Sunday, February 22, 2015
My heart beats as even as the metronome set to 90. I want the volcano to melt the heart and reshape it. That will leave burns and scars. Can I love myself in the soul room? Or does there have to be someone else to equal my existence in this fire? I still hurt in love
I'm alive to tell. I've fallen many times. There's an indent on my pillow. The field of fresh fallen snow. New love crested like milk to young bones. Little Robin. Land on my finger and sing. For I am a tree in this snow.
Inside the soul room. The heart spins around the sun. The earth and the sun a love story. I pretend the sun is your face. It lights up my world. Oh to pretend your light shines on me. Makes me feel like I'm in love. Like the earth and the sun spinning the snow falling in this room. Spinning never touching.
Curtains rise like the morning. Shadows on the warmest hearts. Show their darkness. Show the dust in the corners we refuse to sweep until spring. Do we remove it, or let it burn: this darkness and shadow.
Oh, I'm alive. So many with my heart don't live to tell about it. Ask the robin. With a heart painted on it's breast for all to see, while on the inside homeless to the seasons. Little bird, land on the stone that is my heart. Melt it to fire. Melt it into love.
I hear her voice. She likes to hear me sing. Gives me praise. It's a moment 20 years ago. But she made bread and wine out of her heart, her voice. Her soul room a powerful vibrato with perfect pitch and tone. For a moment I feel defeated. I said no to such a life. I was touching it caressing it, playing with it like a tiger and prey.
But I have the pen of a writer. I heal myself with my words. Words are my weights strengthening my soul. In it's soul room.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
I found focus again.
So there's this saying that used to come when I said "Guess what just happened to me?" Which was usually followed by "Someone has a horse shoe up her ass." And I haven't heard that in a long time (miss my "B") I realized I had a lot of conviction back then I knew what I wanted. I didn't know it wouldn't make me unhappy, But I knew what I wanted. And when I put my heart and soul towards it I got it. In the years post university I always get enough to get by, but I didn't ask for anything, I was so confused by my unhappiness that I didn't know what to ask for. So much that I asked for had made me sad or didn't work out in a positive manner.
So I stopped asking and just got what I needed to get through the next day. But since Duncanville, and I still haven't been doing a lot of asking, I've been getting a lot of positive. I thought "dear self It's time to start asking again."
I asked for singing, started off sketchy, but It lead to the singing teacher I have now and she's amazing and I feel really good singing. I wanted a writing group, I said that years ago, and now I have my own, I lead it, I would like to be the one on the learning side, but you learn a lot when you lead too.
So now I keep telling my friend to make a list of what she wants and then it came back to me that I should write a list. And I told myself I'd like to be writing that's all that's left.
This morning out of nowhere I got an invitation to grant writing and supporting yourself as an artist. The way the weekend worked out I couldn't do it. And part of me wonders if it was a good idea to have said no to it, I could have gone, but i had other plans and needed cat food and to do laundry really really bad.
I did my tarot cards tonight and they basically said "trust in the new energy that is coming your way, you'll get what you want and the cat food. There's going to be a shift."
I also learned from the past that if you need cat food, a day before a winter storm, you get the cat food.
Hopefully this is a trend for the better that positive things are coming into my life, that I can start to know what I want and not be too afraid to ask for it.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
He said "hold me while the stars fall around us."
He said "listen to the candles flicker by the river
I'll take you down to the waters edge, hold your hand,
Kiss you hard in the face of the faded moon."
I said "it's only the sound of the waves on the river bed."
I said "it's only moon calling out your name
I'll follow you down to the waters edge
And let the river show us how to dance, to love"
Touching the stars landing in my hair, snow drops
Star drops, the light, like sprinkles on the river
Touching the skin, cooling warming
words of dreamers touching dreamers.
I said "it's only a dream." And I wake up on the shore
He said "It was a wonderful dream." And took my hand
A strong hand, to the touch, a warm embrace
And I was lifted from the waters edge.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
I throw the stone into the sea, hear it cut against the wind, skip across the tides.
The stone bounces back, words write themselves, become cracks on crushing bone
Worlds evolve into our history and we go from ameba's to giants
In what looks like a seconds and feels like forever.
I throw the sun up over the clouds, cloths burnt, body exhausted
I should move into the light. Too afraid to descend back into the darkness
In the place that saved me for so many years, now broken
With bones that can't move forward, and the motivation to travel fast
I tell myself not to give up before the ocean covers
My word written body and rock covered flesh
I tell myself not to give up before the water
Washes me under the current an into the sea
I hear the stranger walk along the rounded stones
I'm embarrassed by my condition and almost refuse the help offered
This stranger lifts me up and sets me in shelter
Wraps my broken bones in casts and reads the words that heal the bones
Sunday, February 1, 2015
mirrored between winter storms
I feel the wind
slam the storm
into my open hands
mirrors I have pushed on
for a million years
so I don't see my reflection
prayers of a camo soul
hoping for my escape
hoping for the a connection
with everyone else
the mirrors are my soul
cracked, broke inside
I am to clean up the pieces,
ensure I don't get pierced
I look down at the cracks
dark hard emptiness
sucks me into a world
of neon pink and stage lights
then I see the pieces as a whole
each piece I have broken
reflects a picture of me
piercing, cutting- views
I see myself in a million pieces
a million inner children
a dangerous collection
of faces and actions
I breath, and I hold my breath
to live with an artist
even if it is only me
takes time and patience
I am not like everyone else
I am starting to share what
happens inside my head
not just nod and be silent
this is me in a million pieces
minus 17 against my face
a silent storm showing me