Revision

Rolling down the road before

Been there, done that, know the score

Crossed that bridge, then burned it down

Trapped myself in my hometown

Ghosts of me walk laughing by

Anger driven, cocaine high

I barely know the face of then

But I wear them as my diadem

Broken heart lay broken wide

Spilling love from what’s inside

Trains of childhood sing forlorn

Don’t chase those tracks. Don’t heed those horns.

The Black Hole Swallows

You gave to me the end of forever

The taste was bittersweet

Our humble time no longer together

Our lips can’t ever again meet

The black hole has spoken

It’s taken our life

Just a void that is broken

On the edge of a knife

 

I sing for the afternoon that we met

The sun barely shining, we wept as it set

We crawled in our walking, our first baby steps

While the world spun around us the time

We forgot

To be careful and then

We fell to our deaths, in love

To the end

of us.

Third verse unwritten

Youthful feet, bare of shoes,

The tattering of proven roots

from family tree, judge recused

Forgiving of a prostitute

Mercy Seat, sang the blues

Eating of forbidden fruit

Self-mistreat, allowed abuse

Rejecting every business suit

Purely obsolete, troubled muse

Punctured soles of ill repute

 

Gypsy heart, wandering free

Creating life to love in hands

Brightly colored, feathery

Wandering compass of all lands

Fully engaged bourgeoisie

Complete with impish contraband

Lustful laugh, bountiful in jubilee

Sometimes dirt, sometimes the sand

Ripened joyful, blissful sensuality

Worth no roots in wonderland

TAMP: ORRUCIANS

 

IAMUULogo

2009 Unitarian Universalist

I ran away as fast as I could to find a safer place to be

I crossed rivers and swam oceans, foraged forests and climbed up trees

I ascended high rimmed mountains, rode hills with horses fast

I have kissed a thousand frogs and even married an ass!

I have met a fairy queen who tiptoe dances the floor

She is married to a humble bard who has to duck the doors

I stumbled into an elfin circle that sews with the finest of threads

And if you offer them rich brownies they take away the dreads

I heard a trumpeting truth come down from the pulpit hall

surrounded by the boughing trees, I heeded the beckoned call.

I danced naked with the witches circle at full moon and new

But never blocked by architecture, the witches window skewed.

I met the elders as they assembled together

to make magic happen in all kinds of weather.

I cherish the wisdom like life’s breath forgiven

I discovered a love that was so close to heaven

I was accepted as a magic star that glimmered in their midst

And with the breath of dandelion, I was granted my wish.

Safe harbor, my safe haven, my beloved fairyland

I carry with me the magic that you granted to my hands

Love Lives

The place that is welcoming

is the home where love lives

Not only where love is,

but where it is cherished

nurtured, adored, revered,

but most of all,

given fertile soil to blossom

overly abundant blooms everywhere.

“Miss Marge’s Cat”

When I took Miss Marge Swenson on our date, we had a conversation. I tried to pawn my last kitten off on her. She said, “At this stage in my life it wouldn’t be fair to bring a cat into my home. I sure do miss having a cat.” She’s 93 and that was a valid, although sad, argument, it was sound of logic.

We talked a bit more and I found out her favorite color is purple. It used to be blue, but for some reason, she explained, it’d changed to purple. I immediately decided to paint her a cat.

When she saw the painting for the first time, she immediately named the purple cat, “Mr. B.” because that was the name of her friend. It absolutely delighted me to see her aglow with joy. I don’t think it gets any better.

In the small painting in the background, I filled that with four other paintings before I stopped myself and asked how I feel when I see Miss Marge. I see her as a breath of fresh air as if I were standing on a mountain on a clear sunny day in the early spring with maybe a suspicion of rain hanging in the air but not enough to feel any kind of muggy. As soon as I thought that, I saw it and painted it.

I liked the squishy flowers because I wanted them to represent the four Sunday’s in a month (sometimes five) when I get to see my Always Beautiful friend, Marge Swenson.

This took me to this, the 5th try, before I got it right in my head.

This took me to this, the 5th try, before I got it right in my head.

The contrasts were some of my favorites. Don't hate on my leaves.

The contrasts were some of my favorites. Don’t hate on my leaves.

I love warms and cools together. It feels rich and lively to me.

I love warms and cools together. It feels rich and lively to me.

Miss Marge will always have comfortable slippers to wear on this stage in life.

Miss Marge will always have comfortable slippers to wear on this stage in life.

