Drinking cold blackberry bubly
In the hot Himalayan-salted bath
In the apartment I rent
And listening to Nat King Cole
I belch loudly four times through the open window
Being a woman in the twenty-first century isn’t so bad
As long as I hold patience for people
And cherish the other that is not me.
Saturday: the day I’m designating for the shameless sharing of my artistic endeavors whether they be poetic, painted or playlist.
We’ll kick it off this week with painting & poetry.
Below, oil painting, “Where is my mind?”
Below, excerpt from November-release poem, “Come Together“:
… as only magic that persuades
Come Together, 2020
the body move separate from mind
out of control, dancing in time
to art brought forth from empty space
a fire burns within this place
a story comes forth from your lips
I’m dancing with it on my hips
it is hypnotic as I twirl
no longer human, no more a girl
a spirit, light and transformed, airy …
If you’d like to stay up to date with new releases like “Come Together,” receive a monthly recap, and score sneak peeks, subscribe to The Halfwit’s Newsletter:
Since Hump Day was a little on the nose, I’ve turned to Thirsty Thursday as the appropriate weekday to share Channeled Love Letters.
These tasty treats range from love poems to stories to love letters to playlists and more! Using intuition, clairvoyance, meditation, and creativity mixed with my own cherishing and affectionate love, I have crafted a mixture of fun, smutty, and heartfelt pieces.
These letters are made of words channeled through me from lost lovers, distant places, notes pressed upon my mental continuum, felt in the world’s energy, experienced directly or made up completely.
If that doesn’t make sense yet, I’m sure it soon will. Today I’ll leave you with something short and sweet.
Subtle Devotion
In quiet moments
My mind calls on you
Astral meditation
I touch your cheek
A muse for your mind
& pray to vain gods
That our karma entwine
It is difficult to admit
to being the victim
of biological warfare
It is difficult to admit
to being violated
by those you have never met
It is easy to wish
for an absence of vulnerability
in times of relentless ignorance
where an elusive truth
escapes all who reach for it
eviscerated in smoke and mirrors
It is easy to blame
the people in front of us
for the games the elite play
It is difficult to be
serf, prey, and plaything
for those who vie for our extinction
It is difficult to admit
we freely offer our futures to those
who will celebrate our destruction.
I yearn for the values of my grandmother
not catholic, not starched and sterilized by religion
not rusty morals nor ignorant rules
I yearn for the values of my grandmother
curled around me with love and kindness
virtuous actions bringing peace to minds
I strive to create a pure moral discipline
in my self, as I saw in my grandmother
something rare in the face of today’s anger
hatred, attachment, confusion
I yearn for the wealth of my grandmother
an uncontaminated purity, patience
her undeniable courage and unconditional love
Though they assert they’re not
It’s that time of year
As winter taps his frigid nails against
Autumn’s clock
We’re reminded
Though we may pretend
We can’t stop the seasons nor change the tides
All living die and
All things end
While a regular cold and flu season
Begins again
Charlie was a good boy
zig zagging over creeks, through fields
a time long gone yet still remembered
some folks willing to keep memory alive
while children’s minds burn away
the fire stoked by fatigued parents
no longer packing lunches in their poverty
abandoning maternal urges in ugly rebellion
against nature instead of society
how cruel that Charlie’s world is gone
a fantasy a child shall never more live
the cool grass beneath bare feet now plastic turf
upon which lolls a kid, game controller in hand
and channel changing between two minute videos
five minutes now too long an attention span
for the precious lives establishing
our future, autodidactic meets idiocracy
I miss nature, and civil society
Such a betrayal was this:
That your fast friendships
Overwrote years of promise, sacrifice, love
Your quick fixes and sober thirst for escape
Kept you trapped, stuck fast, held soft, not firm
I hope you realized the advice you canvassed
It still seems you don’t know whose to follow
Your own untrustworthy tongue clamped
by repression and a determination to omit truth
felt not by touch
yet quivering heart
moved by words
breathing taught
stomach knot
separate by space
elusive here
screen before me
illusively near you
sounds from mouth
and meaning birthed
upon your lips
that felt not worth
of magic spell
cast down from mind
rippling through
this soul of mine
One day we will recall
how we contributed to our own enslavement
Or we can forget
like we always have
And lay the blame
on someone else
The Halfwit Writer