Category Archives: Poetry

Tribe of Artists: UNITE!

If you’re a writer, a poet, a painter, an artist of any kind, I’d like to help you succeed. I’d like to do a featured artist of the week which will allow you exposure to my fellow bloggers. If you’d like to be featured (aka pinned) then drop me an email with a link to your page(s). If selected, I will make sure that I cross reference your work on Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and of course WordPress.

I believe strongly in supporting those with talent, drive, and ambition to bring their humanity into beautiful fruition. Although, and yes it pains me to say this, I can’t pay you anything, if we all share anyone’s art we really dig, we can spread even more beauty in the world. If you have a show coming up, let me know, I can post that too. I really want to help.

If you haven’t already done so, I encourage you to check out Activate Your Life! on Google + via the Anjana Network which is a group for artists of all sorts to find support and encouragement in their artistic field of choice. I am a moderator there and will happy to check out even more ways to help you promote your life’s work.

My email is the same as my page @gmail.com as well as at hotmail.com maremartell that is (Trying to confuse spambots may confuse you too but it’s my name with the appropriate suffixes). Let’s see what kind of an empire we can achieve when we lift one another up in love.

Gaia, a tribute

Fertile is her breath and blood

To shower the world’s full girth

With lusty creations bursting forth

To populate her earth

She blooms and blossoms, swollen up

To share new life through birth

We belong beneath the laughing light

Of her full figured mirth

She rules the night, on the moon she rides

As sure as change and flooding tides

The heavens obey her slightest command

Maelstrom storms as she demands

With strength and ferocity she stands her keep

At day she rests but doesn’t sleep

Shout prayers of joy surrounding her

As swollen as she stands

Upon the past and future time

Through the hourglass of sands.

The Blue Screen of Life

I’m resting my face in the comfortable bluish white glow of my laptop

Staring at the screen as my friends parade by with a wild array of emotions.

I see a link one has posted and I click to see what interests them

The pictures move me to wellies, but that’s not the only reason I weep.

You see, I’m grateful in my heart and spirit for so many things

That I can’t contain the joy, the peace, the beauty that is my soul song.

The band of merry-makers parades down my cheeks in a wild array of emotions

Displaying colors and words of excitement, glee, hope, and cherished gratitude.

I can carry my banner with the honor to my mother and dad whom I love dearly.

I can tip my top hat in celebration of those beautiful souls that orbit their light

With belief that the Universe knows, heeds, and believes back.

I wipe the tears away but my heart is so full, I keep leaking happies and joy.

If you hold out your hand and take mine. If you trust yourself to believe,

I can entrust a part of me to you and you to me that together we’ll go far as can be

And then we’ll jump even farther, travel the world of possibilities, explore new lands

Oh the stories of love and adventure we’ll bring home from the farthest reaches.

Which will only encourage others to parade around with their own banners

Declaring openly their wide array of emotions all born from the nurturing love of an idea.

To Honor Kali

The Goddess Kali-ma

The Goddess Kali-ma

I hear her voice as twinkling smooth as wine

Her lips sparkling words like silver sweet

Precious in their divine

Guiding hands to keep me warm with a caresses gentle bliss

Heated breath of her lover’s mouth emblazoned with her kiss

I walk with her on star-lit roads

I hear her sigh the night

I hear a tiny cricket’s call

The wisp of an owl in flight

I smell the scent of impending rain

The trickle of a nearby stream

The blush of moon blessed breezes

Floating through my dreams

Intimate imaginings spring forth in passions song

Spooned soft against my lover’s thigh

Eternal night prolonged

Pressed tight with lust to feed at her breast

I feel the release of my birth

I respond to her smoldering touch

I’m embraced within her earth

That was that

This and many other really funny shirts can be found at: http://amorphia-apparel.com/

This and many other really funny shirts can be found at: http://amorphia-apparel.com/

When I was little, I just wanted to be something.

I wanted to be a firefighter like my Grandfather.

I wanted to be a doctor like my cousin.

I wanted to be successful with money in my pocket

and a home to return to at the end of the day.

But then the abuse happened.

I couldn’t see myself anymore doing anything

because the pain was just too much.

I found I could get temporary relief,

very temporary,

if I just took one more hit from the pipe.

The only thing I wanted to do was run.

