I wasn’t really thinking when I started building castles in the sand. I wasn’t really thinking of how tired I would get. I grew up on the beach in California. I knew everything about how the waves and the sand and the sea work- is that nothing actually ever happens and we go in and we go out until we get worn out and stop to rest awhile.
The magnets of the moon and sea compelled to work together to bring us ultimately to this point of absolute uselessness. And I’d climb the sand dunes and play in the water but I was never one to go out too far or too deep. I’m not stupid. I know who’s waiting for me.
And we lived right across the street and the beach was often empty. Just me and my quest to become something more than who stood there then, who stands here now.
And I couldn’t control a single thing that happened to me and the waves never stopped-
in and out, in and out- I could hear them from my room and I’d listen to Asleep by The Smiths because I wanted to know, I really did…
“there is another world, there is a better world….
well there must be, well there must be…”
and I’d count the days until I was 18 and I could leave. It certainly wasn’t enough for me to be just another pebble washed up on the shore.
I had bigger aspirations and these people saw me and wanted me to be a fashion model and then I’d have to leave to a big city and maybe even take pictures with older men or
something seductive and since my parents owned me that wasn’t going to happen- and maybe then I’d be somebody that nobody would ever forget. More beautiful than anything I could create in the mirror.
And the dreams came in -and the dreams went out -and the waves crashed -and the moon waxed and wained.
I was definitely not hanging around this pointless town of surfers and hippy has-beens and guys who love reggae.
My mother’s friends would come over and pay me to make them beautiful and I was only 15-
I would do their hair and makeup so they looked effortlessly dynamic and free- I’m really good at making the outside count.
I had a lot to learn about beauty and running away from the sea.
Eucalyptus trees and coyotes and only one hill away from my own private beach with hundreds of seals laying in the sun- that’s where I lived 3 years later when I got married-
He was ten years older than me- I always preferred older men, men my own age always just seem like my little brother- but age isn’t the issue- it’s really all about the magic mommy living in their hearts and how she spins them towards me.
And i always do it, become mommy for the dying world that is. I just sit and start building castles in the sand with you. Didn’t we learn our lesson that God, in fact, isn’t a frog? I’m still trying to figure this one out.
But my first husband was insane and friendly and larger than life- always singing and wanting attention- (exact opposite of me)
and that lasted for awhile. He thought he could manipulate me and told me I had no personality. He sure was wrong- little did he know She was just waiting in the back seat and letting him drive for awhile…
It’s my experience that men are naive, easily seduced by helplessness, easily reduced by independence and easily angered by challenge.
I learned to wrap them around my finger by around age 12.
So technically, these are the things that matter-
building castle after castle until you learn that the tide comes in and you were too close to the
water- and after you learn that, you learn that you still need to do it anyway – so get used to never having a thing but the memory of what you had in mind- until- that too, inevitably washes away-
And you learn how to master the opposite sex in the best way that you can because their survival truly does depend on you.
And you learn how to create beauty in all the wrong places at first- and you’re wasting time- because everyone gets old and makeup doesn’t change a thing – and love is in your eyes-and if that doesn’t get you laid, look somewhere else- because he’s bound to cause you pain and heartache -because he’s a boy and still pissing on trees that look like they’re bearing fresh fruit.
It’s all about territory and ownership so don’t you forget that- and “love” is a great idea to mask what we’ve done to ourselves.
I guess we joined and we played along because we maybe got tired of being on the beach alone listening to “Asleep”….
“don’t feel bad for me…I want you to know…deep in the cell of my heart…I really want to go..”
and we maybe got tired of talking and thinking and obsessing over ourselves- writing blogs about ourselves and our take on it all- and we maybe got tired of saying thank you and I’m sorry all the time -and we maybe got tired of faking orgasms. and we maybe got tired of shaving our legs. And we maybe got tired of worrying about money. And we maybe got tired of even getting tired….
and that’s where I’m at now, still on the beach,
the song is still playing – but I hear it differently for sure…
So cheer up!
because we’re here getting washed away.
because I love you as you come and go.
because nothing lasts forever,
except of course,
my heart and yours.
