart and being
Just being crunchy enough to be
Pursued by a furry, blue
Sesame Street character...
"Me like!!"

Aliens*

Behind the invisible border of
Boundaries divided by skin color,
Drug cartels and their wars rage -
The wage paid is found in ditches
Between Mexico and Texas,
Headless, nameless corpses -
Some innocent and ignorant to this
Illegality of separation due to a
War raged long before they lived and
Died trying to thrive on the American
Dream they nightmared while Coyotes
Drove them toward their executioners as
Mules smuggling hope in bodies
Squished into spaces not even habitable
For una pulga+ - let alone fifty human
Beings - aliens, flying through space
In a UFO to a time and place that continues to
Disappoint because of borders.



+means: a flea

Subjugated

Having to wait and wait and
Well, wait - makes me feel
Well, subjugated by the judgmental
Face with the three differently
Sized hands winding around by
Seconds by
Minutes by
Hours passing so slowly when it
Comes to things that matter and
Quickly when drivel consumes...
Getting caught in the fray of time
Unwinds my mind because there is
No recapturing precious moments
Passed on the face wrapped around
My wrist, on walls, in analog and
Digital... looking at me through
Numbered eyes.

Space

Wide open spaces with
Faces that state,
"Why me? What have
I done to deserve this?"

Unanswered prayers hit the
Stratosphere where there's
Nothing but Black Holes and
Worms - wiggling their way

Into your psyche - leaving a
Vacuum, an emptiness -
A cavern alight with glow
Maggots - attached to the

Ceiling that your dreams
Crashed into and shattered
Into a million pieces - falling to
The ground below with others.

SHUT YOUR TRAP!

Turn it up - louder and
Louder still - drown out the
Annoying voices of knowing
It all - for you and everyone
Else around you.
How can someone know you that
Doesn't know you at all?
I've never divulged anything to
This know-it-all and it drives me
Up the proverbial wall to hear her
Voice because she just likes the
Sound of it - even though she has
Not asked if we even want to know
Her and all her business - we don't
Have a choice... the choice has been
Made for us... and anyone in earshot!

Yogurt

Cultured and smooth -
Cool and creamy -
Cleaning the intestinal
Track - it goes down
All around where the
Live and activeness
Keeps you moving
Through the "road" blocks
Of this life... many flavors to
Choose from - full fat or none -
Fruit on the bottom -
Mix it up and enjoy the
Lumps that offer sweetness
And delight all in spoonfuls
Shoveled in bite after bite.

Eek! Shower Time

I am learning to eek it out.
Eeking it out in life,
Wondering where I am
Supposed to be -
Who I'm supposed to be with -
And why I am where I am...
I've made a mess of my life...
Feel utterly left alone to my own
Devices, rusted over with
Disappointment and pain -
Watching as others' lives don't
Go down the drain like mine has and
Feeling absolutely despairing as
I continue to draw crap to myself in the
Form of people with their own crap that
They smear on me... I guess I've let them...
Where's the shower?

May Day

I sent a signal -
Shot it to the sky in
A prayer...
May Day!
May Day!
May Day!
Father, please
Come to my aid!
I need You to
Answer my cry for
HELP!

And the answer still
Doesn't come and
I'm stilled... only physically.

Cleansing

Is there a place of repose
To pose and hose off the
Scum of the day?
A place to breathe easy and
Kick back in order to
Function humanly again?
Then there are the times
Where even solitary confinement
Can't expunge the fumes that have
Permeated my being - deep
Down to the core of who I am.

Cinco de Mayo

My brain is crushed by the
Pounding of the upstairs neighbor's
Children they don't control...
Their stomp, stomp, stomping and
Run, run, running has left
Impressions on my head where
Migraines unfold... I try to imagine that
It's just a mariachi band banda-ing
Their way through a full set - margaritas
In hand, playing faster and dancing quicker -
All inside my cranium!

Ay! yi! yi! yiiiiiiiii! Make it stop; por favor!

Raindrops

Rain, watch it go down the drain...
Feel its caress smooth away the pain of
The day... like a baby's fingers finding
Their way to your cheek to hold you in
Their gaze... lovingly, the only thing
Not in vain - on the window pain
Mini puddles collect to reflect a
Look of refreshment... aaaahhhhh!

Shame

It's not a game when you're feeling the shame
Who is to blame for the pain in your brain?
Washed in the blood, clearing the stain to
Remember the hope of a brand new day.

Get up from down, turn it around -
Flee from the scene of being seen as a
Failure to self and nobody else - that's
What it does when it sinks in its claws.

Shame - not a game - a painful harangue,
Need to retrain the pathways with faith to
Turn it around for glorious days ahead in the
Arms of Love from above.

Peanut Butter Cookies

Peanut butter cookies slathered with joy
Eating 'em up - boy, oh boy!
Nutty with goodness; cruncy with love
Chewing and chewing till no more!
Warm and lumpy, milk sloshing them down,
The love of the cookie turns all frowns around.

Final Count Down

It's the final count down of
This blog... I haven't been
good in logging on and
Getting it done, but it has
Been fun through out this run
Of forced creativity.

What will be next - I can't
Really say... I am trying to be
Steady, but it's hard to play at
The game of love when there's
Very little romance and very
Little fun under the sun.

Keep it going so it will
Keep growing.
Over time and because of it
All will be fine - just fortify
Your spine to stand up under it

Public Relations

Public relations... publicly relate

Some THING to some one -

Any one who passes by with an

Eye toward the next BIG thing.

It's a weird cheer this fear of not

Being reared on silver spoons

Used to stir the pot and espresso of

The fortunate few who relate publicly

In the eye and eyes of the critical masses

Who knew you before you did... too...

Who know what you'll do next before

You guessed it: you are publicly

Traded away for consumption -

Soul consumed with a tarnished spoon

Stirred in the acidy reality of TV, etc.

Exposed as a fraud for being human.

