Blog Archives

Promises

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Ashes fell on me

Creped skin

Regrets

Promises each day of a new beginning

My abused temple

Modified

Sacrificed

Ignored …

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Penelope

Her absence is ubiquitous.

In her home,

at the park.

in our lives.

Her love is infinite.

We still feel it.

Countries away!

Her strength is unlike anything I can be.

And she’s unafraid to say –

I’m missing you.

I’m missing home.

I’m tired of dreary.

And in that honesty –

I find myself.

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lantern son

Me: But you’re the light of my life!

Nic: maybe you need to find more lanterns.

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And I’m losing him, in my needing.

And I’ve lost him in my antiquated metaphors.

and I love him beyond the lanterns.

Random

Me and my curls that I straighten
The words that I don’t
The life that I live
Without living

Me and my car that I drive
And don’t wash
The tires that crunch each morning

Me and the road that we live on
The neighbor’s who yell

Me who is sure she’s going to hell.

Me and my kid
Who I love more than life
And who taught me I’m able to care
For more than my hair
My car
My home
My life

I’ve always been a little macabre – but my handwriting got better

While cleaning like a mad woman this weekend (due to an ant invasion following one of our monsoon storms) I came across some ancient writings.  Barely legible – i decoded them.  Turns out they were mine.  I’m going to share some with you – put your decoder ring away, I’ve translated.

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 Untitled

Pressure valves and tourniquets

Defensive words and dinner plays

Gulping works with dirty water

Sweaty palms grope virgin daughter

Warnings drilled, opinions form

Cautious cold heart replaces warm

 

Another Untitled One

Nervous glances give me all I need for long due confirmation

Opening wounds containing memories of nightly degradation

Clammy hands that shake with age rest on his boney lap

Familiar hands that shook me from the safety of my nap …

 

Programmed

“A toast then, to Mrs. Maple and her generous contribution to the club!”

Lift glass – tilt glass – consume – put down glass – smile

“Her selfless sacrifice continues the tradition of commitment and giving of self”

Applaud – smile – nod in agreement

“Well then shall we retire to the lounge for the festivities?”

Get up – follow person in front – walk to room

“Everyone in?  Good.  Shut the door please.”

Find a seat – sit – smile

“Let us begin.  Mr. Maple, you may bring your wife up now.”

Turn to Mr. Maple – smile – turn attention back to speaker

“That’s it, bring her right in – over there, on the table if you don’t mind Mr. Maple.”

Observe ritual – don’t  turn away – don’t  flinch – don’t cry

 Excerpt from an untitled 8 page writing

…  yet I do enjoy the continuity of the source of my complaining.  The dependable encounters I’ve grown accustomed to.  A home of sorts with no surprises left to find, and people left on guard not willing to trust quickly or care too soon.

I’m guilty of the same crime that keeps me at arm’s length.

We allow the best of our wardrobes out and wittiest comments in discussions.  Our best touched by exploring eyes – purposely blinded to miss any deeper layers – any complex facets, faults or hidden failures.

Afterall, why expose anything more than appeasing traits …

Untitled

My eyes remained closed as my mother leaned gently over my bed and brushed a few stray hairs from my forehead.  I loved the smell of my mother when she came home from a night out.  Chanel No. 5 and fresh air mingled with her personal ‘motherly smell’.  I breathed her in as I feigned sleep.