after all this time
of battling and keeping my mouth and legs closed
i let a man i haven't even known
don't even know his last name
into my house
on top of me
he laid me out
made me feel good
i can't tell if he's pushing me back to where i came from
all this hard work falling down the drain
i don't know of he's around for more than a kiss on the neck
'twas his smile that brought me here and leaves me confused
he ripped me open
and now here i am
with no clue of where to go
or which way to turn
Monday, August 28, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
(for r.a.r.)
O dear giver of bass
strummer of my notes
know ye not how my chords do resonate in your hands?
At your coming
this orchestra begins
Sound loud the cymbal
for I fear not the crash of chaotic cacophony
come now and take pleasure in the comfort of this bosom
into your next symphony she will send you smiling
for hers--
her highs, her lows, her depths, her bounds and even the fruits she bears
--is the majesty of music
O dear giver of bass
strummer of my notes
know ye not how my chords do resonate in your hands?
At your coming
this orchestra begins
Sound loud the cymbal
for I fear not the crash of chaotic cacophony
come now and take pleasure in the comfort of this bosom
into your next symphony she will send you smiling
for hers--
her highs, her lows, her depths, her bounds and even the fruits she bears
--is the majesty of music
(for r.a.r.)
last night i found myself following the voice of direction onto a personal path of pleasure
his bass culled my inhibitions,
bid them ado and went on
sending blazing yellow signals into the blue-black sky
announcing its time had finally come
my temple has not of recent rested so well
eyes have not so justly shut
in the boughs of pleasure's memory--its branches still nearby
--did i find myself comforted and at home
and i do pray
that such a heaven will again hold me safe while i slumber
last night i found myself following the voice of direction onto a personal path of pleasure
his bass culled my inhibitions,
bid them ado and went on
sending blazing yellow signals into the blue-black sky
announcing its time had finally come
my temple has not of recent rested so well
eyes have not so justly shut
in the boughs of pleasure's memory--its branches still nearby
--did i find myself comforted and at home
and i do pray
that such a heaven will again hold me safe while i slumber
Monday, August 07, 2006
How I feel (for j.m.m.)
How I feel about you is variable
How I feel about calling and getting no answer, leaving a message and getting no call back is definite
Definite and inconsequential
Because how I feel about you does not yet matter
Because how I feel is not your concern
Nor is it high on my list thereof
How I feel is a conglomeration of ups and downs, warms and cools that keeps me alive
Whether I always like the way it feels
No matter, for it is simply how I feel
How I feel about you is variable
How I feel about calling and getting no answer, leaving a message and getting no call back is definite
Definite and inconsequential
Because how I feel about you does not yet matter
Because how I feel is not your concern
Nor is it high on my list thereof
How I feel is a conglomeration of ups and downs, warms and cools that keeps me alive
Whether I always like the way it feels
No matter, for it is simply how I feel
Pouring oneself out is freeing and refreshing. Baring of course, but nudity has never felt better.
Today, just now, I wrote the absolute love of my life an email that pretty openly and explicitly declared him to be my one. In it I shared that I believe the vision I was given, with him in the loved position in my life forever, was true and accurate. And for one of the very first times I didn’t feel fear in saying what I would to him—via email, of course, but saying it nevertheless. Unlike some email systems, I do not have a retract key that I can press and undo what I’ve done.
What has been expressed in the words I just sent are now out and available to him.
This society in which I live: United States, New York, we live in constant fear. Fear of loss, fear of love. It’s all very puzzling and indeed quite annoying as well. Mostly because growing up conscious doesn’t stop the chance of falling prey to the oppressing systems, most of which rely on their ability to instill and sustain an attitude of fear in its inhabitants. Yet as I speak against fear, so am I a constant slave to her.
As I try to pry myself from her grip she tightens her fingers around my arm and neck and wills me to stay. And out of fear for, now for my very life, I remain both a victim and a slave and a rent-paying resident.
But just now…for just a brief moment—and these moments do sometimes come—I experienced the freedom of expression, via email to the man I love, my one. I didn’t try to open or shut or even to create any doors. I just laid down what treasures I had at his shore and perhaps my release from fear will do the same for him. I pray him well.
Today, just now, I wrote the absolute love of my life an email that pretty openly and explicitly declared him to be my one. In it I shared that I believe the vision I was given, with him in the loved position in my life forever, was true and accurate. And for one of the very first times I didn’t feel fear in saying what I would to him—via email, of course, but saying it nevertheless. Unlike some email systems, I do not have a retract key that I can press and undo what I’ve done.
What has been expressed in the words I just sent are now out and available to him.
