Hiding Only to find a Wizard

I’ve been hiding. No one noticed. I went to bed way too early, no TV, no music, no beautiful video to lull me to a good night’s sleep. Two days, only me, watching in my head, an emptiness, a hole growing like “The NOTHING” with me needing belief in the creative, golden light to make everything alright.

Now, I’m scared to touch that fire in me again would be dangerous…

I don’t have unrealistic expectations, but unreachable dreams that obviously could never be stroked, will never be embraced, a kiss never to be placed upon the lips I see at night in my sleep.

As I lie in bed, waiting for nothing to happen, I pretend he’s facing me, and I can study his eyes, trace every inch of his face, tell him about my day:

Like he’d care a beautiful ten year old girl at the special needs camp had trouble with sudden outbursts of anger and frustration, however, I happened to hear her say, “…and the wizard told the girl…”

I said, “I love wizards! Is that what you’re drawing?”

She told a few lines of her story, then went about talking to herself again, but calmer. Only he could see how cool this moment was for me.

I broke through with the toughest kid in camp because I met a wizard who truly does do magic.

How can anyone compare to how such a simple thing can make my heart remember how to with beat warmth, even on one the coldest of summer’s nights.

Demons

The truth is moonlight sprinkling a vast forest floor, not right or righteous, always on guard, like demons at night, relishing the dark dreamscape, more real in its skew than a day’s reality feels. Whilst I sleep, I reach and reach to pet the demons, train them to behave, teach my shadows to dance with my demons in a promenade.

(I take him to bed with me, it’s true, I start my dream in a visual…beautiful. I still choose to sleep with my fantasy because my dream makes me happy. Some day maybe, just maybe I’ll get a piece of a real cake…OH, how I’d devour something sweet, lol;)

O.K.

Patterns

Rigid patterns

Frigid heart

(Shuts out sparks,

Nothing stays)

Rainbow bright

–Out damn night–

Dreams fill days

More, I crave

Mourning up

I splat down

Long fingers

Linger latent

Extend strength

Aide my angst

Defend my fate

A wise prophet

A proffering

I inhale deep

In you seep…

You saving me

(A soul so cold

died long ago,

Back to life

Every night)

Legacy

I see G Love in Kalamazoo, MI in August. (Got to meet him a 4th of July like 10 years ago, so sweet, have a blurry picture, lol). Wish you were there.

April

She had never heard it before. Water doesn’t talk. She knew that, yet water whispered in the air around her ears, sprites to make her hear. April stopped, like Time. Eyelids barely kiss as she listens:

Come, yes! We love you…It’s time to be…

In the sea wild, tossing his ship about, Odysseus tied and blindfolded denied the Siren’s call. Her fate more atypical, April so enchanted followed the sounds to the sands at the edge of the babbling Brook, where she found an ancient stone wall.

Stretching to shrink, coil and elongate, vines grew to climb, shrouding the barrier as if guarded by snakes. April gazed upward, her curiosity coveting what’s beyond, she whispered:

“How I wonder what might be on the other side!” April rose to stand on a ballerina’s tallest tippie-toes to slide her hand, palm flat across the hard surface, until an innocent rose, growing latent through thorns, bites her finger, pricking the tip, scratching the surface of the sweetness within.

Oddly, a giddy gush awakens butterflies to flutter, piroueting an infinity symbol below her navel, and grinning as if for the first time. Her dazed orbs looked up and to the right, then, back to ground when a melodious voice sings:

Find me, it’s alright, see me in the night, my colors shine me bright.

Stumbling back in surprise, April fell into a spring, pouring out from a tree root that resembled a natural mystic spout, where head back, open-mouthed, she inhaled a gulp with a startled cough.

The rapid flutter of her eyelashes wipes away the disorienting gunk, pupils seeing through the cloud, a clarity of reality popping with a glowing aura of colors, and surrounding everything is a tangerine-orange also hugging April, who crawls from water to sand to a pillow of emerald land.

Goosebumps tickle a shiver over every inch of April’s skin and with curled toes, she moans:

“Bare me warm! This water isn’t even cold!”

No, it’s a pleasure pool.

A voice from the woods replied with no form to be found, making her heart ache and pound, unsure if she could trust the purity of the sound.

Then, a compulsion, anticipation betrays her as she slips out:

Oh! So delightful! I’m vibrating, pulsing a rainbow of color through my veins…”

Head bobbing left, then right, April remembering to wonder aloud, “Hello?”

There, sitting on a stump, a giant day gecko electricity-charged green and adorned with little lamps of lustrous turquoise, crimson, and gold patterns. The most impressive ornaments upon his being were a top-hat and walking stick, which somehow, unbeknownst to April, he whipped out as he stood like he was in a commercial!

Join me! Let’s climb high and float down on a cloud.

(Pondering this idea for a few, thought I’d start, but my red pen literally just ran out of ink, so here I am again today, wasting time in my dreams…oh how silly I can be. How trite! Right, lol. Why am I sharing? It made me laugh, an image I created to help me find myself…I need to practice writing out-of-my-head kind of fiction.)