I wanted to run as far away as I could

from myself.

But then I ran too far and I couldn’t come back.

When I was little, I only wanted to be loved.

I can’t even be that any more.

It was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it.

But it happened and I can’t come back any more.

If I could tell you one thing,

I’d tell you to love yourself before it’s too late.

I couldn’t. You can.

The picture used belongs to http://amorphia-apparel.com/

Alchemy of Death

Solemnity spoke

Solemnity spoke

I mailed a package off to the Spirits,

after staring at death with mournful eyes.

Gravely I dug into the hard earth

Return to Sender stamped in neat letters

on the cardboard coffin holding,

protectively, its morbid contents.

I checked to see if perhaps,

maybe,

I was mistaken.

Suppose that the heart still beat,

the breath still attended life,

the soft mewls of a hungry stomach.

I wasn’t wrong.

I wasn’t anything but lost

in the harsh tears following death’s

cool touch.

Dirt reset to conceal my pain,

I wondered how much postage

it would take to have the tiny package

returned to life once again.

Brushed Out

Clumps of dirt, dust, and debris rotted my brains

whenever I tried to speak to passers by

I’d hold my beggar’s cup earnestly pushing

for loose change to fall chiming into the depths

speaking foul breathed words of backwards intent

Clumps of zombie flesh fell from my body

repulsing potential friends, disgusting possible employers

until

I blinked my eyes to dream and you coalesced

pristine

extraordinary

You made strange sense of my chaos, spoke to me

with careful brush strokes through my tangled words

Ever so gently you tugged at my self-loathing,

conditioned my confidence,

curled my toes with affection,

showered me with the truth through your actions

as you loved my pieces back together.

With frightened squalling wails of labor,

forsaking all others

I was born into redemption with your hand embracing mine

the day I agreed with you that I am worthy of love

These Are My People: Jamie Lopez and JuJu

https://www.facebook.com/artistjamielopez/timeline Jamie Lopez is a prolific painter with a distinctive style and color palette. Her innovative exuberance melts happiness into every brush/pen stroke.

https://www.facebook.com/artistjamielopez/timeline
Jamie Lopez is a prolific painter with a distinctive style and color palette. Her innovative exuberance melts happiness into every brush/pen stroke. THIS ONE IS SOLD!

She lives in self-inflicted padded walls

Created with cotton balls,

Elmer’s glue, squished on fun

By her autistic son

She schools him on the finer points of life while

She’s splashing in the shallow end

Of the dating pool

Yelling,

“MARCO!” in the language of JuJu.

The responses are comical if not misplaced

By distorted males riding by on penny pony floaties

They shout “CABBAGE!” or “BOK CHOY!” or “PETUNIA!”

From the deep end where she already dipped her mug

Into the drunken pissy beer and found the taste repugnant.

She rejects the self-proclaimed wise men and gurus

Whom are no more effective than arm-chair quarterbacks.

Instead she paints herself a wisdom

Of spiraling owls and feminine curly tailed girls

That return prosperity in accordance to her schoolgirl happy.

When she looks at her beloved son, she realizes,

She is his Sherlock, he, her Watson.

Where she is prismatic and lively

He is repetitive and monochromatic

But they take out the crayons together one by one

Exploring every color of the world as a dynamic duo

Some days, when she’s a grounded bird and doesn’t want to fly

Juju nurtures her with yesterday’s worms and reminds her to seek the sky.

When he left, he took:

professormcbeezleEvery one of my canvases and paints but not the colors

every light bulb in the house but not the light

every shade from the windows but not the curtains

every blanket from my beds but not the warmth

every canned good from my cupboards but not the bread

every animal from their house but not the pets

every gift he was ever given but he left empty handed

every hug and kiss sprinkled with praise but not the love

and I let him go because he asked with action not with word.

Common Enemy

povertyinamericaWe have a common enemy

That hands out shackles of poverty

As Mistresses and Masters of iniquity

Provoking our inequalities

Promoting the division of you and me

Which adds dollars to their bloated prosperity

While we fill their sales on their corporate sea

With no trickle down reciprocity

I work for them and they give to me

Silver pieces for my soul adding up to forty

Which they take back in taxes from me

While claiming this the “Land of the Free”

Then they take food and shelter from our progeny

Claiming that we’re, simply, “Just lazy.”