This society in which I live: United States, New York, we live in constant fear. Fear of loss, fear of love. It’s all very puzzling and indeed quite annoying as well. Mostly because growing up conscious doesn’t stop the chance of falling prey to the oppressing systems, most of which rely on their ability to instill and sustain an attitude of fear in its inhabitants. Yet as I speak against fear, so am I a constant slave to her.
As I try to pry myself from her grip she tightens her fingers around my arm and neck and wills me to stay. And out of fear for, now for my very life, I remain both a victim and a slave and a rent-paying resident.
But just now…for just a brief moment—and these moments do sometimes come—I experienced the freedom of expression, via email to the man I love, my one. I didn’t try to open or shut or even to create any doors. I just laid down what treasures I had at his shore and perhaps my release from fear will do the same for him. I pray him well.
letter from a young poet (for dlm1)
i know you said you always read my emails.
and that even though you may not respond (which you never do) that you'll read it no matter what.
last week, i had a dream mid-week about you. that night i was depressed--mostly too many thoughts of self-pity resulting from having allowed myself to mouth the words that i haven't been on one date this year and my having convinced myself that i'm not desirable on a level other than sexual.
The dream I'd had with you in it left me with one resounding thought that stayed with me even in the few hours i was feeling less than myself.
The thought was one I had hoped to tell you, but because you have mastered the art of disappearance and being accessible only when you want to be and only to whom you desire, I decided that it was more important that I get it out than to wait to reach you. It's clear to me that I also will never know if and when you will have received this message, but I'm not concerned with that.
You are my one.
This is what the night gods brought me last week. "You," references you, with no confusion or chance to disregard the directness of this mention. I believe that you ARE my one--that if time and situation and circumstance and God, minus fear, stubbornness or human interference are the ruling powers, you will be the one to "make me whole," excepting God that is.
I accept this fact with all the peace I had in sleep, and even more, with the peace I was finally able to garner that night during troubled mind state.
I'm communicating it to you because it feels right.
Now, I believe the last time we spoke, I told you I was reading the Autobiography of Angela Davis. If I had an address for you, I would send you a copy, because I have an extra. Alas, I cannot send to an unknown address, but you should pick it up. It's definitely a powerful read--I have yet to reach the halfway mark, but with the work I know you have to do and the goals you have in mind for yourself and future, I definitely think you'll be changed and moved by what's in this book.
Among my next reads, I plan to include: Soledad Brothers, The Tipping Point, Black Power, The Time Traveler's Wife...
The list will never end :)
Maybe you'll join me on this reading rainbow.
It was absolutely wonderful to talk to you for the time we shared (and sang) the other night. Thank you for sticking by such a difficult friend throughout all this time.
You are loved,
As always...
i know you said you always read my emails.
and that even though you may not respond (which you never do) that you'll read it no matter what.
last week, i had a dream mid-week about you. that night i was depressed--mostly too many thoughts of self-pity resulting from having allowed myself to mouth the words that i haven't been on one date this year and my having convinced myself that i'm not desirable on a level other than sexual.
The dream I'd had with you in it left me with one resounding thought that stayed with me even in the few hours i was feeling less than myself.
The thought was one I had hoped to tell you, but because you have mastered the art of disappearance and being accessible only when you want to be and only to whom you desire, I decided that it was more important that I get it out than to wait to reach you. It's clear to me that I also will never know if and when you will have received this message, but I'm not concerned with that.
You are my one.
This is what the night gods brought me last week. "You," references you, with no confusion or chance to disregard the directness of this mention. I believe that you ARE my one--that if time and situation and circumstance and God, minus fear, stubbornness or human interference are the ruling powers, you will be the one to "make me whole," excepting God that is.
I accept this fact with all the peace I had in sleep, and even more, with the peace I was finally able to garner that night during troubled mind state.
I'm communicating it to you because it feels right.
Now, I believe the last time we spoke, I told you I was reading the Autobiography of Angela Davis. If I had an address for you, I would send you a copy, because I have an extra. Alas, I cannot send to an unknown address, but you should pick it up. It's definitely a powerful read--I have yet to reach the halfway mark, but with the work I know you have to do and the goals you have in mind for yourself and future, I definitely think you'll be changed and moved by what's in this book.
Among my next reads, I plan to include: Soledad Brothers, The Tipping Point, Black Power, The Time Traveler's Wife...
The list will never end :)
Maybe you'll join me on this reading rainbow.
It was absolutely wonderful to talk to you for the time we shared (and sang) the other night. Thank you for sticking by such a difficult friend throughout all this time.
You are loved,
As always...
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