Skating Through the Holy Roller Rink

I made a few changes...


the pipe organ pulses
through the pews
on a rainy sunday,
hands raised in praise--

the preacher preaches
in his slicked back hair
sure as the devil
he's got somethin' special--

baptized as a baptist
dunking sins away
just like a slam dunk win
at the end--

no oscar for this actress
portraying not adam nor eve
somethin' kinda in between
at the ripe old age of nineteen--

she knew not a single thing
except to live in sin
in the closet hung with clothes
waiting to transpose--

the white double doors
outside the wood framed church
with stained glass windows,
forever in the shadows

of the old life biographer
writing a new history;
where the girl living in transition
finally, embraces religion

Skating Through the Holy Roller Rink

the pipe organ pulses
through the pews
on a rainy sunday,
hands raised in praise--

the preacher preaches
in his slicked back hair
sure as the devil
he's got somethin' special--

baptized as a baptist
dunking sins away
just like a slam dunk win
at the end--

no oscar for this actress
portraying not adam nor eve
somethin' kinda in between
at the ripe old age of nineteen--

she knew not a single thing
except to live in sin
in a closet full of clothes
waiting to transpose--

the white double doors
outside the wood framed church
with stained glass windows
forever in the shadows

of a new dream
for a new world
where the girl living in transition
finally, embraces religion

BeFall

The naked trees watch
the saturating rain

fall from dark skies
before dawn breaks.

Deep moisture rising
into puddles to be splashed

before evaporating
in the afternoon sun.

Three Strikes

the glass fills higher
while the bottle empties.
she becomes a liar--

the temps fall to the twenties.
my clock ticks louder;
the snores come sooner.

I've never been a doubter
but today, is so much closer
to the day after tomorrow.

I Love HaikU

Fall Out

the liquor soaked tongue
gushes from her every pore;
winter's reflection

----------------------------------

one tiny tear
a globe of life's reflection;
rain ponds in fallen leaves

-----------------------------------

clouds parted the moon's
light caressing the night sky--
mid-night dreams of you

-----------------------------------

Dearest Tomorrow,

Life sure is complicated,

send more chocolate!

-----------------------------------

she waits for midnight

to kick off the glass slippers--

fairy tale ending

-----------------------------------

chills run up my spine

I can't stop thinking of you--

a horn on my knee

-----------------------------------

the red rubber ball

bounces all around my head--

she plays lots of games

(this last one was inspired by Paul Simon's song
Red Rubber Ball; sung by both The Cyrkle and Neil Diamond)

Three more...

parallel's

children screaming with
laughter catching waves--
summertime in Palestine
-----------------------------

Fall Out

the liquor soaked tongue
gushes from her every pore;
winter's reflection
--------------------------------

Hope In A Bottle

tonight, old movies
and a pint of beer-
tomorrow's forecast, no rain

#13 and #14, Respectively

this morning I woke
sobbing from a dream,
the streets are soaked with puddles

--------------------------------

the willow tree weeps
with the wistful girl, waiting
secretly beneath

Detachment

I took a memory

from a day in June
when we wrote
poetry in the sand
just before high tide--

I made it

an idol on the mantel
between two candles
smack dab in the middle
of the room. Last night
in a fit of sobs

I gave it back

to the earth
that birthed it,
with a mirror
in its place.

accept-shun

as dawn broke
the sun trekked
over what must have been
a million miles, or more

rapping upon her
window pane
day in-- and out;
the curtains, always drawn.

Enter-Mission

in a made up mind
lies a handful
of made up beds
in the dark corners
with soft linens and pillows;
to lie our heads
in a made up land.

Delusions

out of the shower
in the closet

my row of shirts
sorted by color

Tonight

By your window
I will wait
for the wane of the shadows
and the stars
to show.

Two Lumps, No Sugar

falling in love at
the coffee table where the
coffee always runs out


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What is Integrity?

For my PPS scholars class, I am being asked to write a script for a podcast defining integrity. Does this work?

Integrity in the Face of a Storm

Here in the Triad of North Carolina, our strongest storms blow in from the northwest. Strong cool winds shove the sticky hot air to the coast in a violent fury. The integrity of most structures stay intact, storm after storm, year after year. What makes some structures stand strong while others cave under the pressure? Having integrity means standing strong, even in the face of a storm aiming to corrupt everything in its path.

There is a quote that says everything I believe about integrity. It says, “Live in such a way that if anyone ever spoke badly about you, no one would believe it.” I have modeled my life after this quote. A few years ago I met a group of people that I thought shared a similar belief system as I do—but I quickly realized I was naïve and that this group of people quickly went into jealousy and gossip. When others tried to lure me into the gossip fury, spreading lies about others, I stood strong in the storm—my integrity stayed intact. Some followed my example and stopped gossiping, while others succumbed to the storm and their integrity faltered. To live with integrity means not buckling under the pressure of even a violent haboob. Sometimes to keep our integrity intact, we need to be flexible like a tall, strong tree in the midst of a storm. Trees bend and move with the storm, not against it—giving it resiliency against the storm.

Keeping our integrity is not always easy. The temptation to be dishonest or to take advantage of a person or a situation can be strong, especially when we are hurting or not getting our needs met. It is in this moment that we must stand strong in our convictions and with our feet firmly rooted—eventually, the storm will calm and we will be even stronger to weather the next storm, year after year!

2 reflections:

burnt out lovers lay
together for the last time;
until tomorrow
--------------------------------------------
Syria at war
lost in the gore of power
mirrors reflect truth

fall

summer sun leaves fall
September has come to call
my phone never rings

tempting

"I'm hungry," I said.
"Go eat breakfast," you answered.
Your smile pulled me in

love call

the cat's meow cries
softly in the night--waiting
for her to come home

This morning, outside

running in the sun
earthy aroma offends--
hot horse flies flustered
----------------------------
nature sings loudly
on this late August morning
absentmindedly

Timing

Every now and then
Seven days a week
I sit back in my own critique

and I sink into that moment

That moment when
I fell in love with you;
That moment, you never knew

I was waiting, all alone.