Miss Marge's Cat Mare Martell Acrylic on Board 16X20

Miss Marge’s Cat
Mare Martell
Acrylic on Board
16X20

The Month of May I Please

I believe in good things. I believe in great people. I believe that talking to the ceiling and looking to the sky will get anyone through anything (I’m living proof) if they want to see the change happen. (Barring major health issues because I’m not sure how it works with that thank goodness). But I’ve been given something I’ve dreamed about my entire life; Happiness.

During the month of April I participated in a NaPoWriMo via Magaly Guerrero. It was a challenge to complete but I did it and, if I do say so myself, kicked out some pretty decent poems too. Then May rolled around to my front door while I was beset with grief over the loss of my best friend, Gary Buckets.

Gary Buckets

Gary Buckets

Gary Buckets is asleep in the picture, not dead. I wouldn’t do that to you.

Anywho, the month of May rolls in with teary eyes, a feeling of resounding loss that even as I write this hasn’t quite escaped my heart. But, I’ve been artistically on a roll. I’ve just published my first book, broke it up into two other editions (three of them for sale), had art displayed, have art in an auction I take Knoxville Pride in, and have a solo show coming up on June 20th.

The deepest feelings I’ve expressed artistically are something I treasure about myself. I wonder how I got so lucky. I mean, I’m rarely with money in my pocket, but yet I rarely want for anything I need. I have limited mobility, but I’m always where I seem to be needed most. I’m a hard worker, but I’ve had more fun painting, drawing, and experiencing life in full color, full emotion, full on/head on in the month of May, then I’ve a recollection of doing. It’s been an extraordinary bout of love, grief, joy, peace, spirituality, conviviality, writing, poems, and art.

The only thing I did differently in this month was saying Yes to what fills my heart with the most joy. If that means serving, then I’m doing it. If it means transporting, okay. If that means sitting with a friend whose heart hurts, then so be it. I’ve listened to my intuition every day with such great success that I will continue to do so. It works. What’s weirder still, to me anyway, is that not only am I happier, but other people around me seem to find happiness easier too. They seem to take my challenge of “Why not?” seriously and have tried some pretty extraordinary things which, good or bad, have all taught grand lessons of fantastic proportions.

I encourage you, my friends to do the same for thirty days. Follow the bliss that is your heart. The negative voices be damned. You are worth every bit of this joy. I keep saying this, even in a recent post, but it’s true. It really is. The world needs YOU! The YOU that you’re meant to be, not the one you’re told by outside people you SHOULD be. Give it a spin. 30 days. If you can’t commit to that, I’ll show you a quick way to learn to fall madly in love with yourself in three days if you’ll trust me.

May I? Yes, please!

The Banquet

Old friends are the ones who holds your secrets tightly. Old friends are the ones who holds your secrets tightly.

You have come knocking at my door with your basket empty of fruit.

You ask to break bread with me once again, I welcome you with a banquet.

Forgiveness is not necessary when there is a parting of ways with no faults

Things just happened to work out where time apart was required to isolate

Not for feeling alone, but for the seeds to take root, grow, and bloom fully

I offer the platters laden with history, telling each yarn with great verbosity

laughing together, we drink deeply, offer consolation, counsel, connection

We cut cheese (grow up!), melt it onto the bread of reminiscing

our peppered words burning our faces with our shocking youthful antics

I sit lounged in my chair, grateful that the air we share is no longer pungent

It no longer stinks of half-truths, unspoken words, and lost opportunity.

We rip shreds of the layer cake we build with our conversation,

skipping layers of icing, jumping slyly from one inside joke to the next.

We burp satisfaction, of time well spent, appreciated, and honored.

As we rise into the light of a new morning, I escort you out with welcome

for warm and happy returns at your leisure when the need is happenstance.

As I bid you adieu at my doorstep, you turn towards me, arms full of bounty.

We smile the smile of 1,000 lifetimes ago, promising 1,000 more.

Art OUT, Knoxville Pride

"L" is for the way you look at me

“L” is for the way you look at me

"O" is for the only one I see

“O” is for the only one I see

"V" is very, very, extraordinary

“V” is very, very, extraordinary

"E" is even more than anyone that I adore

“E” is even more than anyone that I adore

And love, is all that I can give to you

And love, is all that I can give to you

The original is being donated to Art OUT Pride event in Knoxville, TN because LOVE seems like the best reason to give to great causes, isn’t it? I saved the scan so that prints can be made available for anyone that needs a bit more love around them can buy them. I feel like singing about love today. How about you?