impediment
she tried writing poetry on paper
but with each catch hold push slide of graphite
the creamy white pages
tore
scored with ripped runways of spinal cords
filaments stretching like sinew
quiet paper death
and the dust of grey pencil breath
mixed with it, ash in snow
the fire that burnt down her castle
the words that flap in her lungs like a cough but
won't come out
paper wings like moths, coated
in graphite dust
forever clustering
as her pages turned to sand, slipping
through time's hourglass
never to be filled with the cloud-headed
stumbling footprints
wobbly knees
dazed wanderings of a writer
pulled and stretched but released
sent into flight
a flock of pencil-marked birds
YOU
YOU
You're the true reflection of perfection even in a broken mirror,
Your heart is still the true definition of love even after going through all of life's horror,
You deserve better than where situations have placed you all along,
And even in the dirt, you remained a diamond,
You're that sweet tingling feeling of pleasure when I'm happy,
You give me ecstasy when I think of your beautiful smile in my head,
You're royalty You're more valuable than gold & silver, you're precious,
Life is your golden crown, and the whole world is yours, soar higher and as you gradually burgeon,
You're dauntless and potent. You are the strongest person I know in life,
Your kind is rare. You're special Your existence beautifies the whole of Mankind,
You are an altruist, every single day you try your best to make this world a better place for everyone,
Your destination in the future will be greatness, and you will be responsible for putting happiness in the faces of everyone,
You'll be the best in everything you involve yourself in,
And even if things aren't clairvoyant right now, trust me tomorrow will be better than anything today will bring,
I believe in your dreams and reverie. I have faith in the person you're going to be,
I will never turn my back on you. I pray we grow old together in peace,
I'm not ashamed to tell everyone I love you more anyone has ever loved you before,
And if they ask who you are, I'll tell them you are the person I see each time I look at a mirror.
What Could Have Been...
It's like she was willing him
into life
with her magic,
and effortless smile
that came easy
as her swinging legs
that were wet with
perspiration,
and opening,
and closing lazily
with the arousing image
of her soft patina prize
resting, buried in the depths
of his hazily enclosed mind...
She was locked in a rhythm
of where and when
her darkness down below
would make it's grand appearance,
throwing shadows on the
olive colored terrain of her bare legs,
whenever her red dress of Mayan patterns
flew open,
while her face,
cradled by her black hair;
which was trussed up in a knot;
was turned away to the side,
as if she hadn't planned it all
to happen in this way...
...But whatever the intention,
Floyd was caught up in her act...
He'd started sweeping peanuts on the carpet,
until he fell victim to her sights...
...Now he's not sure where
his time's gone...
...or if he's been here
the whole night...
There's a wind coming in, sweeping,
and hiking Maria's dress
even further up than before...
...She's finally pointed her spotlight
on him now
with a unchecked look of longing...
He drops the broom, runs
to her shore...
She is calling for him to kiss her
on her hips,
and between her thighs...
He falls upon her,
with wild eyes, and busy hands!...
...Floyd is like a guided missile
as he draws his pulsing member
from the zippered door
of his pants fly...
Maria takes him in one hand;
(soft as a
butterflies wing)
she pumps him ferociously,
as they mash lips, and share an
empty bar stool...
...As day drunks enter in awe,
they continue to see no one,
as she takes his heat in her mouth,
swallowing, and inhaling
all of him
with a slurping gulp
that makes him cry out
in manic ecstasy...
*
He'll remember her name
'Maria',
though he's not sure if she's real,
or half-imagined
from his longing,
as he walks home alone
in the ruins of the night,
wondering what it would be like
it he had been brave enough
to ask her on a date...
...Aye, but it is his fate
to be a shy, and rather bookish dolt...
The night folds down
around his ears,
as he hunkers in for a night
of light beer, and heavy dreaming.
©
5/29/20
Bunny Villaire
Red is the Only Color
“Red is the only color.”
I tap the Red against my palm.
Twist Red
Brush Red in long, careful strokes
I am not an artist —
the Red goes places it should not.
I scold the Red away.
My canvas shivers
and I wrap her so only the Red
peeks through.
Ten beautiful shining Reds
on a translucent canvas.
Soon the Reds too will be covered.
Soon the canvas will burn to ash.
The art was never in the canvas.
red is only a color.
my opinion
Someone who challenges another person and says participate if you are stupid is stupid.
That’s a statement and a possible opinion.
So why are people in this world stupid, crazy, or insane?
It honestly depends on what is stupid, crazy or insane in your point of view.
From someone’s point of view, for example, someone who challenges another person and says ‘participate if you are stupid’ is stupid.
However, to another, they may not think so, and thus, create such a challenge, which another might say is stupid.
It is all a matter of opinion.
Anyways, I think its high time I addressed this issue at hand.
What is ‘stupid’, ‘crazy’ or ‘insane’?
stupid=having or showing a great lack of intelligence or common sense.
crazy=mad, especially as manifested in wild or aggressive behaviour
insane=in a state of mind which prevents normal perception, behaviour, or social interaction; seriously mentally ill.
