….why paisley???

a couple of days ago,, i read and responded to a poem linda originally posted on your poems. your stories.,, called the game… and ever since i have been thinking seriously about the ramifications of what i wrote in response,, a poem called i’m ready,, and how it translates into my daily life..

for those of you that don’t “know” me,, i am reclusive.. very reclusive.. i leave the house to go to work a paltry three days a week,, only because i have no other option.. every time i do, i spend hours arguing with myself,, and trying to figure out legitimate reasons not to go,, or create a fabricated reason that is untraceable enough to pass off as a legitimate one.. right this moment,, i don’t have to work untill sunday,, and already i am feeling the panic rumbling around inside of me knowing i only have two days left before i am expected to show up somewhere outside of my world…

i leave my little property maybe once every two weeks to obtain provisions,, (always in the company of both of my dogs,, never alone) which i buy in bulk,, in order to try and to eliminate the need to leave the property at all..

i have no friends,, by choice,,, and because i alienate people.. i do not answer,, nor to i call out on my phone.. i do not attend any social functions,, and certainly never entertain guests.. (although ben was here a couple of days this week,, and for those of you that “know” me,, you know,, no matter how blessed i feel to have him in my life,, those visits are ever so stressful for me)

it only makes sense that,, given my cloistered state of affairs,, i have very little natural stimulation,, or shall we say inspiration,, and for that reason,, i have been relying entirely on prompts to stimulate my creativity for quite some time.. i do believe it has pushed me to advance myself poetically,, forcing me out of “self” in a lot of instances and pushing me to write about things that i most certainly would not have written about had i not been prompted to do so……

however,, you knew there had to be one of those,, didn’t you??? however.. i am bored with them.. i am bored with trying to take the prompt in a different direction.. i am tired of writing about what everyone else is writing about,, and i am tired of feeling as if i need to produce,, and often times doing so solely in the name of production….

in retrospect,, the prompts helped to get me out of myself,, and think about abstract things,, of little or no real consequence,, instead of focusing all eyes on me.. they have seen me thru the grief and depression,, and brought me around to where i find myself today.. and for all of that i am truly grateful…. but i think i need to stop…

you see, in reality,, i am, at this point,, sitting in a little shell of a little world,, waiting patiently for my dogs to die,, so that i can be released from all my earthly ties.. i will be 47 on the seventh of june,, too old to be who i once was,, and even tho i have zero inclination to ever be anyone else,, i am not not really old enough to legitimately expect to wake up dead any time soon…

so i guess, that means i have to find something to inspire me… something besides my past and the writing prompts i have relied so heavily upon over the course of the last year….

i am thinking today i will go out on the property and take some pictures.. i bought a digital camera like a year ago,, and have used it once… who knows… maybe i will see something thru its lens that will inspire me,, and maybe not… but, worst case scenario.. it will get me out of this chair,, won’t it??

photo:

http://ianni490.deviantart.com/art/Uninspired-56234101

this post is courtesy of three word wednesday

there is a back story to this,, and the poem may not mean anything unless you know what that back story is,, and why the things i have seen,, are weighing so heavily on my mind as the date june, 20th draws ever closer… and no.. i haven’t told anyone but you…..

if you would like to view the story behind this you may read the back story, here: (mis)information …

maybe june 20th
will come and go-
without incident.
maybe no one will die
or be seriously injured
and i will never have to feel
like i should have said something
maybe,, it was a dream…
maybe, i am not
a human portal after all..
maybe i cannot see the things
i think i have seen,
and i am being overly cautious.
for no reason at all…

but maybe,,
just maybe…
i will be right again….

photo:

http://fc01.deviantart.com/images3/i/2004/166/f/5/Fear.jpg

for those of you that do not frequent anna’s blog, free poems on a regular basis,, (and shame on you,, you know who you are……) i want to let you know that she has added a new duet of blogs that i am really in favor of supporting..

first of all,, and my favorite,, is your poems. your stories. it is a collaborative project on which we,, authors and poets alike can actually post our work (prose and/or poetry) directly to the blog,, (and, yes, of course you can link to your blog!!) thus making our work available to a larger audience,, and supporting the writer/poet community here on the web…

so if you are interested in a new venue for some of your work,, i would suggest you stop on over and have a read,, and feel free to register with the site,, and add your work.. wouldn’t it be wonderful,, if we could combine our audiences??? what a readership we could boast then!!!!

