On Squirrels

an anonymous person once told me that men are like squirrels.
sometimes, when they find the best nuts
the most perfect nuts
they decide they are too lovely to eat
and hide them away for a later day.

but keeping them hidden becomes diffiicult
and they wonder, is the nut still as lovely?
so they go back, dig it up, inspect it
savour its presence for a short while
and then bury it again.

for knowing the nut is there
and exists
even buried deep in the earth
is comfort enough.

I have two squirrels. Two men who have buried me away.
Occassionally they return and dig me up
tell me how much i was (am) loved
how they wished they had enjoyed me when they could

but now, its just too difficult
complicated
the twists and turns of life has left the consumption of nuts
from long ago
impossible.

but, because i have a weakness for squirrels
when the earth above me starts to move
and i know they have come to dig me up
i always

seem to answer them
to show them what they missed
to let them taste the sweet meat of me.

and so the earth above me rustles now
and i feel the anticipation of
getting only the best of someone
for a short time
but
but
i think i'm getting to the point
where being alone
is better than a short time
with even the best of the squirrels

I write this today to remind myself later. I write this today to remind myself later.
We are in the midst of change my girl.
And someone out there wants you forever.
And the short term is not a long term solution.
I just want to be aware this time.
I just want to be awake
not in a sleepy fog of a long rest under a deep soil.

Revelation 1

And then I realized:

The snake charmer was just a man.

He sought their adoration-
and revelled in their wonderment
of his charm
and its power.

When needed
He collected followers-
whom, entranced
would justify Him

all wide-eyed,
mystified,
They would be charmed by his old tune-

Together, they could share regurgitations of old thoughts-
brought forth by new tongues
couched "just so" by an old master
who hides his book with
well worn pages.

Yes, with his broken down flute
he could play his same old tune,
weave tales of woe and misunderstanding
always being heard,
never having to listen.

And the song would repeat-
and the song would repeat
and the hips of men and women alike
would sway to the beat-
and their hands and hearts would open
pouring forth the gifts of feeling
he lived on-
he needed to live-

and all would be good
and all would be well
and all would be new
and all would be fresh
and all would be fraught with skin tingling emotion-


Until of course,
one figured out the illusion.

One would always figure out the illusion.

And,
when deciphering the trick and its workings-
Perhaps pushing back at the push forward-
White skin turning slightly jaundiced in the questioning light-

Once perfect imperfection
becoming tight,
stretched,
and slightly more
visible-

When the one in the crowd became too close
to seeing the truth of it all-
The fallible, weak, unromantic,
vulnerable, ugly, stinking
normalcy-
yes, normalcy,
of it all-

The snake charmer would perform his final act.

He unleashed the poisons of self doubt upon their skin,
Charm turning to acid and vitriol-
as unverbalized weaknesses spewed forth in an evidential manner,
each perceived betrayal documented.
Each "perfect" imperfection catalogued.

Once whispered words-
hissed.
Introspections-
refracted, reflected-
in the dulling shine of his instrument-
and twisted into righteousness.

And those who remain?
They'd become altered versions of his same drawing need.
Scattered-
some far into the distance, some just on the periphery-
most lost to the charms forever.

So now,
all torn down.
He sets up for a new crowd.
Those becoming too close
well pushed away,
and-
eventually, fresh pink skin basks in the light.

And it becomes of Him again-
and
He feels new again
and
All is well again
Until unwell-
again.

Yes, those who have seen it
now have older eyes-
are not surprised-
and temper all with vision
that gets astoundingly better each day.

The snake charmer is just a man.

Check

Just for this moment
i will follow the point of my compass
North-

Though the wind whispers West-
(West?...)
and that crack in the path-
it breaks Easterly...

And what of the South?
well,
Well......
the South is what He always was,
(just with a better disguise....)

yes,
for now,
I think
I'll just go north.

Ignore the wind..

Step o'er the crack-

close my eyes-
and...

remember this

remember this moment
and those words
bitter on the tongue.

remember the disadvantage
wonder if you should have
seen it coming.

remember how you picked up
the scattered remnants of your
feelings put bare
over there
spread out in pieces on the floor now

a puzzle abandoned
left undone

wonder if it was by design
a false kindness
a beingtakenadvantageof
a convenientyouwereherethanks

a laughbehindthebackofsorts

what was the meaning?

did Kenneth have the frequency?

where were you when it happened?

And why are you blamed for it now?

the answer to your question

I guess,
I guess I thought
there would be real conversation
not a badly hidden tease or a
taunt with twisted tongue

but a genuine interest
a care what i thought of
you know, some genuine interest
like it was before

and I suppose, naively,
I thought there was a basis
for a real and meaningful feeling-
and a hope for something more...

ah, but i'm a little flawed, aren't I?
a little not perfect
but a really good subject
for this game of cat a mouse we're in.

a little too tangible
a mite unconventionally conventional
couldn't sit me at the cool kids table
you know, where all the cut outs live?

but you can pull me out when you need me,
yeah, i'll be here when you need me...
and I won't dare call attention
to our one sided arrangement.