Buzzed

in the light of a
blue citronella candle--
your beauty bugs me

Soothing

broken shells
make sandy beaches
waves comfort

Suggestive

the key on my chest
rattles with excitement at
thoughts of you and me

the end...

The sun rises, and
it always sets-- today I
finally woke up.

A Thing or Two

tomorrow at dusk
I won't be your wife because
playing is more fun
than doing dirty laundry

‪#‎Haiku‬ ‪#‎Tanka‬ ‪#‎Poetry‬ ‪#‎MicroPoetry‬

Bottled Up

The glass is always
without a drop of liquor--
yet, I remain drunk
in the absence of your gaze.

An Open Letter

Dear Unknown,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. With each passing day, my love for you grows stronger and deeper, but I wish you would come around more often so we could get better acquainted. We have a great life ahead, you and me --I just know it!

Odd

Snow in the summer
Dandelions in winter--
You, here in my arms

Cracked

“Come fly with me,” Frank sang;
But he ended up dead
Before I could get there

Just like life.

With feet dangling like a dream
Unmet, Alone I jumped
Off the wall

To fly away, somewhere--

And oh, What a great fall it was
Until, the crash—
With nowhere to land,

In particular

Like Earhart’s Electra
Off the coast of Somewhere;
I shattered

As I fell

To a million pieces,
Never to be
Put back together again.

Damn you Frank!

Desire

I dreamed of a bed to make
Somewhere deep
In a made up poem, where
I am not a mistake

Nor a trinket like prayer
Before an impending storm
Just up ahead;
Whispered in despair.

Stone

an open heart bleeds
waiting for all to hear--
in the other room,
the stereo blast.

The Dragonfly

The short story sketch I handed in for my creative writing class...

The Dragonfly


I hate dragonflies and every damn thing they stand for.  My grandmother used to tell me that dragonflies looked for bad kids and would sew their mouths shut while they were sleeping. I only bring this up because it reminds me of the summer these words came to life.

It is the summer of 1980 and I am ten years old. In the middle of North Carolina, it is warm enough for the swimming pool to open every Memorial Day weekend.  It doesn’t close until early September over the Labor Day weekend. Every Saturday, my mother and I hang out at the pool. While sitting at the bottom of the deep end of a swimming pool, the world is so far away and there is not a sound to be heard except for my own heartbeat. Solitary serenity is always found at the bottom of the pool. I sit at the bottom looking up, where everything is shimmering—the trees, the sky, the clouds—I sit there until my lungs betray me.  After 69 seconds of blissful serenity, life looks almost hopeful. I rise to the top, breaking the clear surface with a huge smile upon my face.

School will be out for the summer in two short weeks.  It doesn’t matter that I sit at my desk day dreaming of the swimming pool instead of doing my math work because my teacher, Mrs. Rite barely notices anybody except for “knows it all Molly” who sits up front.  She walks past my desk every day without saying a word to me.  Surely she knows that I deserve at least a smile from her because of what I endure every day with Bonnie, who has made it her mission to make my life miserable.

Our apartment complex is called The Hedge.  I affectionately call it The Edge because this is the only place where the fifth grade bullies are not. Here, I am on the edge of civilization.  In my room, in the corner behind my canopy bed I made a pillow fort to catch my fall at the end of the day.  The pillow fort is almost as relaxing as the swimming pool, and when my mother is at work, it is total bliss.  My mother forbids me to leave the apartment during the summer months when she is at work. She leaves me with a list of things to do to keep me busy.  I scrub grout, the bottom of the dishwasher where the hard water is stuck like tarter on a hard to reach tooth, I change the sheets on the beds, and I make sure a clean towel is hung for my mother’s next shower.  I hurry through these tasks so I can sneak up to the apartment complex pool. It is my gin and tonic with a twist at the end of a hard day.

Summer vacation has finally arrived. It’s the first Saturday in June.  Most Saturday’s my mother sleeps until noon.  I usually go downstairs and watch cartoons until about 11:45, and then hide in my pillow fort with a book until my mother is ready to head to the pool. On this particular Saturday, my mother is in a good mood.  Today, she is up at nine.  When she comes downstairs, she doesn’t even fuss that I am still in my PJ’s and eating a bowl of cocoa puffs.  Instead she says with a smile on her face, “You want to go get a new bathing suit?”
Shopping is really not my thing, but I accept her invitation because I know this is her way of saying she loves me.

We head to the department store with the big elevator in it and the hum of fluorescent lighting.  The store always smells like cheap leather shoes.  But maybe that’s because we always enter the store in the shoe department. We go to the children’s department first to look at their suits.  My mother allows me to pick out the bright green and orange stripped one.  She usually forbids me to pick out anything with bright colors or stripes because she says they make me look fat.  That’s probably why I like stripes. We head to the women’s department, and after an hour of her trying on suit after suit, she finally decides on the stripped red, white, and blue bikini.

We arrive back at The Edge, and we run upstairs to put our suits on.  After putting on our suits and making the normal “snacks” my mother likes to take to the pool, we are finally on our way.  I barely get my towel on the chair and flip flops off of my feet before I jump right into the deep end—always the deep end.  “Serenity at last,” I sigh.
I do my ritual bottom of the pool meditation, and rise up when my lungs can’t take anymore.  I burst through the top of the water, and after wiping the snot and water from the usual places, I look around to find my bearings.  A dragonfly spots me almost immediately and makes its move. It’s slow and purposeful at first, just buzzing around my head. I freeze at first because I suddenly remember the story my grandmother used to tell me about dragonflies.
In between the frantic bobbing up and down I’m doing, I’m secretly looking for a needle and thread.  After a few minutes, it starts thwapping my head just like Mike did all through fifth grade to whatever kid happened to be standing in front of him when we were in line going to lunch, going to recess, going to the bathroom, going anywhere.  He’d flick his middle finger off of his thumb so hard; a kid couldn’t help but cry out.

