Love Is For…

Love is for suckers…

or maybe its for believers

Was I the sucker

or was I the believer?

Maybe I just sucked you dry

or maybe you never believed

A futile tale –

twisting side to side

landing on its back

feet kicking against

the low hung ceiling of

it is what it is

No princesses and princes

No,

soldiers and victims

warriors and prey

Suckers and Believers

We all play our roles unaware

until we are…

AWARE…

and then

and only then

is love lived…

by the suckers and believers

Make Believe

I hear my mind call your name randomly throughout my day

and there is a part of me that hopes it skips along that

invisible line that connects me to you

hoping there is a line connecting you back to me

wanting you to hear my yearning

wanting you to never know

wanting you to answer

wanting it to all remain unspoken

a secret I can pretend to never whisper

so I never have to know you pretend not to hear

The Trench That Darkness Builds

Originally posted on Wild Heart Scribe:

Is it time for you to
not see me with opened eyes?
Has the time come for you
to hollow out your circle trench
and stand on panting ground
in the middle?
Is it time for me to plunge
across the waters of partition
that march in?
My cool water cries
splash sizzles on your face…
not enough to bring you back
you’re too far
inside
so I swim away
pull myself up and over
the dirt edge
built by darkness.
It’s hard for me to sit
on the sunny bank
calling out to you that
I’m still here…
what must it be like for you?
Yes, harder…
I know…
harder to suffer the middle
where darkness swells
and light shrinks
where your domain of dirt
sabotages…
so I lie back in the grass
wait to dry
wait for your trench to fill
wait for you to walk back to…

View original 8 more words

Make Me a Believer

Wild Heart Scribe:

Nothing has changed…

Originally posted on Wild Heart Scribe:

Everything I give to you

I give from the abundance

of my heart

I am genuinely imperfect…

I am genuine…

No final door

you can close

can stop my flow

I wouldn’t turn the knob

I would seep under

I would bleed through the wood

to get to you

No wall of fear

you can hide behind

can keep me from finding you

I wouldn’t scale it

I would blast it to bits

to be with you

No river of regret

you can succumb to

can keep me on the shore

I wouldn’t swim across

I would blend into the waters

to rescue you

I won’t chase you

I’ll make you a believer

I won’t run you over

I’ll make you a believer

I won’t stop till

You are a believer

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Full forgotten glass of anticipation
sitting on your bedside table
waiting for you to return
waiting for you to walk through the door
to rescue it from
the dust of the day
settling on its rim…
you see it
walk toward it
beads roll down its side
as it knows
soon it will be
in your hand
you carry it away
into the kitchen
unaware of the potent effect
you create within the glass filled with anticipation…
you empty it like it’s nothing
not knowing that it’s something
but the glass doesn’t mind
soon you’ll see your mistake
and come back for it
reach for it again
find it full once more…
but this time
you’ll know
that it’s everything…

When I’m Not Around

Originally posted on Wild Heart Scribe:

I ache for another channel

to show you how it feels

to know you think of me

when I’m not around

miss me when I’m gone

wait for me to come back…

Time lapse photography

could show the paring down

of an out of tune faded heart

being refashioned

beating to a new time

as only crimson can…

Would you get it then?

Oils could show a stormy splashing

of Spartan blacks and greys

headed in no direction

with a placid lilac center

that is all the direction I need…

Surely then you’d know how I feel,

wouldn’t you?

A song could boost and heave

every sensation

set them on

a munificent banquet of

peach and mint notes…

but all I have are my words

sometimes they don’t feel like enough

they feel too pale

to make you feel the

vibrancy of what I feel

knowing that you think of…

View original 5 more words

Redress Me

Originally posted on Wild Heart Scribe:

Don’t dress me in this…

this stunning dress

with the prickly underside

that replaces the radiance

with what can’t be seen

but only felt

by the weary

Don’t dress me in this…

this lonely misery

beneath the Belgian lace

that chides my childlike joy

with what can’t be spoken

but only felt

by the weary

Don’t dress me in this…

this forgottenness

pulled through each stitch

that bullies my being

with what can’t be solved

but only felt

by the weary

Don’t dress me in this…

this hang off me reaction

in the too tight sleeves

that crowds our conviction

with what can’t be sure

but only felt

by the weary

Don’t dress me in this…

this ardor that cleaves to my body

that finishes in grief

that trails me

like a train of lace

sweeping the floor

erasing my every step…

soon you’ll forget I was here

my scent…

View original 46 more words

Glassed Anticipation

Originally posted on Wild Heart Scribe:

Full forgotten glass of anticipation
sitting on your bedside table
waiting for you to return
waiting for you to walk through the door
to rescue it from
the dust of the day
settling on its rim…
you see it
walk toward it
beads roll down its side
as it knows
soon it will be
in your hand
you carry it away
into the kitchen
unaware of the potent effect
you create within the glass filled with anticipation…
you empty it like it’s nothing
not knowing that it’s something
but the glass doesn’t mind
soon you’ll see your mistake
and come back for it
reach for it again
find it full once more…
but this time
you’ll know
that it’s everything

View original

I Might Like

Originally posted on Wild Heart Scribe:

I think I might like to protect myself from you

but I know it’s too late

I think I might like to expose it all to you

but I know you won’t see

I think I might like to run away from you

but I know I won’t go far

I think I might like to chain myself to you

but I know you won’t be still

I think I might like to fix you

but I know I’ll have to break you first

I think I might like to tear you apart

but I know you won’t stop me

I think I might like to tell you I hate you

but I know the words won’t come

I think I might like to tell you I love you

but I know you won’t believe

I think I might like to call you out

but I know I’d have to…

View original 82 more words

The Cost of Authenticity

When I come here to this blog and write what I write, I purposefully place a shimmer of my soul in every sentence…the rhythm of my heart rests inside the construction of each poem,  the weight of who I am makes the call between an ellipsis and a dash.  Simply put, I have never posted anything here without forethought.  I readily strip myself down to the undressed essence of all that I am and  I do it with enthusiasm like I have never known before.  I do it because I feel safe here.

On Thursday, September 11, I almost decided not to do that anymore.  Someone dear to me took me to task on something I wrote called, I Used to Be, and suddenly this place, my blog, did not feel safe to me.

I hold nothing back here and I enjoy that freedom.  As someone who was caged for so many years, unable to be me…here, in this place…I am always totally an unhindered, authentic me.  On Thursday, I wondered if I had made a mistake.  I wondered if I was enjoying my liberation too much.   After all, who shares everything in a public place like a blog and feels safe doing it?  Ha…me.  I do.

I share myself here because I can…because I choose to…because it’s important.  I invite you into my space and you either walk in and look around or walk on by without a glance.  The choice is yours.  However, I was cautioned that the above-mentioned post could lead others astray and that I should be careful what I say.  Well, I can’t do that.  I can’t be careful of what I say because to censor myself, to pretend my life is something it isn’t would be death to my creative spirit…death to everything I battled to become me.  I refuse to do that.  And, if I did, what would I write about?  Nothing that matters to me.  Nothing that anyone would choose to read.

I am an evolving person.  And there are those who will not like the changes in me and that’s okay.  I am really okay with that.  But that will not affect my freedom to share the stories and poems of my life here in the bare bones honest way I have from day one.  Literally, day one.  I am not trying to change anyone else anywhere at any time.  I respect your path… whatever it is.  I seek only to share my path with those who care to know about it.

I will be writing about this journey I am walking and I will delve deeper than I did in I Used to Be.  It will be a personal account as is everything I have ever written here…personal not proselytizing…just personal.   I will do this because I can…because I choose to…because it’s important.