Friday, December 16, 2005

Whispering

The only way I can speak your name is to whisper it.

If we weren't both so wounded this would be the most precious love. If we weren't both so wounded this might never have happened at all.

The tear in my eye is only detectable in a certain light.

Directions

In a world with no consequences I kiss you north, south, east and west...and every direction in between. I'll kiss everywhere you've ever been.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Two Wishes

...That my heart was as open as my legs are.

or

...That my legs were as open as my heart is.

Weather Patterns

You're no lightning bolt. Gently soaking rain is more your style. It's deadly.

A Penny Drops

God help me I want him. Like it's my last breath.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Wake Up Neo

Somewhere between a re-run of The Matrix and the stillness of dawn, the truth crystallized.  I'm not sure of the precise moment I entered the dreamworld.  My guess is it was just before Neo transforms from dorky software developer to his true calling as haute couture clad hero of the world.  I must have been asleep for an hour. It might have been a day or a lifetime.
 
Maybe it was the soundtrack that permeated my consciousness, my allergies or the peri-peri steak I had just before I fell.  But somewhere in the place between the lucid and the dazed, I could see clearly for the first time in weeks, months, probably years. Either way it was long enough to be confronted with the two pills of choice.  
 
Was it Morpheus who offered me the choice between the real world I know and the no-going-back reality that is (or could be)?  The really-real world of my future?  All I know is that in a choice of two choices reality won out.  At least in the comatose world of a half-dream.
 
I woke up just in time to spy through one blinking eye, Neo, sporting ultra-cool coat and designer shades issuing his challenge to the evil forces a.k.a those that seek to force all humans to become believers of a waking dream (nightmare?).  He tells me this is only the beginning. As he flies high-high into the sky I wonder if I am missing an important piece of the puzzle.  When did my reality become a fantasy?
 
So now it's simple.  Choose the red pill or the blue one?  I've been hearing voices.  
 
"Wake up Neo".
 
 
 
 

Monday, October 10, 2005

This Girl

airplanes

take you away again

are you flying above where we live

then i look up, a glare in my eyes

are you having regrets about last night



i'm not, but i like rivers that

rush in

so then i dove in

is there trouble ahead for you, the acrobat

i won't push you, unless you have a net



you say the word

you know i will find you or if you need some time i don't mind



i don't hold on to the tail of your kite



i'm not like the girls that you've known



but i believe i'm worth coming home to

kiss away night

this girl only sleeps with butterflies

with butterflies

so go on and fly then, boy



balloons look good from on the ground

i fear with pins and needles around

we may fall then stumble upon a carousel

it could take us anywhere



you say the word you know i will find you

or if you need some time i don't mind

i don't hold on to the tail of your kite



i'm not like the girls that you've known

but i believe i'm worth coming home to

kiss her, waiting by this girl

this girl



you say the word you know i will find you

or if you need some time i don't mind

i don't hold onto the tail of your kite



i'm not like the girls that you've known



but i believe i'm worth coming home to

kiss away night

this girl only sleeps with butterflies

with butterflies

with butterflies

so go on and fly boy



- Tori Amos




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Friday, October 07, 2005

Dear God

Please don't let them ever ban the Internet...




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Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Eating Ice Cream

What gods invented this sheer bliss?
The chinese, I hear!
Thanks, say I to the
Chinese ice cream gods then!
The spoon feels clumsy in my hand
Maybe I need a smaller spoon?
I hear tell it lasts longer that way
Ah! Spoons are for sissys!
 
I throw it aside
and stick my index finger into the tub
first the pink bits
then the white
strawberry, then vanilla
vanilla, then strawberry
 
are there more tantalizing delights than this?
events more satisfying?
things to know that tease the
tongue more completely?
 
ice cream tastes better when you
lick it off your skin
it's also cheaper and
more effective than therapy
I'm hungry, now
 

Monday, August 15, 2005

Lavender Muse

Let them think, ponder, deliberate! I am surrounded by the smell of lavender!
 
Purple, spikes of pure heaven. I picked fistfulls from the garden today.  Flowers! Growing without permission, with little care, with no acceptance.  I've never met a flower that asked, "Is it alright, if I am beautiful?" "Do you think I am?" or "How could I be more beautiful for you?".  They simply spring from earth, sunlight and water and grow whether you notice them or not.  How wonderful they are, how perfectly they embrace life. Such perfection is hard to find among men.  So while we think, plot, scheme, linger, protest, hunger, wonder and cling to fragile illusions, lavender just is. If the world is our oyster, perhaps we shouldn't overlook the pearl?

Friday, August 12, 2005

Once Upon a Time

lying in the long grass
eyes meeting eyes
hair in the mist
whispers blend
with breezes
 
 

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Monday, August 08, 2005

In Dreams

In dreams I’ve seen him smile. Seen a shadow play across his face, heard laughter bubble up, quickly replaced by a different dance. I like to pretend I know him. I don’t

I like to pretend I know him way down deep in secret, magical places. Imagine my toes dipped into pools of him. Imagination can be dangerous when you use it so unwisely. How alluring he can be!

How utterly unfathomable! Sensual? In his keep-them-at-arms-length style. How hard he is, in his soft way. How well he silently teaches me to be more open, forthcoming, real (?).

Such protections we have! So necessary, so damning! Still, I want to look into his eyes.

And see his fists fall open like lotus blossoms.

What Flower is That?

“What flower is that” he asks, and I hold handfuls up to his nose, letting him inhale the scent. His eyes close, just for a second, blink and flutter, once twice, like butterfly wings.

“Jasmine”

I study him. This man with the aquiline nose, honey skin and long athletic body. The unruly mop of hair that doesn’t look neat without considerable effort is beautiful. This is a beautiful man.

If I didn’t know better I would rate him: perfect. But I do. I know better. I have seen his dark side - the suffering that lurks within this being of light. Way, down deep, underneath his honey-hued physical perfection. He doesn’t fool me.

Will it be hours (days?) before he erupts into flames of insecurity, becomes overwhelmed by his sense of rejection. How long this time, before he tastes misery and finds it pleasantly fulfilling?

Sweet, lovely, William, your mother should have loved you more.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Soulmate

Soulmate, I wonder where you’ve gone?

you and your eyes-like-ocean
you and your mischievous madcap
you and your perfect smile
you and your lithe limbs
you and your humming humour
you and your devil-may-care
you and your symmetry
you and your feisty folly
you and your better-than-anyone

you and your death-by-carbon-monoxide

you and your larger than life.

Dear Me

Dear Me:

Who are you really? Does the snap of your tongue make you what you are? The size of your hips, your lips?

“You have the most gorgeous mouth a man once said to me”. “I wonder what he’ll think when he hears what comes out of it? I thought silently to myself with a smile. The one where one corner turns up and my eyes flash and flutter.

A dear, sweet man once made me a leather bikini. I didn’t wear it. I don’t like my men to dress me, even if it was a nice piece of art.

My lover of four years (is it five?) thought he knew me. He didn’t. If he did he wouldn’t have believed himself.

I think, ultimately, I am “free”. If not physically then I feel that way in my mind. Answerable to no man. I don’t feel encapsulated. A kind of mental butterflyness. That has to count for something.