I’ve got a secret to tell you.
I know I talk real big about “the secret and revealing all and everything.” Like its some profound and isolated occurrence- I say very authoritatively,
“don’t hide, spill yourself into me”…
but the truth is, I have so many secrets -they’re coming in on a daily basis, moment by moment, and I just can’t stop it- or, maybe I can’t get enough- it’s hard to tell at this point actually-
It’s not like I do it “on purpose” either -and I don’t know if this happens to you -and I almost feel wrong- like I’ve seen you naked -and you didn’t know I was there-like I’m watching through your bedroom window while you get undressed.
And I don’t TRY to see under your skin -or behind your eyes -but there’s so much you wanted to tell me…and I meet you in that place- at that time- and I say, “your secrets safe with me” but I don’t say that on purpose -and I don’t say that out loud- and you just start taking off your clothes -and I know you inside out.
Every birthmark and every scar.
Does that happen to you I wonder? And it’s hard to talk- like its all no big deal -when you already told me everything- and I laugh and ask you about yourself- I think I’m the best actor in the world honestly.
And I tell Bhagavan Das “I don’t want to go. I can’t take it today” and I’m serious, I literally can’t take what some people want to give me-
Infected secrets, poison secrets, sick secrets-
and sometimes their secrets make me sick for a day- and why do you think I’ve got ice picks coming out of my eyes?
“get back, I don’t want to know you.”
But you tell me anyway, as fast as you can -and sorry if my response isn’t something you understand- because it’s not about me -and I’m so tired of being the Keeper Of Secrets. Trust me, I’ve got enough of my own. And I drudge the depths of my psyche down into the pit of my aching heart to find what She said -and to tell you everything. I really do.
Also, just so you know, I don’t lie.
It’s what we’ve got to do -you know -and it’s such a trinket really- after the fact -and I know I’m not going deep enough into Her Vault.
I stay alone mostly because I don’t want to get the cards shuffled in a way too confusing or perplexing to either of us- I stay alone because I’m sorting through the lies and the truth.
What can I give back to you with the secrets I’ve received?
And those of us who been chosen to be the carriers of the secrets- we start very young in training- you understand the look in your mothers distant glance, you know what she was thinking- subliminally of course- and in the unseen world around you, the secrets start pouring in from them to you…
That hug felt really weird from dad didn’t it?
But I was so young…I thought it was me. That’s a problem, you know- and we’ve got to get the occupation straight- because we got hired and nobody ever told us what happened. And it all started spinning around me. I became the eye of the storm. The volcano’s hole.
I’m always erupting a little bit if you haven’t noticed-
basically, it’s for my safety and yours.
You wouldn’t want me to blow up all at once.
Sure, I’m scary without trying and Bhagavan Das says, “it’s a good thing you’re with me, because nobody else could handle you” and he doesn’t mean I’m a bitch (not all the time anyway, and yes I respect myself- I chose that word for effect) he says I’m so acutely intense every moment of every day- and in everything I do-
that I scare people maybe…
And I’m sorry, I’m just trying to keep this all sorted out- (and of course I’m appealing to the strangest of you all)
So can you see I’m just always rearranging and shuffling the files- my own secret files- what stays and what goes- because believe me, I’m not censoring – I just go off- I’m filled with so much information I can’t get it out all at once.
No, I’m not proud of it. It just happens.
I watch people and see how tranquil they are sometimes -how their just skimming the surface -and it’s all just how it looks- and I say, “why do I have to be me? can’t I just leave for a little while and get a day off or something?”
But NO, you can’t…
Why not? What’s this all about? And I’ve been with him a long time and I keep so many secrets- and because of what I know, I protect Him from the leeches and parasites. Compassion has nothing to do with letting smiling faces drink another persons blood and siphon off of another persons soul.
“Isn’t it enough the his voice sets you free?”
“No it’s not enough actually, and stop
blocking the gate.”
