Thumbs Scream “Inspiration!”

Screens don’t scream to be repaired,
But brand new keyboards bring despair
As blind thumbs jump from Here to There.
I don’t know why I thought I’d share
For I’m convinced that NO ONE cares.
Vexed intentions spike and glare,
Unheard warnings all declared
As mentally I pull my hair!
The truth is that I want to Spare
You hurt; that’s ALL I will declare
As clouded looks depart your stare;
Though just Woke up, You’re Now Aware.


*Dedicated to Writers who Create on smartphones. I upgraded to a Grammarly keyboard and couldn’t use it because it caused my right thumb to seize and cramp within 60 seconds, so intimately familiar am I with iPhone’s version.


(Thanks for use of your photo, @marekpiwnicki)

My First Attempt at Fiction (content advisory: 🌶🔥♨️)

TEXTVERSATION

I doubt you’re ever going to meet anyone else like me throughout the entire rest of your life. I’m simply stating a fact. If I could give you some advice, it would be to take whatever I’m offering whenever I’m offering it, because you won’t be getting anything like it ever again.

What is it like?

See, now you’ve gone and blown your chance so you’ll never know. Big unfortunately for you.

I doubt that but if you say so. I’m over here rock hard just imagining what you were going to say. I guess ill have to handle this problem again.

I guess you will. I was going to tell you about my waxing appointment, the post-waxing maintenance, and the “special feature” I opted for. But now I’m not.

What features?

Take your own matters into your own damn hands.

As you wish.

Lagoon again. No conversation. You have a technique for weaseling out of emotional intimacy of any kind. I actually expected the OPPOSITE from you. Then again, based on your online dating profile, I mistakenly thought you were 15 years OLDER than you actually are (lie much?) until two weeks ago. Which pretty much explains the last 2 weeks.

That plus you don’t hurt good enough yet, inside or out. Call me if you ever do.

[Professional Writers: I think I’ve managed to capture the male’s essence, but I REALLY, REALLY need know if the female character sounds like Amber Heard!!]

Karaoke and Other Coping Cliches

Be careful who you dismiss as “shallow” or “not serious enough.”

Some people have been so subtracted from, they’re not just empty, they’re minus.

Fleeting happiness is welcomed as a distraction, but the change in direction can cause emotional whiplash; a disorder known for releasing peals of startled laughter, often transforming the source of the laughter into an obsession. Or an addiction.

These people are so acclimated to chronic anguish, they’re easily amused.

My point? Simply to “not judge a book by its cover.” Or even better: “Don’t dismiss someone as a ‘novella’ until you’ve read her unabridged story.”

Seeking Spiritual Enlightenment

I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m terribly Spiritually Provincial and Uncosmopolitan, since I was never Force-Exposed to anything other than Christianity. Please keep that in mind if you actually read this.

I’ve now spent thousands of years on this planet – most as Christian, many as Confused; all Conflicted. Guess which Me knows The Wholehearted Truth?

It’s Anyone’s Guess.

But here’s the thing I like about Jesus, at least the one born in Israel, Judah, or Palestine [it’s confusing!] approximately 2000 years ago:

You can’t argue he was a True Believer.

I don’t know about the other Big Dudes – Mohammed, The Buddha, Confucius, L. Ron Hubbard, and Mary Baker Eddy – but were any of them CRUCIFIED for Their Whacked-Out Beliefs At The Time? I’m pretty sure LRH and Mary Baker Eddy weren’t, though if HE had to see a psychiatrist and SHE had to see a doctor first, I can guarantee NEITHER was crucified!

At least in this lifetime. Oh damn, is this going to get me labeled a “Suppressive Person”? I don’t need the Public Excoriation at the moment. And I can’t afford to believe anything too expensive!

Anyway, I honestly don’t know about the other Big Religions, and I’d rather ask You than Siri. You know how literal she can be, and I don’t have the patience to word The Question in Sirian.

PS. I momentarily considered Jim Jones and David Koresh, but decided if you take Unwilling Sacrifices out with you, you don’t qualify for “True Believer” status.

Though I’m pretty sure it’s okay to release a few Thetans first.