The dragonfly, weaves.  It zags.  It zigs.  It is a fifth grade bully at my pool—on a Saturday—in The Edge, my harbor.  I’m thinking to myself, “How can this insect deem me to be bad?  Sure, I sneak to the pool against my mother’s wishes.  Sure, I caught the dish towel on fire when I was attempting to make peanut butter cookies last week.  But what have I done that is so tragic that my mouth needs to be sewn shut while I am still awake?”
I dunk down to the bottom of the pool several times in an attempt to shake the dragonfly, but it is determined to get me. The bottom of the pool, my quiet sanctuary is now my prison.  Just like the lunch room. Just like the third cubicle in the library.  Just like the last stall on the right of the girl’s bathroom.  Just like my freaking life.

In insane desperation, I bolt out of the pool to a sea of laughter and run across the hot asphalt parking lot with naked feet. It’s funny what pops into thoughts in a moment of panic.  As I am running, my feet burning, I remember reading a book of facts last year that said there was a dragonfly somewhere in Australia that was clocked at flying thirty six miles per hour.  I am convinced this is true because this dragonfly is hot on my tail. This damn dragonfly is running me out of my serenity back into apartment number D. I slam the door shut, and gasp for air like that Tuesday in March when I had to run all the way to The Edge from school.  I shut my eyes in quiet reflection.  When I open them, the dragonfly is hovering in front of my face.  It has thirty thousand lenses in each eye. All sixty thousand are aimed straight at me—and in its clutches; it’s holding a needle and thread.

A Nightmare

The butterfly explodes
From its cocoon
Into the house of ill repute
All too soon,

Against her daddy’s wishes
Before the blue moon
Has risen in tomorrow’s sky;
The boys swoon.

Facetiousness

I wrote this for one of my projects for my creative writing class.  I had writer's block for most of the day... but pulled it out in the end...  and--grateful for a little help from my friends!!!!

Facetiousness

With a summons in hand
the flood appeared in a fit of piss and rage.

It found me in my bottom floor flat,
following the map I drew in my prayers last night.

With the force of a million hands,
the flood pushed this and grabbed that.
It lunged –
reaching for my neck
wringing like a scolding mother
in a climactic scene.

Its breath smelled like a garden after a gentle rain--
My body went limp as half a million hands
held my waist in a lover’s embrace.

The other half million
shoved my shit around like boys in a locker room--
like “Brick the Bully,” that roaring flood of torment
who, every damn day at recess,
reminded me how far I was from any safe harbor.

Giving the flood my last breath,
I rolled over and hit the snooze button.

Uncertainty always has gotten the best of me.

Past Tense-Shun

The rose, with soft petals:
Destined to die
before it can rise.

Still

a drop of rain
clings to the leaf;
the sun is blind

Unapologetic

Lightning strikes and kills
in the fury of the storm;
She shoots from the hip

Before Supper

The afternoon sun is creeping through
the bedroom. I like this room this time
of day; alone with no one to care--

for or about; I chuckle.
The darkness lies across my shoulders,
while I swirl my bourbon on the rocks;

gearing up for the sun to set; the time
when I have to smile and tuck
the darkness beneath the bed.

Just Past Midnight

Late last night, the moon
peaked
through the window
framed,
right over my bed;
prying
open my eyes to catch me
dreaming
of you...

#12

A care, I carried
Every damn place I traveled;
I lost my luggage

Substitutions

I wanna skip rocks.
It's either that or skip life;
I should plant flowers

No Need For A Title: Just a thought...

People often say strange things,
like, "I rather enjoy the pleasure of my own company."

Many versions of ourselves gathered around
a living room fire, swirling
our gin and tonic's like a Rockefeller
discussing this and that
as if it actually mattered.

Perhaps this is why I am
always drunk?

Loneliness

When the camera aims
we smile, automatically;
I wish you were here.

Two Thoughts Today

IMPACT!

Words fade,
Wounds linger...
FUCK YOU!

--------------------

Break

You, your eyes
I do so
adore--
even after it closes...

elusive

wings need stretching
with a dream to fly;
cocoon smothers

‪#‎Haiku‬ ‪#‎Poetry‬ ‪#‎Micropoetry‬

Devotional

the breath of her soul
found me waiting, in the yard;
a warm summer breeze

‪#‎Haiku‬ ‪#‎Poetry‬ ‪#‎Micropoetry‬

Learning...

We are learning in my creative writing class how to write imagery that the reader can taste, feel, hear, smell and almost touch. This is my short piece I presented for my creative writing class today.




The Brown Pontiac




I am in the brown Pontiac sitting at the airport watching planes land. I am in the backseat, alone, but being alone has never bothered me. This Pontiac only has two doors, but they are really long ones that extend almost to the back seat. The windows are rolled down and my head is wedged between the front seat head rest and the window frame, with my eyes wide, and fixed straight toward the skies. I am waiting for the next airplane to take me away. The incoming planes are so low, I could reach up and stroke its belly, but the thrill of the vibrations is enough to sustain me. I am six years old, and I am free as a bird!




