Tag Archives: relationships

Grace.

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Grace.

Being easily pushed or pulled by the demands or expectations of others is much like a branch too easily swayed by the constantly shifting wind; it breaks. Snaps off from its source and dies. Be planted, rooted firmly, in love. Centered in His presence. Be peace and you will have peace.

When the solution is simple, God is answering.
Albert Einstein

4 Minutes and 7 Seconds of Sacredness

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((Click on these words to find it.))

A holy grail, of sorts. Beauty and meaningfulness beyond words. If you know me, you’ll understand why. If you don’t, it’ll have its own reasons for you.

Be blessed, dear friends. I think of you.

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My dad: my homeostasis. Gratitude.

Nakedness, dawn breaking. Feel.

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Nakedness, dawn breaking. Feel.

Emotions,
Wet blankets hanging us
The guts wrench
With twisting sensations
Of sickness
Bodies and lives

A song can take us by surprise
And just as quickly, kill us

Our ideas for tomorrow from the wilting of the spring’s tulip
Take their lead
In this oppressive summer heat

Unquenched kisses for woman primed, for a lady who will and has
Wait
Like knees in the fold of an ironed slack, a tug,
A pull, an infinite night for years upon years
Heaps of them all piled
Are piling

Can the forward motion go on
A lifetime without being kissed back

Empty lips, hollow soul
Unfold into nothing, explode

And still the winter will swallow
The seeds from the tulip inside,
As if tucking a death into one’s self
Should be so easy
…It is, in this small way

Seamless greed, the autumn keeps
Its secrets free of shame
And me, uneased
Unhinged and thieved
And always never being the same

But I a lonely nocturne came
And in
The shutting doors
The fruitless branch
The hiding place
Will be remained

A tight-rope walking
Dance of flame
A lonely girl
A nameless name

The breasted beak
Will speak and break

Out, away, forever

Here, kitty kitty…

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Here, kitty kitty…

You fit me well
In that sinister edge your laughter keeps
Making a mockery
Better than a living
Of me, and I pretend so well to love it

You do not know me

You wear me well
But cannot keep
Me, contained
In the guilt of your smile
You poor baby; you made me
Your fix, your crutch, your reason for being
Seldom what you seem
Turning me into a joke
Some permanence of blue
In your emptiness of green

And yet I’m the one short of worthy
You deem
It wasn’t enough
For you to tie me down
A mummified queen
Of this promised forever

If simply to breathe, I should ask your permission
If I seal my lips and sell my dreams
If I spend the money to buy into your mission–the satisfying of your own sick needs
Will you then say I’ve fared well as your wife?

If I resist the urge to peel the skin off your skull, set your frame on fire, blow your brains out just to watch you bleed
Then in my book it should suffice
(trust me)
As proof I must have loved you
If only a smidgen

If I close my eyes, keep still, be quiet
Return my silence for your emotional violence
If somehow I manage
To allow you your vices
Of snapping a soul in two just to suit you;
If I rise to the top like thickening oil
On the surface, I assure you
It means that you my dear, at least married well

I didn’t marry down;
I crawled straight to hell and took the name of the biggest beggar I found

Rob Peter to pay Paul

My life is a testament
To what happens to little girls
Who are never shown how
Why does marriage still exist?
Was I born just for this?
United with a state of unobtainable bliss

I grew up too quickly
Oblivion-rich
Of societal norms
I colored my world in shades of burnt orange
Forgetting the images subsequently absorbed
Were distorted, conformed
To my inner expectations
Of very little
And very often

We always get what it is we’ve expected

For me, it’s a lifetime of hide-and-seek
Bare-knuckled scream-thinking
Bruise-inclined heart-beating
White picket fences
And hearts to be mended
With skinned-shaking knees

I believed sweet dreams are made of these
Who wouldn’t like to disagree?

The cat accomplishes nothing
Out of the bag

However “Ever After” Goes

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However “Ever After” Goes

The excitements purge and the dust settles
Time, taking its measurements in re-runs
And the shows aren’t even worth showing
Extra loud repetitions blaring the soundtrack to life’s mediocrity
Its meaninglessness so shrill in pitch
And did you know boring yourself to death is a noisy endeavor?
The laundry’s staled. Mildewed, despite re-starting the cycle fifty-eight times over
Three days have gone by? Add soap push start and forget about it
Over and over and over
Was marriage designed to be this hard?
Does everybody do it? Do you know what I mean?
Matrimony, the eternal scream and it’s a lot like the laundry these days; a bunch of bullshit I’d rather not do
With its moldy stench of unfinished business, of apathy, of not giving a damn, of dying another pointless death every time I get out of bed
I want to see him feel empty for once, stop giving a fuck, shit or get off the pot, give the whole thing up
As masterfully as I have
In the earlier days (before the TV sets died in the permanent-seeming on position)
I was the same, yet a different person
Alive, electric
Before peace caved in and lost its spine
I was in motion
Bidding my life to the proof of my worth
(as I thought it’d need proven)
By “doing my part”
With a permanent grin
Walking in such an effortless spirit of perpetual excellence
Prune-shriveled fingers yet manicured hands
Ironic how (while feigning confused disappointment) he now likes to remind me of what a cool person I was then
Before I quit wiping his piss off the floor in my boy shorts, before I quit wearing those sexy bandanas in my hair, before I learned how to kill him with my eyes, before my imagination died and the horizon collapsed, taking me hostage by the brutalities of domesticity implicit in being the chauvinist’s wife
I was cool.
I was a prized fighting champion with manners and class on my knees and hands scrubbing my way through the American (or my imaginary) Dream

Life is divided in two, but no one ever tells you
that the middle can suck you into itself
a black hole; an anti-matter; a one way ticket to the realization that you grew up to become a nobody

There’s a red sheet whipping in the winds of change, gripped by the hands of resistance
You can’t be the bull and the ringleader too
And so I dance, I dance my midlife away
While the gringo masters the art of futility
His every breath a burning desire to see me tamed
Hopes should never be set so high; birds are not born for a cage