Saturday, January 7, 2017
This is how it will feel to meet God.
I wasn't sure that I believed in you.
But here you are.
Smiling at me from your chair.
Kissing me in the morning.
Singing to my demons, putting my doubts to rest.
Gifting me with faith.
Renewing my soul.
This is how it will feel to meet God.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
I must be wild.
When the pretty flowers seduced man into assisting them with the propagation of their species, did they know that the cost would be their freedom? They flaunted bright colors and intoxicated us with fragrance, and for such witchcraft we have relegated them to exist in the confines of garden walls and raised beds for their whole lives.
Some say that women are closest to the plant kingdom. I can understand how it might be true - it's easy to see how we have learned from them, how we have shared their fate. I wonder if the plants mind it. (Do we?) Are they satisfied? (Are we?)
I, for one, have no problem giving of my fruits and beauty - it is the one thing I live for. I want nothing more than to bloom, ripen, and drop the ends of myself (the beginnings of a new thing) down into the dirt for the benefit of all who came before me, all who came with me, and all who have yet to come. But I must be wild. I must be free to grow, to sway, to reach for sunlight, to weather drought and storms. I must dance with nature, and gamble my very life on the Great Mother, who births and destroys. I must have the option to find new ways of being. I must be free to evolve.
Perhaps that is why I have become attracted to wanderers, vagabonds, and other artsy passers-by. Or perhaps it is because I have rooted myself in the dirt of the road less traveled, that these bold eccentrics tend to find me. They are my friends. They are my loves. They are my tribe. They don't always stay for long. Or perhaps I am the one to leave - my petals die off and I retreat into the Earth in preparation for a new season. Either way, the connections are always real; both parties are always nourished. The memories will last and the exchanges will flow forward into our new selves. We are both touched, and instantly changed by this natural, wild soul connection.
Still. I don't always want to be passed-by. Even I would appreciate some company, some lasting attention... some long term symbiotic exchange. A deep love agreement. Even some security... not from the elements, or from nature. That is my home. If someone is to love me, they must know that I cannot be uprooted and transplanted to any controlled environment. It is in no way safe for me to try to exist in a place other than my natural habitat - nor would it be safe for him to try to keep me there. I admire the urge toward protection that some men feel, but I will not be kept and pruned in anybody's garden. No.
If someone is to love me, they must see in me a sanctuary. Designate this dirt as holy land - know that its richness contains all of the vital, volatile experiences that have created me. All of my old selves and my new selves are here in this dirt, and I am drawing upon the lot of them to create the beautiful colors and sensual smells that draw you in. If someone is to love me, he must not let anyone desecrate this land, this life, this whole living system of which I am a part. He must keep back all those who would cut me or my sisters down.
If a man is to love me, he must promise to never let anyone tame me.
Some say that women are closest to the plant kingdom. I can understand how it might be true - it's easy to see how we have learned from them, how we have shared their fate. I wonder if the plants mind it. (Do we?) Are they satisfied? (Are we?)
I, for one, have no problem giving of my fruits and beauty - it is the one thing I live for. I want nothing more than to bloom, ripen, and drop the ends of myself (the beginnings of a new thing) down into the dirt for the benefit of all who came before me, all who came with me, and all who have yet to come. But I must be wild. I must be free to grow, to sway, to reach for sunlight, to weather drought and storms. I must dance with nature, and gamble my very life on the Great Mother, who births and destroys. I must have the option to find new ways of being. I must be free to evolve.
Perhaps that is why I have become attracted to wanderers, vagabonds, and other artsy passers-by. Or perhaps it is because I have rooted myself in the dirt of the road less traveled, that these bold eccentrics tend to find me. They are my friends. They are my loves. They are my tribe. They don't always stay for long. Or perhaps I am the one to leave - my petals die off and I retreat into the Earth in preparation for a new season. Either way, the connections are always real; both parties are always nourished. The memories will last and the exchanges will flow forward into our new selves. We are both touched, and instantly changed by this natural, wild soul connection.
