"Life is the dancer and you are the dance."
Eckhart Tolle

Sunday, February 28, 2010

times they do

times they do move with your perception

they move and you think something

has changed and it is so different

why can't it be the same

like it once was

when you felt free

an eagle flies above and courses

looking for its prey

suddenly you realize it is this way and no other will be ok

so you look for a change within

and cannot

you search and cannot

find what it is you once knew

looking for an escape

Where do you go? Externally

joy comes to you briefly by circumstance

cruddy and raw

you vomit with the bile within

it is green and so is the forest

unhappy you move on

and you say it never did matter anyway

you lie down in a gutter and let the shit roll over you

feeling at home

peaceful within yourself

Thursday, February 25, 2010


RWP's prompt #115: things we believe in and things we don't


Laws of the universe

A feeling in your heart, a purpose for being here

See cycles of change, seasons develop one into another

Death of a loved one, a dove visits once a year

Souls do exist

A newborn baby’s first cry, a mother weeps with joy

Children playing and laughing-happiness

Wag of a dog’s tail, purr of a cat

Purposes and reasons

Love and friendship

Someone you meet, you know them

Soulmates, kindred spirits

Will we find each other on our journey?

Communication and creativity

Connect with the universe- believe

Rid ourselves of:








Wars-don’t believe

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Old Oak Tree (collaborative poetry with my husband Michael) first line is his and second is mine and so on ...

Treetops in autumn against a stone, blue wall

Fairies singing lullabies in your ear

Christ in my handbag nattering incessantly

Purple blue red swirling high

This is not the dawning of the Age of Aquarius

Reasons that make you wonder

Aspirin coloured scum floating in a martini, tryptophan-enhanced turkeys grunting up from my dinner gravy

Angels wandering the hillside

Clean pondscum enhances my illuminated bible, chug a lug chug a lug

Vomit spilled on the clean carpet

Get the Hoover

Demons running in the yard

Trying to collect the errant silverware

Grey clouds moving in

Absorbing unfettered visions

Looking for an unhappy soul

Jesus annoying me nattering from my handbag while the orange cat twas ever thus

Romans with a spaceship

And a Popiel Pocket Fisherman

Mayans with swords trying to kill the populous

Scrotum-scratching snickerwarts interrupting and trying to compete with an ever more obnoxious messiah ... from my handbag

Falling many notes that don’t concern me

As they spill into my glass of milk the chupacabra drools goat blood making pretty swirling sensations reminding me of a cherry shake without olives

Sacrificial thoughts remind me of where not to go ...

 ... like Cambodia, with its swaying palm trees, sashaying in the autumn treetops against a stone, blue wall

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Living with the carbuncles

In the living room staring at the framed picture of “Les Miserables”

Looks like it was drawn with a graphite pencil

Nicely done, oh how I idolize the author Victor Hugo

I have seen the musical 50 times, It is one of my favourites

Moving through the house everything is very quiet

It is a grand old house on ten hectares with a huge glass atrium

Filled with plants and peeling black wrought iron furniture

But it is much too silent here all the plants seem dormant

The catnip that was put out for the cats hasn’t been touched

Our kitties love old wool socks filled with that intoxicating drug

I thought someone was home

I walk swiftly past the study, I hate that room it makes me cringe

Ever since my grandfather strangled my beautiful aunt Marilyn in there

He was always a suspect and we all knew his guilt

But when you have money, no one goes to jail

It certainly can buy you freedom

I never cared for my mother’s side of the family

And now they are all gone: carbuncles

They make you feel like you shouldn’t have been born

Creeps swilling beer and vomiting close to the latrines

“Hey the maid will get that” they say

“Pigs” with an education that my grandpappy paid for

Well he wasn’t much better he killed

My auntie Marilyn because she wanted to marry a

a woman (a sexy redhead named Susie) and they were planning on adopting a baby
(very sad now that she is gone)

I used to have momentous times with my auntie

She had some cool and jerky moves

I really loved watching her

Beautiful long blonde wavy hair, eyes as blue as the sky

And lips like a cupid doll

I now am walking through the kitchen

One of my favourite places

Good food and the laughter from the cooks

Making fun of my grandfather about his choices in women (that he kept)

Poor elections if you ask me, but nobody asked

I was just a kid and am still now

So what the hell am I doing here all by myself?

