midlife crisis

it’s in me

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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:)

unacceptable

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It’s unacceptable. I know. Silly, for sure. I have to purge before midnight, or sleepless I’ll be. So, here’s my unbelievable moment of honesty, with which I show the fool hidden deep.

I miss a video, well not exactly…how can I explain???

Funny how a song can not only bring back things unsettling, but also give a new beginning with a joyful memory.

His video, his voice, his smile, each creative choice did that for me.

No one knows that when I was about ten, I performed a dance routine during a basketball game half time show to “Dancing in the Streets.”

In dance and gymnastics from four to fourteen (when I had a car accident spinal cord injury), nostalgia when I hear certain songs can be unexpected. Well, every part of him singing was touching, and welling emotions made my skin prickly hot when he smiled, especially as he belted a beautiful “Chicago”.

A yearn began to dance about, urging my lungs to expell a belly laugh, honestly, like nothing I’ve ever felt, for tears too dripped onto my phone.

My brain wouldn’t let it go, so I had to figure out if I could find it again. Then, I searched…results:

Gone.

That was last night. All day, knowing it doesn’t matter that it matters to me, knowing it’s something I’ll never again see, breaks my heart repeatedly.

Lost, my confidence whipped raw, I think I’ll take a break from social media. I didn’t used to be so emotional!

I think it’s true…you stay the same age as your greatest traumatic event. For me that makes sense, I still act like a horny teenager, head up my ass.

My excuse is so simple: I want to feel good.

In my life, I’m only misunderstood.

(I put back up a bunch of old stuff, why not, right? If only I didn’t try to hide parts of my writing…)

Oddest Flowers

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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.

Gut Giggle

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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.

a wonder to the light

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Basking in the summer sun, humidity sucks upon my skin’s glisten so that hot and bothered, I try to talk to my lovely wonder out loud:

I ask the light, “Are you always this bright? Or do you actually know my soul, and that’s why your glow makes me so giddy I’m dizzy?”

(Talking to myself, I can’t fathom a true reply, so I go on, knowing that here, when I write, from my own truth I don’t hide🙂

“Your shine twinkles glitter and gold specks, mesmerizing my heart to melt into a fuchsia fusion of delightful energy, and into a slippery fall, I willingly tumble, embracing the dream with no expectation at all.”

(Oh, my dear, fear builds them brooding Indiana cornfield cumulonimbus clouds that tremble a thunder of doubt in the backdoor of my mind…

You’re still just a romantic fool by yourself, creating a beautiful reflection of a connection that you must have felt in another lifetime.

For the glow, I’m eternally grateful;)

Painter’s Song

blue used to feel black

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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;)

Grounded

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GROUNDED! I am. Hope is like magic to me. In a hopeful magic-mirror, I see a side of me that’s happy, electrified with new prospects of fun, giddy to grind with lust on my mind.      

BUT      Magic isn’t real. It’s a con.

When my brain gets too excited, it girgles naughty thoughts, and it tricks me into creating a story I want to hear, a fairy tale.     

About my days, I go slow, eyes looking up, thinking in pictures of…  

what if I found a connection

with a passionate friend, who tickles my fancy, OH yes, a muse for my fantasies…     

Every look, every touch elevates your love…that’s how I wish you’d feel about me, addicted like I’m your very favorite thing.  

Melancholy madness, knowing my truth. No magic can make me hope something will change. I’m doomed to accept my lustless fate, so I guess I’ll just go back to sleep.         

YET         

(I tell you true, this is happening right now!!!)

A yellow finch just now called my attention from my red pen bleeding onto my notebook paper.

Wheels turning I had to ponder, What is this bird saying?

He just keeps singing louder and louder, then I spot him high on a flexible limb, a cloud white floating as his backdrop:

“STOP! LOOK UP!”

He sang so lovely, not at all like the other birds, a voice and rhythm all his own.

Then, a sparrow chimes, “Just live…and be…love life…reality!”

As if stung by the sun, my eyes close, the pain in my neck feels like a knife in the muscle just turned, so a frown pulling my chin down, I wheel back into the cold darkness of the garage and close the door with a wrist-flip, twisting the deadbolt locked.

Enveloped by darkness, I see the remnants of that circle of light and I blink a quick-

CLICK!

Like a photograph, within my mind, I snap-shot this moment in real time where the moon eclipses the sun making me feel warm, less alone.

(I hope you never doubt your worth! I long to show you how much I need you in my life, or I swear I wouldn’t have been able to hang in this long:)

Smoke Spirits

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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:

World Mythology confirmation 👍

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.

Face It

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Cracked glass clouded by steam,

the reflection skewed reality,

my face distorted, monstrous!

That’s why I cover mirrors.

Sometimes, someone sees me,

wheels making me too obvious,

and I ponder what they think…

“You’re so strong!” One exclaimed.

Muscles atrophied to skin ‘n’ bone

long ago, weakness whittled

from could to should to won’t

with my soul my gut’s blackhole

sucking up good, bad ‘n’ all…

It’s not the wrinkles or dark spots

aging looks back and takes stock:

Who were you? Who’ve you become?

Does your soul just need a hug?

LEARN TO GIVE YOURSELF LOVE ❤️