sometimes the devil tells the truth
every now and then the devil is you
i know because i killed my savior
and i think it was the right thing to do
but the blood don't stop
the blood just go
out of my body
i follow the flow
out of my mind
where nobody knows
'cause inside is hell
though the hell that i chose
*
don't know how
i'm gonna keep on livin'
even the devil
wants to be forgiven
don't know if it will ever stop
and perhaps i deserve
the kundalini scarlet mark
still smelling of life and earth
but if it doesn't
then soon i might be empty
though i suppose it's better
than being full with memory
so blood, don't stop
blood, just go
out of my body
i'll follow the flow
out of my mind
to find some relief
from loving that which gave me
its poor soul to keep
*
don't know how
i'm gonna keep on livin'
even the devil
wants to be forgiven
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Jenny
"Dear God, make me a bird, so I can fly far, far far away from here..."
~Jenny, from Forrest Gump
Jenny was the backdrop to all of Forrest's adventures. Perhaps she was even the reason for them. She was the one who infused him with the confidence that only friendship can provide; a sweet-faced little alchemist who managed to turn her own abuse into genuine kindness for someone who needed it. The thought of her kept him going through the war, and her letter was the reason he came to sit on that bench in the first place.
Over the course of the movie, time changes everything, and everything changes Jenny. I imagine that when she left Alabama, she thought she was leaving her troubles behind. She didn't suspect that they would follow her, and grow stronger from the journey, multiplying, even as she grew weary and divided.
By the end of the flick, she is a thinly redeemed ne'er-do-well. She seems to have regained some strength and learned valuable lessons, but she still must pay the ultimate price for a life gone bad because of good intentions. The sins of her idealistic youth catch up to her, and AIDS takes her life before the 40 year mark.
Thank Goddess for Forrest. He was there whenever she needed him, despite her inability to recognize that his love was the only thing in her life that was constant and true (until it was too late to matter much). He never stopped thinking of her as his girl, and was there at the end to feed her oranges and tea. He made sure she was buried under their favorite tree. He was better to her than so many other options, including not only a life of sickness in solitude, but many of the other men she could have chosen to settle for or stick it out with had she been just a bit more ordinary, and less herself.
Still, her story depresses me a little (and I must admit that it doesn't take much these days, so maybe it's just my perspective). Her character to speaks to me, as I'm sure it does to so many other women who jump out there searching for something better, and only end up finding worse, or at best more of the same. She was a person with real issues, but she wanted to hope for more. She wanted to love, she wanted to feel free, she wanted the world to be a better place, she wanted to connect with others in a meaningful way. She was a seeker, a nomad, an adventurer. She was an idealist, and perhaps even an empath - feeling too much and trying to escape, then feeling too little and losing her sense of purpose.
And she was punished for all of it.
It seemed she made every decision with a two-headed trick coin trained to land in a pile of shit, and every set of consequences was worse than the last. In the end, worn from the journey, and only slightly wiser, she managed to build an almost stable platform for herself atop the shaky ground. She didn't become a star, or a guru. She didn't get a book deal out of it, or write a play. She didn't make songs for the radio about her travels. She barely survived, saved by the earthy reality of a growing belly, and she took a waitressing job to pay the bills. She served coffee, wearing a pink dress, and sometimes a hard-won smile.
And after all of that, well, only a fool could love her.
~Jenny, from Forrest Gump
Jenny was the backdrop to all of Forrest's adventures. Perhaps she was even the reason for them. She was the one who infused him with the confidence that only friendship can provide; a sweet-faced little alchemist who managed to turn her own abuse into genuine kindness for someone who needed it. The thought of her kept him going through the war, and her letter was the reason he came to sit on that bench in the first place.
Over the course of the movie, time changes everything, and everything changes Jenny. I imagine that when she left Alabama, she thought she was leaving her troubles behind. She didn't suspect that they would follow her, and grow stronger from the journey, multiplying, even as she grew weary and divided.
