he says he loves me
and im not sayin that he doesn't...
im just sayin
that I have no evidence
to suggest that he does... and
have more evidence that sustains that he does not
in fact
give one **** for the amazin yet complicated being that is me...
i am far too jaded
for blind allegiances... and
******* sticks like hot grits
...that bears repeating
******* sticks like hot grits

I am the deepening mystery
I am the weighted blanket that enfolds in midnights
I am a force of Nature
I am the morning coo-ing at daybreak
I am a dew covered field of
swaying wheatgrass
I am bluebonnets by the side of a
little used road
I am fall leaves underfoot
I am a sudden rain shower
I am hightide in a full moon
I am ocean waves crashing the rocks
I am a gently flowing stream
I am the slow breeze that softly
kisses the neck
I am the hard and high wind that leaves one grasping for purchase
I am the lightning storm that ends a scorching day
I am the scorching day
I am an electromagnetic field
I am a solar flare
I am the hazy stillness before the earthquake... and
Every now and again
I am the mothaphuckin earthquake

I once loved a man whose smell was like pheromones to my psyche
his scent lingered on my skin after each embrace and
after a hard days work
he still smelled like
new leather and sandlewood... and to be
buried in his chest and breathe him in
lubricated me
after sweaty freaky ***  
the only time his ***** had an aroma and even that was still not unpleasant...
Tho the romance did not last
the remembrance of my face in that space between his
jaw line and shoulder
lingers in the solar plexus and occasionally
makes me sigh deeply

I once TRIED to love a different man... and
I never liked the way his natural skin smelled
from the very beginning...
something about his odor
lurking under any cologne
grated my spirit...
Not one time did I ever put his shirt to my nose and
inhale deeply... because the
musk
screamed
this man is not for you...
a malodorus warning of what would
manifest... and
the *** smelled like
ph imbalance
had i heeded... I would have wasted
a lot less time... and
had a lot less pain
The nose tried to tell me

In the rising sun
and the waxing moon
quietly worshipping my
Loving creator…my
Source… Sending good vibes
into the universe
Composing ill prose
While breezes
Catch dreams and coax
kitty cat wind chimes
into song…

I want to
grow old
Outside the lines…

There will be
No conformation-
I'm just sayin

No tidy blue hair or
Big church hat and
No ****** Christ on a Cross
Ram-Rod spine or
Fire and brimstone of my youth…

Instead…
An elemental and quintessential rejection of
A lifetime of The Establishment
has settled in these ol' bones...
And with it
Expanded consciousness… and
No cut-in-stone rules
for growing old…
Ya see, I
Need to grow old
Outside the lines…

Looking like the bohemian
that I am
Beaded and Barefooted
Cared For and Comfortable
With unruly mane a reflection of me…
Sometimes messy
Difficult to control and
NOT easily managed... Cuz
I'ma
Good Lovin
Candle lighting
Sage burning
Truth writing
Constantly learning
Dancing naked in the moonlight
Hippie of a poet mama
Happily…
Aging gracefully...
On my own terms...
Outside the lines…

When
doors open with no breeze
chimes sing with no wind
ya blunts keep goin out… and
Candle flames sputter
You’ll know it’s me
Passin through
to color your aura blue
raise your vibration and leave
my scent in your shirt
palo santo or eucalyptus
In the air…
just
breathe deeply Baby…
exhale slowly Darlin…
and feel betta
cuz it’s just me
Carla-Marie
to get on your nerves
or make you smile
or both
as per usual

ya cook a mean oatmeal
with vanilla & cinnamon
& nutmeg (come to me)
make us laugh while ya
slice onions.. which could be a
catagory in some desperate contest
but more importantly tho
ya let me have Peace...
baby i can
whip up my own
all alone
tasty sumthins
but to not be alone
& still have
Peace
makes me stand
in the hallway
where ya can't see me
&
stare at the side of ya face
&
set my clock
to watch ya
sleep