did you say “L”, did you say “O”, did you say “V”, did you say “E”?

Wow, that word again used so frequently
yet understood so ineffectually
because it is not to be believed just after you cum
but rather when you’ve endured some unbearable torture and
still can feel it through to your core for someone else,
maybe even for the one that tortured you.

That is the bone in it, the marrow of it.
What you give,
rather than what you have received.

There is a long line to get it but an emptish field where it can be found.

This action is wrought with difficulty,
but the payoff – sublime –
to love where wronged,
to wish for the welfare of those that harm you.

Incredible as it seems,
it is attainable and once that goal is reached,
understanding is genuine and love is real.

For V, inspired by JC

inclinations

sometimes made of metal and other times no more than a passing fancy
whether deciding to be the destroyer of myths or the conjurer of rumors
no one force of nature may predict one’s inclinations
They are like a body of water
tranquil at times and raging at others

I’m inclined to recline when it comes to proclaiming my inclinations
Sometimes I’m in the water facing the surface yet never catching breath
never gaining air smothered by the cooling mass
a desire beyond all that I can bear to have my face escape this watery grave
but I can’t since I’m held back

though swaying with every easy and pretty word that comes my way but what holds me fast
against those pretty persuasions
maybe that mountain of memory, usually the weakest of all muscles,
that I’ve enforced by will to create a tower
that hampers even the most potent attraction
I will always be true even when swimming in the raging surf.
I’ve no reason to survive if I forfeit that.

A Simple Discovery

I know you are not supposed to do it
but I just cannot resist tooting it

I’m in love with myself.
I mean like deep in it after all these years.

I really enjoy the person that I am
even though so many disagree with me and tell me I’m bad and wrong.

just the other day someone yelled at me for not giving up my place in line to a lady with a baby.

So many inflict me with their views on how I should behave.
Why is everyone worried about me? I’m doing great.
Thanks for the concern but mostly it’s annoying.

I think they should just stop shoving sticks square up their arse
because it’s really bad to actually tickle one’s brain till it spasms
in pains of anxiety and cringes in misery

and that will never be me as long as I draw breath.
I won’t go that route ever again where I’m always right and everyone is wrong.

Now I feel more like I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m wrong but I’m sure no one else is right, especially, about me being bad anymore.

It’s all too stupid to entertain so I’ll just bask in the glory which is my simple discovery of an absolute truth in a cursed age –
I don’t suck!

what I mean is – I like me.
Finally!

Vanilla Man

I was sweet sixteen and never been kissed. I would be seventeen in a few weeks. I wanted that damn kiss before the day of reckoning when I turned seventeen. There was a party going on in teenage land that my brother was going to. All the cool kids were going to be there. I begged my eighteen year old brother to take me. He finally relented as I was making him miserable with my excessive pleas. I was hoping to get closer to that kiss. There I was walking into my first “real” party. I remember it felt like my coming out party in manner of a John Hughes movie (pick any one of them).


Dont you forget about me! Whats your name again?

I didn’t know anyone there except my brother and he did not speak to me the entire time. Well, it wouldn’t be cool to socialize with one’s sister. I understood that. I was trying to act cool too. I was sitting there all alone acting like I really wanted it that way. I might have acted a little too cool since only one person spoke to me. She was trying to find out about my brother. YUK! Then, I saw him. Yes, that’s him over there looking at me with that “who is she?” look, my Vanilla Man.

Well, he was really good-looking. Everyone thought he looked like Tom Cruise. He really did too. He had arrived very late and the party was breaking up. My brother and I were getting ready to leave. He had seen my brother telling me that we were going to leave soon. Vanilla Man then asked my brother if he and I were dating – EWWWWWW! He thought I was dating my brother. That is disgusting. He was happy about the answer and came right over and asked me out – the movies next Saturday night. Yeah! Maybe I would get kissed before I turned seventeen years old after all. What a stupid yardstick!

He took me to see a really stupid movie too. I can’t remember the name of the film but it was about professional skiers and there was a lot of bared breasts and illusionary sex going on. It was pretty boring. I thought about the kiss through the whole movie. He is gonna kiss me I just knew it. And it’s gonna be so cool and the next day I would call my best friend and give explicit details about everything. I was so naive. Still am, in a lot of ways actually. Well, the movie was over “Whaddya wanna do now?” he asks. I replied, “I dunno, what do you want to do?” So, we took a drive and then we parked.

So, he puts the car in park. He turns towards me and then it was all tongue for the next thirty minutes or so. Unga Bunga! It wasn’t a very magical experience but it wasn’t unpleasant either. I kind of felt suffocated by his tongue at first. It took me a minute to figure out to draw breath through my nose. That’s better. It was kind of yucky all that moisture but then it was all right. I realized I was in a little over my head. He was a gentleman though for the most part. He did cop a feel, over the clothes.

