We do the dance
The dance that we do
Usually flawless
Rhythmic
Syncopated
Connected on a level
Transcending looks
You're not the prettiest
Not like Eileen
The nurse who took care of me
She was fucking gorgeous
You look nice though
That smile
Those lips
Your neck
Breasts
Hips
Gyrating to the tempo
I create
B Tribe
On an island
Looking into my eyes
It is a Siren I surmise
Dance little bird
Your looks don't matter
We are connected forever
Not to your looks
For looks go away
Looking deeper
You look nice
Not the prettiest
Conventionally not gorgeous
To me just beautiful
That's who or what they are
Now Eileen was a fucking gorgeous nurse
But us
We play
The dance that we do
Makes me want to go further.
Looks don't matter to me
They will go away
But you look nice
I look deeper
For I am attracted to all that is you
We dance
Even when we are not together
Or ever will be
The tango
The waltz
Swing
Wisconsin polka
Is there such a thing?
Whatever the dance
It is the dance we do
You go further
Encourage
I acquiesce
Looking deeper
You do
To me you are beautiful
To my wife you are a whore
Why dost thou act with undesirable sentiments my dear?
Thy chronic remorse kills you.
Tis time to make ammends.
Your mind is filled with dreary thoughts.
If you have behaved badly, repent.
One does not find Nirvana through
Constant degredation, self flagellation,
Or incessant brooding.
To transcend that which binds--the monotonous blanket that suffocates--the pale white winters obscuring your mystic charms.
In your absence, I am in a trance.
Filled with marred morality
Ordinary ethics
Political games
Committed and bequeathed
In youth of all ages.
Like the Savage, I know not what I choose--
Insanity in a seeming Utopia or
Sweet ecstasy in that which is primitive.
Armed with free will, I suffer, hardly amused by the dichotomy of hypocrisy vacillating between insanity and lunacy.
As I reach out, struggling to hold on, your fertility cult no longer screams of procreation. Instead, your patriarchal dominant ferocity consumes me, transporting me to another place. On the outside, this aboriginal enslavement seeks understanding and acceptance; inside, it seeks to create purpose, resiliency, and joy.
Transported to a vortex of sanity, where maniacal mutilation is not the answer, I seek that which is pure and uninhibited, longing to be free. I am conscious, aware, and presently exploring unimaginable horrors should I succumb to the frosty days that have so often frequented my soul. That collar you hold in your hands is my only salvation. What are you waiting for?
Today is a good day
I am awake
Alive
Mindful of others
And self
What is self?
I haven't known self
For a long time and now she is coming back To me ever so slowly
Along with her arrival
She sees you at the door
Hugs you
And instinctively whispers in your ear,
"I think we are going to get along just fine."
Wanting to be free,
She begins the journey
He is the one who remains with her
Every step of the way
And sometimes she stumbles
Degrades self despite her confident nature
Says things at inopertune moments
Making him question the ties that bind
He feels helpless at times
Wanting to do more
The truth is he has helped her discover self and rescued her from the pits that remain--in her imbalanced brain. Together they rescue each other from the torments of the past. The scars that make us question our very humanity
They lock arms together
Clinging not because they fear separation
Rather, they both embrace the joy each other brings
Finding in the other
That which sings within their own souls
Reflections of heart in each other's image
Soulmates.
I used to be a shiny coin
One she had taken from the whey protein change cannister her father kept in the bathroom closet, jingling in a girl's pocket ready for sweet candy on Main Street.
Now I'm a vending machine
Dispensing items that everyone wants: condoms, poptarts, coffee, marijuana, gum balls, plastic spiders, paper tattoos, and pornography. You can find me amidst the urban sprawl, situated among the dilapidated housing developments, in the vestibules of the tacky strip malls that line the highway. I see the congested streets trying to soil the idyllic backdrop of red rocks, obscuring the magnolia and cypress trees. They punch me and I am supposed to produce. I fight back, still hoping to see a sunset amid the whisperings of the forests of juniper and the ponderosa pines. I sit and wait. There is no button for what I want, and I can't even keep the change.
Her name was Sedona
The first post master's wife
Hospitable and diligent
Industrious and giving
A good cook too
Submissive
A pioneer wife
They called her Dona
Tethered to her pioneer chores
Canning and sewing
Always ready to serve
Without hesitation
But rarely finding pleasure
An occasional religious singalong
A family outing or two
Repressed long before.
