Tag: attachment

Categories
Poetry

Dog Man Grew Up With Cats

The dog boy grew up with cats
they told him he was a cat
spoke to him like a cat
groomed him as a cat
and even though he still became
Dog Man
this pack creature
is unceasingly drawn to felines
their foreplay familiar 
dogs something foreign and rarely
brought round for fun

Dog Man is sensitive and he longs
for a good belly rub
but kitties have dirty claws 
and would rather receive
their own scratch behind the ears
the pissing in a box thing?
not so clean – an illusion
but one puss in the box
is worth two dogs in the woods
so is spoken
so Dog Man clings
like a kitten to the curtains

Dog Man clings
and he won’t run with wolves
he barks with fear 
and he can’t let go

Categories
Poetry Thirsty Thursday

Thirsty Thursday | Who Will Love Me?

Who will love me?

When I am apart from this world

When I stand alone, refusing to be
wrecked by a cellphone superglued to my senses,
application addiction gone awry

When I refuse to partake in modern convention
preferring soft and spiky summer grass between my toes,
humidity sucking sweat to the surface of my skin,
lying upon rocks under thick air,
thick branches bearing bright green canopies,
thousands of thirsty leaves, some yellow and release
reminders that this moment is temporary,
and the Fall will come

Who will love me then?

When I bake appled pies and over-romanticize
the long shadows of autumned evening walks
my season of spiders, ripping through webs
strung out over trails,
boasting my bravery – no more fear of fine-legged friends
just as precious a life, so I give love
I give compassion, knowing these virtues are
given not taken, the cause of the effect,
happiness

Why, then, do I ask for love?

Believing the grasping, the craving
its fulfilment will make me whole, and I
will never want again –
a lie
like salt water quenching thirst
impossible
and possibility
still believed

Who will love me when I am
under a spell of such insanity?

And who will guide me out of this suffering?
Permanently?

Categories
Poetry

Misplaced Grief

I thought my pain was due to his absence
yet the delusions arose in his presence

my uncontrolled desirous attachment
formed unfulfilled relationship wishes

I no longer sensed the man behind the mask
begging for a freedom he refused to imagine

loathe to face the grim consequences
of his actions, or their lack

Categories
Poetry

Come Together

Infinite

Endless

Space

You create your future today

Do not become overwhelmed by the opportunities
If What if is What is then Why not What if
Something fucking fantastic.

Let us come together like fire and ice
to create the perfect fog
to slowly uncover the puzzle
put together by sightless senses
somehow complete and smooth around the edges
Won’t you create intentionally with me?

Let us build a masterpiece of a life
reciprocity
boundless giving, love instead of fears
we have such fun to make
a home of sex and joy
transforming life 
for hearts we touch
and we strive to touch them all
with a swinger’s gift
unique lust lends
to love
after
all.

You showed me gypsy magic
under light of waxing moon
simple, soulful tunes,
banged out with wooden spoons
passed down from father to son
carved with mystic ruins
creating music for ear
hair raises on skin
I feel it on my neck
like hot breath
and scruff scratch
I feel it on my lower back
where kidneys rub tissue to soundtracks
my arching spine senses the divine
from this music made
so much more than sound tonight
as only magic that persuades
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
you moved me with the music sound
so that my feet no longer meet ground
yet I dance, so moved by you
and you by my words
as you play your tune.

We came together this cold night
to create intentionally by candle light
both romantics, painfully, to core
wishing freedom from attachment
wishing for much more.
yet still finding the body
anything but a bore
because these human sensations
can be felt in each pore
Have you counted them recently? 
there are billions
yet we call it one piece
don’t see it fragmented
and wish for release – 
from what?

It’s the thoughts and desires
like three deadly poisons
like witches who snare
with unsolicited visions
inciting toxic ambition
that clings to an “I”
not found in team
not found in love
which only gives, lest I dream
and yearn to receive as much as I live
to selflessly, unabashedly strive
to get rid of the ego and get rid of my pride.

Until I have made much more progress here,
I just yearn for the music
to help me release fear
the magic is working
as the gypsies knew
the music is magic
and the music
is you.

Categories
Love Letters Thirsty Thursday Visual Artwork

Dear Red | Letter 2

Dear Red,

My hands miss you even now. They miss the feel of your skin, the warmth of your body. They miss running through your hair, squeezing the soft skin around your neck, pinching your taught nipple, parting your lips, fingers swimming in the warm wetness, tight and strong, yielding walls.

My fingers miss you even now. They miss creating the causes for those small moans to escape your throat. They miss meeting your fingers in the push and pull games we would play. They miss tickles, and walking along the pale bumpy shore of your shoulder blades, raised pores, sensitive beyond measure. They miss control with tiny touch. They miss running for their lives to avoid being crushed in the roiling brawl, dark room, damp sheets, foot on floor, head on bed. 

My head, it misses you even now. It spins and movies play across my lids. I yearn to close my eyes in every waking moment to bring you back to my here and now. My ears feel your lips, hear your whispers. My neck hair raises to think that near you passed. I smell the air hoping to catch the non-existent waft of your invisible scent – woodsy deodorant, dark amber and cotton candy.

My dearest Red, my soul misses you even now. It was as if it was whole until I bore into you and created the causes for my own misery. Misplaced attachment and tangible fear of loss to replace peace and joy and love. An uncontrolled desire that rewrites fact with lustful fiction on a cord I wrap ‘round both our necks.

Dear Red what mind is it that yearns for direct suffering as the product of a wish? What mind that reaches for the poison on the top shelf and strives to spill every last drop into its own being? What unabashed lust that craves bodily satisfaction over everlasting love? It is my mind. So in my mind we sit together now. All night long we have not stirred, and yet God has not said a word! 

“Red” ~ 10.20.20 ~ Acrylic on Canvas ~ 12″ x 16″