How do I learn to truly forgive myself?
How do I stop blaming myself
for the mistakes I have made?
How do I find peace within
myself to move forward,
instead of always looking backwards?  
How do I turn this around,
before I totally lose myself again?

These questions haunt me
each and every day.
Just when I think I am making
even the smallest of steps forward,
there is something, or someone,
who pulls me back –
back down into the abyss
of pure sorrow and shame.  
Sorrow of love gone wrong, or lost;
shame for allowing it to
consume such a beautiful heart, and mind.

I know that I must learn to forgive myself
for all of my errors of judgment,
which is one of the hardest things
I have ever had to face.
Being one’s own worst enemy,
while facing the deepest of all criticisms,
is very hard to overcome,
especially, when you lose sight of
the light at the end of the tunnel.  
My faith deserts me when
I need it the most.  
I am solely living on the outside,
while slowly dying in the inside.  

I see, nor feel, any real purpose.  
Am I always meant to loom
in another’s shadow?  
Never to reap the benefits
of all that I have invested?
Never to be acknowledged
for having a good heart?
Never feeling like I will
ever be truly loved,
or cherished, for the
person that I am?  
What does it truly take
for someone to see
the worth in me?  

All these questions,
while not having the answers
makes it hard to believe
that you matter that much
to all those around you.  
Am I just going to always be
an afterthought,
instead of, a forethought?

What more can I do to
prove my own worthiness?
Will I perpetually be stuck
in uncertainties of my own
self-doubt?  
Will I ever truly find my
place in this world?

All these questions constantly
swirl in my mind, as I try
to figure out the answers.
The pressure of finding
these answers lies
heavily on my shoulders.
I am a strong woman, indeed,
but when I face one
challenge after another,
without truly healing,
I tend to find myself
questioning my own existence.

I do not want to be remembered
as a woman who was always in pain.
I want my self-description to be of
a woman, who despite her
many adversities,  found her
sense of being, as an example to others.
Life is exactly what we make of it.
If I continue to allow myself to
wallow in these fears,
then I have truly succumbed to
own my demise.

Even with the most clouded
of mind, I know I can not
allow this anymore.  
I know that my heart
cannot endure the pain
and disappointment that it bears.  
So, I must learn to recognize
that I am human, and that
I will make mistakes.  
How I learn from these mistakes
is what separates me from another -
it is what defines my uniqueness.  
Regardless of the loneliness
that surrounds me constantly,
I must remember that I am
needed, and wanted, by others.

The only way to do this
is to try to forgive myself,
while realizing,
that those who also recognize
my true beauty are the ones
that deserve to be part of my life.  
As the haze lifts more and more each day,
I do believe I will find my way again.
Just some more bumps along this
road that they call life.  

Vicki A. Zinn
May 27, 2013

I, a woman of letters, have been waiting for you, a man of numbers. I’ve been fantasizing of the day when you would deliver at the porch of my heart your algebraic equation. The x’s and y’s merged systematically with all the symbols, forming an indelibly inked pattern that would finally make sense. I have been waiting and hoping and praying, but all I’ve got so far are your invalid equations, the confusion, the uncertainties, the unsolvable mathematical sentence that I want so desperately unscrambled. How can you not, in your genius, find the right equation, even as I now try to draft a coherent verse?

for j.e.
*013115

Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on

Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth

His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars

His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
****, I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter ***, me

As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do

Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver

His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest

Anom o ly

Non-named, never imagined much less realized

The left hand can't know what the right is doing,
it's a brain matter, grey area, may be a way to
imagine your unique. task, yours, not doable from here

We can do things as us that we never imagine alone.

Is there a need to negate, wait, think,
must one do any act?
Now, I see, emulating Socrates is thought easier than
emulating Jesus. Christ, you know that ain't easy, eh?

Death is the friend of being. Things change from time to time
but, you know knowledge grows in two directions,
the dark part is not evil.
evil is as evil does. The roots that ever live in the earth,
those roots are required, requirements.

Left brain uses the right hand. Don't tell the left-hand
that nearly all it's skill in serving
and being used right,
is used up by the other side.
Right or wrong, is not a chiral question,  nor is good or bad. ******* Phillips's head screws with a butter knife is wrong.
It can be done right, but not if you turn it the wrong way.
Drawing on the right side of my brain has always symbolized a crossroads experience, in my mind.
I mean I draw, realistically, with my right hand, left brain.
Maybe, brains are no easier to analyze than time in an immaterial medium of messaging.

I am certain life wins.
Meaning everything you think life means.
Do you think evil is required as an activity for life to actively be?
I doubt that.
Death fixes everything. Fret not. Wait.

