There are two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is yesterday and the other is called tomorrow. Today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live.
-The Dalai Lama
In other words, don’t sacrifice today by regretting the past and stressing over the future. Harder to do when one is conditioned to depression (past-focused) and anxiety (future-focused). Love yourself, love others, love today!
CLOTHES ARE ART
I can’t worry too much now – I ordered groceries late last night and forgot they were delivered between 6 and 8 am. I also managed to cancel a few Amazon orders I’d made at the time for some skorts in size small (distress tolerance) before they shipped. My therapist at the psych ward would get how important that is, especially since I have so many skorts in a size medium im working my way back to. Amazon skorts from have gotten me through this Agoraphobic, crazy, and anorexic phase of losing myself because 1) they brought me joy, 2) I’m ready to rediscover forgotten items in my wardrobe, and 3) on my worst days, clothes were my form of art. Clothes are a form of choice and self-expression, so CLOTHES ARE ART!
P.S. This is my first hit at a REAL POEM post-psych ward. I know it’s rough, but it was a dream and I got it out. So YAY ME!!
PPS. (I’m an eternal PS’er) This photo is courtesy of Niranjan Photographs in India, where they make the fanciest art out of clothes!
Currently trying to pull off a dream and I’m out of practice. Art still keeps beckoning despite my limitations!
These are official “cries for help.”
I’m over my need to know anything.
You are free to love, free to hide, and free to be.
Freed from my timing for rescue and miracles,
Free of my need for self-crucifixion,
I myself am finally free of moral injuries.
So I’m the One who’s Truly Free
And greatly blessed am I indeed
For I am Free to Love & Free to be Me.
6 months on Friday morning
6 months on Saturday night
They say it takes 30 days to make a habit and 90 days to break one. I beg to differ on the latter.
Simply first-perspective spectating.
Love takes longer to kill.
And it’s free to be a “Hot Mess” in the process!
SELLER BEWARE: YOU & YOU
When I priced myself high,
No one would pay.
When I lowered my price,
I couldn’t give myself away.
If I let you set my price,
Who’s Cheap and
Who’s the Cheapskate?
A Disney Princess With A Daisy Crown
I build.
I grow.
I foster.
I adopt.
I create.
I birth.
I develop.
I encourage.
I nurture.
I’m kind.
I’m compassionate.
I’m wonderful!
I’m so much more than that!
I’m EVERYONE’S DREAM!
Whether Nocturnal or “Wish I was like!”
I’m a living Disney Princess!
I’ll get a cool name out of it, too.
One name, not a symbol.
More Prince than Prince-When-??
I guess this is my fancy way
Of re-stating the cliche:
In my story,
I’m the Author of
My Own Story.
Yes, me. Yes, here.
Yes, I DO get a vote.
Here, I absolutely get a vote!
And my vote counts. A lot!
In my own poem,
It’s my own self-expression,
So I get to say
ALL I NEED TO SAY,
As LONG as I need to say it.
And there’s absolutely nothing YOU can do about it!
When it comes to MY POEM,
I earned it;
You didn’t pay it in trust;
It’s mine and it’s indelible and it’s forever.
It’s so much more than you ever were!
That’s how MINE My Poem is!
For record-keeps, my scars
Were formed in response to
Surgical knives with scathing scalpels
Hiding under surgical sleeves
Rather than a purgical need to
Purge Contained Pain
In order to pain-relieve.
(I’m not blaming or shaming;
I’ve known Pain and understand
You simply want Pain to leave).
But Scars all look the same to me,
Therefore, their source isn’t
Significantly significant to me.
So I can be fully free
To neglectfully and insignificantly,
Ignore scar-sources and
Scarce resources because
The WHY of our afflictions
Though it Greatly costed me,
Now matters snot to me.
Clouded by the stars in my eyes,
I STILL consider Scars
Beauty’s heaviest of hitters,
And why I personally believe
Scars rock, roll and rule, too.
In fact and in fiction, I’m SO moved
Each and and every Time I Take
And use to contemplate the issue,
I have to break out a box of Scar Tissue.