i have offered up my first piece for publication over there,, entitled, as the dust swirled,, and would really appreciate it if you clicked thru to have a read…

please feel free to contact anna either by email at anna (at) poempoempoem.com,, or thru a comment on either of her blogs if you need further information….

secondly,, its sister blog, poem poem poem is a poets resource blog.. it offers information such as:

1. an up to date listing of the working online poets.
2. a resource for finding “free poetry”. both individual poems and books of poetry
3. a direct link to purchase published works of poetry.
4. a link providing publisher information, for both in print and internet publications.
5. as well as an huge listing of poetry workshops available,, on a variety of subjects.

i have had the honor today of publishing one of anna’s poems, the mermaid poem over on the ink pot ,, so if you would enjoy seeing a sample of her excellent work,, you can drop on over and have a read….

the site is brand spanking new,, and is still in its infancy,, so your contributions, comments, and patience would be greatly appreciated… i just cannot help but feel these new sites have the potential to become a really great place to bring together our creative efforts…

the feed options for both poem poem poem and your poems. your stories. are available in the side bar, for those of you that would like to keep an eye on it’s progress,, and see if it appeals to you….

thank you in advance for your participation…

photo:

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:Favourite_Poet.jpg

seeing as how i have a built in aversion to anything sci-fi,, i had to take the prompt for read write poem in a bit of a different direction this week…..

twas me mother who told it
and she wouldn’t lie
she would rather cut out
her heart - or an eye
than spread the non truth
and so i decree
i me-self,, am the spawn
of the screamin’ banshee!!!

as me sweet mother told it
twas a quiet,, dark night
the candles was lit
and the fire was bright
they was havin’ a sip
of the irish whiskey,
when outta the mist
come the screamin’ banshee!

they heard her a comin’
but no one did run
as they was tippin’ a bit
and havin’ great fun
and no one was about to
abandon the bottle
yet there she was-
comin’ at ‘em full throttle!!!!

the menfolk they coward
behind the women’s full skirts
not a brass ball among ‘em
the no good irish flirts
and as she approached
it became clear to see
she had a wee babe in her arms…
and that wee babe was me!!!!

“quit your whinin’ ye wankers
you’ve nothin’ to fear
i am here to give, and not take
you got lucky this year!
i can’t find a sitter
me old mans on a drunk
and there’s no one to mind
this, my wee little punk!!”

then she handed me off
and she fled into the wood
not screamin’ at all
rather laughin’,, but good!!!
they stood there all quite
each not quite believin’
the rare piece of luck
they’d been blessed with this ev’nin

that luck gave out quick
it went straight to ye midden
as they lifted the blanket
to see what they’d been given
twas the face of an angel
all pink skinned and red haired
” a little piece of irish heaven!!”
me auntie rosie declared…

and just at that moment
for no reason at all
me face wrinkled up
and i started to bawl
and let out a scream
heard from here to the sea
and erased any doubt
as me own sweet mother will tell ye-

that i am the spawn of the screamin’ banshee!!

photo:

http://plim-chan.deviantart.com/art/The-scream-64789938

i called her today.. i called her because i wanted to tell her how much i loved her,,
how much she means to me.. how she had once been the very center of my world…
and no one had ever been able to take her place…

but instead we talked about the weather,, and her class reunion
and the way that age had of making things that once seemed all important
bleed and fade like the ink on the unpreserved page….

i called her today,, i wanted to remind her that she was my first love
that i had never loved anyone as much as i loved her,,
that it was her love that had made all other loves possible..
and against which they would all forever be judged

but instead i told her about the the poem i had written,, and the book i think i may well never finish,,
we talked about the garden and the dogs and the man who said he would come to cut the grass,,
but never did…

i called her today my heart so full of love,, my mind overflowing with memories
of the times we spent in each others arms,, the tender goodnight kisses,, the loving glances
that stripped me of my insecurities and made me feel as if i could conquer the world….

but instead i told her that i would talk to her later,, as this long distance was costing me a fortune…..
and anyway,, i should be feeding the cat,, and getting the dogs in for dinner,, or folding the clothes
that finished drying an hour or so ago….

