what was “once upon a time” is now

there was a bit of my soul i cut away

i put in an envelope before we reunited

i was afraid it would be lonely

so i added a letter and pictures and magic rocks

to entertain and comfort that deep aspect

that primordial essence of me-past, present, future

i have scars inside and out

i have fears of things with no names

i have fears with names-those are nightmares

the fairy tales, stories of fate, love at first sight

before that night in november, in a crowded restaurant

i was 100% sure love between lovers was impossible

the fairy tales, stories of fate, love at first sight

those were ploys to sell poorly written music

only the suckers read romance novels

(i still think romance novels are pretty gross)

you taught me how to love so deeply

i resonate with the immortal, the ancient

a love that helps me call down the moon

i still dance with you free and open and happy

even if i can’t stand on my feet

i hope to laugh with you beyond death

in every lifetime i want to sleep

my head on your shoulder, you rubbing my head

i want to walk my steps of infinity holding your hand

you are beautiful

you are magic

you are pure

you are divinity

 

 

red dirt, yellow grass and pecan pie

when i was a little girl

deep texas accent and a head of golden curls

big blue bonnets and big blue eyes

i remember holding my daddy’s hand

and we would kneel by the side of the bed

in unison making the sign of the cross

saying our prayers and sending our blessings

i remember the bedtime stories

princesses, monsters, goats, wickedness

i remember the voice that he used for golem

while reading the hobbit under the canopy

i remember the nights of the full moon

half asleep, barefoot, rain or drought

the feral family we were howling like wolves

i remember thinking my daddy was god

i remember thinking my daddy beat god

i remember the constant looks of disappointment

i relived the never-ending torment of never being enough

the loneliness of loss while standing in the same room

i remember the day i stopped having a daddy

it was the last day of childish hope

one day i met the man, the mortal flawed person

he was not wodin*, he was not rübezahl*, he was

i was able to love my daddy for being a man not a god

my daddy began to love me for doing good things

passionately imperfect and flawed

i was no saving grace, i was no mary, i was

we parted this world knowing each other in truth

we sat eye to eye honest and loving with our hearts

i can feel the parts of me that are him come alive

he comes to life in my children

when they refuse to submit

when they believe with their everything

when they love from deep down

i hear him when i hear bb king and lucille

i see him in the sun rise and in the smoky mountains

nothing ever ends it changes, morphs, evolves

but the curtain never falls for good….

just long enough to change the scenery

————————————————

 

*wodin: the saxon name for the more commonly known norse god odin.  both are germanic languages, and related just different areas and different spellings.

*rübezahl: from old german folklore (but the geographical location is different than modern european germany) a mountain spirit.  he was a trouble-maker and kinda overall weirdo trickster.  he liked playing practical jokes, especially using the weather.  growing up and hearing some of the old tales, i thought of my dad’s uncle ted who was one of the funniest weirdest guys i ever met.  i didn’t have a grandpa, and uncle ted played that role-the pull my finger guy.  he had a dog named “little britches” and we would go out to his farm where there was no electricity and he would have peppermint candies, he would ask if we wanted one while he was feeding one to little britches.  of course it was sugar so we would all scream “yes yes we want one!!!” to which he would reply “you are such nasty children who eat dog food!!!!  you eat dog food!!!”  he would run around throwing peppermint hard candy at us while we squealed and he would just be laughing bc we ate dog food.  my dad was exactly like that too.  it was hard for people to meet him and not like him, and he was just silly.

i will never hope

i was never blessed with purity

the inside of me

my pieces and parts

there is no fine craftsmanship

no soft posh pink pillows

i have no trace of virgin’s lace

no safe grandmother’s embrace of cashmere

i was born rotten to the core

the daughter of shit

being born into shit

growing up in shit….

