Yin-Yang: I Am Paradox

I am rash.
I am not.
I’m a Paradox.

I’m smart.
I’m dumb.
I’m wicked.
I’m fun.

I’m pure.
I sin.
I lose.
I win.

I’m cold.
I’m hot.
I’m down.
I’m not.

I hate.
I love.
Both hurt.
Very much.

I’m mean.
I’m kind.
Please don’t
Take mind.

But if
You do,
I’ll for.
Give you.

The benefit,
Not doubt.
This requires much trust.
Pain is a must.

I’m scarred at heart.
I’m afraid at heart.
I’m full at heart
Even when empty.
My heart is perfect.

Paradoxing is the only Doxing that’s really Rocking!

Unless you can
Summon another,
Sister-Brother
Enemy-Friend.

CLOTHES ARE ART

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!

My Mom & Friends (gorgeous Mom on left) making art in the 1970s.

Me making art at in a bathroom selfie at the psych ward

LOVER OF “HE & SHE”

LOVER OF THE COLLECTIVE & PERSONAL “HE” & “SHE”: HUMANITY

Broken.
OK With It.
Sparkle Most Radiantly When Blended and/or Paired.
Individually Stronger Than Originally Thought.
Capable of Incredibly Courageous Acts.
Passion.
Compassion.
Welcome Home!
Welcome Back!
I’ve Missed You So Much!
Dream Architects.
Lifelong Learners of Both and Each.
Seek Wholeness in Self.
Seek Greatest Potential in Relationship.
Great Times.
Mediocre Times.
Tough Times.
Life-Threatening Times.
Devotion, Dedication, and Commitment in All Times.
Don’t Take Pain Out On Others.
If Pain Taken Out On Others, Sincerely Apologize for Any Pain Inflicted.
Put Both Loves First.
Sacrifice One for the Other to Become a Best Both & Each.
Capable of True Love.
SOLE Home of True Love.
Is LOVE.

P.S. Convicted by my own damn poem! I NEVER post my poems on Facebook, but my poem compelled me. It’s why Poetry makes me a Better Lover of He & She❣️

Toll-Paying & Karma

Don’t EVER pay the unearned Psychic or Emotional Tolls for a Nobody who will just leave you stranded should YOU break down on the side of the highway!

Unless you think you might need a lift from a kind passerby after the jerk passes?

LOVER OF “HE”

(Thanks to @anniespratt for use of the image).

LOVER OF “HE”

He works behind the scenes,
Designing worlds of Magic
For his Precious Girl,
He sees the Princess in the Whirl
Winds her down to calm again.
His shoulder comforts at days’ end
Into nights where long
He longs to love-express
Be seen and loved for his Best Self.
He’s loved all day, it might not show
There’s just One Place he calls his Home.

LOVE OF “SHE”

LOVE OF “SHE”

Though her beauty is
unparalleled,
She doesn’t see herself.
More heart-on-sleeve
Than ice queen,
More You-ist
Than opportunist,
Unlike others but
Cares about others.
She’s extraordinary,
With a kind arm and
A soft word.
She’s superior,
A cut above the others,
She opens up to others.
She has a mango smell
And an intoxicating scent
Which compel
Towards her eyes,
Deep liquid sighs.
She shines too bright,
She’s filled with Light,
She spills it out,
She gifts, it spouts,
Transparency
She gives for free.
She’s beauty-blind,
She’s very kind,
She’s Femininity.

PSA: THE EMERGING STATE OF SINGLE INTIMACY IN 2022 📛


PSA: A MOVING SNAPSHOT OF THE STATE OF SINGLE INTIMACY IN 2022 ♨️♨️♨️

It’s not for the faint of heart,
So before you even begin to
CONTEMPLATE to
start the post,
I’ll
pre-advise you QUIT while still time;
That’s the most
WARNING I’ll provide.

I mean: I know it’s a Sunday,
But this Public Service Announcement
Comes at a high cost to ME,
So if you can’t withhold YOUR judgment
Or your morals to make the space
SO I can release the
Advice alien-ating out of
MY HEART onto MY PAGE,
Please keep your eyes on
Yours and Yours.

Not that any of respectful YOU
Has EVER even tried,
But in 2022,
Virtual and Reality are mixed,
And I’ve got a
Religious Persecution Complex
After a lifetime of abuse.

