Trust Dance

I am learning that trust and me have a dance

Not smooth or all put together

Rather my dance with trust has broken patterns

Missing sections

No ending at this moment.

My trust lives, yet sometimes receives

Hard steps on my big toes

Making me gasp and pull away

Making me feel out of tune and off beat

Leaving me hard on myself

Leaving me with guilt for pulling away

Even though my big toes still hurt and feel the pain

I know I have the ability to trust within me

To dance gracefully and joyfully with trust

Yet, it's the child in me

Screaming

Confused about all the moves,

All the rhythms,

All the turns and twists.

It's the inner-child juggling its heart,

Secrets and disappointments

Through the trust dance

It's the child wanting

Her way.

For everything to just go her way.

Instead of his way,

Their way,

Your way.

The inner-child wants to move only in the direction we desire

We never wanted faulty touch

We wanted parental, safe touch.

Missed that step

Trust dance needs more practice

Never wanted to be alone,

Passed along.

Yet, wanted to be considered.

The moving from state to state

Challenged my hopes and ideas of friendships

Made me have too much longing

Too much sadness

And so, feet got stepped on again.

Damn, this trust dance hurts.

All along there has been a wanting to believe in herself,

The child,

The woman,

That I am beautiful

But echoes of far girl,

My little line backer,

Food deprived mother,

Body altering mother

Can still be heard and understood

Which all provided stepped on toes and two sprained ankles

My time with dancing had to take a rest,

So I could heal,

So I could learn how to move again.

Trust is a difficult choreography

It has difficult timing

Partners who have not been practicing their moves enough

Or my role in their life.

I want to hear compliments

I want to hear “love you” daily.

I want to be considered.

I want to be respected.

I want to be valued

I want apologizes,

Forgiveness,

Trust.

Wanting trust from my child-side and woman-side

Not just from others

I want it from myself

The most.

I want trust to come from me

I want my way because I want to trust myself

Everyday

To do this dance

To move quicker before the foot lands on the toe

Before the twisted ankle takes place

I want to trust myself

To guide me to my true self

True happiness

True peace

In the mirror I'll look

Making sure my moves improve

In this trust dance

Day after day until an ending

Is sequenced,

Performed,

And curtains fall.

Yet, for now I'm still learning

To dance

The dance of trust.

Entirety

Trickling, softly from the pipe
Are the words and moments
Which can be categorized as simple or intense
Yet, nonetheless all are experiences
Coming from the mountain spring.
All droplets have entered my core,
Gone into my cells,
and shaped my growth.
Some of those soft, trickling droplets
which entered my glass,
crossed past my tongue
and traveled down the dark deep path to my inner being
have left.
Gone out with sweat, tears, piss, or waste.
But each droplet offered me life.
Each drop offered me experience.
Each drop has left me wanting more,
needing more
because each trickling, softly falling droplet from the pipe
nourished me,
guided me,
soothed me,
and taught me to flow,
to ebb,
to brace for nothing.
To be a river and resume with each moment,
each experience in life,
for each droplet makes one complete
entirety.

written March 3, 2011

When the Mind Takes Over the Game

There is a love which consumes me.
It scratches the back corners of my mind,
And ignites at the most intense, unnecessary times.

This memory of love, feeling of love,
This attachment to love
Causes me deep pain and longing
For it is chastised in my mind,
In the back corners,
Scratching,
Waiting to ignite.

It is almost a poison.
It is a drug.
A craving.
An addiction.
An addiction to thought.
This love is long gone,
No longer tactile,
Yet it lingers in the back corners of my restless mind
Waiting to ignite
And sending my heart away
Full of fire and pain.


written March 3, 2011

The Beautiful B

My beauty is a bright and warm forest near the sea
With trees ancient and wise
With bumbling bumble bees
and radiant, orange monarch butterflies swirling around
while high amongst the trees tiny birds sing
a lullaby reminiscent of intuitively familiar dreams

My refreshing breeze comforts travelers
For my beauty is bright and warm with lovely smells of lilac and rose
My beauty is a bold, big fire
And at other times is a gentle and classic poinsettia:
Deep and velvety red
My beauty is bright and warm inviting herself in.

written in December 2010

Traces Through Me

Traces through me
Spit fire running over me and around me
Tormenting me through sleep
Deep into the night
Choking-
Grabbing onto my neck
And making lies of me

It all worries me
My body keeps telling me
Pulled down, grabbed down
By the thoughts, moves, and ideal beings of it
What is it?

