early one morning this week my mother in law and I were talking about vices as we made coffee for ourselves. We agreed coffee was a vice, she has cigarettes as an additional vice along with beer and men. I told her men were an expensive, though pleasant vice and with men you don't get a receipt, so you can't exchange him or return him if you don't get expected results.
The muse is my vice that I secretly entertain
10/19/07
10/18/07
"Shameless"
i cannot name this
i cannot explain this
and i really don't want to
just call me shameless
i can't even slow this down
let alone stop this
and i keep looking around
but i cannot top this
if i had any sense
i guess i'd fear this
i guess i'd keep it down
so no one would hear this
i guess i'd shut my mouth
and rethink a minute
but i can't shut it now
'cuz there's something in it
we're in a room without a door
and i am sure without a doubt
they're gonna wanna know
how we got in here
and they're gonna wanna know
how we plan to get out
we better have a good explanation
for all the fun that we had
'cuz they are coming for us, baby
they are going to be mad
they are going to be mad at us
this is my skeleton
this is the skin it's in
that is, according to light
and gravity
i'll take off my disguise
the mask you met me in
'cuz i got something
for you to see
just gimme your skeleton
give me the skin it's in
yeah baby, this is you
according to me
i never avert my eyes
i never compromise
so nevermind
the poetry
we're in a room without a door...
i gotta cover my butt 'cuz i covet
another man's wife
i got to divide my emotions
between wrong and right
then i get to see how close i can get to it
without giving in
then i get to rub up against it
till i break the skin
rub up against it
till i break the skin
they're gonna be mad at us
they're gonna be mad at me and you
yeah, they're gonna be mad at us
and all the things we wanna do
they're gonna be mad at us
they're gonna be mad at me and you
they're gonna be mad at us
and all the things we like do
just please don't name this
please don't explain this
just blame it all on me
say i was shameless
say i couldn't slow it down
let alone stop it
and say you just hung around
'cuz you couldn't top it
i cannot explain this
and i really don't want to
just call me shameless
i can't even slow this down
let alone stop this
and i keep looking around
but i cannot top this
if i had any sense
i guess i'd fear this
i guess i'd keep it down
so no one would hear this
i guess i'd shut my mouth
and rethink a minute
but i can't shut it now
'cuz there's something in it
we're in a room without a door
and i am sure without a doubt
they're gonna wanna know
how we got in here
and they're gonna wanna know
how we plan to get out
we better have a good explanation
for all the fun that we had
'cuz they are coming for us, baby
they are going to be mad
they are going to be mad at us
this is my skeleton
this is the skin it's in
that is, according to light
and gravity
i'll take off my disguise
the mask you met me in
'cuz i got something
for you to see
just gimme your skeleton
give me the skin it's in
yeah baby, this is you
according to me
i never avert my eyes
i never compromise
so nevermind
the poetry
we're in a room without a door...
i gotta cover my butt 'cuz i covet
another man's wife
i got to divide my emotions
between wrong and right
then i get to see how close i can get to it
without giving in
then i get to rub up against it
till i break the skin
rub up against it
till i break the skin
they're gonna be mad at us
they're gonna be mad at me and you
yeah, they're gonna be mad at us
and all the things we wanna do
they're gonna be mad at us
they're gonna be mad at me and you
they're gonna be mad at us
and all the things we like do
just please don't name this
please don't explain this
just blame it all on me
say i was shameless
say i couldn't slow it down
let alone stop it
and say you just hung around
'cuz you couldn't top it
10/17/07
October Road (1st draft)
October Road
the trees
are
rusting & dying
the air
is
losing its
heat
&
freezing
to my
winshield.
S C R A P E
S C R A P E
ugh.
Flying
down the road
with
Gordon,
I wonder
if
he is going
further
than
she allows.
the trees
are
rusting & dying
the air
is
losing its
heat
&
freezing
to my
winshield.
S C R A P E
S C R A P E
ugh.
Flying
down the road
with
Gordon,
I wonder
if
he is going
further
than
she allows.
