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Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Another poem about love…awww.

Waiting for the Hearts Spaceship

Crimson cups
Linger of wispiness
and sweet sentiments they long to engage
Staring into the skylight window
As the stars embrace them

 

Fiddled fingers
trace the
shadow of her heart
As they explore the stories
From Bukowski esq memories
To wonderings if there really are aliens
In this vast planetary excursion

 

Fly me
To that swelled up moon
That cries out
In you

 

Fly me to somewhere that your heart
Has never been
To that tiny space
Reserved for space dreams
and where only after the whisky sets in
Revelations come

 

Fly me
Take me
To places in deserts
That are dry
Waiting to be quenched

 

Take me there
To that place
Somewhere
Somewhere
Where you have only longed to have been

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Bubble in the sky  
Whispers Billowy
Hello’s And then vanishes
Leaving me wondering

Like a question unanswered
You are out there
My crème filled donut of love
You taunt me
I meet you
In bars
You are witty
You speak of Hemingway and heroism
And wine filled coffee houses that would be great to muse
In
Then you leave with your girlfriend
Who confessed to me she doesn’t love you
As I twist the cap on her beer open
And wish it was laced with some sort of truth poison

You
You are out there
I don’t expect you to ride up on a white horse
Perhaps just have a good conversation
Because Hello dear isn’t exactly enticing
Or drawing me in
In this algorithm, online dating world

You
You are out there
Somewhere In this jaded heart filled boxed of mine
I release the edges of hate
That have filled the corners of what was my yesteryears
Long I ago I would have been what was considered Old Maid fate
I know there is just a glimpse of golden
Amongst all this shaded grey

You
You are out there
Each year that goes by
You become more hazy
I have to wipe the windows
Inside me
To trust you are there

You
You are out there
You have changed from muscle man hero
To creative, inspiring, accepting, adventurous lover

You
You are out there
Able to handle this non laid back lady
Able to see beyond just ripping off clothes
And slapping my ass

You
You are out there
Sometimes your to long winded
But Still not jaded
Able to take my hand
And hold it
In the wind blown turmoil of what I have been

You
You are out there
Weathered words, that hold pages
Of information
You spill out onto my soul
And make me want to dive in

You
You are going to be a part of this story
We will tell it
Like the alchemist
Who sought to chase the wind
You
You are the ending
So Let the beginning
Begin

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Wrote this poem tonight and thought I would share it.  Please do not copy it or use it with contacting me for permission.  Thank you.

Here Kitty Kitty

Like a chocolate powder doughnut

Oozing

Sliding out the door

Like the heat filled chaotic bitch that she was

He ran like a knife that didn’t  want to stab her

Her

It was her heart that drew him in

Eyes like a saucer bowl full of kittens milk

And oh how he meowed for the taste of her bitter sweetness

She was not 100% homogenized

She was more of a cashew and almond milk

A mix

A breed

The cat he needed next to him

But, she was more of an alley cat

That only came when she smelled tuna being thrown out

Then she purred and rubbed and begged

Him trying to catch her

But she jumped on the fence of his life and tore it

Making the wood of his mind chipped

And out the door she went

 

 

 

 