By the end of the flick, she is a thinly redeemed ne'er-do-well. She seems to have regained some strength and learned valuable lessons, but she still must pay the ultimate price for a life gone bad because of good intentions. The sins of her idealistic youth catch up to her, and AIDS takes her life before the 40 year mark.
Thank Goddess for Forrest. He was there whenever she needed him, despite her inability to recognize that his love was the only thing in her life that was constant and true (until it was too late to matter much). He never stopped thinking of her as his girl, and was there at the end to feed her oranges and tea. He made sure she was buried under their favorite tree. He was better to her than so many other options, including not only a life of sickness in solitude, but many of the other men she could have chosen to settle for or stick it out with had she been just a bit more ordinary, and less herself.
Still, her story depresses me a little (and I must admit that it doesn't take much these days, so maybe it's just my perspective). Her character to speaks to me, as I'm sure it does to so many other women who jump out there searching for something better, and only end up finding worse, or at best more of the same. She was a person with real issues, but she wanted to hope for more. She wanted to love, she wanted to feel free, she wanted the world to be a better place, she wanted to connect with others in a meaningful way. She was a seeker, a nomad, an adventurer. She was an idealist, and perhaps even an empath - feeling too much and trying to escape, then feeling too little and losing her sense of purpose.
And she was punished for all of it.
It seemed she made every decision with a two-headed trick coin trained to land in a pile of shit, and every set of consequences was worse than the last. In the end, worn from the journey, and only slightly wiser, she managed to build an almost stable platform for herself atop the shaky ground. She didn't become a star, or a guru. She didn't get a book deal out of it, or write a play. She didn't make songs for the radio about her travels. She barely survived, saved by the earthy reality of a growing belly, and she took a waitressing job to pay the bills. She served coffee, wearing a pink dress, and sometimes a hard-won smile.
And after all of that, well, only a fool could love her.
Friday, November 16, 2012
excuses
i cleaned today
like a madwoman
couldn't stand the thought of
millions of tiny
particles of
you
still hanging around my apartment
laying lazily in my bedsheets
asking me to make them sandwiches
would've been better
just to burn the whole place down
but i don't own it
so
enough
reminiscing
i have had enough of remembering you
and i will continue to call every
exterminator in town
until one
can tell me how to kill
the thousands of tiny
eggs you laid
in my brain
perhaps i should just
get myself
a lobotomy
but i like it
when my spit stays in my mouth
so
someone find me an old priest and a young priest
to exorcise these demons
and remove them from me
what?! - the catholics don't do
exorcisms anymore?!
this is bullshit...
fuckin pussies
what i really need anyway
are a witch-doctor and a moonshiner
to brew up a concoction strong enough
to kill
the hundreds of worms
infecting my blood
slithering through my veins
swallowing the essence of me
and shitting out
you
a fortnight of ritual and booze and drumming and sweating a rough sex and visions and shooting shotguns and riding bulls and bonfires and chopping heads off chickens and digging in the dirt with bare hands bear hands shredding skin soft compared to claws the mother protecting her cub from you beyond warning in the spirit realm worshipping the totems in sacred dance all naked and painted and bloody
but
that's how bitches end up
on youtube
so
like a madwoman
couldn't stand the thought of
millions of tiny
particles of
you
still hanging around my apartment
laying lazily in my bedsheets
asking me to make them sandwiches
would've been better
just to burn the whole place down
but i don't own it
so
enough
reminiscing
i have had enough of remembering you
and i will continue to call every
exterminator in town
until one
can tell me how to kill
the thousands of tiny
eggs you laid
in my brain
perhaps i should just
get myself
a lobotomy
but i like it
when my spit stays in my mouth
so
someone find me an old priest and a young priest
to exorcise these demons
and remove them from me
what?! - the catholics don't do
exorcisms anymore?!
this is bullshit...
