Illusions

Oh, what a dump: two dogs puking, cat gets out, replacing water softener and water heater which flooded the laundry room floor, van door dumps a pile of rust on the ground, fridge doesn’t come round til next week, barely have enough healthy food to eat…after this morning, I wonder, How much more?

My brain’s swollen so big, my skull is sore.

Eventually, I’ll calm the storm, but for now, I have a hurricane going on.

Illusions

I have no illusions. I can’t change my fate. I make my bed as best I can and…wait.

What if my ability to love were how I was judged? I’d be a super-star!

Ha! Just call my dreams marred. I’m too scared, too scarred, loving me is too hard. Despite PTSD producing acid in my veins, I know I’m not insane…I guess that’s something.

I don’t know how NOT to use this space to “trauma dump” because no one knows or cares if I’m here.

And I mean that as a good thing, everyone has their secrets, you’re mine, and I shit you not, that keeps me going, searching for the light:)

Silly that a bad day can seem so dark and daunting even when the sky is blue and birds sing a lovely little tune.

(Memorized the first listen, no joke, undiscovered country’s words and rhythm, beat like my heart in my head, and times like this, I use it…

“Magic happens when it’s practiced.” I’m a witch, but I have no spells to fix anything.

Just wish I could travel in a wizard’s sleeve…Oh, Love, wish I were a wizard’s dream.)

Lucky Charms

Eating my Lucky Charms (containing marshmallow unicorns the size of my hand), watching the big-bad news with “Fareed’s Take” as my spoon splashes milk from my full bowl out, and my hands smacked a fingertip-lock up my cheeks, pinkies vertical bars pressing my pout back in, jaw clenched because I can’t do what I want.

(It’s as if I have less control as an aged adult in my own home than I had as a newly teaching twenty-three year old in Yuma barely able to pay rent in a nice part of the border town.)

Yet, I get to take a nap like now when all are busy, my chores are temporarily done, and I get to take time for stargazing in my reverie of a moment between you and me filled with glorious possibilities for how I’d end the scene, a phantasy to drive reality…

You are the ultimate lucky charm!

Oh love, how I dream you could come to me…I guess I can say that I’m phenomenal at this kind of hobby;)

proclivity

My proclivity

eats my sanity,

to the point

I want to scream.

I feel a little devil within.

He tells me things!

It’s true! Naughty ones

between me and you,

lips rambling truth

plant together lovers

engaged in passion:

tickles, licks, nibbles

necks, chests, legs

down, up, back

slide, slippery wet

bouncing high

a fuck-fabulous

bed-banging ride

again and again

in and out, walls hot

oh, Oh, OH! I mount,

hard-cocked relief

pounding, moaning

I become a beast

sex-starved too long

I want more!

I want to do wrong!

Please, drill my core!

Fantasies whispered

only to me, we try

everything you need,

I fulfill YOUR dreams…

Oddest Flowers

Even the oddest

flowers can flourish.

No sowing.

At first, just a seed

blowing when it falls

into a driveway crack,

and dormant instinct

roots foundation through

the black tar and gravel

until the magic of a spring

environment rains

light-food and nutrient-water

to seep deep then

an unlikely flower pushes

with burgeoning strength

through paved black-top.

Resiliency from infancy.

That’s me.

a will, a way

I WILL myself…some day…to travel like I used to, relying on no one but myself! Ok, well, at least to places like Chicago, a place I know so well.

(Three months of rehabilitation just off Lake Shore Drive at fourteen years old, The Museum of Science and Industry’s been a staple since a kid, and every five months I have an appointment that’s right by School of the Art Institute of Chicago (where my daughter goes)…but…DAMN IT! I’ve traveled to Chicago alone my whole adult life!

How many times did I drive all by myself from the Arizona desert to the Midwest cornfields, from a Colorado Valley to an Arizona Mountain, from a San Diego beach to family in Texas?

How far did I go? My van might know.

I need freedom from silent expectations, bites of resentment, and voiceless screams. I want to escape being ignored as an acceptable way of living.

Hours pass by so slow as I wait for…my chance. The next time a friend says let’s talk, I won’t get scared and avoid the call!

A dragonfly’s wings fan subtle heat on my shoulder, and as if through a microphone-hand my tiny friend yells:

“ANSWER! You silly wench! No more bricks in the wall! You’re no longer a teenager! You’re an ADULT.”

Some day I’ll get away…for now, I guess, I’ll just keep dreaming, and vicariously I’ll trigger myself happy watching from my home.