Do you want to know why he’s called Vanilla Man? You do, don’t you? Well you will have to wait till the end of the story. Sorry, no backsies.

So, just like that we were dating exclusively. I don’t know. Why not? I’ll have a boyfriend. I was so diffident back then. Whatevs! I remember sitting in band. Oh, yes I was in the High School band. I played the clarinet. I was awful, second string second to last seat. I worked just hard enough not be dead last. When I first started playing, I was first string first seat. Clarinet playing is an artful endeavor but ultimately I just wasn’t really interested. I just did it to do it and we had a clarinet in the family. So, there you go. This one time, in band camp … no way, not a clarinet! I couldn’t resist the “American Pie” reference.

Anyway in band, I sat next to this girl, Yvette. All the guys liked her. She was a girlie girl. She did have a graceful way of being sort of effortless. I could see why guys were attracted to her. Anyway, she was in the grade above me and had dated Vanilla Man. “Oh, so you’re dating so and so, huh?” she said. I replied, “Yes we are going steady.” She says, “Oh, that’s nice. So and so is a really nice guy. He just was not for me, ya know.” “No, what do you mean?” I was genuinely curious. “Well, he’s really cute and all. He’s just not that exciting.” I was thoughtful thinking of what Vanilla Man and I had been doing. He took me out every weekend to the movies or dinner or parties or gatherings. He bought me gifts all time. In the summertime, he would bring me a bouquet of flowers from his farm. See! He was a good guy. So, I didn’t agree with it being unexciting. She saw my face and basically said something like boring might be fine for me but not for her but she said it in a nice Yvette kind of way so I wasn’t pissed.


Should I listen to the Chili Peppers and just give it away?

You know how things people say leave a mark on your brain. You replay it over and over but don’t seem to really be paying attention to it.

Well, he’s just not that exciting

Anyway, it was a few months later and we were still going strong for the most part. Anyway, one night we were playing a drinking game, “Quarters” with another couple and I got a little tipsy. So, we made out afterwards. He was all over me like an animal. But I was so drunk I don’t remember much except kissing and groping. I don’t even remember how I got home. No, we DID NOT have sex that I know for sure.

I remember waking up the next morning and I went straight to the bathroom. In an effort to de-fog my brain, I figured I would splash some water on myself. I was washing my face when I caught my reflection in the mirror. Good lord, what the hell is that? No, seriously, what the hell is that? What is that all over my throat? Oh my lord, I looked like someone beat me up in the freakin’ neck. That son of a bitch hoovered me. It was world’s biggest (and ugliest) hickey right there in front of me in that mirror. And, it was on my neck!!!

How the hell am I going to explain this to my parents? “What’s that on your neck, sweetheart.” I reply, “The weirdest thing happened I actually fell on my neck on to a vacuum cleaner and it sucked on me for a good hour and left that bruise.” Thank goodness it was winter. I wore turtlenecks for two weeks. I did get teased by this one guy until the hickey went away because the bruise went up underneath my damn chin. Every day in health class, “What is that underneath your chin? Is it a growth or something?” Every day he would ask me how my growth was doing. I really would have liked to punch him right in that smug goofy assed expression. POW! There’s your growth, ya smug ass bastard.

That summer I got a driver’s license. I was having a lot of fun hanging with my friends and going to the movies and to dinners and to parties with them. And I was beginning to realize what Yvette meant by “not that exciting”. Vanilla Man wasn’t a boring person. He just was a person of simple tastes and amusements. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. I was into the arts and writing and trying new things. He was an outdoorsman. He enjoyed hunting and sports and more traditional pursuits. Well as time went on, he wanted to become better acquainted with me if you know what I mean.

I didn’t want to. I just didn’t feel it. I liked being with him but not all the way. I had thought I would have to get married if I had sex with him and that prospect scared the hell out of me. Marriage I mean. I realized that marriage was very serious and should only be for two people who were well suited for one another. No way was I going to follow in either course that laid before me – marriage or bank teller – as if those were my only options. But at that time it did appear that those were my only paths in life that were expected of me.

I have a plethora of female cousins, all of them ten to twenty years older than me. They all got married before twenty-one. Most of them did not go on to higher education as they got married fresh out of high school. I didn’t want that life. Eventually, marriage would be great but not now. I wanted to go to school and get a job doing something I was remotely interested in and traveling and most of all living on my own. I very much wanted that. I wanted to know that I could take care of myself in the real world. Doing things myself is a major theme in my life. “Bugger off, I can do it myself.”