10/14/07
Word of the Day for Saturday, October 13, 2007
agglomeration \uh-glom-uh-RAY-shuhn\, noun:
1. The act or process of collecting in a mass; a heaping together.
2. A jumbled cluster or mass of usually varied elements.
-------------------------------------------------
Sitting at my laptop, my Firefox tabs reflect an agglomeration of things I am currently working on. I have to be listening to music while I write these posts and usually have my email program open as well, along with my friend's pages and sometimes a Google search going. If I ever get published for real, my poetry book cover is going to be a color photograph of a jumbled cluster of photographs, pieces of paper with notes and poems on them, cds and cassettes, books and bookmarks, small notebooks and journals, a few pens and maybe some chocolate kisses.
My mind is an agglomeration of snippets of songs, pieces of poems rattling around, conversations (both real and imagined), ideas and improbable secenarios.
1. The act or process of collecting in a mass; a heaping together.
2. A jumbled cluster or mass of usually varied elements.
-------------------------------------------------
Sitting at my laptop, my Firefox tabs reflect an agglomeration of things I am currently working on. I have to be listening to music while I write these posts and usually have my email program open as well, along with my friend's pages and sometimes a Google search going. If I ever get published for real, my poetry book cover is going to be a color photograph of a jumbled cluster of photographs, pieces of paper with notes and poems on them, cds and cassettes, books and bookmarks, small notebooks and journals, a few pens and maybe some chocolate kisses.
My mind is an agglomeration of snippets of songs, pieces of poems rattling around, conversations (both real and imagined), ideas and improbable secenarios.
For RTO
This poem is written entirely from Big Country lyrics:
Wonderland
It could've been me.
Where
did the feeling
go?
The one
that
I love
is still in
you.
I never
felt
so low.
I fell apart
and
you came to me.
I
was weak
with
strange delight.
When I am tired,
tired of the fight,
you come to me
and
it's alright.
Pull me closer,
understand...
I see
where
I was
wrong.
If
I hold
my hand to you
though
you never asked
me to,
you slip away
and
the past
goes on.
I try
and
hold you
not like
the first time.
That's when
I get to
crying.
Why must
it always be
dreams when your voice
comes to me?
I would lie
and
curse the day
where I tried
so hard
but
couldn't reach
the stars
in your eyes.
But
I will try
no more.
All this
will pass.
I've turned
my life
around.
But
I would wait
a hundred
years
to hear you
say
my name
the way
you did
before
he came.
Wonderland
It could've been me.
Where
did the feeling
go?
The one
that
I love
is still in
you.
I never
felt
so low.
I fell apart
and
you came to me.
I
was weak
with
strange delight.
When I am tired,
tired of the fight,
you come to me
and
it's alright.
Pull me closer,
understand...
I see
where
I was
wrong.
If
I hold
my hand to you
though
you never asked
me to,
you slip away
and
the past
goes on.
I try
and
hold you
not like
the first time.
That's when
I get to
crying.
Why must
it always be
dreams when your voice
comes to me?
I would lie
and
curse the day
where I tried
so hard
but
couldn't reach
the stars
in your eyes.
But
I will try
no more.
All this
will pass.
I've turned
my life
around.
But
I would wait
a hundred
years
to hear you
say
my name
the way
you did
before
he came.
The poem that started it all...
...details...
When I say
I want you,
I want to...
Sit close enough
to touch you,
rest my hand on your knee,
touch your prickly hair,
whisper in my ear,
squeeze my shoulder.
Inhale your scent.
Soap,
spice,
lust.
Taste you.
Singha & desire
on your mouth.
See your details.
The scar on your nose,
tan line of your watch,
hollow of your throat,
wetness on your lips.
To hear you whisper.
Talk of....
sex,
music,
wants,
poetry,
secrets.
When I say
I want you,
I want to...
Sit close enough
to touch you,
rest my hand on your knee,
touch your prickly hair,
whisper in my ear,
squeeze my shoulder.
Inhale your scent.
Soap,
spice,
lust.
Taste you.
Singha & desire
on your mouth.
See your details.
The scar on your nose,
tan line of your watch,
hollow of your throat,
wetness on your lips.
To hear you whisper.
Talk of....
sex,
music,
wants,
poetry,
secrets.