I’m not only a keeper of secrets I’m the gate keeper. I’ve stood at the threshold for 10 years and I’m the bouncer at this spiritual gathering ok? And I watch the audience for guns -and I stay alert- he keeps his eyes closed- and just sings-but I don’t- and I’m watching -and I thought that I would probably just knock him off of his chair- and let them shoot me without even thinking- you might call this paranoia- but I know a lot ok- and people ARE NOT who they pretend to be.
I’ve got a lot going on upstairs…it’s rough.
And aren’t you always holding a mirror up anyway? “Don’t look at me, look at you.”
That’s never going to happen Ok.
So we’ve now established what’s really going on
and why I’m like this- you can’t believe everything I say though -just yet-because I have yet to reveal some more-
She’s coming, don’t worry…
“Special delivery from me to you”
It’s so hard to describe the dilemma we’re in.
I’m a sheep that’s blacker than black. I’m a goat on the mountain top watching it all. I’m the way you strike your match. The fires are already going, I’m just getting blamed for them- get it?
Who named the Goddess Pyromania?
” I just keep playing in your flames-I didn’t start a thing”….it’s really not fair…
God knows I’m trying to get to the bottom- but God also knows there isn’t a bottom… my friend,
and I really mean this, your secrets are safe with me -because I already hold them. You didn’t even know- and you thought this was all your idea…
ITS LIKE I MYSELF AM A SECRET- and I don’t mean that like, “oh there’s this really great place that hardly anyone knows about” (like me)
No, that’s not what I mean.
I mean. I’m spooky. I scare people. Just like any good secret- when I walk in the room -sometimes people gasp- sometime people shudder.
They get startled because secrets aren’t supposed to be exposed.
but I AM One.
It’s so eery. What can we do? I’m just a whisper in the twilight away from the realm of you.
And not everyone is brave enough and not everyone hears the calling,
“come with me. I’ve got something to show you. Me”
I’M YOUR SECRET.
It’s all upside down. I see that.
I figured that out by now- and we can’t stop what’s about to happen. I never told a soul about Him and what I took. I never told anyone about what He did.
I kept it all inside. I said, “your secret was safe with me” and I meant it.
Personally, I give my secrets away freely- and I love it -because people think it’s me being “vulnerable” I just LOVE playing the part…it’s so thrilling to watch what happens next when you think you’re on top – because you aren’t.
(what I just said is slightly a lie)
There’s a lot of ways to flip this. There’s a lot of ways to do it. “I’m sorry, I never meant to tell you- but it’s so hard holding it all inside”-and yet, I hadn’t said a thing.
I AM the thing-
..that’s why I keep going- boundlessly fueled and running at top speed…
The darkness got me high. The darkness got me pumped.
The secret is alive and she’s vivid.
The secret isn’t a confession. The secret isn’t a satisfaction that you get. The secret isn’t written in twinkling words-
She is actually a person. And She’s out there..
So be careful,
Sharada Devi ✨
I attract desert nomads…
I attract spiders and serpents and scorpions -I hypnotize them somehow -and they just can’t resist the thrill of what I might do -of what might happen next I suppose…
I was standing in the desert just staring at the sun. What am I supposed to believe? Ive been told so many things. I guess I don’t believe anything. I pretend I agree and I pretend that I don’t. I pretend that I believe you and I pretend that I won’t but truthfully, I’m just standing in the desert and staring at the sun and also,
You’re my inspiration.
The desert is a harsh place to take your clothes off. The desert is bare and deserted, just like you when you live there. It’s not easy to be stranded and alone, isolated in the heat and dry as a bone.
“Didn’t anyone ever love you?” That’s another stupid question- because I know that they did not. Desert dwellers take a lot of risks and break only one heart, their own.
“I never really loved you.”
“Oh? And I never really cared.”
Everyone just keeps saying the same thing to each other as they crack and they smolder. How many ways will we adjust ourselves so the burning doesn’t hurt so bad?
Can’t you just say, “I’m alone and I don’t know what to do.”
I always knew I was alone. I always knew I was an island stranded in the sea. Everyone forgot me-and so I had to believe in God. And this wasn’t for any reason other than survival. You know,
all the creatures find ways to adapt to life on earth until they perish- ashes into the wind, guts down the vultures throat, rotting limbs buried in earth.
