((getting it))

Not knowing about how it will feel
but knowing the focus
the effect
the heat
the touch,

to clear my head to find the space within
sit with it
and breathe.
Listen.

You will want it too.


((And I can get it for you.))

the woman with the long pearls.

the woman with the long pearls.
She was,
and I wasn't.
No matter
nothing
floating
gorgeous
light
glowing (((glow)))
injest it
sequest it
you burn
so slow


***

Strength
through his eyes
green
and into mine
I dream

of her
breathing.


***

boredgames

A battle,

he gets me to talk

then ignores me

like a kids

gathering attention

in his little glass box.

The Basis of FTR

Spill it, sister.  And live free.

This is what we should teach the daughters.

Sisters, of course, already know.

Are you
a daughter or a sister?

A group of women 
A circle 
some hats
more likely,
with smelly cats.
Spinsters?
Fat?
Grotesque?
Who cares?
These ladies-who-lunch 
don't give for the stares.
Just laughing
and smiles
around the globe
Sisters with daughters
wherever she goes.

FTR 1

the fragments are large

and groved

like lands

distant.

Lovely.

And she sat.

And waited.

With wings on.

Intention

The light
Golden
enveloping
unspoken
in smiles
beaming out
surrounding.

The cloud
spun from within
of fear
and greed
a need with no end
no end
to heed.
Shelter
we think
yet destruction
of fortresses
greater than good.
A pestilent pool
of gloom
Misunderstood.

Fragility?
A test.
Challenges?
A quest.
Perseverance.
Honesty.
Truth.
Vision.

Follow the voice
it hums.
This is where
the Golden light
resides.

5th Element

what is it about pain?

The feeling of feeling

for the gifted.

Feb 2014 performance piece

Performance piece:

In a glass window 

like Bergdor'fs 

writing 

with music on and a crazy outfit and a glass of champagne

giving a lap dance to my spine and my seat to the beat

and I have drawn a crowd

as they draw me

and I have two younger gentleman

stylized

covering my faux pas

with sticky notes to the offending moment
exaggeration at my mortifications
((perhaps the scene calls to draw rosy cheeks and characterize - how blatant is one without the other?))

the piece is saying:  See this woman?  See this woman.
this is woman, see how raw and amazing?

Yet the is edited by whoever you, with viewers baggage.

((-make the two gentleman into anything at any time, they can be a different thing with a tip and top of their hat. simple as that.))

((cast differently for effect, seasons, occurrences, places in time.  styles of an era, attitudes, political performance....))

The Beast

Capture an emotion
a point in time
and that one thing
embody it, that which your voice creates.

songs like characters
characters as music
the sound
captures the spirit
pieces of the piece.

be the sexy
be the sultry
be the beast.

be the vixen
be the girl
be the child

be the teacher
be the learner
be the woman

Rise up
rise up
rise up
and sing.

unedited.

unedited.
untouched.
in tears am I
underneath it all
under ground
hiding the tremors between the piles and piles

when you hear the music out of the pattern
out of context
and you didn't know the voice was talking to you.
and then the music turns to just pulses
and you see yourself
sitting
cold
in a room
below
alone
and you want to punch yourself
and make you bleed
leave a scar to remember
tomorrow
for tomorrow

and pinecones,
they leave a mark
and bark
bark.

Music & Mind & Body

The S creature
This thing that stands tall within
armed with layers of steel
shiny and cold
unmoving
when heated
turns molten
lava
volcano
Inferno.

Resonance

The Cello.  The deep sound that, when stroked just so, brings out a movement within me
so much so that I can not sense if I am accepting of this or if it has created me.


...and here, betwixt ass and oxen mild am I.

#19

19) Build a mastermind group to share ideas with.

Yes, this.
Who else is in?

I wholeheartedly agree with most all, and practice most all.
http://www.lifehack.org/articles/communication/20-ways-wake-with-motivation.html

Warrior Woman

I can lead a horse to water and get him 

to drink 

(and be awesome) 

but then he tramples the fountain. And excises the memory from his brain. 

It is a challenge I can only grow from, 

this I know. 

Then I remember the warrior I once was, 

with all of my witnesses 

they, who

-at the very least-

saw me experiencing it for myself

within my own skin. 

I treasure the good vibes from that trip. 

The physical challenges were not as hard 

for me as 

as acknowledging my audience. 

You did exist. 

You did see me being strong 

so I am strong. 

The Others, and Me.

How do I know if I am holding back something incredible that would help others find their way?

How am I so sure that I should be repressed and allow it for the concentration of my angst to set forth

in deeper rivulets

which could as well bring about greater good in the longer run

just trust that the path I am on is the right one because I am on it.

wishing there was something as easy as religion to fall on when the trust wanes

however, there is not.

There is just me.

And thank god (ha) for the woods

that I can climb through and find a path set by others for perhaps other reasons

yet there I am on it

and finding my way.

Amongst those others

all in a day.

July 7th - deleted Catch notes

Sometimes I just get so tired
thinking about all the people in the world
The old swimming ladies with
shriveled vaginas and concentrated opinions
The drivers going north
and the same set going south
The wind that blows for no one
yet everyone...
And I sigh
and pick up a book to get lost in awhile
to forget
and re-live
to relearn.

7/25

My eyes tell me the story 

that my heart hears.

My fingers get the soreness 

before your ears.

music is.

music.

It causes the tentacles of my brain to sway and braid together, fibers rubbing and connecting with ideas and emotions, situations and instigations – and before I know it, hours have passed and pages have been written and here I still sit. 

 ...waiting for something to happen. 

 Yet it is happening. The very moments combining together to make the tentacles of my brain sway and braid together, fibers rubbing and connecting with ideas and emotions, situations and instigations – and before I know it, hours have passed and pages have been written and here I still sit.

 ...waiting for something to happen. 

 Yet it is happening. The very moments combining together.
Forever.

April = Poetry Month 2013

I write

it seems
only when gloomy
or story
and freeze
when happy
no longer forlornly
gazing out the glass window
am I
but rather
the smudge on the pane
showed that although I had to shove to open it
I was there
and now
am not.

Who Are You

your protector is coming home

coming home

awake at night

and waiting you sit

contemplating

you life with out your life

now its gone

awake at morn

after the storm

you wish the words that swirled

had been washed away

yet they stand 

strong

for years anyway

your protector is coming home

coming home

now alone

you see what is clear

you didn't need much but your own self near

stand strong

stand tall

reach the sky 

hold your head up high

your protector has come home,

You are home.
Home.