fuckin pussies
what i really need anyway
are a witch-doctor and a moonshiner
to brew up a concoction strong enough
to kill
the hundreds of worms
infecting my blood
slithering through my veins
swallowing the essence of me
and shitting out
you
a fortnight of ritual and booze and drumming and sweating a rough sex and visions and shooting shotguns and riding bulls and bonfires and chopping heads off chickens and digging in the dirt with bare hands bear hands shredding skin soft compared to claws the mother protecting her cub from you beyond warning in the spirit realm worshipping the totems in sacred dance all naked and painted and bloody
but
that's how bitches end up
on youtube
so
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
revival
i need something soft
a place to lay my heart
as it heals.
it wasn't broken
this time
but
cut
too deep.
it was easy enough
to piece back together
before.
but now
the blood
fleeing
a cruel way to discover
that life force
has no allegiance
to me.
what a way
to be humbled.
crushed by
the one dream
i had protected forever.
until.
and my heart
blames me.
and i blame
my heart.
but we are all
we have now.
so forgiveness
begins here.
revival
in me.
there are no other healers.
and there is
no magic glue
to fix this.
we stick together
because finally
we understand.
only we share
this pain.
i need a soft place
to bleed.
back into my heart.
a place to lay my heart
as it heals.
it wasn't broken
this time
but
cut
too deep.
it was easy enough
to piece back together
before.
but now
the blood
fleeing
a cruel way to discover
that life force
has no allegiance
to me.
what a way
to be humbled.
crushed by
the one dream
i had protected forever.
until.
and my heart
blames me.
and i blame
my heart.
but we are all
we have now.
so forgiveness
begins here.
revival
in me.
there are no other healers.
and there is
no magic glue
to fix this.
we stick together
because finally
we understand.
only we share
this pain.
i need a soft place
to bleed.
back into my heart.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
election update 11:30
OBAMA WON!
Now can I just ditch the Democratic "we're smarter and much more mature" shtick for a second to say SUCK IT MITT!!!!!!! SUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK IIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!
No...? But it's the second term, time to go HAM on these JIVE TURKEYS! Still no...? Ok... oops.
Now can I just ditch the Democratic "we're smarter and much more mature" shtick for a second to say SUCK IT MITT!!!!!!! SUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK IIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!
No...? But it's the second term, time to go HAM on these JIVE TURKEYS! Still no...? Ok... oops.
election update 9:50
Obama is leading, barely.
But more importantly, did Brian Williams just say "there's a whole lotta weed on the ballot"?
I needed some comedy...
But more importantly, did Brian Williams just say "there's a whole lotta weed on the ballot"?
I needed some comedy...
Election update 8:15
I'm watching the coverage of the 2012 presidential election, just like most US citizens.
It's 8:15, and I'm a little nervous.
Don't get me wrong, I believe in hope and change... but I've dealt with stupidity face-to-face.
That shit ain't pretty. It is, however, absolutely fucking rampant.
Watching and waiting...
It's 8:15, and I'm a little nervous.
Don't get me wrong, I believe in hope and change... but I've dealt with stupidity face-to-face.
That shit ain't pretty. It is, however, absolutely fucking rampant.
Watching and waiting...
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
different
perhaps
we are from parallel worlds
same space, same time
different dimensions
same words
mean different things
to you
my heart
can be in one place
only
in yours
it is always broken
i am fading out of your world
there with you still but thin, pale
translucent
seems i am wasting away-
you say i'm different
becoming solid again in my own
called back together from particles
by the whispered words of friends
"you do exist"
"you do exist"
we are from parallel worlds
same space, same time
different dimensions
same words
mean different things
to you
my heart
can be in one place
only
in yours
it is always broken
i am fading out of your world
there with you still but thin, pale
translucent
seems i am wasting away-
you say i'm different
becoming solid again in my own
called back together from particles
by the whispered words of friends
"you do exist"
"you do exist"
paved paradise
***that awkward moment when you realize that someone you've poured your energy, love, and time into doesn't actually give two real fucks about you and your emotions...
and that you left someone who did***
Yeah, awkward.