And I know you won’t believe me because how could you and everyone lies. But I love you and I know that your island is sinking. Jump onto mine is all I’m saying. And I don’t know how we got here and I don’t know what to do. I can only say one thing, I know how to love you. Because many don’t know this but me, the desert has a lot of mirrors and I’ve stared into them all.
And the desert and the island -seem as far apart as night and day- as far apart as me and you- and only a breath away from total completion. Consummation of what the heat means. Consumption of two islands that meet because they must. Somebody is always sinking. It’s going to be either me or you. So since we’ve lost the battle, shouldn’t we win the war?
what’s losing the battle: trying to stop me.
what’s winning the war: I’ll let you decide.
I’ve known so many scorpions, I’ve had two in my bedroom already. Arizona bark scorpions and they’re deadly. Bhagavan Das said, “there are no scorpions in your room” and I said, “yes there are” (he used to never believe me) and I found him one day slip by me and I caught him out the corner of my eye. They’re transparent you know and they almost look like an hallucination or a kink in time-
the way that they move- it’s something so real.
And the reason for our meeting:
it was either him or me. And I’ve already told you I was a killer, so don’t judge me by what I’m about to say-
But I got that hammer out and I slammed him and I slammed him and I slammed him HARD. -and he just wouldn’t die -and I slammed him again -and he curled up his tail at me and came charging (they’re very aggressive) and I slammed him again -and just NOTHING would happen -and then I backed him into a corner- and so like any good scorpion he turned upon himself -and started striking his back with the stinger on his tail.
Because with a scorpion, they’ll kill themselves before they let you do it-
Even they can’t surrender to my love right away.
Death’s blow is the way that I make you mine.
And the truth is, I just played along like I always do -and let him waste his time in the timeless desert battle between me and him- because you must hone your skills right?
It’s survival of the fittest and most ferocious- is it not? And he was probably thinking he should have just stayed under his rock and never wandered into my bedroom- But now that he had moved toward the light of my underworld, what he was doing before now-had to go. Really, he had to go- because…
his old ways just wouldn’t save him anymore.
I know that you’re hungry.
Scorpions are always hungry.
But in this case, out of my love for the game, I crushed his entire body with one final blow- and the thing is, I know he was grateful. I looked at this scorpion and I knew that I’d sent Him straight to scorpion heaven.
Finally. Release from bondage.
Let death come in the way that She finds you- and don’t bother fighting back -when love starts beating you with Her hammer -She’s going to win. Is the moral of this story.
So become a nail and just push through.
Because if you don’t -you just run around paranoid -charging at life. Numb. Biting and stinging yourself. And because you are smart, you know that you don’t really count –
until She finds you in Her bedroom…
I still think about Him. He was shiny and brave.
And I’m in the desert standing staring at the sun.
I think I see water- waiting for you- another oasis of lies and distraction. I KNOW what the desert is. I know there is no water. I know where to find you. And I know how you think. Because aren’t all scorpions the same? They never come into the light- and they hide under rocks, in crevices,
deep in the shadows – just waiting for the night- to come out- when they think that I won’t see them.
But I see in the dark, is the thing.
And who’s hunting who? Are you eating? Is she the hungry one hunting you?
Be careful when you think you found a crack.
Trust me, you didn’t.
And I’m standing here and the sun is starting to sink in the sky. I’ll be here for you. Jump onto my light. And the moon is rising like any other day and he’s starting to stir again, I can hear him.
And I’m ready for war, don’t worry my friend.
I’ll take you wherever you want to go- because your heart called to mine and said it was time-
to burn and to bite and to die into the Moon.
The Silver Gray Moon.
The intoxication of Her maddening ways has my
heart lost in the sound of Her footsteps getting closer –
She’s about to make the final blow.
Because I always knew you were there even though he said you weren’t. I was born a Scorpion and I became a snake and then a bird and then I became a fire that filled the desert sky and then I burned and I burned and I sent my ashes and smoke far and wide to cover you so that I would know who you are.