It is night time, the air is August thick and is mysterious with the orange glow from the runway lights. My mom and dad are in the front seat, smoking Pall Mall reds. The car is smokey and the air is filled with the scent of jet fuel pressing against every sense I have; I cough without noticing. My parents are happy, they're laughing and flirting and saying things they think my young ears don't understand. It was before they declared war on each other; and it was before I declared war on myself. This night is better than chocolate milk and doughnuts, and I never want to leave.

the bottom line

consider a shoes
sole, lost without directions;
maps aren't always right

Dis-close

a moment of peace
softly snuck in beneath the
window pane last night

#11

head above water
like drowning out the chaos
with a glass bottle

#10

inside Toys R Us
smiles on faces I see from
unwrapped gifts, waiting

‎#Haiku ‎#Poetry

#9

If I were a bell
not a single ding I'd make;
silence is louder

‎#Haiku ‎#Poetry ‎#Micropoetry

Where I write

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Defiance

Screaming like a teen
Drunk on a Saturday night;
HUSH UP! --heedless mind

‎#Haiku ‎#Poetry ‎#Micropoetry

Home Is Where The Pillow Lies

A bird, free to fly
here or there-- so long as his
feathers aren't a pillow

Square One

In haste, The Sea bolts
to my castle in the sand;
Like time spent living

‎#Haiku ‎#Poetry ‎

#8

Storms rise so quickly
The flood recedes quietly;

My thoughts do neither 

‎#Haiku ‎#Poetry ‎#micropoetry

Life and stuff; it goes on

"The transition" has occurred.  Now, time for the settling....  Change is strange, oddly enough.  I am way beyond tired.

On a good note--My creative writing class starts today.  I'm hoping I get to write some great stuff --stay tuned!!!

-------------------If I can just get through my MATH (bleh!) exam this week....  Wish me luck y'all.........

Change-able

OH! I long for change
to jingle in my pocket--
Dimes don't reminisce

#Haiku

#7

On Leaving

Today: The last day
through this door I'll tread; the leaves
are changing too soon

Haiku

#7

In my solitude
There's nothing to do, but be;
I think it might rain

#Haiku 

#6

Just waiting like this
Not all here, certainly not there;
Like summer to a kid

#Haiku


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Drift

Yesterday becomes
today all too soon, my loves--
Too much, is one blink

#Haiku #Poetry

adjustment

coffee cup empty

signals it's time to begin;

I'll sip extra slow

#Haiku

Miss-placed

-------------------------------------------

Scattered, like dust left

behind--like a love affair

with a favorite chair

removed, like memories kept.

#5

a baleful virus
hurling bassy sounds like threats;
storms lurk and circle

#Haiku

After a While

by Veronica A. Shoffstall


After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman,
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn...

#4

In the wind, I can
fly with the greatest of ease;
Until she blew off

#Haiku 

I've been enjoying writing these haiku style poems.  They're quick, and allow me to express a lot (with so few words) in this stressful time in my life, while also having so little time...  One week from today I start my creative writing class.  I am beyond excited and hoping beyond hope that I get to write poetry for that class!!!

#3

The mourning has come
Where it's time to say good-bye;
Black holes suck like night

Today.... life....?

I've never cried so much in my entire life....
This kinda sucks.

Producing a poem out of it would maybe, perhaps.... make it a bit better....?


Just Breathe is my mantra du jour.

#2

My thoughts are running wild
Wild like a teen or stampede
On a picnic blanket

#1

These bones are aching
Under a shell a mile thick;
Don't look for me there

With a little help from my friends

I posed the question on Facebook if friends would give me a word, a thought, or a feeling that I could form into a poem.  These are responses I received: 

- If you look far enough you will see???

-The world wrapped around you.. if you listen long enough??

-If you could keep only one memory...

-Moving out of my nest of safety into the terrifying realm of the unknown known...

I decided to write a Haiku poem (a Japanese poem), using bits and pieces of their words.

 realm of the unknown

The world wraps her arms

Around the memory of

Loves left in the wake

Ghost

They Are There

Oh
my God

testing, testing
he tests the limits to confirm that they are there.
Pushing, pushing
He pushes the boundaries to confirm that they are there.
ARE YOU THERE?
Running, running
He runs away to see if he’s worth chasing.
AM I WORTH IT?

Oh
my God

Don’t. Let. Go.
Hold on. Hold on tighter.
                                                Please.


A friend of mine wrote this...  I kinda dig it, thought I'd share it.

Irony?

Cleaning, organizing, packing to move-- making my house even more perfect so that I never wanna leave...
My Buddhist faith is being tested to the limits!  I must repeat over and over--Less is more! Don't become attached to "things."  Home is wherever you hang your (50+) hat(s)! (HA! okay, that last one is more so lyrics from a country song than Buddhist philosophy)--And YES!  I wear A LOT of hats!!!

1998

Tonight,

One shot and a beer;

Or

Was it one beer and three shots?

No matter...

Though the latter

Sounds more like truth--

I drink to keep

My mind from wondering,

Should I shout

Out your name;

Or

Continue to drown

Out this drunkenness

With more

Liquor?

Miss

when love speaks
to my heart,
it must be traveling
without a DAMN
map, cause
it gets lost
in the translation…

Hunch

If I built a bench,
Little by little
Beyond the middle
Of normal;

Would you rest with me?

Polysemous

Being near her,
Makes a shot of liquor
Uncalled for....

Estrangement

Why do you turn on me your gaze–
now that in your arms to my rival lays?
I am astound that after all that deceit–
you wait for those times to repeat!

I have seen it with my own eyes, Oh God,
That you raised your glass amidst the crowd!
When you opened Hafez to tell your fortune–
another name came for you in the light of the moon.

Go now to her and mind not my heart, goodbye!
You are the sun, she is the Earth and I am the sky.
Shine on her, on her as I am sitting down, afar–
I travel alone on the shoulders of a falling star!

Shine, shine on her as I stand up and my heart–
cries for her, for her fate, pain and plight!
To let you go is true love’s decree–
She has your arms, you heart remains with me!

You, you who took me away behind the curtain–
How come didn’t you reach to my secret garden?
I let go of you and the warmth of your arms–
I was never after the flesh and its charm!

If I ran to you so eager and fervent–
a unison with Love, was all that I meant!
And not your embrace to light my darken night–
the dream of Love shines so brighter than your sight!

Now that you are sitting next to her, my rival–
Let me cheer to your union, not plotting a reprisal!
Our tale is gone lost and its dusts are to shove–
stay with her and her undying love!