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A little box pops up on my Mac…Fathers Day is tomorrow.  I just stare at it.  Let it sit there for a minute.  There have been 14 Fathers Days that have come and gone since he passed away and each one is different.  The first one was very difficult and I had no idea that Fathers Day was even coming up and then I walked into a Rite Aid and there it was a huge sign, Fathers Day is Sunday June 20, 2004 with a huge display filled with cards and gifts. I stood there staring at it just like the little sign on my computer but with tears in my eyes and a twisting of my gut.  I whispered out loud, but I don’t have a daddy anymore and then remembering that the last time Fathers day was more than just a day to celebrate my dad, it was also the last day I saw my father alive.  Each Fathers Day after that is a remembrance of him and I going out to get lunch at a brewery in Irvine.  As a kid it was the day we made daddy breakfast in bed or gave him silly gifts but as an adult it was the day I took him to get him food and something related to beer.  This time he sat with a large tray of beer samplers.  I don’t drink beer, so they happily were all his.  He sipped and commented on the mix of odd hops from pumpkin beer to super dark brews.  He was happy as we sat and talked.  He had recently taken to letting my mom take the helm and work and him being the stay at home husband.  He would fix things, do laundry, watch a little tv and talk to me sometimes while I was on break from my working for a large corporation from 9 to 6.  I wasn’t immersed in my work, it was okay but I was bored and unchallenged by it.  I did like he money but hard to spend it when working 14 hours a day.   The company was noticing my lack of drive but I didn’t realize it until one day I was asked in a meeting, do you like your job.  I instinctively answered, of course, I love my job.   Knowing somewhere inside the real answer was, no I am not challenged enough and need to express some creativity soon or I will burst.   My boss nodded and said, well okay but I don’t think he was buying it either.  I think my father sensed it also, he would come and visit from time to time, everyone in the office loved him.  He had a huge child like smile and would brag about his youngest and how proud of her he was (that is me, if you didn’t get the reference yet).  I was so glad he was proud of me, I hadn’t always been the best daughter in the world but at least now I felt like I wasn’t letting him down or worrying him about my financial status.  I think parents always worry, even if just a little and a good parent like him, wants to help out even when I was financially taken care of.  When he would come to visit he would fix things, he even changed he handle on my refrigerator door so when I opened it and was standing at the stove, I could just reach in, grab what I needed and put it back.  He wanted to help his little girl and it was so sweet and I loved it but what helped me more than anything was our talks.  Was him opening up about his experiences, his childhood and those rare moments when he would talk about what it was like for him being my father.  Those are the conversations that stick with me, those are the things that on Fathers day I remember.  I only wish I had taken more video of him, recorded his voice more or written down every moment where we connected.  One in particular conversation stands out, the last one we had while sitting in that brewery.  We were both relaxed, and enjoying our food and I asked him what  being at home was like for him. He said he was enjoying it and then he told me the words that stuck with me, “I spent way to much time chasing money instead of my dreams”.  I knew in this was some regret, I knew he had wanted to do more sailing in his life, had wanted to teach but he seemed to be in a place of more calm than he had been in.  He seemed less stressed out.  I knew he was right and that life isn’t all about money but it is about memories and doing things that make us happy.  I also knew he was a good father and he worked jobs he may not always have loved because he wanted his wife and children to be taken care of and he was wiling to sacrifice some of his dreams to provide that for us. I had a great respect for him now and I saw him as wanting to be happy and at peace in his older years.  His children were grown and he didn’t have the same pressure.

Shortly before his death a month later, in a one on one meeting with my boss, I was asked the question again, do you like your job and I blurted out No I don’t.  He paused and looked at me and said, we knew this and were trying to figure out what to do.  It was discussed and we both agreed that I didn’t fit in at this job.  He said to me that I was like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole and it just didn’t work.  We decided I would stay for another month, giving me time to train someone new and look for another job.  Then my dad passed away and they graciously let me stay for another 2 months while I worked through emotions and looked for work.

Now 14 years later I have discovered so much about myself, that I love being creative, that I cherish times over things (though sometimes I do miss being able to just randomly buy a nice purse or a pretty new dress), that I can survive more than I thought I could and that I am happiest when being creative.  I think my dad would like my artwork, I think he would still say he is proud of his little girl.    I am not sure where my path with my artwork is leading me, but it is what makes me happy and I know he would want me to be happy.

I walk into a Rite Aid now and see all the Fathers day signs, cards and gifts and I smile at his memory, I know I still have a daddy, he may physically be gone but his heart, words and love are always with me.  Thank you daddy for all you gave me and still give me.

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Why do I present answers when the question hasn’t even been finished being asked?

Why do we presume to know what he said, she said

When we never heard it from them

Outside there is rain falling

Inside I am surrendering

Or at least trying to do my best

To believe that your thoughts

Are forming into your heart

To remember the love

The patience

The peace exuded in our holding of hands

I breath, the doubt out

Only hoping that I will breath in your yes

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I watch the repeats of Sex and the City and find myself thinking that Carrie is my least favorite character, most of the time. She dates big, over and over again, even though she gets her heart broken each time. Where was writer Greg Berendht’s input in this (consultant and writer on the show and wrote the book, he is just not that into you).