Maybe Today

Shedding tears and
Wishfully fears -
Why do I feel so
Cursed at love or
Being in it... my
Grandma did it.
My mom, too!
One seemed successful
The other not so much and
Yet, the "other" persevered.
Can I? Should I?
Am I just being a fool?
I push and I pull and I wish
For my own love story and
It only seems like a
Nightmare!
It's more work and
Heartbreak/ache than
I thought and then I
Look around me and see
So many successful at
Yet another thing I keep
Seeming to fail or mess up!
I know it's not just me,
It takes two to make this work -
He says he loves me and
Maybe he does in his own way,
But it doesn't translate to
My page or stage of reality and
I'm afraid I am on cruise-control
To a self-fulfilling prophecy of
Failure... I don't want to fail,
Nor flail anymore - I want and
Want, but keep thinking it's
Going to elude me!

Sell Out

One more month of this
Is it too much?
Creativity is supposed to free the
Mind and the rest will follow
I have been imprisoned in this
Trap of creative self expression that
Is beginning to drain the expression
Right out of me for "sell out" status.

Ginger

I think Grandma Buckley may have
Been born today or tomorrow or the
Day after... there is some disagreements
On when she was born or decided to
Come into the world... and came she did.
I wish she hadn't stopped taking her
Rat poison... it's what kept her alive.
She threw in the towel... even after
Surviving a broken heart when the love of
Her life died... she thrived in his memory.
I want to thrive in her memory, but I cry
So much when I think of not having her
Anymore... hummingbirds remind me of
Her gentleness and simple beauty.
I wish she hadn't flitted away so soon.

Premature

I was supposed to be born today.
I wasn't. I was too impatient to
Wait my time and it still haunts me.
I can't seem to wait for anything and
Yet I have been forced to wait and
I am crushed from waiting to live
In love, in dreams, in life...
I don't know how to reach God
Through this concrete wall of
Aching from longing for things that
Just don't arrive like I did... too soon!

Stomping

Stomping above -
Stomping on the cranium -
Stomping inside my mind -
It doesn't stop and it won't.
Can't control others.

Reading Comprehension

What happened to the days of
Whim and whimsy - of
Stresslessness and freedom from
Pain, mentally and otherwise?
Why, when a child, did I not see or
Feel or know this was not going to
Last... why isn't there a warning/
Instructional Manual for life
Issued after you learn to comprehend,
Maybe because people would read
Just the end and end it all at once.

Slobbery Cat

Randomly played songs of
The cardinal singing to
Its mate... duller in color
Yet just as able to take flight and
Meet on a branch high enough to
Protect from the harsh realities of
What waits below in the mouth of
A salivating tabby cat.

Unsure

And I don't trust
Anything or
Anyone and then
I wonder why I
Attract that to
Myself...
I feel crushed
By love that
Doesn't feel at all
Like love and
Yet am told and
Promised it is
Over and over and
Yet over and over
Insensitivities are
Continued to be
Played out and
I'm scared I can't
Care or be loved.

Blender Mess

My heart breaks
Regularly
Daily and
I learn I am
A runner.
It has not kept me
In shape physically.
It has moved me
Geographically and
Messed up my mind...
New locations,
People and places
Don't change the
Fact that I am
A mess and
Feel abandoned to
Myself and the
Blender blades
I have been pureed
From... into... now.

Hmph!

I want to be kind

All that is

1 Corinthians 13:1-8,

But I am not...

Not Jesus and 

Certainly NOT

Godly on many

Days, even the

Good ones!

My roommate is

Cleaning the hard-

Wood floors.

It's 11pm!!

Why is she so

DUMB??

HMPH!!

April 19th, 2012

Here I am again
Feeling defeated -
Afraid, despairing
Wishing death would
Come for a visit and
Whisk me away to
Heaven... God,
Please have my
Room ready.

April 18th, 2012

Another day of fears
I was almost robbed
It produced no tears

April 17th, 2012

Hey this is lame!
Ima treat it like a game.
Duck, duck, goose!
You're it - now
HIT IT square on the
Jaw so IT doesn't
Come back.

More Fears

Soooo painful this
Insecurity that
Bites me in the
Butt over and
Over again
Wishing it would
Just devour the
Extra poundage and
Cellulite that's back there...
Should I care that he didn't
Say how very, very
Much he loves me...
It seems to be waning or
Am I just waxing way
Too philosophical and
Navel gazing at the same time
Thought NOT complete...
Will this love last through
All the changes coming
Down the pike?

Re-Sponsibility

I hafta say being
Responsible is
Challenging...
BUT I want to be
A person of my
Word -
WORD UP!
Re-do some
Things and
Re-ignite the
Pilot light of
Creativity -
Re-
Sponsibility.

Much Better

April 14th was a much better day
Even though I cried about
Possibly being unloved
His love is new every morning
Great is His faithfulness
Unlike mine, especially when
I'm being the judge, jury and
Executioner.

I put myself on trial and was
Convicted of being in love in
All degrees...

Gosh, I hope it's a life sentence and
I'm not let off for bad behavior.

Friday the 13th

Is it an unlucky day
For you?
Broke my own finger.
Got chased by a
Lady in a Mercedes
Because she thought
I tapped/kissed her
Bumper...
Over-ate and then
Didn't feel great.
Fought with the beau and
Didn't know if it was
Over on account of
My insecurity... again!

Yes, it was an unlucky day
For me.

Four (For?) Twelve 12

What a date.
It's pretty great.
Not of late.
I totally hate
To subjugate
the verb that
Calls me
Quitter.

Lost Love

So have
Lost that
Loving
Feeling for
This endeavor
Actually quite a
Lot of lost
Love for many
Things that
Take up time
In my life.

MUST WEED
Out that which
Sucks me dry!

April 10th, 2012

Still not there
Mentally
or
Otherwise
Will cry
and
Try soon
Again

April 9th, 2012

Catch up!

April 8th, 2012

What happened... it did again!