What is that worry
Lying over me
Consuming me
All the anxiety within and about me

The identity of me:

Rushing through my dreams
Seizing me
Making me
Rush from my slumber
Only to be stuck in those thoughts
While awake-
In what can be-
On certain days-
A complete haze

Tormenting me in dreams
The farthest, deepest traces of me



written in April 2009

Snake

Each night when I lay down to another slumber of rest
I have twinges of worry cross my body,
like an electric blanket turned on too high.

I worry that I won't have enough money to survive,
To beat these rising oil prices.

I worry that I won't get the opportunity to make a difference,
or that I'm stuck and not growing.

I get caught right before I drift asleep thinking of past lovers,
Past embarrassing moments,
And I find both relief and sorrow
That I am encompassed by pillows and blankets alone.

I often worry if I'll always be alone because one lover's ghost still haunts me
When I'm awake and when I'm asleep.

My dreams are funny.
They come in colors,
They come with touch,
They come with animals biting and releasing me-
The spirit of the snake healing me.


written in April 2009

Time

My time
Under the feel of these finger tips
Taps eagerly upon the red paint
Of a Target check-out counter.

My fingers tap away the time-
The time, whose effort, has taken away time from me
As I deposit five more cents
Into the corporate hands I claim to know largely about.

I chose, yes me, to make all my decisions
And with them all my consequences
My fingers tap and I can feel the calluses
As I loose another penny in the midst of hasty decisions.

Sergey

Through the bristles of pine
He follows me
Catches on with my dreams
Sets me free
But as two we are three

Sergey.

He whispers to me
Through the breezes by the sea
Words of his I cannot erase

These words are saturated
In the mountain landscape
And in this stone upon my hand,
Which keeps our promise

Love, Sergey
I do
And I’ll say that for a lifetime
I do.

written July 24, 2009

Leaving Venus at Last

The feeling came through me like a burst of flames
Which engulfed me and sent me into the pit fall of you
The heat rescued me
You rescued me

I thought that all I'd find for the rest of my days would be
Darkness, coldness, disappointment, even selfishness
But in fact I found heat

A heat generating from the ground
Heat coming from the pit you lured me in

I felt an intense heat leaving Venus
When I fell in the fire I ironically enough melted away years of thirst
In the fire my flesh melted like ice: cooling and opening me up to new tastes
In that fire I bubbled and expanded like a marshmallow
And with that-
the toxins of fear dropped into the bottom of this fire pit
And the stickiness of hope remained


written in July 2008

This New Game

Going
Coming
Rushing
Want that humping
Yet, to abuse
Use
Corrupt and
Refuse
What is this?
Where have I fallen?
Sullen
Need lovin'
Who are you?
Who are we to this new degree?
Should we do it?
Use it?
Fuse it?
Loose it?
I want it
Inside me
Up me
You.




written May 2008

Pictures on Saturday Morning

I woke up Saturday morning,
But my eyes hurt and my bones were soar
To the marrow soar

I tried to work, tried to write,
But there was a fight going on within me

That's when I got out pictures
Pictures of parties, pictures of energy
And that's when I came across pictures of you

I looked at them with sincerity, sentimentality
I looked at them remembering
How you still didn't know that I adored you at that moment

How does your hair fall so softly?