First make room, what was the Bronte word? Penetrium, no, cut n paste
[A]t once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason - Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/columns/post/cloud-of-uknowing>

Happiness demands an agreement
Joy is in process, I agree, I am happy, haps happen and I notice

Note: Bronte was one to tweak fine puns with the word Penetralia: 1. The innermost parts of a building, especially the sanctuary of a temple. 2. The most private or secret parts; recesses: the penetralia of the soul. See Chapter one, Wuthering Heights.
----- From
bronteblog.blogspot.com/2006/03/emilys-penetralium_03.html

Limutin na ang mundo
Forget the world
And its intricacies
Your abusive father
Your good-for-nothing frenemies
Let go of the earth
Reach for the uncertainties

Nang magkasama tayo
I'll be here holding your hand
Reading your fears
In the lines of your palm
While feeling your taken risks
In the spirals of your fingertips

Sunod sa bawat galaw
Let me take the lead
Follow my steps
As we waltz off
From our consciousness
to the chains of the world

Hindi na maliligaw
We'll never be lost
When all miseries will be unknown
Or at least, we'll be lost
In all that is ours

Mundo'y magiging ikaw
*You will be my world
And I hope I'll be yours too

Logic, never etch'd within love
broken galaxies bent with regrets
star clusters came unglued under pressure
reasoning bit the dust'd path

comet tails exceed the limit
delusional constellations play with fate
staring up becomes looking down
on night path footprints’ maze  

heart's exploded into fragment'd cinders
hanging onto darkly serendipitous uncertainties
waiting for crystal azure skies to sheen upon
twists of destiny's dismal glitz again

still fractur’d moonbeams
broke rank in obsolete formations
collecting emotion’d confessions
draped by black velvet sighs

wishing upon radiant eventide
whilst dancin' amidst twilight's glimmers
waves crashing sympathies last grasp
that dusky nightfall brings us sunrises

once eclips’d by passion’s shade
looking directly upon its hidden glow
wind’d breaths of amber blushing
sing sweet lullabies to morning’s harmony

The vulnerability of baring myself fully
clenches the belly
panics the heart
stands my hairs on end.

It is truly the most terrifying thing
to stand in ones authenticity.

And yet. And yet.

The courage it takes.
The great tender strength.
The spine tingling elation.
The heart swells, and magic.
The naked beauty borne, in feeling you have nothing to hide.
The spirit touched ardor of a bare approach to life.
The openings and the mystery.
The expressions: tripping, falling, incomplete, misguided.
The wonderful mistakes, elucidating lessons.
The perfect imperfections.
The easing of honesty.
The engendered humility.
The profundity.
The sense of being touched, touching, and in touch with life.
The unmasked revelations, of full spectral undulation.
The this. The that. The I can accept it all.
The dropping of shame.
The incredible liberation, in shedding that shame.
The finding forgiveness for self, for other.
The quiver of unknowing.
The sweet caress of potential.
The dread. The sorrows. The uncertainties.
All making room for, in their acknowledgement:
Room for what else is there.
Room for laughter, and joy, and luminescence.
Room for flirtation, dancing, spontaneity.
Breaking open.
Melting into Love.
Soaring on the wings of Truth.
The hush, of anxious worry.
The Goodness bestowed.
The empathy.
The compassion.
The connection.
The holy restoration of creative flow.
The fires of real passion.

And everything.
And everything.
And Beauty.

The future: Insecurities.
Like a black chasm,
(swallowing your absentees).

Uncertainties, promiscuity,
bewildering circumstances,
you try to find present serenity.

You never knew smoldering
could happen underwater,
until you see that later,
always under the
weather.

Lost for words — train of thoughts,
lost for sure, the battles fought.
these insecurities eating me,
(who would have known?):
because I never let,
it to be really, shown.

Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in
Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin
Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight
Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight.

Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow
Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow
Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not
Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got.

Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night
Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright
Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before
Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore.

Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me
Tell me why I look yet I do not really see
Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt
Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt.

Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented
Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented
Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking
Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking.

Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad
Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad
Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance
Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance.

Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all
Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall
Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far
Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star.

Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant
Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant
Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck
Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck.

Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away
Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day
Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust
Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust.

Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong
Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong
Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face
Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace.

Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry
Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry
Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad
Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad.

Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick
Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick
Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted
Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted.

Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me
Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see
Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago
The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.

Logic, never etch'd within love
broken galaxies bent with regrets
star clusters came unglued under pressure
reasoning bit the dust'd path

comet tails exceed the limit
delusional constellations play with fate
staring up becomes looking down
on night path footprints’ maze  

heart's exploded into fragment'd cinders
hanging onto darkly serendipitous uncertainties
waiting for crystal azure skies to sheen upon
twists of destiny's dismal glitz again

still fractur’d moonbeams
broke rank in obsolete formations
collecting emotion’d confessions
draped by black velvet sighs

wishing upon radiant eventide
whilst dancin' amidst twilight's glimmers
waves crashing sympathies last grasp
that dusky nightfall brings us sunrises

once eclips’d by passion’s shade
looking directly upon its hidden glow
wind’d breaths of amber blushing
sing sweet lullabies to morning’s harmony