It’s a crapshoot –
self-aggrandized,
charity-loving,
ostentatious celebrities
polluting developing minds
masking panic;
collective agreements
re-violating, prodding
drive elaborate schemes
to improve our living status
personas discomforting
to future generations;
what entertainment –
bait and switch tactics
proclaiming worthy causes
grand venues depicting happy
disguising uncertainty
loss of societal innocence
overshadowed.
(Image:Â media-values.blogspot.com)
I’m a freshwater gal,
prefer murky, stagnant
pools to the onrush
of rapids, currents
annoy me, challenge
my delicate body,
content to feed off
lanky foliage, swim
in dim-lit passages;
fear it was the flash
of gold, or glimpse
of a mermaid tail
that first attracted
man, compelled him
to trap then breed me
artificially – in glass
houses, distorted
worlds colliding with
my sensitivity, absent
safe havens for retreat.
Worldly now, tossed
into constructs called
ponds – added rocks,
footbridges or lily pads
do not deceive me –
cellular memory is
not to be quieted, I
dream of night skies,
and morning dew, and
sun baking the water’s
surface, of diversity,
schools and families
cannot tolerate this
one-flush destiny,
need space to be –
not an illusion of
recognize my captivity
for what it is – concrete
walls cannot define me;
the wild, the free burns
deep – thousand years
of containment has not
defiled my DNA, and I
will remember long after
that final plunge, in
reincarnation may not
be so forgiving – no
longer a timid fish.
(image:Â http://animals.mom.me/goldfish-live-4748.html)
Find comfort amongst bloggers,
witness the birth of writers,
misplace my own purpose, fallen
gather ideas, maintain my shame;
I am a fictional character, having
miscarried my own story, declined
into dirt – dangerous; energy limited,
no stores to drive me, never really
known a home where peace dwells,
where brilliance is nurtured, worn
down with beatings, ascribed to
independence too young, immature
chose boisterousness over gentleness,
became a second/third-hand wife,
parent, place last behind responsibility.
beat myself up now over my stupidity,
lack of credibility, an obligatory failure –
any wisdom preserved redundant.
Stop already! Â This is but a one-sided
tale coloured by shame – change the
lens, multiple stories await birthing
find comfort amongst bloggers,
witness the growth of writers,
recognize the shared experience.
British roots define
particular brand of
peculiarity – shared
claustrophobia –
fear of closeness;
need to lie down,
separate myself,
am married now
childless dreams
dust; I am cook,
cleaner – project
sparkle where dirt
still lingers, losing
rationality, not quite
catching on; want
to send flowers,
honour passings
but soul wounds,
unbandaged, gape –
hunger to be free.
(Image:Â www.apa.org)
(A little light-hearted word play.  Hope you enjoy.)
Anger, invested in former foibles –
an underground agent for disaster –
makes recommendations, promotes
aggressive agenda, takes the lead,
direction (or lack of it) exploding,
repurposes itself, expectations
that its self-serving cause is
perfectly understandable.
Understand perfectly
that self-serving causes
are expectations, repurposed
explosions of misdirections,
leading takes agenda,
aggressive promotion
recommendations make
disastrous agents for
underground foibles,
formerly invested in anger.
(Image:Â teddyray.com)
Impulse would take me back –
resurrect lost passions –
a grave robber taking counsel
from the dead – volatility
a public declaration of extent
of bad choices – no exaggeration –
stench of unburied dreams burn
the eyes when exposed to open air,
the politeness of civil society.
(Image:Â mongolschinaandthesilkroad.blogspot.com)
Keep distance!
Inner child
intimate with abuse;
a sad comedian
spontaneity ploy
masking deadness –
major screwup –
God’s grace
unscathed
minus mishaps
hip movement
frozen scream
roads collide
life on periphery
repercussions
cognitive gears
breaking ice
encountering foes
reflexes delayed
safety intangible
borrowing time
health a trial
defeat conceded
relinquished control
Keep distance!
Inner child
driving the show.
Orlando, Paris, Columbine –
horrific stains on social
conscience – no room for
bystanders – our house is
divided, projecting fear into
sunsets, volatility illuminating,
initiating paralysis – terror
cannot be contained by
a single story –
Suburbia is on fire
minorities in the street
witnessing targeted
violence, neighbourhoods
torn apart, darkening clouds
hovering – losing sight of
the richness of our resources
need to shelter, reorganize
fight this fragmentation
of values, together…
Maybe comfort is the enemy
pockets of turmoil exploding
alerting, shaking our complacency
shining light on the faithlessness
of our priorities, encouraging
breakthrough — the world
grows smaller
and none of us
is alone.
(Image:Â www.theepochtimes.com)
Breaking through loss –
alone without independence –
reach out for former lover,
wanting to renegotiate the terms
of our disruption,
am permanently horizontal, restless,
in this unexpected life.
Reckless youth
torturing me – I am vulnerability
landed, past mistakes rippling through –
need to find a private place away
from myself where reassurance is
a dinner mate, and fear
otherwise engaged.
But the past cannot be
retrieved, and there is support
in the present, if I let down
this guard, I’ll feel
the security
of love.
(Image:Â parisapartment.wordpress.com)
What options for long term care?
Will life linger, abandon me, alone?
If unconditional love exists, then let
it talk to me, gesture desire, offer
support – safety only comes with sleep
despite this troubled unconsciousness;
oversensitive, naive perhaps, will make it,
if only I push outside the comfort of my bed.
suspicious of following, consuming, believe
that outsiders have forgotten me, worried –
security lies in the hands of loving, attentive
companion, otherwise; trying to trust life.
(Image:Â perfumeonherpassport.wordpress.com)
One Woman's Quest 