Forough Farrokhzad (1935 – 1967)
Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, June 2013, Halifax.

Easy

Easy like Sunday morning, the song
that sings about the one in love
with the one who is not--
like a woman from Alabama
with a banjo in one hand
and a ticket to Les Mis in the other;
who can do both, without the easy,

perhaps?

Adapt

Is this dizziness I feel
Caused by that shot of liquor
Chased by that lager
I drank?
Or, is it from
That door revolving
That swung this way
Instead of that...perhaps?

Stuff

Boxes packed
Almost like fact
BUT!  Really it's more like
a fuck you
out of the blue, kinda.

A Thought About Me and Her

She gets the whispers of my secrets
No one else is privy;
Yet, she doesn't have
The first damn clue. . . . . .

Futile

I could never race a Nascar;
Like thoughts, speeding
around in semi-circles
with no way out
frantic
and a fiery
crash when the tiniest
of things goes awry..

--------------------

like us
on the day before
our lips
never met

Days like today

It's days like today where I see the real value of running away and becoming a Monk--or whatever the female equivalent is.  I have no idea how I can possibly make a dent in solving the problems of the world, when on days like today.... people irritate the shit out of me?!?  I really wish I knew what was wrong with us humans.  It's a wonder we've made it as long as we have without killing each other....  If I had a roof top in the middle of town, I think I'd be on top of it right now shouting at the top of my lungs, "FUCK YOU!"  But since I don't... here I am on my blog.

A Royal F.U.!

Prevention

A latte, I got
today and a
brat or more I got too--
But a tat, I got to get
before I splat
a slat against my skin;
again...

She Was Hope

When darkness swallows

the sunny memories

of day, 

hope bares to

its nakedness

hiding within the

abandoned whisper

just beyond the shadows;

leaving no trace

she ever was.

Spare Me

Spare, like rooms
and change and tired tires
are not bad things;
But personally,
I would kindly prefer
to be spared
from the suffering
of the sparer.

Deteriorating Conditions

the clouds hanging
low, their blanket of regret
embracing me.
they are thick but dry,
blocking the light
leaving all in its wake
dark and cold.
in straits, I shiver
allowing the darkness
to swallow me

whole.

Pleading

Dear Mind, or something sounding similar:
I'm writing to say you must stop
NOW!  With care I carry this Message Love;
Go Gently--Hence, thoughts such as these will lead
to sleeplessness, as you may already have 
noticed?  Not only that, that extra drink
ain't your shrink!  Yea, it makes you cry,
and long, leading to horniness; untouched.
The alternative is a slow death, BUT!
Alas--a sweet stroll it shall be.

in  sanity, I plead with love...  forevermore!

The Rhyme and Reason Of Love

I'll smoke ya some ribs
Like a pro
And I'll drive your kids
wherever they need to go,

Most anything, I'll do
To keep the pain
A neutral shade of hue;
Or...something resembling sane--

Is that even possible?
Nah!  Fuck the rhyme
Cause there just ain't no reason
Why you're there, and I'm not.

Come Visit?

Hello friends!  Just passing on to you that after 5 years with A Southern Poetaster, I decided to make a Facebook page dedicated to this blog and my poetry.  This blog is and will always be my primary writing spot, but if you are on Facebook, and want to read a little something extra-- Please "like" me!  Also, if you know how to put a Facebook "like" here on this blog, drop me a line with DETAILED directions... lol.  YES, I'm an electronic nerd (as in, I love electronics), but I don't know how to work them as much as I'd like to!

Hope you're having a great day!

Come-Passion

Faces circular and
square stare back
like soul filled mirrors
in lines of frowns and smiles--
some with laughter and some
not; but all
a union of unique
                          humanness...

The Idling Idyll

I just remembered that I was awoken by these words in the middle of the night last night.  It's still a weird concept to me that I write, even when asleep...  (I typed these into my "notes" on my iPhone around 1:04 a.m.).

Hard
Is the wind
On the west side of the sun;
Seducing it
Into darkness.

Today

Today is one of those days where you are left with... wtf?!?!?!?!?!?  Why does shit have to be so damn hard?!?!

Ben Howard

Just Listening....  (Even a tree knows when it's time to bend, when it's time to grow and when it's time to fall).

Not a bad song in the bunch really.  Youtube him... seriously.

Tease

It feels real;
However,
it kills when
we make out...

like it's not.

Wanting

Every once in awhile, a moment passes with a wish it hadn't;
Passed or came at all, I'm unsure-- 'cept to say
I know, it will never leave me...

                                                                          the same.

Horniness

The world rocks and shakes
Beneath my hips 'n such,
Much like hairs in a crossfire
Sprung from thoughts in a moment;
Frozen like daiquiris we say
We'll drink one day; alone --
together in a celebration of nothingness...

An Almost Made Up Poem

(Maybe someday... when I'm not so drunk; I can write a poem like this?)


I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.

Charles Bukowski

Waiting

The distance from here to there
Spans a separation like
A trip to that galaxy;
With the name that was born from
Your initials engraved in my
Heart like a brander made of
Fire; Trapped forever-- like time.

The Business of Face Saving

I'm working on finishing up my final project for my conflict resolution strategies class.  I am making what is called a zine with a few of my old poems and poetry art and a brand new poem that I wrote called The Business of Face Saving. A lot of times in conflicts, we're so busy thinking about ourselves, that we don't do what is necessary to end the conflict; thereby making it only worse.  So--I wrote a poem about saving face, and some problems with that...

I Walk the winding streets of winter cold,
My bones wince at the people passing by
Overly concerned with saving face;
Only when forced to confess, of course.

Pulling my pocket around front
To seize a smoke to hide behind
The painted pain draped upon my face;
A headline scrolls across the screen
In the display window, downtown:

It says, "A sea of sympathy floods
Boston Streets, a loss of limb'n life;
Exploded from brothers saving face-
An echo of unchecked rejection;
Saving face, turns deadly yet again."