Close to the Entrance

Leaned in and saw nothing
Empty, neatly folded linens -
Wow, impressive even after
Rising from the dead and he said,
"Take heart, I have overcome the
World..." and you can too.
Just believe in Me.
It's true and all for you!

He didn't need to beg,
I begged Him to forgive me and
While he hung upon that tree -
All that He could be cried out to me,
"Please accept this gift,
It's free... but you need to accept it
Only from Me."

Close to the entrance,
Miracle of stone moved away to
Display the glory of the majesty of
Salvation for humanity.

Lost in the Masses

Crying doesn't do a thing but
Compound the fact that I'm a
Shattered, broken mess incapable of
Repair even by God who allows me to
Stay in disarray splayed all ways in
Shards of dried tears - so sad because
I'm bad at this journey I've been on
So long alone with many
Who relate and want to escape
With or without me, perhaps
Because of me, I must admit, in order to
Evacuate the premises so the carnage
Doesn't fall too near everyone elses'
In order to tell who's whose.

Self-Fulfilling?

Here I am AGAIN
In the throes of
Despair
Despairing the decision
I need to make that
Was made for me
Upon my birth
FAILURE stamped on
The soft-spot not ever soft
Crushing the brain into
Not being able to grow
Into a woman capable of
Giving and receiving
TRUE LOVE - only able to
Take, steel, borrow, throw away
Lust, carnal knowledge -
Fornication indicating only
Mentally is there an involvement
Flatlining in real life...
Hearts are beating a tune
Separately, but together in
Different bodies of evidence
Growing to expose the case
Can't be settled in a few hundred
Words that have been uttered here
And there - but
Not believed because they seem
Like lies easily swallowed as the
Bitter pills of reality remind me of
My failures past, present and perhaps
Sadly, the near future...

Self-fulfilling prophecy?

So many people are going to say,
"I hope not."

Easily Undone

I don't feel a thing because
I don't allow myself to...
And yet I keep it going
Mouth to mouth resuscitation -
Resuscitating... resurrecting
Just enough emotions - feelings to
Keep it going... growing into
An addiction, ensnaring him
With honey dripping from the
Nectar filled lumps of lips
Sucking the top and bottom
Dry of any lies that might be
Spoken but aren't allowed to in this
Lip lock - keys thrown away in
An embrace - head held in the
Hands where the key dangles
Inches from the lock that
Could be popped with just a
Flick of the tongue...
We'd both come undone in
More ways than one.

4 Months

4 months flew by because
1 month was spent away
2 months were spent apart and
1 month showed us our wrongs.

I don't want to be wrong
Again
He doesn't think we do wrong
But
I don't know maybe I have
Staunched the flow of blood by
Cauterizing my senses...
My conscience or have turned the
Speaker off in order not to hear
God's kindness whispered in
Trusting Him and have no fear
Stop lacking faith - that's what
My fear shows and then pushes
Away in order to not end up
Where I've always ended up
Alone fighting to get what I want
Only to discard it again...

I don't have the luxury of playing
Any games any more especially when
The game pieces involve another's
Heart I love... I have come to love
Even in my fear that it won't last.

I'm gonna push past this 4 months to
Welcome the next 4... to discover
More love that will grow as we
Cultivate it together.

Relief

Hmmmmm... out through the nose.
It feels good. Relief. Relieving
Oneself with facts...
He loves me
I love me not
Sometimes
I love him
He loves himself
Not all the time.
Yet we persist when the
Darkness presses in... well,
He does anyway because
He is Faithful - Thank You
God... we love because
He loved us first... and
Keep going, don't quit
That's your normal M.O.
Don't do that... no more
Self-fulfilling prophecies
Prophecy another lie, but
Make it a truth you FINALLY
Believe in... it can happen.
It will happen because that's
What love does: Always
Hopes.
Trusts.
Perseveres.
Never fails.
Even with your collection of
Failures - it keeps no record of
Wrongs - stop wronging the
Rightness of his love -
Embrace it with grace
Graciously with gratitude and
Keep breathing...

April's Fool

Lay it down thick...
Pile it high - they will
Just so you can see how
Wrong you are to trust
Their every word when it
Comes to your heart being
Compromised for the sake of
Laying it down to those pigs
Unworthy of your pearls
Trampling underfoot your
Heart, mind, soul for the sake of
What was it? Love...
Who's the fool now?

2006 JLR: Song 4 Christ

Do I stay and fight?

Do I throw up my hands?

If I told you why,

would you understand?

 

Everything in me wants to quit,

Wants to run and hide, but

You said You would NEVER leave my side...

 

Where are You?

 

You're in the sun, You're in the rain.

You feel my sorrow, You feel my pain...

You took it ALL so I could be

Close to You for Eternity.

Thank You

Whimpering like a puppy for your touch,

Time, tenderness...It seems too much to

Wait so long... please don't dissipate,

3, almost 4 years, into nothing...

 

Your compassion, forgiveness and love

Are glimpses of God's mercy and grace

Your face shining with gratitude even

Though I can be deplorable...

You steer me back into the right direction -

Arms wide open, crown of thorns,

Blood covering all, even my sores -

The reminders of past indiscretions

Discretely hidden under the wings of

His love... and you too, love me through

It all because of Him.

 

I am your Gomer.

You, my Hosea... I don't want to be

Anything like her, but my heart betrays

Me - and deceives... it's true - Jeremiah

Reminds and again you fend for me and

Continue to even after I appear not to

Believe... help me overcome my unbelief...

And you do... again and again and again...

Thank you.

Love Foreigner

"I wanna know what love is.
I want you to show me.
I wanna feel what love is.
I know you can show me."

Foreigner knew. I think you
Do too.

"In my life there's been heartache and pain;
I don't know if I can face it again."

This sentiment too... I just don't
Want to be blue in my heart or mind...
I know this to be true of you too...

"Can't stop now, we've traveled so far to
Change these lonely hearts..."