Present

There’s a line that repeats in my head every time I get super frustrated at my life:

“the medicine of speaking and listening”

Remember back to when smoking pot was new and exciting. A person would puff ‘n’ give while talking, smoke pouring out of their mouth because they’re laughing…I can’t even speak while passing a peace pipe, NO ONE is listening, let alone hearing anything from my lips. A wife is said to become annoying, but NO ONE realizes I’m gone. It’s sad, but not for me.

I have that line.

“the medicine of speaking and listening”

I thought it was me. I’m just not worth listening to, I have no job, I have nothing important to say, so why should anyone listen to me? Fuck that. Sorry to be crass. I’m done being the blame for his wrongs. I’m done feeling like an ass.

I’m yearning for growth through connection, conversation like I used to feel when I got out of my head.

I wish I could give you a present for all the ways you help me in a day. Fun images when snide comments are thrown my way. Lovely lines that encourage my strength, advice in a way to not lose my shit when repeatedly I’m made to feel like a dick. It didn’t matter how often he tried to ruin my day, he couldn’t. Instead of crying and hiding, I climbed a hill and took a cool picture like I used to do when I was by myself. Progress I feel.

Nature giving you a hug 🫂

What I Want

What I want is selfish, of course.

I want to play with your personality, like I’m your imaginary friend at recess.

I want to fondle your colors and tickle your hues.

I want to carress your aura enchanting you to envelop me.

I want to lick your spirit until you tease-teach me how to love a man.

One smell, one sniff of your glowing energy…

For but one night connecting with your light, I’d sell my soul to the devil and go to hell full.

the perfect pause

This was very liberating to write. I have struggled to find some light in my world today.

I wrote this poem this afternoon, and this evening, I connect with my Authentic truth:

My reflection begs I stop seeing myself through a home-brewed, skewed perception. I deserve better than to feel like someone’s torture.

It’s ok if I don’t get what I want, but I LOVE knowing what I want actually is…

More importantly, I sure as hell know what I don’t want!

And that makes all the difference.

Whatever

What would life be like if I could keep the faith, keep believing something I want will stay, you know, to NOT get scared and try to run away. As I roll down the road of life, that’s not my path yet I sware, in spite of all strife, I will always search for the light.

An odd morning, a dreamy atmosphere, wildfire smoke outside choking the light out.

FAITH

a moon’s tale

The full moon, milky white, sends shadows raining through the forest to shade the trees, who wave with the slight summer breeze. Allthewhile, Nature’s night-lights zip and zoom, flashing code, hoping to bring a loved one home.

Drips from eyes, drips from skin, I lie at the base of a dead tree, once a towering oak like me, recently toppled by a mighty storm. Fetal and ready to give in, a miracle happens:

From a Heaven in the cosmos, blessed by the moon’s magnetic magic, a star falls. The midnight moon blinks darkness with the clouds, but the star burns a tail of fire, flashing brightest just before landing like a rock rolling.

A moon dust cloud dissipates to reveal a glowing golden sphere, darkness and light ccombine, pushing against each other with such force…the golden globe cracks open with a thundering drum roll, vibrating my soul.

Two hemispheres once met OPEN a shimmering portal, a parallel universe, out from which you bow into my world to transform everything I’ve ever known. Your positive energy produces an orange aura that moves your shadow asway, mesmerizing me.

Closer…closer…a steady, measured approach as float turns to a sturdy gate, you move towards me with a smile on your face. Inching yourself over to my naked body. Warmth from your eyes saturates my skin with the pricks of goose bumps, and you bend down on one knee.

A natural moonlight melody comes from your lips, “Kelley, I’m here…” And your arms cover me with an instant embrace that whisks me up…up and away…

You cradle me as I become the color of free.

(Oh, my addiction to the thrill of adoration! I literally roll my wheelchair in and out of challenging all day, every day…but, I take the longing, under the covers…you are intoxicating!

However, coveting with intensity, longing to consume the joy of your fire…I couldn’t get much higher…)

it’s in me

It’s in me. I know it is because my subconscious keeps showing me. The sizzle of the chicken on the stove, open eyes wake-dream your eyes guiding your lips to land on the skin just below my ear, with a kiss grazing my neck, you whisper, “I’m here…” And while savoring that sizzle, oil pops out to smear my glasses, you know, fate reminding me of my reality with a fizzle.

I don’t write sex anymore because obviously I won’t ever get what I wish. Recently, he killed my artist endeavors on Instagram too (made fun of me for a few too many things).

Despite all that baggage bullshit, sexy images popping up in me tickled me pink all day long…

It’s the most wonderful thing! It’s in me! Passion, lust, desire, wild-fun love are in me still!

Seduced

I want to be seduced and seduce my muse!

I now know what I’ve spent my life looking for: someone who inspires me.

I also know what I cannot abide: being belittled and sexless for the rest of my short life.

(I started volunteering at a summer camp for kids with disabilities where my daughter is teaching art and STEM. Good distraction:)