Magic

She is graying.
She is flawless.
Her mouth is a soft peach of a grin
her laughter is used sparingly
sprinkling her audience
and would be mates
lightly
Like rain
on droughted dirt
Enough
so they know they are
thirsty
they are drawn near
hoping
for another
drop

And

I love her sex magic
The way she moves
A gliding grace
Fluid
A sultry shadow
Which they chase
trying to grasp
at her wisps
with desperate wanting
and lust
But their
hungry
itching
fingers
can’t touch
her

I like watching the younger girls
Watching her
out of the corners
of their
judging yet
undeniably appreciative
eyes

What does she have?
Witchcraft? Sorcery?
Why do I not
have it?

Oh, but you do, loves.
It is in the
way you enter
a room
Head held high
Unashamed
Unembarrassed
Of your womanhood
The control you have
of yourself
your mind
your body
Mischief which
twinkles slightly
in your eyes
as you offer
the slyest
of smiles
Because you know secrets
They never will
And they’ll fall at your feet
Trying to find out
You are the Eden
The Paradise
The Promised Land
And only you have
the Power
to allow entrance
To Those You Deem
Worthy.
Never forget that.
She hasn’t.
She is a Lesson
Learn Well

You were born with this magic.
Own it.

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They Won’t Love You Less If You Don’t Make A Mess

all the skeletons
sitting quietly in my closet
piled one atop the other
neat and organized
collecting dust in storage

are others
as orderly as mine

or
are they a haphazard mess
femurs and fubulas
tumbling tibias
scattered scapulas
avalanching out in a chaotic cacaophony
whenever someone
merely
jiggles
the knob

not sure
but the idea
bothers me

no

its best to keep
these things
trim and tidy

should a stranger
peek in

They’ll see
only
winter coats
rain boots
and stacks of
nothing
important

She’s Gone a T’ch Crazy Again

Sometimes
I want to dig into my head
claw and scrape at the spongy wetness
scoop it
my tapioca brain pudding
and smear the pulpy bloodied mess
across the pristine white walls
of everyone’s preconceived notions of conformity

while I laugh madly
stupidly
wildly

and then
i want to shove it down their
reserved
plastic
lemming
throats

“eat it
swallow my chunky parts
choke on the tough chewy
bits
the unpalatable
the inedible”

But I can’t
and they won’t

I guess I can
spin spin spin
until dizzy
and I vomit
up
my mania

(she’s in hysterics
with eyes on fire
and her obnoxious
cackling
bouncing off their
stony
dismayed
faces)

….

Do you know
that most nights
I sit quietly
and knit?

The screaming in my head
turns to a song
a light melody
knit one, purl one
knit one, purl one
knit one, purl one

until I forget
about what was disintegrating
my thoughts in the first place.

Well.
Institutionalization
takes
many forms.

Not Bitter… much

If I had a dollar
For every time you said
“I’m Sorry”
“Guess I’m Just An Asshole”
“I Never Meant To Hurt”
“I’ll Leave You Alone”
“I’ll Never Bother You Again”

Well.
I guess I could take myself
For a rather extravagant meal
Somewhere posh
With cloth napkins
and well dressed
waiters

I’d enjoy every bite
of
many things rich
succulent
and deliciously fattening

My belly
happy and full
I’d leave a
generous tip
and smile with contentment
Knowing
That somewhere
you were choking on your own bullshit
Wasting away to the Nothing
You always knew you were.

4/16/16

I have too many things going on in my head sometimes. Serious things, ridiculous things – all manner of subjects running around like sugar soaked toddlers, haphazardly and clumsily bumping into each other, making a high holy mess of all I have worked so hard to compartmentalize. And I am powerless to stop what has already begun.

When it’s over (it does eventually wear itself out) there goes everything. All my ideas, opinions, notions, deep introspections, flights of whimsical meandering musings – just trashed and laid out. Passed out amid the broken boxes of what I had once tucked away, never to be bothered with again.

But that happens. It happens all the time. And I am once again set to task with the cleanup of my mind. And this makes me moody. It is not something I can easily explain to my significant other. To my friends. Hell, to myself. I have tried… but the best I’ve come up with is, “My head is messy today.”

Today is not Messy. It is the Day After Messy. I assess, recalibrate the gears of my inner mechanics, and attempt to move forward again. The Day After, I am in a much better state of being. Happy, even. Or as close to happy as I can get. Maybe this makes sense, maybe it doesn’t.

Eh. Just trying to maintain a semblance of sanity. *wink wink*

3/17/16

The other night I danced
No music necessary

My melody instead was
laughter
Chords of my former
younger self
vibrated
around
Me

the person I am
today

And it was beautiful
sweet songs of
charm and charismatic
grace
friendly smiles everywhere
others
creating their own
ballads of the evening.

I couldn’t help but
Dance
To twirl
and
sway
To shimmy
and
shake
To enjoy
the combined symphony of living

It had been so long
I thought I had forgotten
how