i’m crocheting a little friend a stingray out of teal and white yarn i am spinning him he is tighly woven and thinly drawn
and his eyes are stitched of black yarn woven into sloppy crosses i don’t know if i’ll keep my little friend once he is complete he is something that should be given away to someone who needs his soft company more than i i could make a thousand stingrays once i understand the pattern but in giving him away he would be someone’s only stingray and i think everyone should have a soft tightly wound sea creature at least once in their lives
Really, there was no need to fuss, I signed on with Yarn Anonymous, Here I stand to confess, I bought more wool, not less, Then I did sign the pledge, I took abstinence to the edge, Here I stand and say, I have not bought wool for ten whole days!
Unfathomable You think? Just a poet hidden in a rhyme?
No Poet nor Poetess can describe me re-invent create me disintegrate or compare me nor understand me I am you I am him I am even all of us yet very unique as each one of us is only one of me on earth interconnected to everything and everyone by nature like we all really are!
I do sparkle in my birth chart with an April's diamond I am a mystic daisy Aries is my Constelation I was born to lead and the opportunity blossomed obscured by great pain and untimely loss.
only my old true love decided to get to know me behind my back using his strange methods as oposed to giving me a chance one on one face to face to get to know me impossible to know me through the slanderous affiliations of selfish jealous people who don't have my best interest! if bad men and women who might envy me or feel rejected by me must help you decide where your heart is about me you'll never know me at all! you will be lost in the maze of your own ignorance and lose a chance to know me as a great lover great parent great wife greatest friend that you could ever have. This isn't any wild thought of mine here. NO. It's my life how it has unfolded how I experienced great fortune great love great loss rejection admiration and how I had to heal all alone because friends came not to me in this life time at all. Most masculine gender saught only to use me and I got tired of them playing their nasty impersonal text photo **** games requested leading nowhere Most married women envied me and were sickly unecessarily jealous of my unmarried non challant status and sincere platonic friendly disposition.
My dogs cats crows and raccoons remained my better friends then any humans could ever be.
My few diamonds are forever though their sparkle never lied steal cheat nor deceive or commit treason, OR DO THEY? I tried singles adds for friendship but t.v's episodes of "Mission Impossible" was an easier task then finding even a friend much less a husband a best lover a good father for my kids! I tried chat lines most men seemed to be functioning through their ****** primarily and heartlessly offering to pay soliciting full trust so long as it was all between two strangers no strings attached, right unto instantly intimate chaotic dangerous *** games which I was never into any of it.
So I put my Kama-Zutra brain I inherited from my Mom and Dad inside a tini match box all to sleep. A husband of my choice was forfeited and a second one or third of my choice seldom materialized. so I didn't settled never sold out.
My true love's diamond heart promised stayed in his coat pocket waiting for my " jealous tears" now scintilates in another woman's finger.
I couldn't like her as a greedy drug user law liar manipulator much less be jealous of her answering your phone. Much less be jealous of the *******'s calling photo card you showed me so I cry of jealousy and anger to earn your huge diamond ring! You could have tried telling me "I love you" then marry me, filling my woumb with your beloved seed, and at last stand by me; then I would be jealous only when and if, a real good reason to be jealous, existed!
Wasn't I ballanced in my emotions? beautiful in and out being self assured!? Couldn't you reward that in me instead? A beige yarn still wraps around my left ring finger today. I guess in the end even my sparkling diamond betrayed me.
an ugly insecure jealous greedy woman won it. what's left for me are my pets my grandkids and my 41 undeserved unprovoqued enemies to busy myself with praying for! and to finish my books depicting my hell, my almost paradise a new heaven on earth painfully forfeited. I never sold myself to men never sold out, no. I don't regret it
but I regret not playing one man's game to earn my man back at any cost because in the end I still very much remain loving one man no matter what he put me through his kind of love was all worth it . ~~~~~ Welcome to planet Earth jump into life! ~~~~ By: Karijinibba/ASG All rights reserved.
Let's ransom positive energy from one another by understanding each other so we wont miss out on a perfect man and woman made for each other. I believe in rewarding the ability to ballance non destructive emotions instead of promoting unhealthy ones as means for a man to feel loved by a woman or vise-verse.
the process of crocheting an afghan is about just that the process
you make an afghan looking forward to the nights you will curl up under it and relishing the way it fits over your legs when it's halfway finished
or thinking and hoping how much someone you love will love and appreciate your gift of time and callouses
weaving a container for whatever emotions you need contained
i realized this that first winter deep in february when i began my long nights of scrap yarn desperately trying to piece something together out of the not knowing why i told myself that this was it the sum total of my works the item they would fold up and place on the table next to the jar of my ashes come september and it was done by march
a slow and roundabout way of pushing myself through the suicidal smog smeared through my mind
my friends had blankets wrapped around them that bright morning of the anniversary we all cried together my tears falling on my afghan
i made them each an afghan plus a few more always pushing myself to look forward
lost count of how much yarn i used how many stitches passed through my hands
but by the time the next march came around i had made or charted out five more
to fill the void clawing at my insides
spent a year making myself another in tight ripples of time and television
and now my fingers slow and stop
seven afghans in two years is an accomplishment that might send the head of even the highest caliber of grandma spinning
i have no more afghans left in me to make
so instead i crawl down into bed two i made two from friends and one from my mother
and lie head pounding eyes puffy void of energy in the space between my afghans
My childhood is a ball of yarn, and I am a curious cat as I play with it one moment it surprises me all over again the tangles, colors, delicacy then I remember I've been playing for a while and I leave it be harmless
The battlefield is a pasture, a desert, an Escher-esque catacomb of cosmic proportion... It is a scribble, a stick body With a hollow circle head... It is a block of Earth, creating life with the dead.
Ink is the blood running; scattering non-uniformly Across symmetrical horizons And vertical skewed faces, Asking for the emotion you're feeling.
A loaded glue gun fires Building muscle and cartilage Sealing wooden bones and providing the foundation Of an artist born... Hair of yarn Marbled tooth and nail Skin of clay.
I am a weapon... A heart of paper folds and a mind untold Written in BOLD.
A work about the creation inside all of us artists.