Acceptance

As an experience turns into a memory, the more heightened the emotional charge, the more vivid the movie of the moment so that our brains construct natural pathways of dealing with our world based upon our living perception of the meaning from our past experiences.

There should be a natural acceptance that it will never happen that way again.

I struggle with that, however, I’m just self-aware enough to see when I distort the picture with creative play warping the memory, then embracing it wholeheartedly, only to break my own heart.

I run. I hide. I bounce back wise.

One thing that I can’t abide is now currently what I hide, only today an epiphany realized…

I’m so cold inside despite being loved, and I just keep wondering why?

Will I ever again feel something resembling passion? Regularly mentally exhausted. Unfortunately not with him.

It hurt at first.

“FUCK ME!” Aloud, I actually burst.

I don’t know much about accepting change. But, a change happened. More than a caterpillar to a butterfly…

No, it’s more like a Frankenstein in my head that I created from past stories of broken hearts.

Do I kill it? Or do I love it?

It’s a fairy tale of lovely, in which ugly turns beautiful. I’ll take my dreams over reality. I want to be sweet.

I can make magic! Yes! Passion is within. I need no one thing for it to be…I want Passion to make me free. Now, that I can accept, close my eyes, visualize, a passionate soul to chase in the playground of my mind.

Fake it til you make it.

Just found this. So tickled!!!

brain game

It won’t shut up! Ideas just bubbling, could say percolating, but that’s too focused. Adult ADHD? Yes, got worse with age, now struggling to read, like all those past students who couldn’t do it for me as a teacher. Never had tv as a kid, not through college, nor alone in Arizona as an adult, not until marriage was I forced to give in.

In every room screen-walls, nearly like in Bradbury’s Illustrated Man, that at anytime can show you anything in a flash.

Fast-forward a few decades–

Creativity stagnant, passion dead, every night the light in bed is a documentary about something that doesn’t help. But recently, a change I didn’t expect, I’m writing and reading literature again.

My brain doesn’t shut off, but it’s not really bad. I just keep searching a purpose. Distracted, my brain and heart beat each other to the punch, where I get myself in trouble, thinking too much, wearing truth, as if it’s ok.

I know the truth. Birds don’t talk to me, yet I sware they try. By giving them words, I’m trying to fly, trying to get the fuck out of Dodge, trying to talk to my SELF because (though people surround me nearly all the time) no one else will.

But, I think this is my beginning.

I know the truth. I have to be strong. Life sans passion is typical, right? Why fight. My strength will be finding a way to help others outside of the house. I used to volunteer, may need an old bird there. I’ll read books to escape the mundane, you know, the way I used to stay sane.

Oh, what I’d do to feel wanted and skillful!

I know the truth. My chores depict my servicable skill, no one notices but they demand. Ss a mother, I adore my role with my whole soul. But, I wish a little lust would sprinkle in through my open doors.

How to break free? That’s the brain candy.

Hope

the color of hope

I want to be part of the colorful tree, the crown, a leaf, a limb, the bark, a tap root, even a root hair.

I think about it and stare at what’s in front of me, walls, a roof, windows, a front and back door.

I go nowhere, but here.

Maybe, if I had the money, motivation would follow, but unfortunately, people scare me, I say too much, and mortified, I leave saying, “Sorry…”

Gregarious and fun, I love to be, so maybe, if I keep practicing, when I’m comfortable, maybe just maybe, I’ll find a way to fit into society. 

A monkey doing tricks to keep my spirit high, maybe if I again use Emerson’s tree metaphor of society and turn it into a lovely image…Yes, a visual of magic working:

“Nature always wears the color of the spirit.”

From blue to red and back again, I am everything between.

Alone or not, I can be my own fucking party!

Gut Giggle

Deep in the gut, a giggle floats up, sweetening a sour tummy to jiggle like jello covered in honey!

As you dance, a boy with a balloon, exuding passion through your spirit so real, so true, you are a perfect picture of youth loving life.

I’m so, so, so, SOOOO happy for you!

Each day the birds sing a tale anew, the greatest treasure of a poet is a muse. Mine is you.

A ladybug, invisible,

held in the sticky

yellow center of a bud,

blindly reaching

for the nourishment

of the firey sun,

rooted on the bank

of a riverbend,

a journey neverending,

with a wizard watching

ashore mesmerizing

waves swirling 

with his staff playing,

inspiring the circle

light to bursting

color into the world,

a hot hug of love.