I need to run up to my Grandmother’s old room

I want to put on some Chanel and some of her lipstick

Grandpappy didn’t dare throw out her things when she left us

I love her silver-plated hairbrush with its boar bristles

Brushing my lovely chestnut brown hair, I look at myself and think

Don’t ever use hair coloring

I am worthy of a good life

'specially after these people

Where the hell did everybody go?

Now how come they left me all alone?

I miss the kitty cats, where are they?

I want to go outside and take out one of our glass bottom boats

Oh yeah, we have a lake here too

I guess I didn’t mention that yet, huh?

You probably know by now that I am unfettered, fortuitous and earnest

Though times are dreary

I want to see the loons that live on our lake

They are so pretty and resonate such calm

I grab my grammy’s old blue and silver scarf

Thank the heavens that grandpappy didn’t throw her things away

I run downstairs and out to the dock

I just want to paint the sky crystalline with ornaments

Tomorrow I will build bottle rockets and look for arrowheads

And I will take the steamroller out too

While watching the animals do the Riverdance

Tomorrow is going to be a big day for me

Lubricious men, frogs and loons

(this is a poem created from the words in the wordle bank from this week's RWP prompt #114 "get your poem on" and they were some difficult words to work with, but I still enjoyed the challenge. Thanks Deb!)

Lying in the dark listening to nothing

Except the patter of the little girl's footsteps who lives next door

The muttered voices of happiness from her parents

"You're such a beautiful little girl" (you say to yourself)

When you realize you are freezing

And look for your blanket

But you can't find it in the darkness

Sit up and turn on the light

Damn it is much too cold in here

You look at the window and see it has frosted from the cold

Since you have returned you feel as if you walk on eggshells

With the people closest to you

You always seem to panic when you meet someone new

There was that lubricious boyfriend you left two years ago

Who is only looking for one thing to keep his prick wet and warm

Some realtionships just wither and decay

It is not your problem anymore

Get up and walk to the end of the bed and open your footlocker

You brought that back with you

From that far away land

The security at the airport wanted to cut it open with a hacksaw

But you said "No" and they listened

You find a book of fiction and place it on your lap

It contains short stories of pirates and legends out on the sea

You contemplate dying your hair red tomorrow

Auburn red is a beautiful and sexy colour

Something to attract a good man

As you look up you see a crucifix

The only thing hanging on your wall

As you admire this man with a crown of thorns and nails in his hands and feet

How he must have suffered for what he believed in

What a sorrowful story as you remember it

You decide to try and go back to sleep

Tomorrow you will start the book

As the pitter pat of the little feet send you back to dream land

So you can be safe with dreams of frogs and fairy princesses

Or maybe of loons that look like plump geese with seagull wings

flying high above the land looking for clear lakes to live

Anything that takes you away

From this world that is so full of anguish and pain

Sunday, February 14, 2010

in the woods by a river on a mountain on the edge of a cliff and a skyscraper

(Warning! I have used some foul language in the following poem. None is meant to offend. These are some commonly used expressions in Mexico)

On the riverbank

                        Jump in the dirty river

                                                        Put your head underwater-breathe

Inhale deeply, choke, cough and spew out the debris

No Te metes metiche

Mind your business

And leave my life alone

On a mountain

                    Try and jump

                                       See if you can fly high with the birds

Soaring high and squawking like an eagle looking for its prey

Tu eres un cabron

You are a bastard

But you’re cool

On a cliff

              Look down at the sea crashing on the rocks

                                                                               Try to imagine

Constantly being pounded becoming eroded and scarred with time

Pinche puta madre

Fucking whore mother

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that. “

Standing on the roof of a skyscraper

                                                      People are as small as ants

                                                                                              Don’t jump

Think of your loved ones and how much you’ll be missed

Chinga su madre

Go fuck your mother

What the Spaniards said about the Mexican women

Sitting in the forest looking at the trees

                                                        Bring a rope

                                                                         But don’t use it

Life is worth more than that. Life is grande


Maybe, hopefully

Things will get better

Friday, February 12, 2010

transparency still alive

She remembered a time when things mattered and she really cared

things that counted and feelings that were important

now they just don’t matter anymore I was told

she said your aged now and not a soul wants you

you don’t seem the same and nobody cares

it is because you chose your way of living

and nobody understands and you can’t expect them to either

did you think that one day there was someone who cared?