She opens herself up to Big, she is the epitimy of what drives me nuts about media’s portrayal of women. We are either pushy bitches who will stomp on anyone to get anything we want or we are powerless over love, repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Of course the reasoning is always, We Can’t Choose Who We Love or I can’t help. The I love him so what ever am I to do, I can’t help myself. I believe it may be difficult to not have feelings for someone but we have a choice as to whether we take action on those feelings. We are a reactionary society however that feeds of thinking we have to have it, and we are taught to go with our first reaction, instead of being taught to stop and think about what we are doing, what the consequences of our actions will be or remembering perhaps a lesson learned in the last time we went through this and realizing, hey I am not going down that path again.

Every time I see the episode where Carrie tells Aidan that she slept with BIG, I get upset. She tells him right before they are to go to Charlotte’s wedding.She is looking at him with sad eyes, as if to say, okay come with me to this wedding, after she just dropped this huge bomb on him. He leaves and I get the feeling we are to feel bad for her but all I can think of is, why did you cheat on such a great man, I would love to have a man who was like Aidan. Then when they get back together and he has a difficult time dealing with trusting her, she comes to him and pleads, “You have to forgive me, You Have to” To keep a relationship going where someone has cheated, it is very difficult for the person who got cheated on to trust. Sometimes it takes years, and from most of the people I know, the relationship usually ends because it is so difficult to trust the person. Well this is television however, the place where most people are supposed to just get over things in an instant. A great example of this is when a person dies, and the widow is single six months later and her friends are saying, you need to get out and date. Our society is afraid to be alone, afraid to be with who we are. The thinking is always, you will be happy if you have someone. When someone gets married, what do most people say, Oh now they can be happy or happily ever after? No wonder there are so many dysfunctional people out there, and believe me I am guilty of being one. I haven’t always made the greatest choices but I realize they were mine and I do all I can to learn from them.

This fairytale all starts when we are young girls…fairytales where there is a maiden or young girl, trapped by some evil witch and the only way we can get out is to be rescued from a tower or to break the coma she is in to be kissed by a dashing prince. How unrealistic is this in the real world? We see on Television shows and movies that a girl who doesn’t get asked to the dance is a loser or pathetic. To quote one show where a girl didn’t get asked to the big dance ” I will probably end up an old maid”. Where is the teaching to our children that hey, don’t wait, you don’t get invited to a dance, then go with friends, or gather a group of people who didn’t get invited and go as a group or even better go by yourself. Yes it is hard to be independent. I have struggled with this my whole life and still do but when I do go out to a coffee house, a movie by myself it is getting easier. I am lucky to have been surrounded at times by strong women. I had a good friend who used to tell me when we would go dancing, you want to dance, then get out there. Men were so shocked at times to see me out there dancing by myself, and not sitting demurely waiting for someone else to have fun. One time while at a club I had a guy yell outloud in front of a bunch of people (trying to embarass me), “what you couldn’t find someone to dance with you” to which I replied, I don’t have to have someone to ask me to dance, I am not trapped in the 50’s, I can dance with myself and that is just fine. The crowd around me clapped for me. I felt good.

I am not saying we don’t need love nor am I saying not to want another to share your life. I am talking about loving life even if you don’t have that person, or as Inyala says, In the Meantime. To dance with yourself and your heart is a devine and powerful thing, filled with mysterious wonder and magic.

Even after bra burning, and woman’s rights, there is still an imbalance. There still are so many people out there teaching young girls that her happiness will come when she meets Mr. Right. That if we are to loud or speak our mind, we are bitches or obnoxius. Did anyone call Kurt Cobain obnoxious, okay probably some did but the masses of critics called him a genius, I don’t disgree but what about Alanis when Jagged Little Pill came out…she was labeled an angry woman. She still is by some people though her music reflects a whole new person who has emerged and I have seen anger is just an emotion she expresses, just like Kurt did.

The messages for both sexes are not easy. Men being taught not to show emotion and woman being portrayed as only emotional or if they have to much emotion, they are crazy. Men being taught to be fighters, to be bread winners, and to be rescuers. Women being taught that if they aren’t pretty enough or sweet enough no man will want them. The pressure for both sexes is crazy. I say teach the children to love themselves and those around them. To appreciate the talents and skills that they have. That happiness is something that is created not something you wait to have happen. I say this for them but also for myself.

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