Inspiration: LITE & AIRY
Sometimes I feel like I’m taking dictation.
Sometimes I have to labor intensively.
Often, I start with a simple line which unfolds as I progress.
Other times the message is much deeper than I originally intended and occurs to me after the fact.
I guess writing is just like talking, only with considerably more Effort, Toil, Obsession, Deliberation, and
Ultimately, Liberation.
After paying a huge Tear Debt, it’s Joy Time!
Let’s “Celebrate Good Times” NOW!!
THE WHY BEHIND: What YOU Never Gifted ME
I begged, I pled.
You reneged, you denied.
I cried but didn’t shy,
Yet YOU never moved
A single inch, couldn’t be counted on in a pinch.
The constant doubt, wondering what it was all about? That’s the kind of shit I can DEFINITELY do without!
This serves as the “Official WHY” behind
Misfortune’s whimpered truth,
Now that “we”’re Forever Through.
THE STRUGGLE OF FLYING SOLO
I have to be highly entertaining because I’m a tough crowd, and I’m both sole performer and sole audience member most of the time.
Not to mention, I’m really hard on myself.
And while most people would agree I’m highly agreeable, I’m ALSO notoriously difficult to please or impress.
So… I imagine you can imagine my inner struggles.
PS. If I didn’t have such low standards, I’d be too afraid to perform at all.
THE SALT IN TEARS
Tears are important, too.
When I travel down a deep dark tunnel into a fathomless black hole of despair, I rely on my tears to remind me
I’m still a soul,
sitting in a body,
feeling sad right now.
Tears anchor and tether me; both are equally salvationary.
No dessert today; too much time sweating in a hot kitchen.
BATTLE SCARS
I’ve fought in many wars
And I’m deeply scarred;
I’m always decked and hurt
And don’t possess Night Vision
Sharp enough to see nighttime stars.
Yet I Won’t Go Down
Without a Fght;
I’ll be carted off dead
Or walk away with my life.
But should I die and You decide
To take MY Life into YOUR Hands,
Just to later hand It back to Me
(Generous YOU, but Ownership ME),
Should I be Grateful?
Or should I be Hateful?
YOU tell ME what I should be.
I am Both,
Wholly and Equally.
My battle’s were hard,
And so are my scars,
But it’s Magic versus Tragic
When Scars turn to Stars.
“FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF”
Chances are, Most People who feel sorry for Themselves aren’t doing so out of pathological Self-absorption.
Rather, most are probably doing it because Nobody felt sorry for Them when They needed Someone to.
And/Or They didn’t extend the appropriate sorrow to Themselves when They needed Someone to.
HAVE A GIANT PITY PARTY if that’s what you Need to do.
Somebody probably needs to cry for a very reasonable, Age-Appropriate Reason.
CRY, BABY
Anyone who says
“You shouldn’t Cry for Yourself”
Is a big fat liar.
You should cry for all ages of Yourself if you need to.
I know it sounds hokey, but it’s actually very freeing once you get past the embarrassment of it.
The thing is: there’s nothing to be embarrassed about!
Welled-but-unshed tears are painful energy with no place to go.
If you don’t allow your body it’s natural response,
Your Body will cry for YOU!
Your soul will weep for you,
People will gnash their teeth at you,
And ultimately,
Your heart won’t beat for you.
I should know;
First-hand experience,
Multiple times,
All counts.
No one should choose you
Then leave you to feel
Like a Giant Loser
Instead of the Lucky Winner;
Chances are the Loser Won the Lottery
But eventually Lost his Money
And didn’t taste your sweetness, Honey.
He’s the Most Expensive Loser,
The one whose costs won’t be recovered
Nor the Gift-Wrapped Prize of You,
Sent back to spoil as Over-cooked.
You cried and begged too long for Food,
It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t good;
Some people just aren’t worth the Waste
Of precious time; their bitter taste
Sits like Ash within one’s mouth;
Such Losers are best thrown out!
Sorry, we’re on an audio kick.
Come [Word] Play With Me! 