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;)
self-psychology
Grounded
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
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.
Come, Get Away
Which are you fight or flight? Sometimes, like tonight, when I need to fly away, I’m kinda glad my legs don’t work, I don’t run, no, I go to bed. Hopelessly Inappropriate my proclivity persists, and I escape with you for a bit.
Colorado had tons opportunity for me to participate in adaptive sports while I lived in Littleton. I rock climbed mountains, I hand-cycled hills and valleys, kayaked ponds, and sailed a sailboat. I wrote this poem as I learned to sail around 2016 (the last time I tried to run away, in love with the dream that love should include passion, dying to make a connection).
Re-Wind Me, My Captain
Flying your vessel
With a siren’s wail,
I am the only way
To steer my course,
For you, my Captain
Leapt for the sea
Leeward without me.
I know nothing, alone
In the no-go zone…
But re-wind me
With a bellow, Captain,
I’ll come back to you
About the next puff,
For with you I’d sail
Every sunset of time
Even in waters rough.
In music league the challenge this round was to find a song about getting away by some mode of transportation (planes, trains, automobiles or other ways to get out of Dodge;) This is what I went with, a I mean it, lol!!!
Thanks for listening! Wishing you hopeful thoughts:)
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!
Just a Poke
Just a poke! Poke a head Just once…maybe twice.
Never before has it come with such powerful stimulation, turning my virtue into vice.
I inhale my Gorilla Fuck (strongest strain for the brain) take it all in…
A giddy girl again, preying on a man, I make him do whatever I want him to. And willing, he’d never want to leave, happy servicing me for an eternity.
In return, I’d fulfill his every need, and make his wildest dreams come true. I gorge on the ‘how’ as I sleep.
Upon waking, my reality redressed, I ponder why I find this so fucking funny a bubble POPS in my tummy!?!?
Face It
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 ❤️
Chronic
I am chronic
PAIN painted as pleasure
(inhaling moon rocks,
to clear the chronic smoke).
I dance defiance
INSIRATION my salvation
(eating my paralysis)
in search of chronic peace.
SMACK
WHACK-SMACK! Reality’s back.
I twist my hair into a stiff bun, pick up my broom, sweeping lines of longing under the rug..
I’ve lived alone on the border of Arizona and Mexico, Phoenix, Flagstaff, Denver and Littleton, Colorado, and many towns in Indiana. I did alone well. I used to go to bars and concerts alone, restaurants and museums. I used to roll my wheelchair up mountains to take pictures, sail and rock climb to get high.
High is my current state of being, struggling to get by, OCD with animals constantly shedding, pain aching, pricking, and stabbing day in day out.
I don’t yell or shout, I never fight (despite the nitpicking comments thrown at me, blaming me for everything that goes wrong).
Silently (except in my head), I just keep cleaning up, dying to feel young, supple again, not an old wrinkly wench.
Dreams save my life, as a distraction from all my strife.
Steam Whiffs
A nips out chill induces a clenched spasm forearms to breasts, slightly wet, as my fingers pay homage in tiny taps upon my mug, and I inhale the steam whiffs, succumbing impulsively, going back to the time my smile finally felt GENUINE.
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 