Lesson learned.
and that you left someone who did***
Yeah, awkward.
Lesson learned.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
every woman knows
every woman knows
that you don't simply lose your innocence
you vomit it up
one heartbreak at a time
choking on wails from the seat of your holiness
as you release glitter-winged butterflies
to fend for themselves in the world
every woman knows
that you don't go a day
without silently praying for their safety
imagining that they still exist somewhere out there
hoping that the pieces of you
that left
have fared better than the ones that had to stay and bear it
every woman knows
that the emptiness never fades
or is filled
so we make it our duty to extract as much beauty out of the numbness as possible
it is why we are the creators
witches, priestesses, magicians
mothers
we are birth-givers and masters of resurrection
piecing together dead dreams from nothing but memory
that you don't simply lose your innocence
you vomit it up
one heartbreak at a time
choking on wails from the seat of your holiness
as you release glitter-winged butterflies
to fend for themselves in the world
every woman knows
that you don't go a day
without silently praying for their safety
imagining that they still exist somewhere out there
hoping that the pieces of you
that left
have fared better than the ones that had to stay and bear it
every woman knows
that the emptiness never fades
or is filled
so we make it our duty to extract as much beauty out of the numbness as possible
it is why we are the creators
witches, priestesses, magicians
mothers
we are birth-givers and masters of resurrection
piecing together dead dreams from nothing but memory
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
the surrender poem
the thing that pulls me to you
i feel in my body
called out from the soft place above the bulb
at the end of my left collarbone
where all of my swallowed tears are hiding
they still hope...
this energy
the force breathing again inside of me
is pushing through the half moons at the bases of my fingernails
hands, trained to give, steady
shake now
but
must touch you
they still need...
skin puts on a show
turning colors for you
brown to pink to red to gold to glow
still wanting
bones that are strong
still ache
they would melt
i could be all liquid
warm gel
moving, speaking, dancing as plasma
belly to belly
feel my form lapping at you
thighs gently kissing...
drawing you in like the ocean
plunge in and be warm with me
my center still knows
my soul still remembers...
maybe
i am making something out of nothing
but
magic
has always been my destiny
i still believe
love is magic
i feel in my body
called out from the soft place above the bulb
at the end of my left collarbone
where all of my swallowed tears are hiding
they still hope...
this energy
the force breathing again inside of me
is pushing through the half moons at the bases of my fingernails
hands, trained to give, steady
shake now
but
must touch you
they still need...
skin puts on a show
turning colors for you
brown to pink to red to gold to glow
still wanting
bones that are strong
still ache
they would melt
i could be all liquid
warm gel
moving, speaking, dancing as plasma
belly to belly
feel my form lapping at you
thighs gently kissing...
drawing you in like the ocean
plunge in and be warm with me
my center still knows
my soul still remembers...
maybe
i am making something out of nothing
but
magic
has always been my destiny
i still believe
love is magic
Thursday, September 27, 2012
what about life
what about life is fair
when the thing you began to hate
thinking it hated you
is the one thing you need
is the one thing you are
and you can't see how to exist without it?
what about life makes sense
when we praise the haters and ridicule the lovers
when we hurt on purpose, and heal as a last resort
when we collectively choose death
every day?
what about life do we know
calling to a god who threatens us
denying hearts and bodies
ignoring our essence for polite fiction
deciding
to believe evil and doubt good?
what about life could possibly be fair
when the lovers can find no love
and must watch their names erased from the sky?
one
by one
they avert their eyes
soon there will be no stars left.
and who shall we thank for that?
when the thing you began to hate
thinking it hated you
is the one thing you need
is the one thing you are
and you can't see how to exist without it?
what about life makes sense
when we praise the haters and ridicule the lovers
when we hurt on purpose, and heal as a last resort
when we collectively choose death
every day?
what about life do we know
calling to a god who threatens us
denying hearts and bodies
ignoring our essence for polite fiction
deciding
to believe evil and doubt good?
what about life could possibly be fair
when the lovers can find no love
and must watch their names erased from the sky?
one
by one
they avert their eyes
soon there will be no stars left.
and who shall we thank for that?