The chosen one.
The one smeared in my ashes.
The one with my smoke in your eyes.
It’s me. I put you here. I did this to you.
And after all the fires died down- I rose from the wasteland I’d created -and I made a home inside the summer moon. So that I could watch the desert and wait for you.
Ashes always return to ashes.
love obliterates and smashes.
so don’t think you’ve found another way.
because I will make a believer out of you,
Hiding in the shadows, watching me everywhere I go, It’s you. It’s only you. It’s always been you.
I don’t really sleep. I just lay in the dark waiting for you. You’ve already come twice this week.
I’m not sure if you know that you’re doing it.
Breathing down my neck, invisible and dangerous. I never know what could happen and so I wait like a cat with my eyes open wide. But late last night- you came to my bed -and you leaned over me -and you searched my eyes deeply – then, with a slight smile (which was unusual) you melted into my body.
Forever, at last.
Such total love misunderstood.
But I always knew you-and so I wait for more.
People think I don’t know what you’re about to do to us all, but I do know- and I can’t wait to see you again. Since the last time that I died -two years ago- I love only you- and I know where to find you -and who carries your seed.
It wasn’t a hospital -and it wasn’t an illness or condition- it was a supernatural shamanic attack- and they tried to kill me -because they know I’m your Queen -and they know the damage I can do- and they know that you spread water under my feet everywhere that I walk.
If it wasn’t for you, I’d have nothing to do. But you gave me a seat in your heaven. Your heaven in the island below. The underworld haven of so many bad girls, but I’m not bad at all- and that’s why you picked me. Yes, I’m talking to you and it’s not about me. And my seat came with a crown and so does yours. And my feet are covered in gold and pearls and my crown has 3 Ravens that sit watching everyone -and you are with me
-and this bed is rocking.
So I lay there waiting because you are my redeemer -and nobody knows -but you -how to slice me -or how to put me together- We all came here wanting the same thing- and so we have to do the dirty deed- and we have to get fired-
And I hung from the meat hook in the back of the room- and it all bled out –
who she could ever have been- whatever was- is gone- and so the stories I tell- are like myths or like fables- yes, I remember her but she isn’t there.
And I had a dream and we were all laughing – laughing to death -at the joke -and at how much fun we’ve given each other. My exotic and brilliant mother. My stealth and gorgeous father. My genius and brooding brother. Even you, you were in that dream laughing too.
We all know what’s next don’t we?
Pinnacles and pageants and angry men who think I tease pricks- well I don’t have a lot of time to waste on teasing. I mostly like doing. And a prize? Yes, a big prize -I’ve given myself to you.
I hope you can find me in the same way that I’ve found you -because like I said before, he’s coming and maybe even again tonight. Will you be ready to see his silver gray eyes?
“Bow deep and low to the black bitch of the black hole.” That’s what Bhagavan Das says- and he really does know best -because there’s no reaching the bottom -and mommy never dies -and you can’t stop loving me even if you try.
He came to me and He made the offer He said, “listen, shaman, there are two ways we can go. I can be on top, or you can.”
And then He got out his dagger -and He got out His silver gray eyes- and He opened his big mouth -and He basically swallowed me. I went down hard and fast and She was watching from the top of the room. I didn’t come back for about six months-
and when I did, I didn’t matter anymore. And I commanded the birds in the sky -and I heard the fish in the sea -and I made storms and sanctuaries -and I bled the moon dry.
Dry of the past – of the forlorn little maiden that stumbles us all.
From naive virgin to immaculate Queen. From frolicking maiden to master mistress.
That’s what He’ll do to you deep in the night.
The Dark Talks…
… and the sound of the trees ushering Him down the long driveway straight into me. He’s quiet and light on His feet -and so I don’t always hear Him. Unless He rides in on His horse and I hear the panting tongue of the Man I always loved.
He lets me eat Him over and over again and He’s never scared or mad.
Because He’s the Love that Takes Us Home.
I was born from Him. I will go with Him. I will die into Him until the end of time.