Let's stay the course of hearts desire to
See it bloom into the ultimate power of
God's design for two becoming one.

I love you... I'm scared of my love.
I know it's returned - I'm  just fearful of
This addictive drug that's hard to kick
Once hooked by it's enslaving chemicals...
Let's not quit... each other!

Frictive Togetherness

Sun soaked faces looking to laugh
At the days to come in the sun
Searching for fun in the challenges of
Being together and never having been
In this situation of significant otherness
So strange the embrace, the longing that
Waxes and wanes because of wondering
If it should be forever... alone, together...
Apart each day... one at a time...
HOW do we keep changing to adapt to
Each others' independence? Fending for
Self for so long brings with it the pain of
Criticalness from the control of being alone
With individual idiosyncracies that make
No one but self crazy so it's okay...
Come on in to my "sins" of self-presevation
Let's preserve...reserve some time for
One another alone in the strong arms of
Embracing - embrace the friction -- the
Sparks will keep each other warm from the
Excitement of what's next...?

Appearances

Behind vertical bars boys hide the
Horizontal orange stripes of the
Jumpsuit unsuited for the crimes of
Being a youngster bored outta their
Gourd desperately searching for something
Fulfilling under the mattress, couch cushions -
Slashing blade doing most of the work,
Stuffing flying unstuffing the feelings of
Abandonment, loneliness, inferiority,
Invincibility found behind the steel cutting
Edge and bars unleashing weeping and wails
Echoing off of broken homes, hearts and
Bones in the name of getting ahead for the
Appearance of being cool.

Sapio-Sexual Lurve

Love and lust the same in that
They are both 4 letter words
Two totally different approaches to
The same person... and yet we
LOVE each others' minds and
Intelligence - that's what counts
That's the draw... making every
Second count toward whether or
Not it will count the steps down the
Aisle to the altar - not caring to travel
Anywhere - maybe not even there?
I don't know if I can handle being
Held to one place for the rest of my
Life - what's left of it? I don't know.
Is it meant to be with him?
I know I don't want to be alone or
Even without him... but with him
Forever? One bed, one head, one
Heart - two different beating drums to
March to... and still the draw.

It's lurve.

Perspective

Perspective - look at this way!
No, look at it this way...
Or this... it doesn't matter
As long as you're looking...

For a different way to
Pray... play... say
Something that isn't
Ugly but encouraging to
The soul and uplifting.

Perspective... a different one...
Often has a positive effect!

Bee's Knees

Feelings flee
Faster than a bee in a
Blinding rage falling from
Its beehive, once upon a time,
High up in a tree.

Cravings come too and
Consume mind and body
Overing stepping boundaries
Running amuck creating guilt that
Cripples the feelings into
Submission.

Heart still beats for him
Frightened into a cave of
Fear from longing...
Whimpering in the corner of
Darkness, shrouding natural
Instincts made to make us
Cower from guilt and insecurity.

These feelings flee
Faster than a bee in a
Drunken rage flying away from
Its last flower conquered and
Covered in pollen.

Really I Do

I realized what I realized is that
Realization is realizing that
Which is actually actualized.

Actually it is strange to have
This kind of realization.

I really hope it helps with
Self-Actualization/Realization
Really I do.

Shoo-Do-Aaaaaah!

Boo-doo-beep-boo-doo
Doooo... how should you
Blow a tune through the
Shoo-doo-woop-woop
Da-da-daaaaaaa?
Sounding like bee-dee-bee
Deee-la-la-la-la-la-aa-aah-
Aaaaaah! Doot! doot! doot!
Pa-da-pa-pa-ha-ha-haaa!
Skoo-dee-skoo-oo-oo-ah-ah
Solitude in the sounds of
Soothing solitary confinement
Confined to the rhythms of life
Breathed in through and out of the
Tunes created to cradle and rock
You to sleep in the crease of the
Curve of the arms of love
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...

Beginning Another Beginning

So close, but so far away from the
End of the beginning of another
Beginning.

Pick your poison - is it lust
Posing as passion in the pursuit of
Possibilities wrapped in the prickly
Pear pashmena of pleasure?

Could it be just me confounded by the
Cacophonous creatures created from
Confronting clamorous suitors suited up to
Carry away cartfuls of my curvaceousness?

Keep clear appear to get it going in the
Right direction... beginning everyday
Over and over with the happy ending in mind.

Luekoplakia

Blue waters rising in the veins
Pulsating life throughout the
Periphery of the arteries getting
Clogged, bogged down by
Annoyances... fish stuck in the
Tubes that transport the much
Needed breath of cleansing.

Shut up! Stop speaking and
Puking out your know-it-all-ness!
Your neediness are the reeds that
Suffocate the plankton needed to
Nourish others.... you're soooo
Aggravating with that selfishness
Sucking dry the creativity to thrive
In this uprising of your mutinous
Tidal wave of a tsunami of your
Loquacious luekoplakia verbage.

Losing Interest

I am scared to care so
Is he... I'm bored... I think...
Should I shrink back and
Quit on this "love"? Is this
That... just that... maybe,
Maybe not... why am I
Sooooo negative about
Everything on the planet of
My life including the love
I have been longing and
Pining and primping for
For sooooooo long?

I can't seem to maintain
Anything very long before
I lose interest... isn't that
Interesting since I can't seem to
Lose interest in losing an interest
In love?

Press Sure in Him

Clampin' down on the crown
Feels a mess as it press... says...
On the temple of doom and gloom
Make a boom boom boom in the
Vena cava chamber clambering for
Attention only reserved for idols
More importantly God
He knows all and sees all and
Reserves no reservations for
His great love for me!

Shamrock Shakes

Through a straw
Suck it up
Freeze it up
Stirred in a cup
Minty green
Oh so mean to the
Taste buds
Whipped cream
Cherry
Once a year
A leprechauny cheer!

