Conversations with stars when the grey winter clouds hide awhile ❤
Wrap me completely into your violent shiver.
Stick your fervor to my ribs,
Until the tar of your cinders
Swallows me whole.
The moans stuck behind the bone when it collides into the loss of chastity.
Dangle this body from the stars you have collected,
Until a silver lining coaxes death from the gallows of time to share a dream,
a drive to all the infinity of the ochre light that keeps touching the clouds while we sleep.
Then we’ll know,
The languages of tomorrow and all the ways sunrises dance gleefully into existence when no one’s looking.
Full of doubt
Waiting with out.
The tears comfort themselves now
Because I’m always such a fool
For how words form
In that beautiful mouth.
I’m sodden now with
All the things you can’t with.
Even showers neglect to clean me
Before dusk falls on my thoughts.
My heart sings believe
My smart mind knows better
No matter how much your touch
Brings life back to my shatteredness.
Why rolling heavy losses up mountain tops,
As I wait for years of time to finally catch up.
Even I was unaware the torture
Would eventually turn on itself.
Nothing left of this field of sweet
smells, black top, and hopeless tires rolling as intended wanting to miss
the boulder set to meet me at sunset with only a man running the
opposite direction instead of
towards the helplessly lost.
Brace for impact.
A funeral but for the things I have to tell myself sometimes to just breathe.
A eulogy for all the things turreted towards me I thought I could help, or fix, or get back on track but never did.
A pyre lit for all the potential I see in people that they never discovered of themselves burning with the oil made of the pain that has resulted because of this.
What do people do after this?
Lost broken hope,
Every bit deep enough inside themselves just hoping one day it’s a Pandora’s box with someone else opening it thousands of years away unleashing it’s empathy back into light.
If I had hope currently, I’d believe that but it must have gone in with the rest while I wasn’t paying attention.
So I’ll just wait here. Because I’m tired of kind of always just holding it up anyway. I probably deserve a break.
Forgive me, this is now months old. I felt cleaning drafts was due before years end. Interesting topic, as I, myself date older men. But there’s a line somewhere in 2016, no? Here’s to thinking one grew out of his teens just because the years passed and someone that would never ❤
Start tyrate after a 6 hour drive and too much time to think with my beautiful daughter next to me:
What sort of man incites such malice with in a kind heart like mine? One that thinks it’s funny to hit on my 15 year old daughter. One, that expects me to buy him unending beers. One, that leaves me in front of a busy hotel to meet a gaggle of men asking me why I’m an irish girl in part of town I don’t belong in, alone outside. The sort, that sits in a car silently, phone in hand, as I stave off a 6’3′ man accosting me in a parking lot I also didn’t belong in that all the while pretends he loves me. But mostly, a 40 yo man wanting a child. I will always protect before I partake in anything selfish. If two 15 year olds had children, You’re practically old enough to be her grandfather. Get it now?
So, enjoy the reality. The true one, not some I’m misunderstood delusion. I wonder if there is a public list for this man’s kind. Stop coming here as well. You are also not welcome to steal my writing for your own inspiration either.
In the meantime, perhaps a decent girl proving her point can be finished with a disappointment beyond imagination. Thanks for the momentary loss of faith in humanity. Good thing, I know how to make it, share it, give it, instead of take it.
My hand held the brush expertly,
Coloring the sun,
On everything passed,
As I gently inhale life-
Back into my lungs
Between each flowing stroke.
Attentive to every corner
In need of covering,
Plucking last seasons wings,
For the 6th week in a row
After so many years
Of insomnia’s bothersome goblin fiend.
Perhaps it’s the child in me,
Holding on to hope,
Seeking something deeper,
Than the world in front of me.
But I was raised in houses of love,
Where 50 years of marriage was not near enough
For both sets of grandparents.
And I’m not giving in to a cold
Hard world full of
Go on, cry wolf until they all believe you charming lad.
Sooth sayers see you underneath
Those shabby clothes
Bought by another you use like a tool
In the name of love.
Aren’t you such a tragic hero on the scene,
Living on the caring blood of the naive?
*This was marked August 15, 2015. I suppose I wrote a plea just before the end and let it sit on the shelf unattended. I am never sure what to do with such things because by the time I think this way, I’ve already set myself free.
Oh, timing you’re an odd item, aren’t you?
Make my wild heart sing,
And not just with your fervent passion
Just before we sleep
But in the morning with your guitar,
Coffee, omelets, and succulent melodies.
Before we travel the world to help change things
Help the tired sleep,
Give of ourselves to others
Because we both love
And contagious happy memories.
Holding the door longer than others
To help keep them from the rain
Making them smile
With the entirety of our own being.
The being of us,
And how beautiful
Together just about everything can be.
Help me, help us remember living
Before the world tried to destroy joy,
Only to replace it with hostility.
Let’s find tenderness again,
Even in the most mundane things.
The balance of the the lush oasis
Long before the desert was the only
Part of humanity left to see.
Undelivered Meeting Place: LashelleValentine
The Hidden Ever-present Carry On: First Aid Kit- Silver Lining
I attempted my first spoken word almost slam piece. It’s always weird to hear yourself recorded isn’t it? Even weirder with an altered attempt to use the words to evoke. I’m not sure it’s something I’ll continue since it’s so foreign because I miss my voice’s fluidity when listening to it he he
But here for those that do not follow me at the other place if you’d like to hear.