gabriola.37

5.2.2015 {Always see it as making you stronger, no matter what it is}

Somebody is your mother,

loving, caring for you,

in a way, they all were,

loving you into being.

Maybe she was not

the one you thought

she would be.

Maybe she was dirt and trees,

or a grandmother on her knees,

your father

or brother,

maybe a hive of bees.

She is everywhere, around you,

the particulates in the air,

the dance of your wrist in

spiral rhythm, the fire

of desire in your stare.

Have you considered lately your ability to love?

Striving to reach the surface.

Where are you holding her in?

The Lady is free, let her be,

or reconvene 6 feet deep.

If you loved the land as your mother,

If we loved each other as our mother,

as much as you say,

how would it be different? In what kinds of ways?

It’s hard to see her, trapped in concrete,

sterile, cold, society~

uptight, depressive misery~

see the monotony, the mediocrity,

the travesty that’s become of

me,

her,

us.

Oh, instinctual knowing,

from down deep,

rising,

I bow to you.

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But How does that make you Feel? A dramatic poem from 2009

I discovered roller coasters for the first time after I saw my therapist

She told me I had
OCD, DID, ADD, and an eating disorder

stop trying to please others i told her to set herself

on fire I decide to take my damaged ass to an amusement

park and tell the driver I’m allowed I’m 5’4 You’re a whore I spit

on him and jump into the car I defy gravity by myself on this topsy turvy

future mobile I go up and into space ride through cliches until my overalls

Snap off and set me free where i float without medication Snap out of it, you hairy

Slut You never know how it feels to lose control until you’ve lost all control She never

knew with the giant pebbles and water cascading downwards in a freefall And the terrible

feng shui that parts her massive thighs point my eyes into her pant stain while my entire head

falls down for the bottom A sick endless cycle of torture just like

the Mexican entertainment

….at a Tucson establishment

……sitting on truck tables at the doctor’s office

…..cutting off death DNA chunks into ‘style’

…..fighting off fever with drive by flu shots

So I count to 5

While I make hot cocoa

and tap the doorway

I try of 4 different pairs of pants

eat an entire bag of Cheetos

and throw up

It’s all situational and relative and ridiculous

I don’t care if some 14 year old wears orange lipstick and

gives her teacher a Flintstone blowpop

Tell me Doctor, what’t the diagnosis for my sick bluish foot

Oh, you’re right, I guess I do need to vacate the premises

The Land of the Lepers exists and we have renamed it “America”

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Debajo de la Luna

Beneath the Moon,

I think of you and how I could have made it better-

Did you feel everything I wanted to do, despite the

calculated maneuver?

I held you close,

to honor the tides Divine,

but I felt too quick,

a desire to please,

I hope you’ll forgive me.

I love you.

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Everything

You told me I’m your everything, but I didn’t know I was another illusion~

for the takes you make that leave you lost in confusion, the solid steps that look like stages to you~

the final words that leave you satiated in truth.

It’s not my business what you say to me

you say I’m your everything and I’m just what you need,

but you wish it were true but the truth ain’t what it seem,

you like to get lost in me but you don’t wish it were me

it’s just the motion taking you over,

singing your song and justifying sleep,

don’t come back to me in the morning

because I’m a woman with a full and open heart

a woman with breaking weighing on the dawn.

Stay with him tonight, stay with him ’til the dawn.

It’s not my business anymore,

ain’t my business no more.

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And In Love

It’s a personal experience, because baby you hardly know, how much I want to see you and how badly I want to let you go.

It’s only me here, waiting for you, believing in the embellishments of a soul wanting, to love and be wanted .

Well, more drunk I’ll get waiting for the proclamation of a love that lasts forever, the kind to hold hands with in those lapses between the noise~

we wait all of our lives for the spaces that show us where we can exist-the black hole at the center of our galaxy around which we exist.

We are mission control avoiding the gravitational pull around which a swirl exists~ to emit, a constant existence- or a reason to exist.

There is a hole surrounding which no light can persist~ a constant mortal reminder of possible inheritance…

You could be this…or this….

Yet I could not know because my relationship is with Love~ not you, silly boy.

As a woman, we are compelled to look for love and to form it wherever it seems to take hold, like a virus very focused in on the perfect environment.

And I can love myself, with a finger and intention, a woman in possession, of a secret you wish you could get to, and your dick is promised and successful in context, but here I wish you well, for this is the soundtrack to my life and you aren’t here to provide a beat.

 

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Your Sock

I am a romantic mess, waking up with only

one of your socks on the floor by the zillion

pieces of single clothes on the single floor

of a bedroom a single girl sleeps in.

Your sock on the floor reminds me of the time

I stole the sock from your drawer while you sang

in the shower, the love we kindled the

night before.

I am a romantic mess, because as I dress, nothing

matters but the sock on the floor. I make a mess

of the mess already there, trying to look for

the missing of the pair, trying to see past

the omen of fear that only one of us can

be here.

The socks with you were a pair, both of us,

happy and living in the post-coital bliss. The sock

I have here is but one, the other amiss. Where

could it have gone? I searched everywhere,

it’s as if it just disappeared. The magic cannot

be denied, I’m trying not to die inside, but my heart is

heavy.

What about the time when you hate me, when the sock

will be a horrible reminder of the wonderful memory? Or

the time when you leave and I’m left with the responsibility,

the evidence~ a sock in solitary? Or what about years from now,

when I throw the sock out, reminiscing about that time…that time…

You are my friend, I hope forever until the end.

I hope I can find the sock before it’s too late, I can’t stand this heartache.

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Tucson

If you’re sad or mad, go to Tucson.

If you’re fighting with yourself to accept your dream, go to Tucson.

If you’re hungry and impatient and you feel the tide

constantly changing,

your tires are spinning,

there’s no sense in winning,

but you know.

You know that you’re growing,

fertile you arrived and

pregnant you go.

Go to Tucson if you think

no one understands.

No one’s given you a chance,

but you were born to be made,

and Tucson is the shade,

the bassinet, the picnic and

the ants that destroy it.

Don’t disrespect

for she’s spacious and vast.

The Sonoran desert can kick

your ass. She’s

the place of ‘mad strife’,

The Seeker’s delight.

Go to Tucson if you’re willing to bleed

for your soul to be born,

The Phoenix rise from the ash.

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To Stand Amongst You

I am dying to be seen,

skin flakes and clusters in the breeze,

like the first rainfall dripping on the cracked

lips of a stranded crew on a beautiful

island covered by non-water.

I want you to open to me,

and taste me, let me

quench your thirst.

Show me what is dry.

Cold fingertips and curled up toes,

fetal position,

tears of life draining vitality

~to be missing you.

I am here,

on a stair,

sitting,

hoping to be noticed.

Do you see me? Do you see me?

I will hold out my hand, for eternity,

palm up,

waiting for you to hold it,

I will die waiting,

unless you find me,

until you find me.

I am reborn with your love,

the phoenix rising from her ashes,

knowing no truth but the here and now.

She is warm and collected

and knows the great Truths.

She will show you Heaven

if you can meet her amongst stars.

She will be sitting on the stair,

reading in the store,

floating in the air,

with her palms up,

to embrace the possibility

of

Salvation.

Our heroes always have a love story.

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When You’re Alone

And the time stands still, marked

only by the shadows decreasing inside

and the eyes who spied the time

calling it here.

Aware

of moments inside of moments,

what to do with them,

what has been done before.

Standing in stillness,

I open this door.

Please be with me here,

I am scared.

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