Sometimes death is silent, like blue skies
Unnoticed, a loaded fist behind
Closed blinds, or a broken heart on a
Saturday night --severed to save your

Own dignity. Saving face instead
Of braking down and stepping up; lock
n'load like The Terminator on the big screen;
Saving face instead of saving me

From a life without you, forever-
more or less.  I'll be waitin' inside
The Ben 'n Jerry's walk-in freezer;
Face saving on ice--creamed like coffee
made weak, falling within and without.

Our Creation

This is my video I made for my human rights class.  It took countless hours.... But, I think my first video turned out ok!!!!  Good night world!  I'm grateful for time.... it has told me what I needed to know; perfect as always.  As Maya Angelou said, when people show you who they are, believe them the first time!

In a Very Unusual Way

In a very unusual way one time I needed you.
In a very unusual way you were my friend.
Maybe it lasted a day, maybe it lasted an hour.
But, somehow it will never end.

In a very unusual way I think I'm in love with you.
In a very unusual way I want to cry.
Something inside me goes weak,
Something inside me surrenders.
And you're the reason why,
You're the reason why

You don't know what you do to me,

You don't have a clue.
You can't tell what it's like to be me looking at you.
It scares me so, that I can hardly speak.

In a very unusual way, I owe what I am to you.
Though at times it appears I won't stay, I never go.
Special to me in my life,
Since the first day that I met you.
How could I ever forget you,
Once you had touched my soul?
In a very unusual way,
You've made me whole


Thank you Barbra Streisand for the beautiful music! Happy Birthday!!!

The Spring Fling

Thoughts leave

Like the scattering of light

flung

Off the last leaf;

Before night

falls...

Until the shadows rise

Out of lost dreams

sprung

From yesterday's lies;

Tomorrow, I redeem

the fall that waits for winter.

For my friends...

...who read my blog.  Thank you so much for your support!!!!  It means so much!!!  I have 2 projects to do for my classes.  I've decided to try to incorporate poems for both. --(insert big smile here)-- But the pressure is on!!! The last few weeks of school have taken up so much time, I haven't had much time for my personal writing.  After I've submitted my projects for a grade, I'll share them here!  I'll be taking a creative writing class over the summer... I'm hoping that will give me more time for a southern poetaster!!!

I started this blog to give me a creative outlet, because.. well... I had very little opportunity for creativity in my life.  Since I've started school, my creativity has an outlet... but I miss my blog!!!  I miss spending a lazy afternoon with music and poetry.  However... I have never been in a better place in my life!!!  I have met my destiny!!!  It's nice to finally know what I want to be when I grow up!!!  --although, I do hope it involves more writing!!!

Hard Stuff

I'm repeating this as new, cause it's.... relevant again.

The spirits hold me

when it hurts to see,

Drowning

is what I feel

when I’ve gotten a raw deal.

It

doesn’t really matter much

cause there’s no such

thing as having it

All.

The spirits know

when it’s time for me to go

Away.

Dearest Nightmare

Kindly fuck off! Okay... Thanks.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Domestic Partnerships for All

Face the Nation is talking about marriage equality this morning.  The statistics they shared is that the United States is split almost equally down the middle (with a little higher number on the support for gay marriage side).  And the statistics are in even higher support for same sex marriage when only people under 30 are polled.  This issue is highly divisive, as many people are confusing the legalities of "marriage" with religion.

This is my proposal, and I wonder if it will make all sides happy:  The states no longer issue marriage license to anyone; not even to a couple consisting of one man and one woman. The states will only issue a license for domestic partnerships.  The couple (traditional, or same sex) goes to the courthouse and request a domestic partnership license to be afforded the benefits the states offers. That is the extent of the states involvement.  The government is only involved on the business side of the union. 

If a couple wishes a wedding, and a marriage to celebrate their union with their God or without a God... they do that in their churches; defining marriage how they deem appropriate. So, if a couple wishes to define marriage as birthing children, raising those children, and fostering the union between the couple under the laws of Christianity; that's their choice, and is the business of that family, their church and their God.  However, if a man and a woman wish to join together, sharing their life together without having any children and they go to the Buddhist temple every Saturday; they will still be afforded the benefits the state offers to couples in domestic partnerships. --And of course, ditto for same sex couples.

This proposal separates the business side of marriage and the religious definition of marriage.  And then perhaps same sex couples will not be cast as the deviants in a society, and if they choose so, they can legally adopt children, and love those children that no one else wanted to love... and life will go on!  Everyone is treated equally under the eyes of the law; and everyone can define marriage the way they see fit within their religious establishments.  What do you think?

Tuesday's Thought...

If I could be loved as well as I am hated...  I'd be content.

messed up

she stands on the edge of space
holding a tissue full of lies;
time claims its victory, for now

unraveling

beneath the center of blackness,
where nothing begets her
parting ways;

before

delivering gifts of feathers
where we'll soar
over false shadows, but for

today

I'll leave you
like drying paint on native skin
burning in the sun.

until then,

I'll be in the branches,
until you're ready to climb; from
the settling dust.

Be, Do, Embrace, the Different

I find it interesting how, as human beings we are so scared of change.  But, the kind of change we are most afraid of is the kind of change that requires us to do something different.  We pray, hope, dream, wish, (whichever word works for you) for change every single day.
                            "I wish I could have that."
                            "I pray tomorrow will be better."
                            "I hope I find happiness someday."
                            "I dream of the day life is kinder to me."