i called her today,, with every intention of making today the day i told her
all the things that have been weighing so heavily on my heart,,
all the things i have wanted to say for so long but had never garnered the courage to do so,,
all the things i don’t want either of us to ever leave this world without me having said…

but instead i waited until after we had said our good byes,, and added,, almost as an after thought,, “mama… i love you…”

photo:

http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs7/i/2005/203/8/5/a_phone____by_Gazo.jpg

this weeks writers island prompts worked well together for me…. i originally wrote this as a prose piece,, but the line breaks became necessary in order to punctuate it properly when the peice is spoken…

try reading it out loud….

there have been times in this life,,
when i have been inhabited
by a rather ferocious identity…
times i found myself blinded
by selfishness,, or anger,, or drugs,,
or a dangerous cocktail
made up of immeasurable quantities
of all of them….

there have been times
i am willing to admit,,
that you had reason to fear me,,
as i had nothing to lose,,
and you had better hope,,
i did not want what you had…

the problem
with having been that person,,
is even tho i know
i am not her any more,,
i understand now,
that all of us have
that inner beast,,
that animal,,
that will do
what it has to do,,
to survive..

most of us will
never be pushed that far,,,
most of us will
never know what it feels like
to lose all sense of right and wrong,,
to be blinded with addiction,,
desire,, anger,, hatred…
but i assure you,,
no matter who you are,,,
it could,,
and will
happen to you,,
given the right set of circumstances…

so as you experience
people that you don’t understand,,
people who have made
what you judge
to be ill thought out lifestyle choices,,
people that you pride yourself,,
that you are not,,
my suggestion to you would be,
to take a good long look
at that person
that stares back at you from the mirror….

you see,,
i know who the person is that’s staring back at me..
i have seen my inner beast…
i know what she is capable of..
i know what evil
can come to life in a mind
if the right set of circumstance provides itself..

but most of all…
i know,,
i am just like you…
and it could very well be you,,
that has that lesson yet to learn….

photo:

http://tweedsocks.deviantart.com/art/Inner-Beast-20065764

trying out yet another new prompt site this week,, called blog friday,, and they offered the prompt ignorant,,, and you know i always have something to say about that……

the apron does not make me stupid…
i am not here because
my limited mental capacity
precludes a higher paying
or more socially affluent
source of employment.

i am not here
because i am a student…
i am not
just working here
till i get a real job..
so your attempts to school me
in the fluency
of your bad manners
or the blatancy
of your ignorance
is time wasted..

i am here,,
because i made
a conscious choice
to be here

i decided to for go
the quest for all things material
and to focus my efforts
on that which
i have found
has real meaning-
if only to me….

i chose to spend
three days here,,
taking orders from you,,
making your sandwiches,,
doing whatever
is in my power
to make your time here
pleasurable-
so that i can stay home
four days a week
and be
who i have always wanted to be…
a writer,,
a poet ,,
an artist,,
a dreamer….

so please
do not suggest
by the way that you speak to me,,
that you have decided
that i must be
socially inferior
or intellectually deficient
(as why else would anyone be here?)
because to do so,,
only incites my feelings
of empathy for you,,
and those like you
and if the truth be told
i have no real desire
to feel anything
at all
for people like you…

photo:

http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs16/f/2007/195/1/e/strawberry_milkshake_by_mighty_bunny.jpg

there are new poems up on the ink pot and just paisley…. if you are looking for something new… but i dragged this out of the archives,, because i felt like reading it again… and i am hoping you will too……

this is EXTREMELY MATURE, STRICTLY ADULT SUBJECT MATTER,, although it is written in strictly a tongue in cheek style,, it is not for those that will not see past the subject matter to the true brilliance of the words themselves…

keep in mind,, as an artist,, my purpose in life is to elicit emotion,, and if i succeed in doing that,, regardless of the subject matter,, i am in my glory…

willit had always felt that carnivals were a gift from the gods… children running willy nilly,, parents beer soaked and distracted.. sitting idly by while their prodigy queue up for one glittering stomach churning attraction after the other…. line after endless line of tender flesh,, uncalculating minds,, childish curiosities…. easily ensnared,, caught up as they were sure to be,, in the element of a day of unbridled child like passion…

he had just taken his place in line for the looming monstrosity commonly referred to as the ferris wheel,, behind a delightful grouping of four tender young treats,, when the gods saw fit to unleash the most torrential rain of good luck he had ever personally been witness to….