Still. I don't always want to be passed-by. Even I would appreciate some company, some lasting attention... some long term symbiotic exchange. A deep love agreement. Even some security... not from the elements, or from nature. That is my home. If someone is to love me, they must know that I cannot be uprooted and transplanted to any controlled environment. It is in no way safe for me to try to exist in a place other than my natural habitat - nor would it be safe for him to try to keep me there. I admire the urge toward protection that some men feel, but I will not be kept and pruned in anybody's garden. No.
If someone is to love me, they must see in me a sanctuary. Designate this dirt as holy land - know that its richness contains all of the vital, volatile experiences that have created me. All of my old selves and my new selves are here in this dirt, and I am drawing upon the lot of them to create the beautiful colors and sensual smells that draw you in. If someone is to love me, he must not let anyone desecrate this land, this life, this whole living system of which I am a part. He must keep back all those who would cut me or my sisters down.
If a man is to love me, he must promise to never let anyone tame me.
Friday, September 6, 2013
She-wolf
creature of strange beauty
moving like she doesn't belong
here
staccato floating
disappearing and reappearing
you catch a glimpse of her face
peeking out from behind a tree
only because she wanted you to
suspended in the moment as her eyes soaked up the eternity in you
bright, and everlasting in the mind of the blessed witness
you are in trouble
or
you have won a friend for life
*
she decided 3 days ago
what to do with you
the she-wolf
elegant mystery
and purposed force
her cunning nature
could only be divine
moving like she doesn't belong
here
staccato floating
disappearing and reappearing
you catch a glimpse of her face
peeking out from behind a tree
only because she wanted you to
suspended in the moment as her eyes soaked up the eternity in you
bright, and everlasting in the mind of the blessed witness
you are in trouble
or
you have won a friend for life
*
she decided 3 days ago
what to do with you
the she-wolf
elegant mystery
and purposed force
her cunning nature
could only be divine
Sunday, July 28, 2013
silence
when i was born
my heart called out for love
of a certain kind
and it continued to call and call
for some time
and when it stopped
the echo surged out
through the mountains and valleys
of souls and lifetimes
the sound itself searching through the eternity of me
and now here i am
straining to hear the last faint whispers
of myself
singing for that love
wondering if perhaps its just a memory
soon there will be silence
my heart called out for love
of a certain kind
and it continued to call and call
for some time
and when it stopped
the echo surged out
through the mountains and valleys
of souls and lifetimes
the sound itself searching through the eternity of me
and now here i am
straining to hear the last faint whispers
of myself
singing for that love
wondering if perhaps its just a memory
soon there will be silence
Friday, May 3, 2013
dentada
she's sweet
but she has teeth
you can buzz 'round
just don't touch down
if she entraps you
you'll be enraptured
until a million tiny tempting scenes
and sweet pink pussy fantasies
dissolve into a past-life dream
without so much
as 'dust to dust'
but she has teeth
you can buzz 'round
just don't touch down
if she entraps you
you'll be enraptured
until a million tiny tempting scenes
and sweet pink pussy fantasies
dissolve into a past-life dream
without so much
as 'dust to dust'
prize peaches
we sit with our legs open
to give our flowers some sun
let them bloom
and give you a whiff of sweetness
inspire you to climb higher
see for yourself why we're worth it
and what life is like
at the top
cuz we ain't no low hangin fruit
these is
prize peaches
growing wild and free
in funny shapes and rich colors
soft, fuzzy and wet through the skin
heavy with nectar
sweet syrup entrances
natural high from huffin that fragrance
takes you on a vision quest
and you'll come back
a man
if you can reach us
you can reach us
just climb
"climb baby"
whispers in the branches
just climb
to give our flowers some sun
let them bloom
and give you a whiff of sweetness
inspire you to climb higher
see for yourself why we're worth it
and what life is like
at the top
cuz we ain't no low hangin fruit
these is
prize peaches
growing wild and free
in funny shapes and rich colors
soft, fuzzy and wet through the skin
heavy with nectar
sweet syrup entrances
natural high from huffin that fragrance
takes you on a vision quest
and you'll come back
a man
if you can reach us
you can reach us
just climb
"climb baby"
whispers in the branches
just climb
Dear God/dess I Luh Dese Wiminz! (Janelle Monae feat Erykah Badu: QUEEN)
These are my people. The Wild Women. The Rebels. The QUEENS.
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