And yet, when something, (or even someone) comes along that offers a resource to realize those changes... but it means that we have to do something different (change the way we act or think)... we close up tighter than Fort Knox.  We want change, but only if we get to keep living in our same world of denial.  It's a vicious cycle.  How do we grow to understand that in order to get the change we want, we have to do something different?  How do we get ourselves to eagerly embrace changing our point of view, or our way of doing things to foster the change that we are praying, hoping, dreaming, wishing for?  It's interesting how we look at "so and so" and think to ourselves, or HELL! --we might even say it out loud, "Look how happy they are! I wish I could be like them!"  But, we usually don't do what it is they do to be or do what they do. (wait... did that make sense???  HA!)  In other words, we just keep doing the same ol' shit over and over again... Why?  Because "My way is the best way! And if the universe really liked me, it would give me what I want because I want it without having to leave my comfort zone, DAMMIT!!!"  Albert Einstein said my most favorite quote of all time.  He said, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results."

"We have to be the change we want to see in the world."  Yea, that doesn't mean exactly what I'm saying here, but it's still true.  If you like your life the way it is, keep on keepin' on.  But, if you find yourself lost in a state of perpetual hope for something different, then you gotta be different, do different, embrace different.  Stop bitchin' and change it up; it's as simple as that. -- I know what you're thinking. Since I'm on a quote roll, "it's easier said than done."  Yea, I get that, I'm living that right this second.  I said it for years (My wish, dream, hope, prayers to "save" the world --well, not really save the world, that's a different story for a different post. But, if you're a regular southern poetaster reader, you kinda know what I mean), but now I'm doing it!  And you know what?  I'm probably going to spend less time doing it than I spent saying it.  You just have to get started!  Now is as good a time as any!

Deafness

Wars break out,
I am convinced
when we do more talking
or shooting, or bombing, or blasting, or one upping
than listening...

How can anyone possibly hear a thing through all of the explosions???

Hard Cider

Too strong, for apple pie
and hard to swallow with its
bitter rush.  It hits
below the belt with a lie

of being something it never was
s'pose to be. But hell, I don't care
cause I wouldn't dare
miss this amazin' buzz....



                                                 for a minute.

It only takes one YES to erase a million No's!

Thoughts on the loose
won't wash down,
with even such things
as apple juice.
This is as lame
as Mother Goose,
I know;

but still, 
my thoughts won't.

Which wish I'll dream tonight
I've yet to weave;
But a heap of hope
will see me through...
Like a bit of blue sky
through clouds of rain.

G'nite moon and to you too.

the right to.... ?

I have been assigned to a debate on gun control in my human rights class.  I was given the pro side of government gun control.  I am working on my opening statement.  How does this sound?

We have seen, as American people that our precious, sacred constitution of these United States often times needs amending or ratifying to change with our ever changing morals and beliefs and to protect those who cannot protect themselves.  The original constitution did not create ALL men equal.  It declared all white men to be equal --leaving everyone else as a "lesser than."  All black men are created as equal as all white men.  All women are created as equal as all men.  We know this to be true that no document can be created that places the value of ones life above another; or one right above another.  The second amendment gives all the right to bear arms.  The first amendment gives to each and everyone of us the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Are we morally justified in supporting a document without amendments that puts more value on one particular right over another?  Are we morally justified to not hold all men accountable for the disgrace of a few?  Can we as a nation continue to allow one group of people to monopolize the rights of another?   The right to life.  So many souls around the globe have fought and died for this right.  Is the right to life any less valuable than the right to bear arms?

The 'Children's Defense Fund,' an NGO protecting the human rights of children filed a report on January 3, 2013.  It stated that more children and teens have died from guns every three days than died that horrible day since the Shady Hook massacre. One child or teen dies at the hands of a gun every three hours in the United States.

The report also stated that between 1979 and 2010; 119,079 children and teens have died from guns.  This is more child and teen deaths in 32 years then U.S. soldiers killed in action in the Vietnam, Korean, Afghanistan, and Iraq wars combined.

Between the years of 2000 and 2010, a total of 332,014 people of all ages have died from guns.  That is more people than the entire population of almost any county in any state!

Are we morally justified in not being held accountable for these deaths simply because the 2nd amendment states that we have a right to bear arms?  What about the right to life?

mental note

I want to feel drunk
           beneath the whispers
           of what wasn't or is, even--
           from the words she said,
but never meant...

                                                             I feel you, forever

too tired to write... but

So. I ended up in the ER last week.  Docs thought I was stroking.  I knew I wasn't though, but... what do I know?  Anyway, realized that I can't ignore my high blood pressure any longer.  I've tried all I know to lower it without meds.  Lost weight. Quit smoking.  Went vegan. blah blah blah -- But, nothing worked.  Reminds me of love, kinda. So, I allowed myself to be on meds, despite my fear.  BUT... I got a new tat!!!  Wow... have I needed that.  I've needed everything about it, for so long.  That secret "sting" under my sleeve has been awesome, but now it's gone.  Time for another, perhaps?  Anyway...  After a horrendous day, these words were floatin' around my head on the way home...

The last tear dropped
from a heart torn new; yet
to her I say, I love you still.

I think I'll work this tomorrow.... yea, there's always tomorrow...

Reflection

I wanted to share this on my blog.  I wrote this for my conflict resolution class.  It is a reflection on my conflict style. It is the first "creative" piece I've been allowed to write in college so far.  I really had fun with it!  By the way... I received a 96!  :)

At Conflict With Conflict

Conflict is an issue that I have felt passionate about for a very long time.  Until I started my studies in peace and conflict at Guilford College, I thought that if I could just teach people how to respect and value one another, that I could eradicate conflict all together.  Boy was I wrong!!!  I suppose that was just wishful thinking, as I AM NOT a fan of conflict.  In my mind, I have always thought that the way to resolve differing issues (not conflict, which used to be a dirty word) was to be a soft negotiator. “Instead of seeing the other as adversaries, [I] prefer to see them as friends.  Rather than emphasizing a goal of victory, [I] emphasize the necessity of reaching agreement.” (Getting To Yes, Pages 8–9)  To me, the people who ranted and presented general chaos coming at an issue with bullhorns were just assholes, not interested in resolution at all.  That may be true to some extent, but not always, as I have learned.

