once had a boyfriend

well was he technically that?

me thinks not

me thinks he just wanted to *** into
ma pants

and a few other assorted boys used this
same line

how they would complain
entangled in the car
hot breath heaving
long deep kisses
bodies writhing
on summer nights
and cold winter ones too

always squirming away
from curiously demanding
hands

after the zipper
between the thighs

warm delicious sensations...

But WAIT....

what will they say tomorrow?

so.... squirming away
never giving in
to the passion arising
high as the sky

frustrated...
these boys
would complain
like a little boy
not getting their new toy

YOU are giving me
BLUE *****

really?  is that really
a condition?
or are you just pulling my
proverbial leg?

and REALLY
it is MY fault?

me thinks not...

in any event
one day it came
to say

well... if you aren't
acquainted with your
right hand
perhaps now is the
time

and if you want a little
variety
use your left

and if you are feeling particularly
frisky
try them both
for the *******!

it worked perfectly for ME
for them
well
i didn't wait
around too
long to
SEE....

It took me awhile to get my head back together
There was always enough time to give up hope
Depressed episodes of emptiness playing forever
My Mission. My Friends. They were there too
Funny thing is, I was even more afraid ‘cuz of that
A voice argued with me to “try”
Try because no one will forget the day everything changed
The moment they were able to fly
Another argued “why bother?” Reality didn’t exist anyway
That society would cover up our work
I really never was some kinda hero
“Then why do this? What did you hope to accomplish?”
I don’t know…
I guess I just wanted to save the world.

She said she liked my art
Except the paintings she didn’t understand
The abstracts
Except the ****** paintings
Except the paintings of women touching themselves
With glassy eyes, with fierce eyes
But she liked the rest.

Art, a spiritual pursuit
That takes energy, gives energy
Sometimes a trip into the unknown
Sometimes, but not always.

The grinding of light and dark
Male and female
Of love and anger
(And indifference, sadly)
The unreconciled, the out-of-balance.
The enlightened, the flashes of wisdom
That disappear over the horizon
Like a flock of ravens. Misanthropes all.
New work, new words, new insights
Bubble up from deep down in imaginary worlds.

Don’t mind the chaos
Creativity is chaos.
Nature isn’t what we want it to be
Nature lives by its own rules
Prerogatives
The endless search
To claim little bits of sun energy
And the cycles of water
In search of the ocean
Yet again.

The creative force of nature
Chaotic, full of competition.
And destruction.
Of those things
Beautiful things are sometimes made.

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
We must carry it with us or we find it not.
    - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let us commerate this tragedy.
Soil our hearts with fascist taunts and pointed fingers.
Let us put our hands together and bow.
Good, everyone is still standing.
Praise be to nothing.
There can only be one.
And none of these heathens shall strip me of what's due.
For having lived a tough life.
Or fallen from loves favor.
Search yourself for justification.
Another excuse.
To make the day go by a little faster.
With a world filled with sinners.

What.
Can one person really do.
Change.
Anything at all?

For even the previous days.
Turned a blind eye.
Consuming.
Alluding..
Resuming
Right when the ground became solid again.
Regret just bellow the aching mealstrom.
Even as we embark on that familiar road.
And then all that's left to do.
Is to look towards the furture.
As we blink for the past.