i once heard something similar about ducks

you’re a duck when you look and act like a duck

and fuck a goose or a swan-they’re all ducks

full of sharp right angles

it’s wretched to know

when the hope is drained

and the lights go out

when the only love you know

shows nothing but contempt and disgust

you close your eyes

and you know you are the monster under the bed

erosion of my stone heart

i thought we would hold hands forever

i have fought your demons and monsters

begging and bargaining to keep you safe

processed pressed turkey loaf and instant tea

plastic spoons for everyone’s protection

i walk the memories in the hallway of my mind

i find pictures of who we used to be

the romanticized versions of the you and the me

i have always been able to tell myself lies

i tried to love you sane

i wanted to love you happy

i wished to love you to life

but i am not enough to live for you

i took the belt, the shame, the wrath

when he exploded in blind rage

i wouldn’t eat until you ate first

i was a child raising someone else’s child

i would have gouged my eyes to keep you from crying

i am no saint

i am no pacifist

broken fingers, black eyes, fist fights, name calling

and more and more and more and more

two lifetimes of more

words like carbon monoxide suffocating your kids

phone calls, threats, lies

calculating measurements ensuring scar-tissue:

“it’s taking you so long to die…just do it already!”

red and blue flashing lights men in uniform on my porch

love for a girl and a boy while refusing you access

denying you the ability to steer my life

gives justification for an avant garde war of the roses

i have given up on the illusion of sisterhood

i learned you will never ask how i am doing

i learned i don’t need you to ask

i learned my soul can sing and shine

i can laugh from deep inside without worry or shame

when there is no smog or poison wringing all of me

i hope you find a happiness one day

daddy’s last wish was i take care of you

but i have to say goodbye and i can not say hello again

 

 

 

this is a very serious illness

i am normal average person, who has normal average needs.  sometimes these needs build up and begin to make me do things that are not cute or attractive.  i am sad to admit that i have given up so much, bent my beliefs, broken covenants with myself and my family.  my heart is racing and tears are streaming down my face, but i realize i have to be honest not only with those close to me, but to myself.  i hope that by publicly announcing this degenerative illness of my soul, it will inform future generations-even if i can help one person, the shame and ridicule is worth it!!!

breathe

breathe

ok… i got this….

I LOVE WATCHING REAL HOUSEWIVES OF NEW JERSEY!!!!!

i hope that with time i can be trusted and forgiven….it’s like watching videos of people who have personality disorders then giving them money and stripper poles.

 

*with the exception of caroline manzo & jacqueline laurita

antithesis

i was captured and locked away

i am a prisoner of war

my reckless stupidity and naivety

grabs my hair sending me flying

i can feel the gypsum board crack

it reverberates through all of me

i feel hands squeezing my throat

squeezing tighter and tighter

like trying to get blood from a stone

my lips turning blue and a smile of respite

a reprieve, indefinite furlough

naked to all and defenseless

my body is my holding cell

chains and bondage are unnecessary

hide-outs, rendezvous points

awards, grids and toasts

are for the armies and the lackluster

as for me, i just endure, exist

survival is the only option i have

perhaps it’s stockholm syndrome

…..

patty hearst’s story is romantic

for a moment or year

maybe real, maybe fairytales

she burned with passion

but i was captured by me

and me alone

i have felt times of vibrant elation

i have been branded from birth

i cry rivers and scream in hysterics

my desire, my most coveted

is peace and love

beseeching, pleading, praying

my forehead forever on the ground

i am bleeding and it will never stop

there is nothing tantalizing in that

 

 

 

waiting for the hands on the clock to applaud

i can feel the all of me swinging

the back and forth motion

learning from the past is nice

but living in the now is deadly

just a taste

a tiny little taste

just one

then it can be put away

i am too tired

every bit of me screams

my daily torture and torment

hooded ladies with lips of poppies

velvet and warm and dreaming

forgetting for moments

the tragedy and carnage

no more words of importance

a respite from political correctness

i wish it could be true….

pain dissolved in water

but i am me

i am “aswang”*

 

 

 

*aswang-filipino folklore-a shape-shifter.  the aswang can appear as a shy, innocent human then change into horrible, vampire-like monsters who feed on fetuses, babies and children.