The realization of her oppression
Came later in life
Though the lonliness ever present
She didn't dance
Or gamble
Or drink
For many years darkness
Descended from the red rocks
The vast canyon walls
And the cerulean skies
And the night covered the rugged cliffs
When her jeweled daughter
Pearl
I shudder
Became tangled
In the reigns of her pony
Trampled to death
A once thriving community
Morbidly depressed
They call her Sedona.
Can you hear me?
Do you feel what I am saying?
Or have you tuned my voice out?
Can you see me?
Or am I like the the fog,
Dissipating throughout the day?
Are your eyes the ones that used
To look at me?
Do you still remember that which we
Used to do when you could see
And hear me?
It's silent now.
Sara
Vibrant, personable, confident, and smart
Sister of one; Amy is her name
Lover of laughing in unison, running barefoot in the rain, and listening to you read to me
Who feels joy when you reach out to me, fear when meteorologists forecast tornado warnings, and lonliness in a marriage of fourteen years
Who needs your touch, your ear, and your love
Who gives compassion, empathy, and perspective
Who fears not taking risks, growing old and being alone, and film noir endings
Who would like to see a different reality than my own, a vision of hope for those who have lost it, and a symbiotic relationship where I am loved the way I need to be loved
Who lives in a brick starter ranch house that isn't really a home
Aschom
Discovering something new
Can be frightening at times
Stepping outside
That which we've always known
Traditions
Comforts
Familiarities
Taking a risk for a chance to be happy
Exotic scenery
Different lodgings
New people
Seeing the world from my children's eyes
Fearless
Inquisitive
Drawn into tales of survival
Of Ojibwe encampments
The local dancers strutting their
Ritualistic dances
Honoring native birds
It is my wish today
That I find peace
Longing to be mesmerized
By the ceremonial rhythms
Of drums and flutes
The ethereal vocals calling me
Unearthing my torment
From the tangible dirt
Lifting my arms to a velvety
Obsidian sky
And the luminescent brilliance
Of possibility.
Indifference and want of affection
Have led me here
Not yet grown up
Until I learn to like coffee
Looking forward to lobster
And sushi
My first concert
Journeying from my house
That is no longer a home
Getting to know me
My spirit and soul I have abandoned
Long ago
Resigned to settle
Get up each day
Restless
Unhappy
I brush against you
Inadvertently at first
And then deliberately
No longer frightened
By the past or the future
Staying in the moment
Feeling the dry heat
Against my skin
Knowing someday soon
My very nature will be
Satiated
Through the rain, fog, sleet, and snow
I come to you
Ready to submit
Collared as I am
Succumbing to your power
And your embrace
Giving birth
To that which I implore
Master can you hear me?
Sometimes I think I can come out of this
But today I am far from clarity
My children are starting to suffer
I see my son freaking out
When he can't figure out a math problem
I don't get this he shouts
It's wrong my husband says
9 and 9 is 0
9 and 9 is eighteen
I lay on my bed
With the mattress cover off
Pretending I can't hear
Yet I hear it all
Still in my red bath towel
From an hour ago
Feeling alone
Though I know you are with me
Trying to offer support from afar
But you are helpless
And I still wonder why you hold on
When I am dangling
And struggle to see the light
A deep cavern separates us
Yet we mingle at the bottom of the pit
Together
While you guard my secrets
And hold out hope
That healing will come
One day for both of us.
Fetal position
And rivers of tears
Succumbing to weakness
And lots of fears
Can't go on like this
Just want to be free
To relax and be present
And just be me
Cannot cope
The more that I try
Want to be rescued from my sadness
Don't want to die
Blasphemous voices
Whisper again
Psychedelic rhythms
Loss of my friends
Crossing over the threshold
Wanting to fly home
Instead I blame myself
And continue to roam
Journey of the heart
A plethora to see
Wanting you here
But you just let me be.
Sitting
Still
Camouflaged
by the winter snow
Barely breathing
Exhaling
the silence of night
Blanketing the roars
Of noise
Sad sounds
Primal
Raw
Squeaking
Persisting
Penetrating
Yet again
Vigilant eyes
Waiting
Pressed against
The screen door
The one that
Remains locked
Left outside
Alone
Bolting for safety
Through the chain link fence
An illusion
Dragged back
Wet blood
Glistening
Under Orion
Immobilized
Again
And
Ripped
To
Sheds
