Love For Granite

I never meant to be your next lifetime dream –
elder, unflinching fragmented from the seam of memories and dreams,
stitched from youth threaded into death, wiser to my follies
my heart grew cold, caught between fingers – I knew you, I forgot
Golden eyed sunbeam, you are blessed and blasphemy
I am aloft in the mean – somewhere between
I balanced dreams and reality upon my shoulders.
As soon as your eyes met mine, the dark in the night fled
we were no longer alone in the world – I shared with others, same as you.
The idea of love occupied us in the spotlight with shadow fantasies lurking,
I was denied light, see.
Murmurs over dark nights, alone – I questioned what floated between us –
boulders - granite anchored and sunk the energy,
like Badu – it felt so damn good to me.

Vixen

This is my chance to get my licks in.

I am an old hand, a washed up vixen.

Better turn around ‘cuz I’m a land mine to avoid.

My silenced voice

turns a blind eye by choice.

I am not worth your time.

Don’t bother to respond.

Like poison spawn,

I will infect you with love and then I am gone.

For weeks, months, years,

do you think I wait here

with tears and baited breath?

It’s not as if I lured you into a web or my bed.

I didn’t even try to turn your eye or your head.

Was it I

who told a lie to your girl?

I can tell the words were untrue to the end.

I bolstered and fed your ego.

My loss

 it cost me too much time, and time again

silently you defend

your stance as you pretend

you don’t see the energy that we exchange.

As I moved on the dance floor,

your eyes peered from behind the door

or the speakers

searching for more of my form.
Your girl walked in, and you were sure to look away,
just in time to say,
“Hey baby I’ve been waiting all night just for you,
bored out of my head with nothing to do,

but be true to you beautiful.”

Yeah, I’ve heard it before.

Is it such a chore
to dream of me for a change?
Does my form require you to deny,
lie, and not even try to remove your mask?
Is it too hard a task?
Do you think I will bite?
If you are honest and say with your words,
what your eyes have been screaming all night.
Be straight with me fella’ tell me,
did I not move you at some point that you might even ask?
To be with me, a possibility of time,
your lines with hooks sunk into mine
as a key player in your heart
is a start
or at least in the dark
a stolen kiss or three,
Would it be so bad with me?
‘cuz when your ego is down
it doesn’t seem to be.

Doesn’t matter your name
in this game
‘cuz I’ve seen your face before.
I know who you are and can see plain as day,
the bee sting that rises and swells with every play
that you make in your boredom.
A quorum
of agreement that says it’s ok just for now to get a bolster
and yank me closer.
Just this once is all you need, an egos delight
but ten years down the line,
here I find
that I could use the favor returned
and it burns like hot iron through flesh
that you protest
with your silence and avoidance.
Don’t treat me like I’m a pariah and I’m a try and get closer
to choke you out of something better.
Don’t let me be your fantasy and destiny together,
the Madonna and whore
And still I find
the door hits me on my ass
every time I find
you there on the edge of the dance floor.

Coming Out

This is the time when I want to shout from the rooftops “Look people I am doing the best that I can!” I want to get in people’s faces and say “Do you not understand that my brain is wired differently than yours because my mom walked away when I was a baby and didn’t return until I was 5 and I have PTSD from the 4 years of my childhood that I watched my dad become a crippled paraplegic, tied to a respirator and then die?” I am not “not-normal” because I like being weird (though I do) I am not normal because physiological processes  were disturbed when I was 6 months old and I was sent into an otherworldly trajectory until I was 23. There is a split in me. Sometimes one half is entirely invisible as I move through the world as if I belong here and sometimes, like now, I feel like a taut cotton thread stretched over a candle flame and my outer lint is beginning to singe. 

I am currently debating myself as to whether I should come out to the general public. No, I am not gay (though I am a proud friend of the family). Nor am I going to come out with my actual name on this blog as I still live in a small town. I want to come out as weird, bizarre, uncanny, and unusual and talk about why my weirdness exists. I want to be a proud survivor of PTSD from the 4 years I spent watching my young dad die. I want to be honest about why I can stay calm in a storm from the ability to completely emotionally detach from others as a survival mechanism to the work I have done in therapy to process the pain and anxiety of abandonment that I experienced every day of my life until I was 26. I want to stop feeling embarrassed or ashamed at my Goddess worshiping pagan roots or hiding how firmly I support feminism and how those believes are deeply rooted in my adolescent home within a schizophrenic led radical feminist cult. I want to talk about why I pull away from people who display addictive or unbalanced personalities because as a childhood survivor of mental-illness, alcoholism, physical and drug abuse I am scared to relive any of those memories.

I am a diplomatic person; I often hold my tongue in the face of adversity, but why?  Others feel no shame in shouting to the malevolence of feminism or the wickedness of paganism but I am not supposed to have an opinion, a thought or a stand to values that I hold as dear to my heart as they to theirs? Others are quick to defend the addict and to ask for evidence to support the innocence of the perpetrator but who is to defend the victim, the innocent survivor of heinous crimes committed to them behind closed doors in our homes and neighborhoods and to the blind eye of society? 

I want to be a voice to the voiceless a face to a cause. I want to stand-up and rock the mike, but in order to do that I must first be honest with myself and to others about what a scrumptious meal I can bring to the table. I have a locally grown, organic, well-aged, deeply seasoned truly mouthwatering life just ready to burst forth and fill your soul with words and vibrancy so powerful it will challenge your very taste buds as to what life is really supposed to taste like. Consider this an appetizer.