So before you call me a slut or man hater, before you say. “What has become of Her blog” stop for a minute and hear what I’m saying because:
you’re all fucking each other anyway- so you might as well get it right.
…and for those of you who think you aren’t…I’ll be waiting when you arrive at His Gates. I’ll be waiting with a throne and a castle. I’ll be waiting with heaven and hell. I’ll be waiting with the sacred and the profane.
I’ll be waiting to hug you forever.
I’m a man eater. Do you know what that is?
Have you ever heard of a Venus fly trap?
That’s right. It works like a charm. Hungry hungry hippo- did you ever play that game as a child because we did. Do men even eat? I doubt it. Sure they stuff their faces with glue and grime and television shows- sure they fill up really hard and fast when they can- (it’s pathetic really) -when it’s easy- when she’s looking for a place to sit and rock- ride the wild horse, hunt the wolf- so funny though ladies and only we know don’t we- that their aren’t any left! No seats in the house!
Of course we don’t say a word and we pretend and we play- yes, it’s a mind game John, and trust me,
you aren’t winning! Come home to mommy big boy! Home is where the heart is- cereal with milk and everything! Plus we don’t complain when there’s a “little problem” do we? No, we stay thin to make them feel big and then we slam them against the wall in our own special way-Don’t we? Honestly, I don’t think we’re helping them at all- putting on man clothes and taking you for a kiddy ride -because from what I hear, none of you have eaten in a very long time (some maybe never) and you’re really too skinny and you’re gaunt and you’re hollow-
but he didn’t notice did he? (why are you with him?) And it’s a good thing – because he likes thin women and I just hope your breasts are the right size. Does he love you like you dreamed of. No. Not even close.
I know he does not. And I never told anyone they couldn’t eat me- they just aren’t able to because they still don’t have teeth and they wouldn’t know a piece of meat if you rubbed it in their face. I’m not a man hater. I’m a man eater. Do you know what that is? Have you ever heard of a Venus fly trap? That’s me sexy sister. And next to me is my web where I wrap up the left overs for another time. I never told him he couldn’t
make the cut. I never told him he is rough and can’t ride. I never told him anything to stop him from spinning on the thread he hangs from.
My mom was a spider. I learned everything from Her. What was she supposed to do? Be a soldier? Salute the man? Yea, right.
So many men and so little time.
My flower is big too.
And men, no, not all- because I love men the most-(women can be catty and hen like)-don’t get all ruffled guys -and start fluffing your feathers.
You big, hot, angry peacocks- so bright and SO soft.
Yes soft and I’m stroking..
And I’m still looking for God.
Who wouldn’t want to have sex with God?
Who wouldn’t want to disappear into my face?
Who wouldn’t want to take the plunge?
Angry, angry men. Hot, spinning women. I love men the most- they never get caught in the small talk. I really love men, played with boys all my life. Is it our fault that we learned how to work them?
Paul I love you -and don’t expect me to act spiritual. It doesn’t mean anything, the word without Her joy. She’s coming for you and your mother knew it. I know it too and you’re like my best friend.
It’s hot in the closet and maybe two can fit.
Vacuum cleaner and a man. A man with a BIG broom. (no little brooms allowed-nothing personal)
The point I’m making really is, why don’t you help clean the house? She’s planting her flower everywhere in fantasies that have nothing to do with you. I know she’s a mad women and I told Her She’s a Manson Girl. She sent a picture to me with Her tongue sticking out. So long and red and so pointed-perfectly phallic- bigger than any man could ever show me-(He’s really missing out Megan)
and I said, “She’s got it all figured out” She said to me, “off with their heads!”
When should we start? Which head? Where’s the vacuum?
And He’s not enough for you Tara Devi.
The quickest draw in the west. I too, carry a gun.
So don’t think that two isn’t better than one.
my friends and my foes my beloved pet beast,
don’t get stuck in the glue eating factory.
Don’t get lost in the guest room. Don’t get angry at me. I know you all -and I’m only calling it like I see it. I gave it away- the directions to get here- and maybe you thought that I lived somewhere else. Maybe you think I’m crying for comfort. Maybe you think I’m insane.