It all boils down to facts
As simple as this and that
I need be LISTENED TO!! So
“Grow up, You Old Idiot!
You’re as apparently as old as me,
So why can’t you see
That my telling YOU
Is an effort to relieve ME!?
I know ALL these pleas fall on deaf ears”
Pleads ‘Feels-Too-Muted’ Me.

Social Media; Being Simultaneously “Confusing” and “Therapeutic”

For the record, I didn’t even know there
COULD be more than two viewers
To a “Private Story!”
Maybe in your fantastical stories,
Laden with Rote Artificiality,
But not in mine, and at least for now,
NEVER in me!

THE DIRTY TRUTH ♨️♨️📛⛔️🛑

THE DIRTY TRUTH

That takes its toll in shame
And whose admission
Causes literal pain
Is this:
In order to feel like
More than One,
I suck my thumb
When I masturbate.

The lengths I go
To feel like Two
Might disgust you
And humiliate me,

But I know in some
The thought would rise
A need to replace
My thumb
With something else.

This tea of truth
Somehow liberates me
And sets me free,
So I spilled it for you
To find its spark
In Someone New
Or the drive
In Someone Else.

How to reply?
I don’t know!
No one ever
TOLD ME!!

I’ve had to figure out
EVERYTHING BY MYSELF!!

The Pathetic Pleas of Ash, Even if Designed for Flame

THE PATHETIC LAST OF ASH

I’d let Water have
Its way with me,
Absorbing every atom
Into every part of me,
If it would just return
A little life to me.

But it causes no surprise
That the booty shakes
And pseudo-body quakes
Which clog your feeds
With more enticing sighs
Obscure my ashy pleas.

It’s the sad fate of fire
That, just to live,
She must start herself up
Somewhere else;

She’d become accustomed
To your lingering scent,
But she has to leave
If she hopes to begin again.

DAMNED BY PERSONALITY

DAMNED BY PERSONALITY

In terms of Personality,
I’m ‘Individual’ ‘ENFP’:
All feelings scream “Intensity!”
And I’m damned to wear them on my sleeve.

When they don’t sum up in sense to me,
I’m damned to spend MY mental change
Trying to make cents of THEM!

Either way, I often feel
Personally, I just can’t win.

LIFE SUMMARY: ABRIDGED


LIFE SUMMARY: ABRIDGED

At a very young age (around aged 3), I developed an “insecure attachment style.”

Then the pattern repeated itself.

Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.

Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.

Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.

10,000, 000 hours of therapy and “self-help practices” later,

The pattern is repeating itself.

The only difference is I’m aware The pattern is repeating itself.

It’s a GREAT START, though! It makes me feel more “sane and secure” when I’m aware History is trying to repeat itself.

The patterns color my history, but my awareness of them shows ME how strong I’ve been the entire time.

I’m not shooting for “happily ever after,” but rather “hopefully-awareful-and-content.”

SONGS ARE POEMS

POETIC SONGS & POEMS THAT SING

Songs and Poems are practically the same.
Except for the music,
Which, frankly, sets Music apart.
But they both tell a story,
And they both require the same degree of literary agility.

However, Poetry is making Poetry, and Song is making Poetry WHILE making Music,
So a song requires far more mental juggling to write than a poem.
But to Poem’s credit, it has to LOOK good
While Song only has to SOUND good.
Not only am I NOT Musically talented,
But keeping up appearances has become too exhausting over the last year.

So I write poems instead of catchy lyrics.
Carrots and peas, peas and carrots,
Please don’t get carrot away by my pun,
At the time it made poetic sense.
But for now I’ll just sum:

Poemwriters and Songwriters
Only want the same thing.
They want Someone who sings
When reading the words they’ve written.
The only tragedy is Missed Opportunity:
With MY word collection and YOUR incredible musical talent,
We could’ve made beautiful music together.

THE STATE OF CONSCIOUSNESS TODAY


Five minutes of Observation
Of Life Today,
While simply being conscious,
Makes me want to bury my consciousness deep within my subconsciousness,
Elevate it,
Or alter its state.
Given The World Today,
I must distract or even
Intoxicate to be conscious
For at least part of the day.
Surely THAT’s okay,
Given the state of Today?‘

SO BELLICOSE!

SO BELLICOSE!

Have we designed a system of government which is so inherently or currently flawed, it leads to the this type of behavior?

Was a huge bomb of “Bellicose” accidentally dropped over The Nation’s Capitol?

Politicians squawk a lot about “Legalizing Marijuana” and “The Opioid Crisis.”

I happen to be VERY concerned about “Politicians on Meth”!!