So Vanilla Man was getting more serious and I was getting less serious with each passing date. It grew difficult going through the motions as he shared more of his emotions. One date in particular sparked my determination to end it with him…

He picked me up in his Chrysler LeBaron. He spent all day cleaning it. It was a very hot evening and we decided to go out for ice cream. While he was in the store ordering our sundaes, a woman was admiring his car. She struck me as quite odd. Then, Vanilla Man walked out with our sundaes and handed me mine. The woman asked, “Is this a new car?” He said “No, but I just washed it.” She was so enamored of the car. She said, “Are the windows rolled up? Oh, my goodness I thought they were rolled down. I can’t even see the glass you cleaned the car so well.” Another one of those imprints

Can’t even see the glass….

over and over again. He says, “Thanks” to the strange woman and he gets in the car with me and we are eating our sundaes. My sundae was gooey hot fudge with rocky road and chocolate chip ice cream scoops covered in nuts and whipped cream and cherry on top. I was really enjoying it. Then, I looked over to see what he was eating. I kept staring at his cup as I couldn’t make out what was in his sundae.

I saw white and more white and a bright red cherry on top. I couldn’t take it. I wanted to know what he was eating. So, I asked, “Did you get a sundae or just a cup of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream on top?” He replied, “No, I got a sundae.” I asked, “What’s in it?” He said, “Vanilla ice cream, marshmallow topping (what the f….), and whipped cream.” If I could have seen my expression, it wouldn’t have been of disgust but one of complete incredulity. I just simply couldn’t understand that sundae. It didn’t make sense to me. If only he had put nuts on it, maybe things could have been different. I remember sitting in a daze for a bit but then I became resolute to end it with him.

When I think about it, he was a lot like his choice in sundae – very sweet but nothing that interested me. We broke up two weeks later. I like to tell people it’s because of the vanilla sundae since it seems to make people laugh. But, really it was because we were two different people who could never really get on well, not for the long haul anyway. He could never make me happy and I would make his life miserable if we had ever gotten married. There are many things in life that are just not meant to be. And, I still feel a vanilla sundae is one of them.

This is a true story from my perspective anyway.

Romeo is Banished

I saw a performance of Romeo and Juliet this past weekend and it set me thinking…

There is a shed in banished that no one uses
You must follow the path
Through a decaying meadow
While I walk my crunching footsteps breaks the reverie
I notice how I’m destroying all the dried up leaves
behind me … a wake of dust
Looking up I see a road post but the etchings wore off
Struck by the lack of moisture, my throat burns
I don’t see any hope but further ahead there must be something
Caressing wind gone vacant, stillness in this solemn walk.
And there it is. I think it might be shelter.
Inside
I find a heart ripped to pieces
Dirt in bowls and cups broken from the heat
Beyond discomfort.
I’m pleading for help from above
Can Romeo just be another word for love?

Scent

The rush…
Extremely potent, like the feel of water racing round my ears.
I’m drowning in desire want so bad to draw near.

The smell is penetrating, goes very deep within.
Lost in the fragrance, I can barely begin.

Closer.
Maybe I can feel with my fingertips
what my mouth wants to swallow.

Settling.
Fleeting graze ‘gainst my lips;
it’s timidity leaving me hollow

Brazenly cupping, feels lush in my hand.
The bud, surrendering, seems unusually grand.

Tracing circles on the outside; wishing to mesh.
Those inside petals almost better than flesh.

Flower

Love Spun

DISCLAIMER: This not in any way related to me. I was pondering news stories and how people do such evil f-ed up stuff and the basis for it is love – when you peel away the madness. Please don’t call the police on me. A friend told me that this post seemed like readers might think I’m a real bag o’ nuts.

Into distortion…

Beauty on the open seas vacationers enjoying a cruise
Love for the pyromaniac
just add a little fire as the ship burns to bits on the Pacific

oh drat not again
Awaking from godless dreams
What is the end result?
Course is hampered by breathing folks
I need God’s love so I kill to be worthy
Construction set on the throne of bones
That will be my salvation and bring
Me back into God’s good graces.

A mother steeped in madness for the love of her children.
This love is the destroying kind
Every movement signifies the decay of her kids.
Every sigh indicates the rough and tumble clamor endured in life
A surfeit of anguish, life cannot ever be good for the children I worship
as I always see their lives through the lens of despair.
Can drowned little bodies signify the depths of a mother’s love?

How many hot dogs can one shove down the gullet?
My feet are anchored in the sand as the waves try to mow me down.
You like me anchored to YOU
in a tie me up
tie me down
kind of way.

Affection, spinning out of control away from reality into disaster head first into tragedy.