The fog had me sucked in that morning
Making my eyes hurt and my bones soar
To the marrow soar

I gave up the fight thinking of you
And fell back into a deep sleep;
Something I really needed

But you see, you still came to me
I woke up and there you were
Hugging me
In a picture, on a piece of paper

In life I was lying alone in bed
Wishing the fog would break,
And you would confess the sincerity
And sentimentality that I see and feel
When I look at you:

Picture or no picture

I got out of bed
Tried to focus,
Blend you out,
Grind some coffee
To help my eyes from hurting
And my bones from being soar

A nap is what I needed,
But you is what I'm wanting

Rusted Mahogany

Deep seeping agony
Kept behind the Mahogany
Of this bolt rusted, country side door
It lives inside of me
It festers and thrives with every folk ballad sung to me
It's a painful pleasure that comes with every song I sing alone
Dreaming, wondering
If we can create a lasting home

But the rust on these bolts makes it hard
To pry open this old Mahogany door
I've tried-I have
I've given and I've let you have
A special part of me
That's soft and shapely
I've whispered your name, but you kept silent
With eyes closed and your mouth held shut
Fastened with layers of rust

Your bolts are corroded
You're cracked and weathered
Your color is fading
But I'm still trying
To open from the inside out
A deep seeping agony
Kept behind the Mahogany
Of this bolt rusted, country side door




written May 2008

Boiling Out

Trying to pray into this
Try into this
I'm scared of all of this

I dream of it
On my mind all of the time
I'm going crazy because of it
Leaving him behind
Money could be easy this time

That's what keeps me up
The gambling
The coins dropping one by one
And a heart
My heart

I'm trying into this
To see if it fits
Alone in the woods away from ebbs and flows

Escaping something
Escaping the erase of something

I'm trying this out again
Moving again
I'm having anxiety again
Trying this out
Praying into this
Fear: I have boiling out


written May 2008

Lonesome Writer's Light Turns Green

Last night driving home
With so many things on my mind
I looked up-got a glance of me in the review mirror
Looking with new eyes-I'm still getting used to this face
Behind glasses now
Still no difference-Still no trace

No train on the tracks next to me
Just soft spatters of rain blinding my window shield
And you-thoughts of you-longings for you
Are brought forward by a Coca-Cola cowboy singing to me

I wonder where he is-this singer
Is he as sad as the song I hear
While waiting for this red light to turn green
To set me free

Last night driving home
With so many things on my mind
I looked up-got a glance of me in the review mirror
Looking with new eyes-I'm still getting use to this face
Behind glasses now
Still no difference-Still no trace

The man in his high raised truck looks over at me
Yellows, oranges, golds, and reds sparkle and shine in the rain's dark sky
He looks away-
Why couldn't he have always looked away?

Maybe he too thought: what's the possibility
That the one next to me will offer an invitation from the distraction
6 at night-in the rain-in a car
Wondering
Who is this face before me
That I see in the review mirror
Looking with new eyes
Behind glasses now


May 2008 Copywrite

Till 5 in the Morning

Earth Bound,
Rug Bound,
Soar and Tired

Tits Swollen
Thighs Water Bound
Earth Bound
Rug Bound
Soar and Tired

Till 5 in the Morning
Legs Twisted
Tongues Rolling
Tits Swollen
Thighs Water Bound
Earth Bound
Rug Bound
Soar and Tired

Sand in Shoes
Pebbles in Sheets
Steam Marks on a Dirty Wooden Floor
Nerves in Fingers
Longing in Feet

After a Long Night
Till 5 in the Morning
Legs Twisted
Tongues Rolling
Tits Swollen
Thighs Water Bound
Earth Bound
Rug Bound
Soar and Tired

Awake Again
Sore and Tired
Touch my Chest where there once was Touch
After a Long Night
Till 5 in the Morning
Legs Twisted
Tits Swollen
Thighs Water Bound
Earth Bound
Rug Bound
Soar and Tired

Rain Washed the Sand Away
Clean Sheets Tonight
No Pebbles in Bed
Steam Marks gone from the Dirty Wooden Floor
Left Steaming in my Mind's Door