Mason Jar Goblet

It's clearly clear and appears to be
Perched upon a candlestick
Hot glued in place without as much as
A trace of classiness to witness the
Beer poured in and running down
Our chins as we laugh and guffaw
About the silliness of the awesomeness of
Drinking out of Mason jar goblets through
Bendy straws... slack jawed and inebriated
We are tanked - much like skunks stinky
To boot - raise our hilly billy chalices
Heavenward in a toast to celebrate the most
Outlandish dish raised to our gargly gullets!

The Ides

The Ides of March ride
High on the tide of emotion
Running through the heart and
Mind - causing fatigue from the
Cardiac arrest from the fear of
Failing - shutting down the chamber
Pumping the love... blood through the
Arteries just long enough to survive the
Pinch and pain from confrontation.
Do I want an unrealistic love?
Am I being perfectionistic and
Castrating? Cutting off the love by
Wanting a deeper truth and fearlessness?

It's going to kill me - I see Julius Cesar and
I can relate, "Et tu Brute? Et tu?" Slain by the
Blade piercing and flambeing the engine
Running my whole person - shutting down as
A preemptive strike? Is that best - or just
Another test I keep failing - mortally wounding
The only love I may ever know?

Breathing Fits Like a Glove

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale
Let it out, bring it in, let it out,
Bring it in for this is the time to
Breathe goodness into existence
This is the time to be free
This is the time to be grateful for
The love, forgiveness and
Needs met in his laughter, in his love,
In his fears shared, intermingled with
Your insecurities securely guarded with
Hugs, kisses and the drug of love's
Intoxication found in and around the
Glove of him fitting just right in
His eyes and mine.

This Too Far Too Few Fear

All of these seem to have an air of
Fear, failure, fright, anger, bitterness,
Rage that I'm supposed to be rid of...
This is where I dispense it - sometimes to
Return to it, not usually... and dispense
Without too much thought really -
Not considering whose eyes may light
Upon my genius... ingeniously spewed
Forth - seeming not too original of thought
Or idea - because, really are there any?
I like how others' are able to manipulate
Words upon the page to create great
Images of monsoon swept love nests
Where star-crossed lovers feasted upon
Love's banquet or how horses snorting and
Pounding and unearthing parts of the ground where
Their hooves paw, fall and dig in before bounding forward
With abandon leaping to the next big thing in the
Form of a steeplechase - chasing the fox with
"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin'
All the time," for someone to notice and
Care and cry with in their arms forever fearlessly.

Daylight Savings

An hour lost on what -
Sleep where the dreams go to
Meet with stressfulness to the point
Of heart-attacking?

We get an hour more of light
Day light being saved and what
Perchance does it save us?
A little more time to fry.

I have tried and tried to be
Understanding - but I don't because
We don't harvest anything anymore, but
The occasional bumper crop

Bumping around in the light of day, so
We can say, "We have another hour of light,
So let's the make the most of it and
Get some work done."

Relax: No Lye... Lies

Relaxin' the hair - relaxing
While awaiting his say,
Saying, "I love you."
Routinely routined - much
Like a broken record skipping
Its etched in vinyl lines - can
These just be lines - rehearsed
In the mirror in order to see if
They are delivered effectively?
Their effect delivers the desired
Effect - so relax, like her hair
Separated at the scalp so the
New growth can be smoothed with the
No lye - no lies uttered because
It's true - he loves you - even
If not smooth or relaxed.

Maybe Baby

Pushing it out -
Out of shape -
Out of time to
Push one out.

Her body is
Perfectly perfect
After the aftermath of
Life issuing forth.

She's young - just 16.
You're old...older... just 40.
She could be your daughter
Having had your grandson...

Not happening - maybe never...
Maybe... a baby... purchased
Not pushed - picked out of
Discarded choices to choose to love.

Practicin'

Don't use me... I'm not a doormat
Nor am I a practice mat either...

Pucker up buttercup - make a
Perfect pout - stick them out
Await the bounce of lips off
Your face where your lips grace
His face - no guilt - don't celebrate
That which is good - NO! GREAT!

Smile at the feelings felt - they are gifts
Gratefully shared between two hearts -
Lips locked - beating as one.

Forty: Days & Nights

I can't believe it's here...
Hear the clock striking?
Forty times the candles flicker -
Forty times the hands swoop
Round the face - marking another
Year spent wondering,
"What's next? What's to come?"
Blessings abounded found in
God's promises of love in Him and
In him - nightly chats, prayers and
Funnies shared - can't wait to see
Him in Heaven - heavenly hugs
Tug at my heart strings for the
Distance that separates and grinds
My mind to halting to a screech
When I count down the days till
We embrace in real time not over
Fiber optics - kissing too - at the
Door where our hearts beat as one
Yet again - here, not in Nebraska.

Bobby Bautista

"I wuv u!" written on the left palm of
An 8 year-old's hand. On the top of that hand a
Pen inked dot almost the size of a dime with
"PUSH" scrawled in - "Hey, Bobby..."
Hand presented - pleading in her eyes,
He pushes it just as she decides to smile
Widely - green eyes having told the story of
Her crush - as he reads the sentiments and
Realizes the crush he crushes with a flick of
His tongue and a groan of disapproval.
Orangey brown eyes, chocolatey skin,
Black spiky hair - devious grin -
She can't stop "wuv"ing him
'Till she sees him as a whim.

Poetic Code

Almost there - on track - tired
Brain fuzzy from straining to
Generate genius in a bottle
Lightning striking through
My head - that said, here it goes
Again an idea generated in
Binary code's 1's and 0's
Creating a Matrix of ideas
Waiting to be free from the
HTMLness of its storage.