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
the witching hour
I was smart about this
at first
Careful
to remain alert
and aware
of the likely possibilities
of the only reality
that I was willing to accept
Calculating
devising rules
(I was going to play)
fortifying myself
for the road ahead
thinking always
of the end of this
Defying
the gravity
between us
But here i am now
recklessly
thinking of you
at the witching hour
And this Wild Woman has paralyzed me
sitting on my chest
piercing me
she speaks the spells of my heart
flies wantonly around my mind
flinging open the locked doors
shining her moonlight
on my secret thoughts
She makes me fiend for you
makes me writhe for you
makes me call to you
And now here we are
recklessly
looking into each other's eyes
at the Witching Hour
at first
Careful
to remain alert
and aware
of the likely possibilities
of the only reality
that I was willing to accept
Calculating
devising rules
(I was going to play)
fortifying myself
for the road ahead
thinking always
of the end of this
Defying
the gravity
between us
But here i am now
recklessly
thinking of you
at the witching hour
And this Wild Woman has paralyzed me
sitting on my chest
piercing me
she speaks the spells of my heart
flies wantonly around my mind
flinging open the locked doors
shining her moonlight
on my secret thoughts
She makes me fiend for you
makes me writhe for you
makes me call to you
And now here we are
recklessly
looking into each other's eyes
at the Witching Hour
the changeling
my soul is not
made of air
she is no ghost
no
figment
she is part liquid
plasma-like and
glowing
like a jellyfish
but
begging to be touched...
she is floating
shining and cozy in dark womb waters
drifting
caught between freedom and form
stretched wide at the crux of metamorphosis
pulled toward rebirth in two directions
laid bare and exposed
she gives up her water to the air
pressed in on herself
she relinquishes it to the earth
she is snake
and bird
sun and moon
fire and water and earth and ether
she is an original
existed before the number
'2'
sometimes wishes to fit in
and enjoy the confusing illusion
but
she must stay as she is
without her there is no catalyst
no connection
no constant
she must remain
forever
a changeling
made of air
she is no ghost
no
figment
she is part liquid
plasma-like and
glowing
like a jellyfish
but
begging to be touched...
she is floating
shining and cozy in dark womb waters
drifting
caught between freedom and form
stretched wide at the crux of metamorphosis
pulled toward rebirth in two directions
laid bare and exposed
she gives up her water to the air
pressed in on herself
she relinquishes it to the earth
she is snake
and bird
sun and moon
fire and water and earth and ether
she is an original
existed before the number
'2'
sometimes wishes to fit in
and enjoy the confusing illusion
but
she must stay as she is
without her there is no catalyst
no connection
no constant
she must remain
forever
a changeling
Saturday, April 21, 2012
The New Gods
these Lovers
exist beyond love
in the realm of the Original
in the realm of Peace
mortals pass them by
never understanding
their sacrifice:
to become immortal
they had to give up
being
human
where are the Gods
who used to come down to play?
to live?
legends magnified
by their love of flesh
of life
but these Gods are new
they must practice well
play by the rules
giving all
desiring nothing
They call for our love
but cannot feel it
They call for our love
to bring us higher
They call for our love
because they know love will save us
They call
but remain just out of reach
of our love
we are indebted to their grace
but saddened by the truth:
the best of us made untouchable
because the rest of us could not feel
we are blind
so they give us their eyes
we are grateful
but so sorely miss
gazing into them
exist beyond love
in the realm of the Original
in the realm of Peace
mortals pass them by
never understanding
their sacrifice:
to become immortal
they had to give up
being
human
where are the Gods
who used to come down to play?