I will be your convenient inconvenience
your puppet; pull my string
I will do the dance for you
and do it with a smile.

for awhile.

but in the end, there will be nothing left.
i will say this now, because i see it
there will be nothing left
and i suspect you won't even miss it.

The more you know about someone......

the stranger they seem.

My answers to this stupid facebook questionnaire.

Here are the rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 20 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end choose 20 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you (and I have to fill the 20 person quota):


1. I've lived two lives. In the one before I was younger, prettier and constantly worried about meeting convention. In the one after I am changed and obstinate, but happier.

2.Crust, in my world is any substance that I will not eat that surrounds something I enjoy eating. For example I won't eat pie crust, pizza crust or bread crust. Simple definition, yes? Well, it gets more complicated. I also will not eat the tops of buns because they are too fluffy so technically,in my universe they are crust ( In fact, I have been known to demand that my hamburgers be made with two bun bottoms). I do like the INSIDE of the tops of buns, so I will pick them out to avoid the crust but that only really works with Kaisers. Now, before you think you have it figured out I have to tell you that Swiss Chalet buns are completely crust, so I can only eat the inside, dipped in Chalet sauce, but NOT gravy, because Swiss Chalet gravy is crust, although I enjoy their fries. And yes, I will eat bread ends, but only lightly toasted with jam or Cheeze Wiz, because they, although crust-like, are not crusty. Of course, Cheeze Wiz on anything else is nasty because then it is fake (I have a strong opinion as to what is real and what is fake as well, but I won't confuse you). Yes, I have a very defined idea of what crust is, and feel strongly about not eating it, but I will admit what falls into the category of "crust" is usually only evident to me. Hamburger bun tops? Crust. Hot dog buns? Only the last inch. Get it?? Good.

3. I took anger management classes. I needed them. If you see me mad, don't worry, I'll get over it. If you see me calm when I should be mad, run.

4. I once tried to sew the leg back on a dead frog, thinking it would bring it back to life.

5. I have an addictive personality. I do my best to control it, but I am hedonistic by nature. I live by my senses. Appeal to them and you will appeal to me.

6. I've never had chicken pox, or any childhood disease. But I did have a big stinkin' brain tumour. Go figure.

7. Buffy St. Marie is one cool chick. Deal with it.

8. Schadenfrude is my favourite word, and I like everything it stands for. Snickering is my favourite hobby. That said, I hate to be teased.

9. I met the man I should have married. I screwed it up. I don't know if I will ever meet anyone else I want as much. That scares me.

10. I want four children, but can have none.

11. I realized I believed in the soul the first time I saw a dead body.

12. Given the choice of any dessert I would pick sweet pineapple, Concord Grapes, fresh ripe figs, a juicy Crispin apple and a big chunk of stinky cheese. I also believe in the power of chocolate covered pretzels.

13. I love the smell of black permanent markers.

14. My father is my hero. My mother and I are just becoming friends after years of being opponents.

15. If I met my sister out there in the world, I wouldn't like her much. But I do love her--so you'd best never mess with her.

16. I struggle with my belief in God, but I'm not quite ready to give up on Him.

17. Music died in 1990. Yes, thats right. Died. I mean, yeah, there is some good stuff, but on the whole? Suckage.

18. I am ferociously loyal, to a fault. Once I have decided you are worthy I will always have your back. Twenty years, disagreements and leagues of sea can part us, and if you pick up the phone and need me, I will be there. Membership has its benefits. That said, once you've broken our bond you are not worth it, you are dead to me.

19. I love libraries and old bookstores. The smell is heavenly.

20. The best gift I could ever receive is a something someone loved and discarded or a replacement for something I already have. I am a creature of habit and I love everything old and antiquated.

Twist

And

I pull the roots out.
With a crack and a twist-
With a
Crack-
And a
Twist-
I turn back over myself.

I turn back over.

Deep,
So fucking deep
Am I,
In this established earth-
I am
Twisted.
I am
Mired.
In it.

I am the product of the years set in,
Your thoughts set in,
My needs set in-

Set.

Yes, I am the product.
I am the product
of this falsehood.
False-
And I must break free of it

I must
Break.

And

As I tire-
As my hands and fingers ache
From the effort of
Digging

my way

away

from you-

I rest my head upon my knees
Buckling-
Tuck into myself
Alone-

And wait.
Wait.

Catch my breath-
Wait.

Breathe...

And dig again.

Sheelagh

she told me that i lost my voice.

i laughed at her,
she was always a strange chick-
all lace and beads and dandelion petals...

she said
you'll see, you lost it-
somewhere between the meadow
and the back gate

somewhere in the stampede
of moving bodies
and stomping feet

somewhere along the way
you let it slip free from your lips-
perhaps when you were trying to be
all things
to all men?

perhaps when you were trying to fit in amongst the fleet?
perhaps when you decided that
being you
was just too hard
and being them
looked easier?

I realize its lost now-
as i stand blinded in the storms
as my good turns against me
and i wait for each approaching wind-

i try to roar against it-
and nothing comes
nothing comes
now I bear the damage
of its lashing tongue;

And so i comb the meadow
get trampled by the stomping feet
overturning this
upsetting that-
hoping i will find it.

I need to find it.