or did you just not give a shit

were you that self- absorbed?

and now you cry all by yourself with your fucking shitty self

who cares? Because I don’t

please tell me if someone does

i would like to congratulate them

tip my hat to them

so to speak as a gentleman articulates


what happened to you did you think you were faultless

nothing is perfect not even sex with whores

masturbating by yourself in your lonely room

where the walls are filthy with grease and dirt

from too many years of no concentrated effort

begrimed grey curtains that were once white

now hang as droopy and listless as you are

with no movement (insensate)

filthy as your mind and soul (mucky)

no one who cares anymore because you sent them away

how long will you stay breathing this way?

everyone thought you would not make it this long

you should be gone by now in the ground

where your body will continue decomposing

like your mind has been doing for years

rotting away with every illegal substance you ingest

life of a debauched and pathetic person

did you once have parents who tried to nurture you?

or were you thrown on the dirt only to be swept up with the other litter

to be discarded and forgotten about

is that how the story goes that you tell

some line of crap that you think people believe

that line used to work but not anymore

You are transparent

Thursday, February 4, 2010

My big sister (narrative wallpaper)

It is seven a.m. time to get up

And get ready for school

A chilly winter morning, snow on the ground

But in my bed it is nice and warm

After the third warning of “You’ll be late if you don’t hurry”

I lazily climb out of bed and my feet hit the cold wood floors

I put my fuzzy slippers on and hurry to the bathroom

I quickly brush my teeth and throw cold water on my face (burr)

I go downstairs to the kitchen and as always my sister is waiting for me

“Hurry” she says “You are going to be late”

(I wonder how many times does she have to repeat herself)

I never say anything because she is my big sister

I sit down on my favourite chair at the kitchen table (it faces the big window)

My sister asks “Would like a bagel with cream cheese?”

Every school morning I have tea, but I am always really happy for the warm bagels

(Fresh out of the oven from the bakery around the corner)

That always starts my day off nicely when it is cold outside

I look around the kitchen of the house where I live

I see the tea cups and saucers and an old fashioned coffee grinder

Placed upon the shelves my dad built for my mom

I watch our cat sleeping in the chair next to me

Dreaming her cat dreams, and I think what a pretty cat

My sister says to me “Hurry up and eat or you are going to be late.”

She has broken my dreamy state I am in and now I eat

(But I am still daydreaming looking at the walls while I am eating)

I count the pretty patterns on the floral wallpaper in our kitchen

How the pattern repeats itself 2, 3, 2, and then 3

I noticed how the sun has come up in just a short while

And this kitchen is such a pretty place (nice and warm)

When I am awoken from my dreamy state

“Hurry up and finish or you are going to be late”

(I love my big sister, she is the best.)


Monday, February 1, 2010

It's an old town

In my garden there are eggplants and yams Dioscorea growing bountifully

Tomorrow I will start growing chilies; they are always tasty on the Comal

I have a scarecrow to protect my garden

I have lived in this confederate state for five years now

The locals tell me about the trenches their ancestors were in during the war

They love smoking fine tobacco in their corncob pipes

Now what I find very perplexing is that they still refer to the African American

With the “N” word, they are silly people and I feel sorry for their ignorance

They can be quite unappealing and most of them wear dentures

What happened to their real teeth?

I am always sanguine with them (they think me to be stupendous)

I am empathetic with poor ones here

I love wearing glitter on my eyes it’s the colour of gold dust

I have a hat like Rembrandt used to wear

I enjoy visiting the graveyard of the dead soldiers dressed like this

But I always use my dirty jeans when going there

There are always people on the street corners selling French bread on Sundays

I usually buy some so I can eat it while sitting on the bridge on my way back home

I love to watch the baby calves suckle on their mothers on the farm next to my house

Aside from the racism here it is a super nice place to live

There can be a cornucopia to life if you just look for it

I read Horace on my front porch (oh how I love his prose)

I have taught myself translation of Latin to English

If you use the dichotomy method it is very simple to do

Tomorrow my friends and I are going to the bullfights

We have that event twice a year

They tell me that Ernest Hemmingway loved to come at this time to visit the town

Well it is time to visit the town centre

I had better get all dressed up with my hat and glitter

This is my favourite time of day