Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

The Deception of Dreams

The mind defies

and deceives

You come to me in my dreams

and you

you’re there too

and I don’t want to think about you

or you

I want to erase the memories

of all of you

the hurtful words

the fear

the black eye

But my mind won’t allow it

It pokes

it prods

it reminds

and recalls

I think of green pastures

with wildflowers dotting it

willing the beauty

to snuff out the pain you left

It doesn’t work

 

On Children

On Saturday my son flies back to Washington, where he has resided with his dad for the last 2 years, and I am already sad.

Even though it ripped my heart out to let him go live with his dad, it has turned out to be a very good thing.  He is maturing, and growing into the amazing young man I always knew he had the potential to be.  He just had to get past the anger.

Knowing he is where he needs to be doesn’t make it any easier to let him go, but letting our children go, is what we, as parents, all have to do at some point.

Years ago, before I had my son, I read Khalil Gabrin’s ‘The Prophet’ for the first time, and was impacted by the part ‘On Children’, and it continues to resonate with me.  My son will always be my son, but he is his own person, with his own thoughts and feelings, and his own life to live, and I will continue to remind myself of this as he boards that plane on Saturday.

On Children
 Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

 

The Agony of Defeat

my words fall on deaf ears

and you turn a blind eye toward them too

 

and even though I stick out like a sore thumb

I seem to blend in with the crowd

and no one notices me

 

in a world obsessed with perfection

I am no one’s ideal

and I am ugly to myself

 

Why must I allow outside sources to define me?

 

Big Changes Coming

I’m losing my job at the end of the year.  I have know it was coming, just wasn’t sure when, and now I know.

I desperately need a change and I am being forced to make one.

For months I have envisioned myself selling my house, buying an RV, and moving away from Kansas to work elsewhere, and be able to explore another part of the country.  However, I think that dream has had the brakes applied, as lot rent seems to be hella expensive, and I can’t afford an RV payment and over $1,000 a month in rent.

I have no idea where I’m going, or what I’m doing, and I’m stressed.  My life feels so out of control right now, wanting change but scared to make the change.

 

First Love

If there was a salve which could heal your heart

I would travel miles

and spend every last penny I had to buy it

but that particular elixir doesn’t exist

and those who tell you differently

are just snake oil hawkers

who lie

I am powerless to fix what ails you

as you have that condition of the human heart

called love

and it will wound you

numerous times throughout your life

But none so deeply

as when you become a parent

and are unable to mend your child’s broken heart

the first time he falls

Talking About Love

He said, “Mom, I’m not sure I know what love is, but I think I might love her. Even though she and I might never be more than just friends, I want her to be happy.”

I said, “So you do know what love is then. You know exactly what it is.”

 

 

 

 

The Grand Canyon

shove it all in

fries, cookies, noodles

open your gullet

pour it down

vodka, beer, whiskey

legs splayed

cocks, tongues, fingers

suck it up

drag on the cigarette

anything to fill the void

the bottomless pit

it’s neverending

scream into the crevasse

and screams echo back

and still

I persevere

I am the abyss

 

 

 

The Seas of You

The words won’t come today, nor did they yesterday, or the day before that. So I reblog, because I’m always in fear of drowning.

Fat Bottom Girl Said What

I try to draw a breath
but my lungs won’t expand
to allow it

A wet veil has been
placed about my head
and it threatens to cut off
the life force of air

Swimming in your seas
has left me with a fear of drowning

“Test the waters you fool,” says my chastising voice. “Never dive in head first. When are you going to learn your lesson?”

But all is lost in the abyss
my ears are covered with water
and blackness begins to swirl around me

View original post

Whitewash

It all comes back to black

the color of rot and death

and a murder of crows

and of my insides

since I came across you

I want so much to shed the cloak of it

and experience other colors again

like red

the red of your blood

flowing from your nose

as my fist connects with it

gushing from your head

as the perfectly timed swing of my bat unites with your thick skull

dropping a trail from your bottom lip

as the back of my hand meets your lying mouth

but still

the red cannot compete with the black

so I wait for a source of light

to wash over me

and dilute it

and make it gray

Cleaning Day

i scrub and scrub and scrub

my skin wears thin

from the scraping of the brillo pad

it makes no difference

i am still dirty

i add cleanser

i am still not clean

i put the bleach bottle to my lips

and drink

because i realize the dirtiness

has penetrated my soul

oh how it burns on the way down

and i know that must mean it’s working

but it doesn’t clean me

and only leaves a hole the size of a quarter in my stomach

you stupid bitch

i say to myself in the mirror

you disgust me

the scars he left have dug their filthy tendrils

too deeply into me

they are ingrained

maybe he was right

no one else will ever love me

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