(Image courtesy of @eliapelle)

NEW “SEGMENT”: IPHONE POSTS FROM OTHER PLACES

I’ll specify if it’s a text message, a YouTube comment, an Instagram Bio idea, a Facebook post [snooze], or the mother lode: a dating app comment made by ME!! Basically ANY comment made by me!

I won’t give any context other than those general categories. I’ll try to ensure my comments are holistic and self-explanatory. I will provide NO IDENTIFYING INFORMATION about ANY private individual, so NO FEARS ANYONE!!

I said: Your FEARS ARE UNFOUNDED!!

Anyway, I’ll use the same photo (for those of you who use photos) each time, and we will COMMENCE TONIGHT!!

TEXT

I don’t think we’re particularly compatible in a variety of ways I don’t intend to describe with my right thumb at the moment.

CATFISH VIBES!!

I am getting Catfish vibes
Instinct is the Reason Why
I don’t plan to “conversate”;
It’s an option that I hate
Because It doesn’t work for me,
Can’t test Your Sincerity.
Never understood the long haul game,
Extort, deceive, game, or play?
No option smells of truth,
More the smell of rotten food.

(Thanks for the photo, @prelevic.milos)

OH, GROW UP!!

Speaking More of ME Than You of YOU
Means I Listen NOT to You??!!
Other folks must offer up
Details of the Life they Love,
Describe the Humans they’ve become
And tell us What We Need to Know.

Forgive me that not Coaxing, Cajoling, Extracting
From your Passive Corpse until Removed
Words you Yearn to Vocalize
But UnBravely Do Not Do
A sign NO TALKING SKILLS have You!

Won’t suffer Cowards, fools, or Grownup Toddlers,
So One Day if you should Raise Yourself,
Please reach out and freely call.
Should you Stay so Infantile?
Don’t bother calling Me at all.


(Thanks for the photo, @sociallover_art )

POETIC TUESDAYS: Slice of Life

So you’re not local. Perhaps I need to vet that buzzing beehive of 2,000 a little better?

Maybe all my “Likes” are, as you say,
Merely “Swiping Smiles” while in town visiting their Hopes for the Future?

I don’t know what other poets do on Tuesdays, I only know THIS one had oral surgery yesterday – with the full sedation package – then found herself writing poems until 4:30am today,
Only to be rudely awoken by the Barking Dog
Lying next to her,
ONLY 2 fast hours later,
WHOM She owns.

So she let him out,
Crankily Complaining all the while,
Then set about to do what all OTHER Poets do:
She wrote a poem about it,
Burnt, and Offered it to YOU.

Clear as Mud


You Claim you’re not the one to Blame;
I don’t Hear a word you Say.
Your Lies I’ve tracked all through the Mud,
Bound them to my back and such,
Then set about to blaze a path,
Search you out and hunt you down.
What lengths I’ll go to stretch the Truth,
And unconceal Answers from You.

(Thanks for the photo, @shrimp144 ).

IN TO ME


What has gotten INTO ME?
My output’s not Reflecting Me.
And, all things considering,
I find MY contemplating
If I should seek out
Brand New Source
Hunt it Down, Run its Course
Or Cut and Paste,
Paste and Glue
Words already
Written out for You?

Chain Mail

This is Stxxxxx Stxxxx. I’m doing some spring cleaning. If you’re getting this text, you’ve probably seen ZERO “Up Close and Personal” ACTION with me (but if you did, you’re definitely one of the few).

For whatever reason, Knowing You has been a low-neutral-to-negative experience for me, and I have no interest in seeing you again. Assuming I ever saw you in the first place.

I don’t know why I waited this long. I should have done this two whole days ago!

Getting rid of all this Dead Weight makes me feel as free as a newly released helium balloon. I feel like I’m bumping my head against clouds already.

PS. If Gender Translation is required, THE GIST of ALL of this is:

>>“Next time you feel horny, DON’T CALL ME!!”<<

Knowing YOUR level of romanticism, you’d probably text me with a 5-word proposition and think that was irresistibly SMOKIN’ hot.

My Qualifications?


Why do I Want to Host a Place to talk about the Process of the Creation of the Writing of Poetry and Other Forms of Written Creative Expression?