a sudden creak followed immediately by a unearthly sound,, that of metal being twisted beyond all imagination,, the wheel wrenched free of the pinions that had once held it fast… and before proper thought could be given to what was happening,, the wheel did what wheels have always done best… she up and rolled away….

inextricably mired in human fodder,, she plodded her course,, thru vats of hot cooking oil,, over moldy tents housing less than accurate foreseers of the future,, atop a vast array of human oddities,, caged and otherwise.. smashing,, destroying,, invigorating,, enlightening.. enabling chaos.. the very distraction of eminent destruction ensued almost immediately….

with the nimble wit and swift step of a professional,, willit took heed of his personal call to action.. he leapt in,, snatched up a tender young boy,, who was held stead fast with fear,, and amusingly enough,, not in any danger whatsoever as the wheel had already rolled far clear of the space which the two of them so conveniently occupied…

hand over mouth.. fore arm between firm young thighs.. it was snatched up that he was… with a passion that can only be described as that of a firefighter with an oxygen gasping victim in his arms,, beating a path of retreat from the all consuming flames following ever so quickly at his heals,, our boy willit was off … as he made his hasty retreat from non present danger,, he heard the unmistakable crash as the wheel toppled over.. coming to rest atop the grandstand packed to overflowing,, quite aptly,, with avid fans of destruction,, as the demolition derby was well underway…

in his thirst for the flesh that fought ever so fervently against him as he made his most daring escape,, he gripped the boy tighter.. too tightly in fact.. as when he arrived at the van it was evident,, he had indeed snapped his sapling neck.. no longer a livid play thing,, he would have to make due with the still tepid receptacle this tasty young morsel had most regrettably become….

and with the pomp and circumstance equal in glory only to a sacrifice made to the gods that had shined upon him this day,, with favor as bright as the celestial being itself,, he administered his own personal favorite variety of “far from artificial” respiration,, before properly disposing of the non recyclable container,, and setting off in search of dessert….

photo:

http://www.durkin.com.au/rides/wheel.jpg

this is a combination of the words found on 3ww, easystreet prompts and two for tuesdays…..

predestinations paradox
generic spawn of egg and seed
the empty essence of vanilla
spoon fed domesticity…
submissive scions through out history
sired to propagate the breed-
lessons learned and loves extracted
deviation, all but foreseen…

insurgent adolescence
hormones screaming freedoms name
the road less traveled
becomes a highway
paved, in smoldering apron strings..
enter a generation of inebriates
drunk,, on youths immortal wine
navigating life, under the influence-
all destinations, lost in time…

yet when the propencity toward age
has dulled the appitite for indulgence,
and even the stolen dew of youth,
has lost it’s glow…
when intoxication, can no longer lessen,,
that which is not willing to be ignored..
even the road less traveled
can circle around, and bring you home….

photo:

http://kayceeus.deviantart.com/art/Coming-Home-29748837

for those of you that haven’t noticed… april was national poetry month,, and the challenge to produce poetry every day was alluring,, so i took that challenge and ran with it…

as of this moment,, i am poetically spent… and it is no doubt as i have written 54 poems over the course of the month,, and those are just the ones that were completed and posted on one of my three blogs…

if for some reason you didn’t already know,, i have three creative blogs that i do my best to update daily,, although at times i do slouch on one or another… and they are:

…why paisley???
just paisley….
the ink pot

and then,, just for fun,, there is:

secret,,, secret,,, i’ve got a secret….

on which i publish your secrets anonymously for all the world to see,, and comment on should they be so moved…. if you have yet to stop in here,, do so and feel free to drop your secret in the anonymous secret drop off site as well…. i am forever searching for the most intimate of secrets!!!!!

so today i am going to take a day off and regroup.. read one of the three (yes i had to have all three!!!) biographical memoirs of janis joplin i just got from amazon yesterday,, and relax….

i will be back tomorrow,, rested and refreshed,, and on the first of eleven consecutive days off!!! i am indulging myself in kind of a “stay at home and do all the things i have put off all year in order to remain glued to the computer” type of vacation…..

see you then!!