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH for playing this game.
Recipes are boring.
I’m channeling the Gods.
The Gods who want to fuck us.
Calling from the holy land, we’ve come so far to leave this little broom behind …and they gave me the flower and…
trust me, they meant for me to use it.
Get in or get out. I’m a man eater and theirs only one flavor. You.
Hot Ladies for sale,
(and most of us seem to be)
send your Man my face and it won’t be long now.
send your Man my face and He’ll be wetting the bed.
Send your Man my name.
Just do it.
walking back to the place we played, the trees we climbed, the castles we made..I can still smell the ocean churning. The fires on the empty beach, the coconut oil in my hair. walking backwards- and he was with his dog swimming in the sea.
We had nowhere else to go.
walking back to the forts we made, blankets between the beds, flashlights and I always told scary stories. I made my brother be my sister and dressed him in pink and painted his nails,
I put little pigtails in his hair and changed his name. He promised to be my sister (except when he went to school) I rode my bike with a basket and my little dog sat riding.
She was my real mother and Mandy was her name.
We climbed trees and started rivaling gangs. We fought and we found abandoned fields and haunted houses. We climb to the top of the world in the yards darkened by trees-overgrown and spookily quiet-and I’d write the scariest stories I could think of (for an 8 year old). I wante to read and so I learned when I was 4. I thought that Braveheart was a beautiful name for my dog but her name was already Mandy when I got her.
I was worried about how long we’d be together. I figured dogs lived to be 100 and so she only had 98 years left- and I’d walk in circles in the backyard wondering what I was going to do without her in 98 years. I would sit at the table and write love poems to my mother and tie the pages together with little strings.
Her arms always smelled so good.
I was afraid of my father because he was gone too late many nights. He was like a sky that you never knew when the lightening would strike. He’d get drunk and listen to The Doors and Led Zeppelin because it reminded him of Vietnam. I couldn’t look in his eyes because I didn’t want him to know that I couldn’t bear his pain -and I didn’t know how take it from him. He only told me he loved me when he was drunk. I wrote him poems about Vietnam when I was little and he would read them and cry- he didn’t know how I knew.
We were both killers- me and him.
I had dreams of Vietnam and I wrote all about them. We were all afraid of my Dad even though he never hit us- except for the time he beat me with a paint stick when I was 15 because he thought I had had sex- which I hadn’t. I cried for days. I was cut and bruised.
He should have went to jail.
When my dad got pulled over for speeding I cried “please don’t take my daddy away” to that policemen- I guess since he was hardly ever around- and he’d carry me on his shoulders when I was 2 to see the shark frozen in ice at sea world. He’d take me for rides on the back of his Harley. I couldn’t really find him after that. I’d walk up to strangers and say
‘”Daddy is that you?”
My mom was so embarrassed.
I got married when I was still 17. He was 27. He really did a number on me. I think I loved him. I knew we would be married the moment I saw him. Sometimes we just know these things- but it didn’t last. After 4 years I left. We stayed friends and he gave me drugs for the first time.
I became invincible
….and it’s a good thing because I couldn’t handle being a stripper and the alcohol wasn’t enough. Men staring at me for hours. Giving me lots of money. Table dances. It was a topless bar in a trendy Los Angeles neighborhood. Nothing more. I was very sexy- plus I’m a good dancer. It was a good job- I was rich and made my own hours. When the Russian Mafia bought the bar I quit -whenever men would turn their head as I walked by I would he very upset. This lasted for years-I’m over it now- It wasn’t a liberating occupation. I was naked and invisible. It’s bad if they look and it’s even worse if they don’t isn’t it?
Still, I would rather be turned inside out with no money.- than to be invisible for all the world to see.
And I know what it’s like -and I’m playing a game…and I know you see-because I’m showing you.
and how do you plan on getting back home?
Where is your heart now- Is it with me and my stuffed animals in bed every night so afraid of the man in the closet? And I couldn’t close my eyes in the shower until I was 25 because at my grandmas house they were watching psycho and they thought I was asleep but
I saw him kill her…
I saw him kill her. I saw him kill her.
