Happy V Day

v-Day, Vagina Day, Lovers Day, one letter from D-Day, doomsday, my birthday,
anniversary day, met-your-parents day, told-me-I-was-wrong-for-missing-you day, never-was-important-to-me day, until-I-met-you day.

Have a poem not from me, have a Happy Valentines Day. <3

 

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Mother wit

Does my son mourn for the loss of his mother?
What does unconditional love feel like
When the expectations stacked so high
to build the tallest straw man,
hollow man,
beautiful appearance man,
a college man,
a student man,
a want-to-make-you-proud man,
addicted-to-the-drama man,
so do you miss your mama, man?
Which one do you miss, man?
Shall I call you son instead?
Or would that be weird after we wed?

Wanted you for me, man,
and wished you were a soul mate.
One of many, fighting fate.
Guess we lost and it’s too late.
Unless you’d like to really wait.
And prove you’ll never give up, man.
No one wants the weak man, sad man.
Should you fight the man, man,
then we’ll see your goals and plan, man.
Show your passionate side, man.
That’s how you’ll be defined, man.
Not by some weird past, okay?

My son, I can’t be your mom anymore.
I’ve always fucking hated chores.
You think I always get my way, son?
All my battles easily won, son?
Could not be further from the truth, son.
So many times I’ve given up my fun, son.
I wish I could make you better, man.
But you must give it all you got, man.
Seize your moment, man.
Choose your battles, man.
You’ll be all right, man.
Don’t mourn the loss of your mother, man.
She never was a mother, man.
Didn’t know how to raise one
that was older than she. And she was old already.
Life not over yet, working forever.

Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear.

The middle name in a house, in a home,
shrouded in dark secrets and contrived plots.
And the second, third, and fourth:
they were not mothers and you could not be their father.
Fairy tale spells and timeless norms could not be applied!
Nice try, man.
Know what to give up, man.
It’s not your life, man.
It’s the chains, man. The fears, man.

Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear.

Stop chanting, man.
Quiet your mind, man.
Don’t give up, man.
Evolve, man.
Already-proved-yourself man.
Just-believe-in-yourself man.
Ignore all else, man.
Good luck, man.

Commemorative Dream >Landscape<

Here – I can meet you somewhere after we fall
Asleep. Somewhere with blue sky, warm air, hot sand between your toes,
Pooling waves, refreshing and cool, your refuge from the heat and hundreds of tide
Pools dot the beach, each one waiting for exploration and discovery.
Yes! Each one is different than the last. You haven’t worry for comforts – Here.

Air. The weather is kind and the evening breeze rocks your hammock gently.
Now. Warm skin pressed against yours takes the shiver from your spine.
Need. You can wrap your arms around space, more than air. Solid. Grounding.
Insecurity. Leave this place in your dreams. Do give yourself time to sleep and dream.
Vice. And do not be haunted. Far worse could befall you. But it won’t.
Ecstasy. Let your senses come alive to the sound of the waves, and the sting of the salt,
Roil. Turbulent wind rousing flesh to dune as the course sand piles.
Sun blinds you in day. The darkness curls around you at night.
And tonight when your eyes are closed, you can set your intention to the beach.
Rest. Do not miss the sunset, the sunrise, and a better day.
Yes! You deserve it. Come Here.

O Little One

You don’t want me to hold myself up on my own, but you hate the way I fall apart. A tantrum, you call it. You name it childish. I have held my own from the time I was a child. So, call me childlike. All it means to me is fierce independence and freedom from the laws that bind you and the anxiety that claws your back at night.

I owe you naught, I know you not

You are so far away from me now

You no longer read my mind

You no longer read my body

You have lost my words, my telling

You have lost whispers in your ear
of love and stories that acknowledge your belonging

You have lost my smile, my lips

You have lost my strong arms, soft fingertips,
my dirty nails

You have lost my laughter and my loud voice

You have lost my loyalty and devotion

You cannot speak the language of love to another until
you have spoken it to yourself

Maybe some will believe what they hear, but not I

You have lost the ability to box me into an
idea of normal, an idea of what is expected

You have lost me.