to live?
legends magnified
by their love of flesh
of life
but these Gods are new
they must practice well
play by the rules
giving all
desiring nothing
They call for our love
but cannot feel it
They call for our love
to bring us higher
They call for our love
because they know love will save us
They call
but remain just out of reach
of our love
we are indebted to their grace
but saddened by the truth:
the best of us made untouchable
because the rest of us could not feel
we are blind
so they give us their eyes
we are grateful
but so sorely miss
gazing into them
Friday, April 13, 2012
tantrika in oil
paint me red
and watch me dance
look into my eyes
see reflected
pools of You
beneath indigo skies
draw me in
then be consumed
made whole by unquenched fire
paint me red
i'll be your muse
and heal you with desire
and watch me dance
look into my eyes
see reflected
pools of You
beneath indigo skies
draw me in
then be consumed
made whole by unquenched fire
paint me red
i'll be your muse
and heal you with desire
Monday, April 9, 2012
i wonder if it hurts a baby's skin to be exposed to air for the first time. how cold must it feel?
how odd must it feel? that first instance in a lifetime when one can perceive herself as separate from her source
the moment when the physical becomes disjointed from the spiritual reality
when evidence begins to speak falsely
the beginning of ego
birth must be the reason we are confused our whole lives
we are pushed out
into a secondary reality
charged with finding the first
by becoming it
how odd must it feel? that first instance in a lifetime when one can perceive herself as separate from her source
the moment when the physical becomes disjointed from the spiritual reality
when evidence begins to speak falsely
the beginning of ego
birth must be the reason we are confused our whole lives
we are pushed out
into a secondary reality
charged with finding the first
by becoming it
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Lunacy
the full Moon
poured out her oil on my back
it burned cool and cleansed me
like mint
i cried to my Mother
about the pretty lies i was told
so simple, those tales
their sweetness turned to sting
the last piece of me
in mourning
closed her eyes
and surrendered
to the tide
poured out her oil on my back
it burned cool and cleansed me
like mint
i cried to my Mother
about the pretty lies i was told
so simple, those tales
their sweetness turned to sting
the last piece of me
in mourning
closed her eyes
and surrendered
to the tide
Monday, January 30, 2012
the scent of you
The truth is, that sometimes the only way you can keep loving a person is to let them go.
I could have stayed until resentment sickened me.
I could have strained to keep you until I wore my heart weary.
We could have been together, but apart.
Or perhaps we could have been better... loved better. but no, i doubted...
So it's over
while I can still smile at the scent of you in my bedsheets.
I could have stayed until resentment sickened me.
I could have strained to keep you until I wore my heart weary.
We could have been together, but apart.
Or perhaps we could have been better... loved better. but no, i doubted...
So it's over
while I can still smile at the scent of you in my bedsheets.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Telepathic message to the God
to each
i have given a cup
some crystal
some clay
all empty
none could fill
the great riddle of loving me
they were such small things
perhaps they were cracked
but it no longer matters
to You
i will bring the jeweled chalice
the grail that i am searching for
inside of myself
it overflows
prove yourself
and you may touch
love me
and you may drink
honor the Goddess
and i will bathe you in sweet, soft water
dry your skin with my hair
and invite you to dip in the well
and if you do not exist
my cups will still be full
i have given a cup
some crystal
some clay
all empty
none could fill
the great riddle of loving me
they were such small things
perhaps they were cracked
but it no longer matters
to You
i will bring the jeweled chalice
the grail that i am searching for
inside of myself
it overflows
prove yourself
and you may touch
love me
and you may drink
honor the Goddess
and i will bathe you in sweet, soft water
dry your skin with my hair
and invite you to dip in the well
and if you do not exist
my cups will still be full
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