Midas Touch - another short one
Midas
would turn
to gold
everything
he touched
except for
the spot
between my
neck and shoulder
I did not
know I had
until you
touched me.
would turn
to gold
everything
he touched
except for
the spot
between my
neck and shoulder
I did not
know I had
until you
touched me.
A couple older poems about women
Words not in (parentheses) are the actual words used in the television commercial (!!!)
Body
by Victoria.
(Feelings of inadequacy
by present social culture)
A
devastating collection
of lingerie.
(For once Victoria & I agree)
(I sit devastated
as I am
repeatedly subjected
to these
unrealistic expectations
of beauty)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(this version looks different from the one I posted
yesterday because this is the original from 1995)
How To Be A RealWoman
Know how to cook,
and use your rook,
and let me look
at other women.
Grow your hair,
get a perky pair,
and never stare
at me.
Grow up.
Cheer up.
Do sit ups.
Stand up for me.
Shut up Valeri!
Ride a bike.
Know what I like.
And never try
to psyche me out.
Driving around,
don't make a sound
as I comment on
every woman around.
You need a round butt,
get your body "cut",
and on command,
act like a slut.
Am I being heard?
I hardly say a word.....
Make sure the coffee's stirred!
RealWomen don't cry.
RealWomen aren't shy.
And they don't ask why! (?)
Get more educated,
and when we're
socially situated,
don't act like we're together.
Wear your clothes tight.
Learn to drive right.
And why do you have to
write all the time? (!)
Body
by Victoria.
(Feelings of inadequacy
by present social culture)
A
devastating collection
of lingerie.
(For once Victoria & I agree)
(I sit devastated
as I am
repeatedly subjected
to these
unrealistic expectations
of beauty)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(this version looks different from the one I posted
yesterday because this is the original from 1995)
How To Be A RealWoman
Know how to cook,
and use your rook,
and let me look
at other women.
Grow your hair,
get a perky pair,
and never stare
at me.
Grow up.
Cheer up.
Do sit ups.
Stand up for me.
Shut up Valeri!
Ride a bike.
Know what I like.
And never try
to psyche me out.
Driving around,
don't make a sound
as I comment on
every woman around.
You need a round butt,
get your body "cut",
and on command,
act like a slut.
Am I being heard?
I hardly say a word.....
Make sure the coffee's stirred!
RealWomen don't cry.
RealWomen aren't shy.
And they don't ask why! (?)
Get more educated,
and when we're
socially situated,
don't act like we're together.
Wear your clothes tight.
Learn to drive right.
And why do you have to
write all the time? (!)
10/13/07
Song Virus
Oh John, oh John, oh John
Never lose the memory of April twenty-six
Your hands designed my body
You autographed my hip
I lost all my worry
I lost all sense of time
My fears evaporated
When you held me in your oh my god and
Oh John, in a New York hotel room
In a truck off the back road
Southwest of Chicago
Oh John, in a New England fairground
on a lawn in the backyard
in a town in Colorado, oh
Oh John, oh John, oh John
Saturate my consciousness with sweet elixir wine
Your body is the chalice your spirit is the vine
I lose all my worry
I lose all sense of time
My fears evaporate
When you hold me in your oh my god and
Chorus
And everytime I see the ocean you're there
And everytime I see the forest you're on my mind
In my life, flooding me with memories like
Chorus
Oh John - Paula Cole
Never lose the memory of April twenty-six
Your hands designed my body
You autographed my hip
I lost all my worry
I lost all sense of time
My fears evaporated
When you held me in your oh my god and
Oh John, in a New York hotel room
In a truck off the back road
Southwest of Chicago
Oh John, in a New England fairground
on a lawn in the backyard
in a town in Colorado, oh
Oh John, oh John, oh John
Saturate my consciousness with sweet elixir wine
Your body is the chalice your spirit is the vine
I lose all my worry
I lose all sense of time
My fears evaporate
When you hold me in your oh my god and
Chorus
And everytime I see the ocean you're there
And everytime I see the forest you're on my mind
In my life, flooding me with memories like
Chorus
Oh John - Paula Cole
Mainstream Radio
I am somewhat embarassed to admit that I listen to a Top 40 radio station while taking a shower while getting ready for work in the morning. I listen for rather mundane reasons (it's the only station that comes in clearly, the cd player on the radio no longer works, the battery in my clock is dead and I need to know what time it is while getting ready)
I like that the music has a good beat, sometimes has thoughtful lyrics and wakes me up while under the water, but it all sounds like it was recorded at a dance club, which is not my scene anymore (never was actually). I felt rather foolish listening to it recently one morning wrapped in towels after my shower, putting a load of baby clothes in the dryer.