You cannot blame anyone for their lack of intelligence. Really.
Some people might go crazy, or to more eloquently put it, mentally deranged, because of something that happened in their lives-like a death of a loved one, or something that impacted them very much. There’s always a reason for everything. Including people going ‘crazy’.
If someone says those people are crazy and laugh at them, or write something about it in a very joking manner, well, I’ll say they are stupid. Firstly due to their immaturity, no matter how old they may be, their lack of intelligence to interpret the situation, and lastly, their level of conscience and compassion. Or lack thereof.
Who are we to judge another human to be ‘stupid’, ‘crazy’ or ‘insane’?
Sure, if you are a psychologist or a specialist, there’s an exception, for you are giving a diagnosis medically speaking. But as a human to another human, on the same level, what or who gives you the right to call another fellow human being like yourself ‘stupid’, ‘crazy’ or ‘insane’?
What makes anyone think, that they are on a higher level than them?
Lastly, I would like to mention that in my opinion, a sick guy who harasses a teenage girl online, making her feel uncomfortable and makes inappropriate content is ‘sickly crazy’ and ‘grotesquely insane’.
Not stupid, I never doubted, (now that’s a lie) the IQ of someone like that.
I wouldn’t say it’s ‘stupid’ but I would describe it as ‘sick’, ‘revolting’ and ‘absolutely disgusting’.
This is purely my opinion, as I have seen it happen before happening. So what, may I ask, is your opinion on the above statement?
Slap of the Hand
What if...
it’s memories
that fool around,
making you up
as you go
out into the crowd
...the face of a clown
mirrored in the
back of the mind...
Is it some migraine
or your heart
that pounds
like a fist...!
Asking if you haven’t
yet got the gist?
Vague allusions of
being some sort
of stupid ----
But that’s not it!
You were
the skipper
prowling after
happiness...
and blew it off
with a puffered kiss!
Do you remember this?
the curly hair
and pony tail
the sense of envy
in the market square...
Guilt has you licked
with its tides
snuffing out
the stars
in the iris
of your abyss...
You will always
ponder the sting
of your
misplaced wish...
and delve
haplessly
after it...
06.28.20
Drowning in emotions challenge @LiannaC
***
When I think about love...
I think about the people in my life. I think about the good, the bad. The love that comes as easy as breathing, and the love that comes with an indefinable struggle. It’s never been hard for me to love. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever experienced an emotion that came easier for me. Loving those who are built firmly into my heart in unbreakable bonds that define so much of me and my life. Loving those whom have once held me unimaginably close and seemed so real, and right at that time. And loving those who made me feel safe, and made me feel as though I wasn’t, had never been, and never would be alone.
When I think about love...
I often wonder what it would be like. To be me. To be the person I am, and to not hold so many scars inside myself where I have loved and lost. I think of the things, the people, the places that are now behind me. Stuck somewhere inside a past that seems blurred by the unsought gift of self preservation. For the most part, I can count my blessings within each person that I once trusted enough to hold the weight of me and my own heart. I can see the good where there is so incredibly much bad to be accounted for. I can find it within myself to smile and be grateful for everything that was said, that was done, that was felt, and that was endured. For the most part, I am better because of the people I have loved, and the people I have lost.
Because when I think about love...
It makes sense to me to feel so deeply all the places inside where there are gaps and holes. Those empty spaces that were once filled with a blindingly infinate amount of a person. One that I gave myself entirely to. It makes sense to me to look at the future, and the possibilities of another person and feel afraid for what may or may not happen. It makes sense to me to be unavoidably fearful and cautious in the terms and the laws of love. The way that it feels so much easier to fear it then to it does to trust it anymore.
But I believe in it...
I believe in love. Unbounded, unruly, unbelivable love. I do because I always have. Because in some way, and to some degree, I always will. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to have given up and lost faith in life, in people, and in humanity... but to live a life without love is to live a life without possabilities. Without compassion, or connection, or any of those things that make human beings so real, and so special.
I believe in love, and in every single last place that it has taken me, in every single thing that it has shown me, and in every last person that it has brought to me, and then taken from me. Those parts of me, and my life.. They were so real. They still are in so many ways the realest parts of me. They keep me constantly aware of what lives inside of me. Of what it is that drives me, and keeps me going in this life. Of that thing that keeps me alive, and of all the good in me that I have to offer.
Yes... when I think of love
I think of the capacity and capability of my heart. I think of the immeasurable, and incalcuable depths that it holds, despite all the suffering and loss that it has endured. And with it, I can let go. I can learn to live without so much.
Because with it, I already have everything I need.
Everything I have ever needed.
Because with it, it doesn’t matter what I am without. It doesn’t overrule what I have gained. What I have conquered. What I have discovered within myself.
So when I think of love... I think of the joy, the bliss, the experiences of my life. And with that in my heart,
I am whole.