Touch Still Lingers in the Nerves of my Tiny Fingers
Longing in Feet is the same as Longing to Re-meet
Just Remembering after a long night

Till 5 in the Morning
Legs Twisted
Tongues Rolling
Tits Swollen
Thighs Water Bound
Earth Bound
Rug Bound
Soar and Tired





written May 2008

Just Living is What the Whale Was Doing

The spear that splashed into the ocean
Went down into the whale's moving body
The captain had no regret
Just living is what the whale was doing



written May 2008

Extinct

My insides have been internalized
Mortified
Victimized

Pushed into a vacuum
Lost in outer space
Where is it fading?
Swaying away from?
Today I shall not leave you

But what I do want to say
I there, over there
A man standing rare
White
Aloud
Abrupt
Pushing force
A metal force
Gravitating
Too near

Extinct



written May 2008

Into Perfect Words

I can put his image into perfect words
A harmonica humming a melody with guitar in the backdrop
Evergreens passing by his window fast
as he smokes another bud from his pack
The back seat to the front filled with worldly needs
traveling to a new space and who would ever think that our paths would meet?

I smell him like charcoal on fingertips

I can put his image into perfect words
Driving down the coast figuring time out
Bass guitar strums a cord
Heart unwilling to trust,
and so the strumming rhythm pauses and is placed into the pocket
of a black denim jacket

So much to this face
eyes which race
with beauty, curiosity, explosive creativity
I can nearly put his image into perfect words

He's only here for how long?
Maybe just till tomorrow-maybe forever
No matter the time he's been painted and engaged
Seeped into skin by the movement of ash and sin


written May 2008

Chalked

I remember the first time it happened
It was a Tuesday in late January
I swore I had forgotten who you were
My palms had no sweat and the air was calm

I caught myself that day juggling ideas, place to be,
And my relentless fascination with men and their complex realities
The tires beneath me spun smooth upon the coastal concrete
My palms had no sweat and the air was calm

I remember looking and stamping an imprint of the color of sky;
Which mathced that of the sea
Crashing white blankets upon sandy beaches
Wishing I was there-and without you
I didn't even think of you
And that's what felt so free
To just be me-alone
In a city near Redwood trees, a roaring ocean
A city that offered me a gentle breeze

I remember the first time it happened
It was a Tuesday in late January
I swore I had forgotten who you were
When I stood waiting at the light and saw no sign of your blue pick-up truck
You were gone, out of sight
My palms had no sweat and the air was calm

Simply remembering you often does me no good
That's why a Tuesday in January suits my mood
Your name for a day absent

And so it was easier
That Tuesday
Stepping down from the wheels below me
Walking the stairs to my physical activity
My palms had no sweat and the air was calm
The chalk stuck to my hands and I climbed on


written May 2008

These Hands

My hands are soar
Cracked, dry
Small blisters linger-
Blisters which reappear each time I hold on

My hands hurt at the end of the day

I hold on for courage
For independence
To be higher than the ground for a moments notice

There I am reaching
Holding on
Grasping with all my strength-
Grabbing for something tangible
To hold in these soar hands
Hands which are cracked
Dry

My hands have small blisters
Not very lady you say
But they have character anyway

My hands hurt at the end of the day

Yet, the desire to keep reaching is inside of me
Each and everyday




written May 12, 2008

Something Not To Tangle With

Tiny cells all through my body
Digesting your words
Your touch

Dangerous is the question

You are insanity
Illogical
Essence of defiance

The tiny cells in my body can feel your trouble
You are trouble

You don't really feel the sincerity that your hands give
You feel a hollow selfishness
For your needs and ego

The cells in my body agree
You're a bad mystery

Despite red flags flying
Something inside you brings out the nasty,
Needy in me

I better be safe from harm
Because you worry me
And I don't trust your words
Wondering eyes,
Or the emotional games you throw at me

Jigsaw games coming together
I'm escaping your net on the count of three