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.
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