Judy Blume-in'

Center stage - find your light - bask in it
For now is the time, now is your moment
Revel in it - reveal what's under the mask
Shine bright - don't hide it - that's how
You were made - open your mouth -
Let it out - it will draw others in to the
Plan of Salvation awaiting Heaven's call -
Are you there, God? It's me Margaret...
Wanting to be a Wifey... Forever... but
Trapped in Blubber and fearing being
Jammed into a plot line incapable of
Resolving these issues that confuse and
Frighten even though they seem too
Good to be true - He loves me...
I love me not in this costume -
Unflattering - tied in knots in my stomach
Forgotten lines, standing in the wings,
Before I take the stage - standing center
Jaw dropped - no sounds issuing forth -
I love you - I love you, too.
Thee end.

Sunbathing

Toes twinkling in the tide
Rushing back to the source
Washing away the clay footedness of
Fear - rip tiding its way through
Seaweed, sand, shells - sharks
Maybe feeding on muscles
Atrophied on the shore of hope
Lounging on a towel slathered
In sunscreen screening the UVB
Rays of life outward, upward
Back into the stratosphere of
Humanity.

Pit Shaving

Arm pit hairs stand at attention
Saluting the air that whips them
Into submission - they will soon
Be gone down the drain, bathed
in the warmth of detachment
Sliced 3 ways through fluffiness
Dispensed like a hiss from a
Can shaken not stirred for
Smooth baby butt softness
Hands go for warmth

Eye Boogers

Blink, blink, blink - draw them in with

Your eye lashes flashin' with spider web

Stickiness - stuck strugglin' to get out of

Your eye trap - one tear, two, falling

Out of the corner of the duct releasing the

Grasp the influence batting has upon the

Senses - sensing release they flee

Smeared with the goo of devotion.

Shaw's

A week before the big 4-oh and
OH, what a glorious sight to walk in
Upon a beautifully set table:
3 pink roses stand erect -
Silverware to wear us out
Figuring which to use -
What order do we go in?
Outside in or inside out?
Just don't use your hands -
Until the lobster comes at you and
All you have is a cracker that
Just about cracks your hands -
Your man he sure can do it,
Part of his master plan -
It ensures that I can view him as
Thee only man in my life -
who can save the day of
My birth 7-days in advance.
Swimming in drawn butter -
He draws me into his side -
Whispers sweet nothings and
Then dessert shows up and
Chides, "Can you blown out
Your candle? I spared you all of them!"
So make a wish and try to extinguish the
Desire in your mind to turn back the
Time table - this table is set just fine.

Stepped Toes Propose

Once every 4th year we get a pass to make a pass
At a laddie who we want to make our man
Or husband - why only this few times? It seems
At this juncture we'd know our feminine designs
Put upon a male could possibly be not dire for
Our female, human desires guide us on our way to
Love them up and down their crazy antic ways and
Make us want to say, "Will you marry me, you
Randy sot? I really want to know. If you say, YES!
Consider this:  you will be blessed - or, NO?
You will not get another look from my direction and
I will step upon your toes making you incapable of
Standing up to me - you'll fall upon your knees and
Happily propose to me!"

Fishing Trip

Hook, line and sinker -
Completely major stinkers
Trapping you in their paths -
Wrapping you in its grasp
Tugging you up from under
In its wire line - fine, sturdy,
Braided metal strands
Un-sever-able by toothiness -
Wash up! - dinner time.

Battering Ram

Crowds of thoughts of sounds of
People - their bodies making the
Noises of life - a cacophony of
Wails from the cradlde to the grave
Begin what might be the soundtrack to
Your strife in traveling forward
Happily since the din of the noise
Rises high above the thought pattern
You fly to make your choices seem right.
Put the pedal to the metal and go -
Battering down all that get in the way.
This is your life; you get to play it
However you want - without say.

Sharp's Blue Eyes

Sparkling blue like no other,
Not even my dad's! Held in a
Face I wanted to hold mostly
When I was sad and awkward and
Zitty - oh how I tried so hard to
Win his heart with my brazen advances
His mother thought quite mad.
Her son couldn't see me like I him -
We were young, naive and too different -
Him with his popularity and good looks,
Me with my annoying cloying - how
Could he be so blind - his eyes
Seemed to say they saw everything and
With mine I felt he saw mine - oh, he did -
Stuck on stalker-like focus trying too hard to
Connect to his - opened but closed
Shutting me out though my heart was
Stuck on stu-pid!

History Mystery

History is a mystery especially if
You don't know or remember your own.
Remember to remember the good & bad
Times with friends and family and foes -
They will come back to haunt if you don't
Unless your mind is erased by calamity
Something not necessarily provoked by
Old age or villainy upon the stages of
Your life - it sweeps through like a
War torn town's skeleton found propped up on the
Porch of City Hall - supported by nothing
But splintery slats of woods seen through the
Skinless, organless remains of your corpse.

The history of your body - work and otherwise -
Can be remembered or forgot - it's a mystery for
History buffs if you leave portions of your life locked.

Vanilla & Chocolate

The craziest thing is this: not knowing there are differences.
When I was 6 and moved to California I did not know differences existed.
What I saw was white... vanilla and nothing else. I knew and loved chocolate.
I knew the complexities of chocolate's taste upon my tongue made me love it
More than vanilla - but I didn't know it existed in skin... was that a sin I
Found myself in? I was a child. Not judging; not caring that the kids I played
With had different colors I thought I'd acquire from sitting awhile in the sun.
I was told, "When you move to California you will get a dark tan."
And so it went without saying I didn't go a day with staring at my skin
Whilst whiling away the hours on the sidewalk in a swimsuit awaiting the
Glow to explode upon my skin... there was this freckle, my babysitter told me,
"Would grow and cover my skin the same color..." Again I sat, stared and
Waited... Nothing. Then when she showed up at my door shirtless and head fully braided -
I saw the chocolate everywhere and was amazed she was a he with cornrows!
Discovering then what I know now is: it's better to not know what you don't and
Uncover the truths at the front door to your new house, in a new town, with
New people and flavors that satisfy a deep, unknown craving coloring with broad
Strokes everything you know today... I'm happy to say I didn't know there were
Differences... that makes me different... who cares?