HELLCAT

Ready for combat

Slingin’ your words

For me to swallow

Like slick pie.

Sorry, but

I ain’t your fall guy,

Don’t bring it to me

Cause you see

The point of a spat

Is not to skew

Me to you

But allow me to be

Despite the blat!

I wrote that poem about five years ago after an argument with a group of friends who I thought, viewed the world and all of the wonderful things and all of the bullshit that comes with inhabiting this beautiful planet the same way I do.  Growing up, I thought it was only my mother who did not always mean what she said; or always said what she meant! But the conflict that ensued within this group of friends taught me that most people suffer from this affliction, including myself.

According to the Style Matters Conflict Inventory I took online, as per the requirement for this paper, I learned that in a conflict when the emotional intensity has not risen, and things are still rather calm, my conflict style is “cooperating” with a score of an eleven.  Interesting though, there was a three way tie for second, with “harmonizing,” “avoiding,” and “compromising” with a score of 10.  The last on the list of what I am likely to use in the calm stage of a conflict is “directing,” with a score of a 5.  When things have risen in intensity, the changes were slight.  My number one method of dealing with conflict when tensions are high is “avoiding” with a score of 12.  There was a two way tie for second with “harmonizing,” and “compromising” with a score of 10.  Lastly, I scored a 9 in “cooperating” and again, a 5 in “directing.”  But really, the numbers between calm and storm are not all that distant. And, the numbers are so close together in both categories, I am likely to reach for any of the methods for resolving conflict except for “directing,” where I received a score of 5 on both the calm and the storm section.

So, this leads me to think about why I avoid conflict sometimes and why I become invested in cooperation and harmonizing at other times.  I tend to be attracted to passionate people.  There is nothing better than feeling the energy exuding from a person in the midst of passion.  But with passionate people, comes passionate dialog, passionate emotions, and passionate EVERYTHING!  I tend to be rather subdued and laid back.  An angry, passionate person behaves much differently than an angry, relaxed person, and often times… No!  --most of the time, these conflict styles DO NOT mesh!  So, what is a laid back, just chillin’ girl such as myself to do?  Funny you should ask!  It has been a long road to get to this realization, “being chill ALL OF THE TIME DOES NOT WORK!!!” 

 My favorite poet, Maya Angelou said it best.  She said, "I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back." Sometimes, you have to put your foot down, set boundaries, and speak up!  Otherwise, people will walk all over you.  I have been in this conflict resolution class for three weeks now, and I have already learned so much.  I am quite certain that my life will be greatly improved, as it has already improved a bit.

I really do want to harmonize with others, and foster it in others as well.  My first inclination is to try to enable others to cooperate and compromise with each other.  Like that old Coke commercial from the 1970s with the lyrics, “I’d like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony.”  Harmony is best, of course; but not always possible, unfortunately.   I tend to use the conflict style of avoiding at that precise moment when I “feel” that this is a conflict that is not going to get any resolution.  When I get the sense that I am just going to be someone’s punching bag (or I was the punching bag), or the person or people are not in a rational frame of mind, my inclination is to get the hell out!!!  --and I usually do.

Imagine a big room with chipped paint walls, and the smell of strong coffee bouncing all around in a haze of smoke with a big circle of chairs around one half of the room and a table with stale doughnuts and partially smoked cigarettes in the other half.  Each person rises, in turn to introduce themselves until it is my turn where I say, “Hi, my name is G **** and I am a…”  No, not an alcoholic; but “wuss when it comes to conflict.”  That is pretty much where I stand when it comes to my own personal conflict; often times feeling as if I am a victim of circumstance.  There should be a support group for that, right? But through the last three weeks of this class, I have already learned that I am not a victim in my own personal conflict. Through the Mindfulness Handout: Taking Hold of Your Mind we received in class, I learned that I need to use more of my rational mind and a little less of my emotional mind in a stressful, conflictual situation.  If I use the techniques presented in that handout, I can become less emotional in a conflict, allowing my wise mind to be my ally.  This will help me to not feed into the storm that is before me, or to allow it into my “personal space.”  This will allow me to free my thoughts so that I can gain access to the other four conflict styles other than avoiding; cooperating, harmonizing, compromising and directing, that could assist me in the conflict at hand.  If I trained myself to use ALL of the conflict styles rather than running away mentally and/or physically, I can “direct” the conflict a little more by stating my needs and reinforcing my boundaries so I do not end up feeling battered and abused (even if the feeling battered and abused is only in my own head and not a reality).  This in turn, will help me to stay present in the moment and to work toward some sort of resolution.

All of this certainly seems to point out, with the sharpness of a dunce cap that I have A LOT to learn about conflict resolution!  What I thought I knew to be true about conflict was not even remotely close to the truth; well, except for the fact that a lot of the conflict that ensues, not only in my own life but all conflict could be avoided if we all learned how to communicate with one another! By the word communicate, I largely mean we must learn to L-I-S-T-E-N to one another!  That is the large piece of communication that many of us are missing.  We are usually so busy trying to be heard, that we ourselves do not hear much of anything outside of our own thoughts.  When we have two people in a conflict doing this… there’s not a whole lot of communicating going on.

Conflict can be bad, but it can also be good when there is appropriate communication (say what you mean, mean what you say, and listen), mutual respect (by respect I do not mean you have to like each other or even agree with each other, but you do have to respect the other person’s opinion), and the desire to reach a resolution by all parties involved in the conflict. At the beginning of this paper I said that I thought if I could just teach people how to respect and value one another, that I could eradicate conflict all together.  That goal is not realistic; however, if I could teach people how to respect and value one another, I could eradicate dysfunctional conflict, perhaps.  The road to get there is long and winding indeed; but this class is an awesome first step in that journey; but, no pressure Daniel and Jeremy!   --Peace Out!