the moon has hung me
out, dry lips licked sore
heavy-tongue parched
salted, sticky and sweet
yellow yearning: MORE!
You own my heart whole.
blue used to feel black
Blue used to feel black, like a head whack! But, with a smack! back, because of you, blue feels bright almost a teal tropical skyline at dawn, shady clouds hanging out, shaking off the grey dew warmed to twinkle in the sun anew. When my melancholy mind is on the attack and all feels forever daunting and totally MAD, watching you transforms the blue and tickles my soul to make even my eyes smile, reminding me, things aren’t so bad, just find a way to laugh;)
crazy big crack
Night is the lonliest not-alone time of the day. The bustle is gone, chores done, and I rub lotion onto my sore hands. The quiet is deafening to me, being so near other people, yet no one notices it’s my voice they don’t hear…really, it’s just like I’m not there, instead, there’s a ghost or shadow of an energy that once was vibrant, sassy, sometimes even sexy, a now dark matter taking up space…Sometimes, I wish I had something in common with someone in my house, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t feel like such an ASS with a crazy, big crack.
self-dout flies
self-doubt became flies buzzing round my brain feasting on the corpses of past hopes and dreams
I’ve tried to stop swatting at them, it never helps
do I have to kill them?
maybe if they eat all hope
all expectation
all imagination
maybe then I can finally find FULL
or I could just lose myself to the wanton wolves that already devoured my soul
who am I now? which way will I go?
I wish I could embrace my doubt and say:
“It’s ok, it’s gonna be alright, everything you do is done with love in your heart, don’t hate yourself because you are.”
not pretty
Resentment’s ugly. He makes his sneer so clear with me at the butt of his insipid joke, and whether I’m an easy target or I’m the asshole big enough to constantly get hit, it doesn’t matter one little bit.
I won’t let him steal my spirit, no matter how hard he tries. I’m not a pretty picture, if you knew my life as a wife. I hate having this side, brooding alone in the dark long before the witching hour with a moon full, wondering…
What do I want???
That insatiable hunger, the need to kiss again, the longing to explore passionate sexuality, the desire for spontaneous body searches, feeding upon each other, laughing and loving, giving and receiving…
Ha! That’s not my world. Maybe I need a prostitute.
(I don’t write marriage often, and rarely leave it up long, but sometimes I just feel so stuck, laying next to someone who doesn’t know I’m there, I have to release my resentment so tomorrow my kids see me happy:)
flowing white
I want to lick the full moon, let it’s light flowing white, drip sips into my mouth open wide…How I love you perched hard ‘n’ high! Shower me with your power and make me come alive.
time slip
I watch behind closed eyes as I dance with my shadow of you…
the sweet sway of your hips,
shuffling feet over to a pleasure-hop,
and I watch as you take my hand in yours,
spin me round to pull me close,
holding time, I see your eyes,
then spinning me round
again towards each other, and out
stretched arms, encircling love…
Your finger impressions tingling me,
I squeal a giddy release, OH! OH!
Spin me one more time! Elation shouts.
(My daily coffee like syrup wafts my nose to keep me motivated, but these days it doesn’t seem to be working. Whatever I’m doing, I find I’ll stop, lose track of time…imagine a moment, then I have a smile that glows. After my momentary slip, I take a sip, and I go.)
Smoke Spirits
Let’s go back to before my accident…It’s 1990, a blowout bonfire at the end of school next to Midwest cornfield, I stood staring into the flames dancing hot waves, and I felt warmed deep in my soul, not from the heat of the fire, but as if an invisible smoke spirit floated from the bottom embers to smoke sucked up my nose.
I wondered then, as I do now again, if what I felt was true or just me way back when in a weird mood?
Tonight, with a puff of smoke (thanks to the dragon downthe way;)…
POOF! PRESTO!
Off to snap the net for the Mythology of smoke spirits:
I now understand my reaction:
Smoke Spirits
Two smoke spirits ablaze
Dancing irredecent
Shaping shadows
Two smoke spirits escaping
Ethereal displacement
Rising UP
Two smoke spirits away
A Transcendence
Feet to Ground
A new go-round.
A Joyful Tear
A joyful tear drops on my breast whilst watching the face in the mirror beat drums upon a colorful chest, reflecting what I want to be thinking, if only I could. Here, at the end of my finger tips, when there’s a mess going on in the world and at home, and I want to abscond, when I need grace, compassion, and strength, I’m so thankful to have a place to escape where I wear genuine smile for a change.
II
III
In the placenta-like sac of my soul a Wookiee pounds to break out.
Two fierce fists grip the walls, yanking open and tearing through.
The Wookiee be my soul re-born inspired, complete, thankful, free!
a bear hug to my brain
I take you to bed each night, a bear hug to my brain as I lie down physically, emotionally drained.
I wrap myself in the memory of that voice, that face, warming me deep in a secret place.
I eat those lines like spaghetti, sucking out the meaning of life as every ‘Ooohhh’ makes me feel high!
I watch the open eye gradually close, time measured by light, and know ‘Stay strong, you’re not alone tonight.’
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 