Disneyland

Disneyland you are so far off
To the west you are from me
I miss your gumless paths
I traveled on in order to see:
Mickey, Minnie, Donald,
Pluto, Goofy and Tinkerbelle
The crowds would quite agree
That the World down in Florida
Is not half as grand as having
You all in one place -
Minus humidity, mosquitoes and the
Occasional man who is loud and
Obnoxious getting kicked out
Just because he couldn't have
Unlimited time with Minnie
His mini-hissy fit belied a man of 50,
However, I cried too when I could
Not see the castle where
Dreams come true on the spot!
Oh Disneyland, Disneyland
I love you, oh I do! If only I could afford
The travel expenses to get me to your door
I may stop this incessant clamoring to
Enjoy your every ride and store.

Potty Break

Do I really gotta go again?
Is my bladder really that full?
Can it be that drinking tea
Has made me want to run
Like a bull through a china shop
Just to find the bowl to empty
The contents of this body part
So as not to unload in a desk
Where a child sits - the
Devastation would be complete -
Knowing that I didn't control
A body part - making life un-neat!

Red Wool Dress

I know what looks good upon
My girls - lifted, smoothed
Not separated - black pearl above
Their mounds - red wool sweater
Dress that slides down around
The shaper, nylons, slip and bra -
Thank goodness the panties are cotton
Otherwise I'd be too hot!

Standard Issued

Can't seem to find it in

Himself to continue with

The pace to pass the

Standardized tests that

Make him seemingly great.

He sits with fist upon his temple

Zoning completely out

Avoiding the inevitable

He's not allowed to shout

There are other students present

Not dealing with this threat

If he doesn't do something quick

He's going to get wrecked.

Staring at me and away

I can do nothing to help his plight

He doesn't know the cost of a dime

And for this he does afright.

I feel for him - I couldn't do it

All over again myself - but if you

Need to measure up then use

The ruler issued - even if it's just

Paper it will do the job just fine

And then when he is a doctor

His scalpel will carve out the time

He lost in these cold plastic seats

Determining the cost of all the 

Information he didn't use in filling in

Little bubbles using a #2 standard

Issued pencil.

Almost 40

Ten days till leaping
18 till dread of another
Year older and THANK GOD
Not dead - although the
Gray hairs and wrinkles
Are sluiced with the juice of
Hope found in their bottles
No noose can produce the
Youth long gone and
Experience gained in the
Form of time passed and
Growing pains.

Aging

18 I like your number
Your name - the game
You hold sway with -
How cool are you?

At that number we are
Grown - out of a child and
Into the pain of an adulthood
Not ready to tame the
Beast of adolescence.

Yet swag has set in -
You think you know it all,
But deep down inside you're
Digging for a crown to

Place on your head and
Make you feel like a king or a
Queen - you have more time
Left to discover the truth

That a number is a number
That increases without excuse
Adding experience to your
Youth to grow you up and

Make you feel revered just so
You won't notice how many
Tears have been shed as you
Are added to year after year.

Prayers

Every night a prayer shared
Are they for real? Are they heard?
Are they renewed, recycled
Something valuable to You?

We offer them up so as not to sin -
But are these prayers a smoke screen
In lustfully pursuing a passion in
Love outside of the norms of trust?

Begging in prayer to continue
Undeterred on a path with Your
Guidance a place in the annals of
Love unchided.

Prepositionally Phrased

Dotty above me
Spotty around
I need an object
To complete me or
Else I will frown...
I can follow if need be
Don't get me wrong
I want to stand or sit
Beside you in this
Little song just so you
Know in spite of
The rumors regarding
These stanzas - being
The only one -
Outside this structure
Beyond my humorous tone,
According to current polls,
Beneath my exterior
Concerning my growth
In educational matters -
I think I should boast
About and after much
Thought since I can -
Move toward an end, but
Only as planned.

Said Best

My favorite saying that was ever said,
After my question - I hadn't read:
"Did you like me back then?"

He hesitated.
Didn't make eye contact and said,
After a painful pause
I imagined would be concluded with
Something negative expressed:

"I didn't like you...
[A breath taken and exhaled]
I loved you."

I fell more in love with him that day.
I don't ever want either of us to feel gray.
I will remember quite fondly what he did say
And plan to express it much the same way.

Stupid Cupid

Stupid Cupid what did you pay
To wake up this morning
With nothing to say?

I want some roses, or flowers
And candy to boot - please don't
Get all randy and try to shoot

Your arrows up high - merely
Aiming for the sky - find a target,
Mark it and pull that string back

I want to hear a super loud CRACK
When the arrow sinks in to the
Back of the Jack of all trades who

Left me a dollars worth of message hearts
On my filthy desk along with darts aimed
At the area that beats my blood

He will not win this woman's fancy
He is no good - shroud his face in infamy
That is the hood that will cover the offense

Of horrible poetry, wilted flowers too -
Candy moldy and grammatically spelled
Card - BOO!

The envelope is soggy where his spit
Sealed the deal and the sentiment
Illegible - I will hafta guess...

It's not my true love, but a 5-year-old
Who told me I made him happy -
NOW WHO'S THE FOOL?

Stupid Cupid what did you pay

To wake up this morning 

With nothing to say?

You could have warned me 

This would turn out this way!

I would have definitely prayed!!!

"Home" in His Arms

Going back "home" it is
Not my home - it is my station
In life... where the love of it
Resides and I want to reside
In his arms, in his head,
In his bed - so much so
He's an idol I must smash
With coldness and boundaries
Or else we will end before
We've begun to discover
What's necessary to run this
Gauntlet of fun.