It’s not as if I’m a Commercial, Critical, or even a Popular Success.

What I AM is a Fragrant Fusion of the Following Flaws and Flaunts:

•Well-Vocabularized
•Well-Educated
•Well-Traumatized
•Empathic
•Wordplayful, and
•Always Available.

I think those qualifiers are as good as any,


Don’t You?

CALLING ALL WRITERS: ESPECIALLY THE POETS

(Because we all know the poets are the SEXY PEOPLE!)

From Where do your poems Originate, Germinate, Percolate, and/or Inseminate?

For ME, when I’m writing as both False Me AND Real Me, the sources are constant, consistent, exhaustive, and clearly labeled:

1. The classic, original way: I wake up with a thought or sentence repeating itself in my head for an unidentified, arbitrary, inevitable, pounding, and UNRELENTING reason until I’m MADE to string these homely popcorn words into a cheap tinsel swag of a poem that, surprisingly, often sparkles in spite of its humble origins.


2. Seeds from Texts I Write, Things I Say to Myself [Out Loud], Things I Say or am PREPARING TO SAY To Others, Things I Imagine Saying Anonymously, Things I Long to Say, Things I Find Myself Saying To My Dog [doggedly], and Other Posts on social media. Some even were conceived from my comments on Internet Dating Sites back when my stomach could still stomach them.


3. I find fully composed poems in my Notes folder on my iPhone with NO memory of writing them. The idea of not recognizing an offspring I have labored to produce makes me feel like a TERRIBLE Mother and understandably terrifies me.


4. I find scraps which, remarkably, I refrained from publishing immediately. Considering Immediate Gratification Gratifies me Immediately, for which I’m immediately gratified, I hope you recognize how much “Virtue I’m Signaling” in my withstanding of temptation! I recycled these Scraps to craft Something Better and More Sustainable. For which I’m extremely proud of myself. Lastly:


5. With considerable Deliberation, I set down and out to deliberately Write Something, deliberately! Note: this Source is infrequently tapped.

NOW FOR THE JUICY PART:
Let’s talk about YOU and YOUR POEMS!!

I’m So Proud of You

I’m so proud of you, Grown-Up Little Girl!

You keep tearing on yourself, but can I tell you You’ve surpassed my expectations for Us?

The way you keep on staying brave and open, well frankly, I’m astounded.

I never knew you’d be such a LOVER and a FIGHTER❣️

LOVE LETTER TO MY ONLINE FRIENDS


I don’t often find myself contemplating the virtues of Cyberspace, but today I’d like to extoll one of its underreported virtues: LOVE.

Yes, Love. There IS Love to be found here❣️

Yesterday, all day, I felt emotionally fragile. I’ve learned, since beginning this blog last September, that the Internet can grant succor and relief through the Catharsis of “Writing-For-Sharing.”

Sometimes the public attention makes me crafty and prancy with my words, even making up new ones like “prancy.” Other times, I feel like I’m vomiting poison. Or losing what’s left of my beauty.

There are Certain Memories I hold close and parting is such sweet sorrow! But I believe Vulnerability is the Magic Ingredient for Good Writing of Any Kind [sorry much caps, all needed].

Last night I sobbed for hours while writing about my non-baby-but-still-child, Ethan (one of 3 unborn siblings, but the only one officially named).

I’m still crying.

The public-ness and Exposure feel threatening, and I can’t withstand threat right now.

What I need to feel – and needed to feel – is Love. And I did. When I saw this morning that four of my most Devoted Devoteds and Favorite Favorites had read and “liked” my Memorial to Ethan, I felt a rush of love.

Why? The Likes meant these people endured the discomfort and read all the way down to the Like button. And by Liking, they agreed to my request to hold Ethan’s memory for a moment, so I could regain my breath.

Breath is life, friends. As the unwounded soldier helps the wounded, so your kindly presence returned air to my lungs.

By letting me SPREAD MY PAIN, you saved me. You earned the 💜, and I’ll be the one pinning it on you at the ceremony.

Grace, Bogdan, DirtySciFiBuddhah, and Andrea:

Thank you. You’re Everything.