I like that the music has a good beat, sometimes has thoughtful lyrics and wakes me up while under the water, but it all sounds like it was recorded at a dance club, which is not my scene anymore (never was actually). I felt rather foolish listening to it recently one morning wrapped in towels after my shower, putting a load of baby clothes in the dryer.
word of the day
Word of the Day for Friday, October 12, 2007
truckle \TRUHK-uhl\, intransitive verb:
To yield or bend obsequiously to the will of another; to act in a subservient manner.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I would
truckle
for the muse
if asked.
Lying still
while
the muse
did the
buckle.
(to be continued and/or edited)
Society's Reinforcement of Beauty
I refuse to read magazines like Cosmopolitan because they are about 90% ads for makeup, clothes, purses and jewelry, with models that look like sticks with vacant looks on their faces. I am an adult woman and know that these things are not essential to a happy life or exciting sex life.
BUT
In the soft, toy purse my 14 month old daughter received for a gift there is of course a small fuzzy, change purse and even a little fuzzy play cell phone that rings (which I realize is now a becoming a staple of daily life)
BUT
I was irritated when I discovered a fuzzy play makeup compact with unbreakable mirror inside it, reinforcing to her that women usually carry and need makeup in their purses. I don't even own a makeup compact. Thinking about the contents of my backpack purse, I carry a wallet of course (with pictures of her in it), checkbook, small notebook, a couple pens, gum, cellphone and catch all bag for receipts and such. I have since taken the compact out of the toy purse, it's still in the toy box, but I don't want to reinforce that it should go with her play purse.
---------------------------------------
How To Be A RealWoman
Know how to cook
&
use your rook
&
don't make a sound
as I look
at other women.
Ride a bike.
Know what I like
&
never try
to psyche
me out.
You need
a round butt,
get
your body "cut"
&
on command,
act like a slut.
Am I being heard?
I hardly say a word.
Make sure the coffee's stirred!
Get more educated
&
when were socially situated,
don't act like we're together.
Wear your clothes tight.
Learn to drive right
&
why do you have
to write
all the time? (!)
---------------------------
This is only a partial posting of this poem. When I find the site that it is on, I will post the complete poem. which I wrote back in 1996 which is why I can't remember it in its entirety. Suffice it to say, these were actual things an abusive boyfriend said to me.
BUT
In the soft, toy purse my 14 month old daughter received for a gift there is of course a small fuzzy, change purse and even a little fuzzy play cell phone that rings (which I realize is now a becoming a staple of daily life)
BUT
I was irritated when I discovered a fuzzy play makeup compact with unbreakable mirror inside it, reinforcing to her that women usually carry and need makeup in their purses. I don't even own a makeup compact. Thinking about the contents of my backpack purse, I carry a wallet of course (with pictures of her in it), checkbook, small notebook, a couple pens, gum, cellphone and catch all bag for receipts and such. I have since taken the compact out of the toy purse, it's still in the toy box, but I don't want to reinforce that it should go with her play purse.
---------------------------------------
How To Be A RealWoman
Know how to cook
&
use your rook
&
don't make a sound
as I look
at other women.
Ride a bike.
Know what I like
&
never try
to psyche
me out.
You need
a round butt,
get
your body "cut"
&
on command,
act like a slut.
Am I being heard?
I hardly say a word.
Make sure the coffee's stirred!
Get more educated
&
when were socially situated,
don't act like we're together.
Wear your clothes tight.
Learn to drive right
&
why do you have
to write
all the time? (!)
---------------------------
This is only a partial posting of this poem. When I find the site that it is on, I will post the complete poem. which I wrote back in 1996 which is why I can't remember it in its entirety. Suffice it to say, these were actual things an abusive boyfriend said to me.
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