He knows what he wants
So do I too - but outta the sack
Is what we will do - it's not
Time to awake or arouse "love"
Before it so desires - who knows
When it will and so it's cold showers
For both of us - he's grateful to say
To not be alone with these feelings
Of grandeur between my legs
Wrapped around horses jumping
Fences, avoiding detection from
The infection of tender devotion
Found in his eyes and in mine also

We are friends till the end of the
Feelings that drive us to an end of
A road where we no longer are blue
From being alone, well in theory at best,
How do we do this? Is it all just a test?
We want to pass it and do good for
Each other and God - only knows and
Maybe he too, when the rock will come
In order to be carried over the threshold
In his strong arms where love can then
Consume us - under, on top of blankets
Bound together - swaddled in
Each others arms - finally home.

Homesick

To come all this way and
Miss what has not left me
I left to hide from pain
Collected from broken
Hearts I ran to gather in
My arms - over and over
Again... I don't want to
Repeat the offense, but
I find myself incapable of
Not following in past
Footsteps where I ran to
Do what caused the running to
Another west... smack dab in
The middle - with a real love
That paid for me to go home
And see what I grew to love
A little to late.

It won't go anywhere.
But I have and now it's
Too late - I can't afford to
Return... for many reasons.

Momma's Day

68 years ago today the
Woman who brought me
Into the world was brought in
Just the same.

Charcoal black hair
Sapphire blue eyes
Porcelain skin and a
Smile so wide

An Irish twin to her older
Sister's shadow - always
Trying to live up to her
Mother's approval

Proving nothing but being
Disapproved and still her
Satin black hair and
Sparkling blue eyes

Belied the pain that she did
Hide behind so others would
Not see that she did not shine
As bright as the kettle her sister

Did whistle from being poured out
Upon the wishes of others - her
Mother abused her with bitterness,
Comparisons too - just not

Measuring up - yet up I looked at
Her cerulean peepers and fell
In love with her sweet demeanor.
She is my momma.

So precious; so dear - and so many
Times I have desperately feared for
Her safety and happiness and every-
Thing else to bring about a joy

Unending so as to erase the pain of
The past in order to grace her with
The beauty of the presence her
Presence has made in the lives of so many.

She has nursed the fears out of
Thousands of strangers with a bedside
Manner only exhibited in saints -
She said she was called and she

Is definitely capable and I hope I can
Be as saintly as she when she returns to
The position when she held me in her arms
As a babe - she did grace - so I could

Survive this trying race of life and
Disappointment, rejection and faith -
In not too near a future - I don't want to
Lose her face from the earth - I love her so.

Scrambled Eggs

Scrambled eggs
Scrambled mind
Fry 'em up,
Don't despise the

Mix of emotions
Rising to the top
Fluffy from forking
Pop, pop, pop!

Scooping up with
Toast - shoveling it in
The taste buds enjoy
Warm protein squish

Cracked, running
Sizzling on pan
Time for a little more
Pam to begin again!

Not KnowIng

I really don't know how to do this:
How many times do I need to
Express this insecurity - I need to
Cling to God and believe NOT
Distrust this lust that connives me
Into thinking it's love - it's NOT, it's
Just that - For Unlawful Carnal -
KnowIng this is all I have known and
Now see encourages him to know
I, too, struggle with his same difficulties of
The flesh - which wrinkles, fades and
Decays from outside to in sometimes
In a day, sometimes in a lifetime, even
When the lifetime is just a day!
What can I say? I am grateful to have
This challenge than to not have it at all...
I don't really know how to do this, but
I am trying - I am doing the best I can and
So is he!

Jiggly Parts

All of your jiggly parts and
Gray hair are loved by
Someone quite lovable!
With hair down to his
Belt loops and lower -
The perfectly Angel kissed
Freckle right above his
Left nostril beckons me to
Kiss it except for fear of
Ingesting boogers do I
Stall for time and go in for the
Old stand by - his lips, rosy red
And soft held up by the cool
Slickness of smooth pearly
Incisors longing to sink into the
Plushness of the skin that jiggles
While giggling like a 15-year-old.

Fatal Attraction

Nervously awaiting his call -
Nervously awaiting HIS call too
To keep it going or not?
Why do I always feel like
Such a snot?
I get easily annoyed at his
Hemming and hawing -
His "and so, and so..."
I'm just a critical jerk and yet
He reminds me of Him and
His love for me and because of
Remembering Love he can
Love me... now for me to
Do it too without the needed
Feelings of attraction...
Bordering on fatal.

Faith in Love

3 days ago was 2 months...
26 days from now will be 3 months -
Does counting make it count more?
Will love continue to show up at
My door? Was this a gift from God
Above or a love that is not loving
Because of desperation to have it in
The form of an imperfect man who
Perfectly TRIES to give to an equally
Imperfect woman who perfectly
TRIES to receive that which she
Struggles to trust as real?

Is this what faith is?

Sick Stomach

Feeling sick from abusing food
Substances that I'm allergic to...
Who's fault is that if the fault line of
My health rests between
"to eat? or not to eat?"
Those are the questions!
I must nourish myself and yet -
And yet I'm so tired of trying to
Be perfect from not eating and
Then eating too much because
I can't perfect not eating...
Take it in - see what it does and
Proceed to be sick or not.

Scratching Scabs

So tired from worry
Scratching my scalp into scabs
Peeling those off and awaiting the
Ooze of blood that inevitably falls
From the most vascular place on
My body - banging my head against
The wall hasn't stopped the insanity -
The color of the life giving substance
Entices, lulls me into dancing a
Dance of my forehead on the
Distressed stucco'd partition
Calling up a geyser of redness
Spilling through curly bangs
Seeping into eyelashes and
Burning my eyes so all I can see
Is red... read.

Brush's Teeth

Straighten it up and let it down to
Flow around in a very small stream
Around your collar bones above the
Seat of your emotions - without
Heat no one's digits will be able to
Run through it without tugging on the
Follicles releasing strands into the hands
Of the man's palms you would kiss
If it wasn't tangled in a mass of tresses
Pressing against your neck stopping the
Breath escaping through parted lips
Pursed into a pucker - p-p-p-p
Puffing out the last signs of pleasure in
Being taken in even if just through a
Brush's teeth.