I saw a lot of things I never told anybody.
I’ll tell you now though -and you can tell me.
Blood everywhere and little lost pieces of me floating to the surface of today- so that I can tell you -that we matter- aeverything we did matters-
how you made your own lunch for school. how my brother chased my dads car down the street
crying, “take me with you!” But my dad never did
I love my brother but he hates me. He had s little stuffed blue dog called bluey. He told me he used to be a midget and had a wife and two children. He told me their names and everything. My mom made us stop talking about the past-she said we were scaring her.
She scared us. I took care of her.
I took care of them all. I counciled my mom.
I cooked and ironed for my dad and I always hugged my scared little brother. He slept with a bat in his bed when he knew my dad might get drunk. He was a little man who wet his bed.
Will you really always be there?
Because a lot has gone down since we were last together.
Us, the riders on the storm.
I love everything about you.
My love didn’t miss a beat or a crevice or a crumb of everything you left me.
Death didn’t count back then and fences were so easy to climb.
It seemed like summer was forever.
It seemed like I was always new.
here I am
coming home to you,
Everything is empty. Everyone is empty. Everything is just gone.
The temples are cemeteries -and all the saints dying -and I’m just a pyre -an ash and embers filled -final birthday fire -for the dead and the burning.
Set me on fire, I don’t care, there’s nothing left inside. But nobody does -because nobody can -and its just not enough to keep me interested anymore -I burn everything I look at-and I just can’t stop….starting fires and instigating heat..
it’s a friction addiction I’m told.
I saw a bird in the tree looking for a mouse for dinner-but the ground was dry- and so the rodents were all gone-all eaten up one way or another -It’s not a harvest day here on my speck of earth. Nothing to kill, nothing to do…
I need more heat.
The weaving and threading of making something- a nest for wasps-or a way to stay warm- is also a loss.
I’m cold no matter how hot we burn.
The snow will start to fall soon and cover us all anyway.
There was no one inside and the lock was too rusty to open. So, yes, I’m sad that it’s all gone and everyone tried -but they’re dying now and the best days are behind us. The sun was setting without even a color.
How can I love you if you don’t get under the blankets?
How can I see you when it’s always so dark?
It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s been blindfolded.
I walked around the Deity expecting to be blessed but I only heard the whistle of the wind dying down deeper in the valley.
“He doesn’t live here anymore” they said.
And so I walked over to the edge of the cliff and thought about a million things at once,
“Am I really a bird? Probably not.”
So I though about dying and the red thread He put around my neck on New Year’s Eve and I thought,
“That wouldn’t be bad at all. Maybe it doesn’t matter and I might as well fall.”
But then the ground shook a little- just loud enough for me to hear that deep underneath Her She’s about to explode, fire under the belly, hot nectar from the moon- boiling in the cauldron down below…
“but I thought nobody heard me?”
I said out loud to no one.
Absolutely no one.
And the weeds have been allowed to grow and the tattered flags were blowing, I was bluish cold despite the red heat rapture of Her Soul-stirring the pot-while She walks sadly barefoot upon the earth.
“There’s just nobody here anymore. What am I supposed to do? I’m just like my aunt, saving mangey dogs who don’t even love me- not love me-no, only love their food and their blankets”
I guess it doesn’t matter. What do they know?
Stupid worthless dogs.
“I’m just like the spring flower who grew up in a field all alone. Getting old Dying before anyone could pick Her in bloom – and put Her in water- and brighten your eyes -and bring love to your heart.”
No opportunity. No junction.
And I saw the paint chipping and I spun all the prayer wheels.
“I don’t really know if these prayers work. I wonder if anyone feels them?”
No rapture. No solace. Probably not.
And then the birds even started getting cold and the road was so dusty. I opened the car door and got inside. “It’s so quiet in the car, it’s just like temple”
No Gods. No Ecstasy. I expect nothing from you.
Nobody loves the smile in Her eyes. She’s just another woman with nowhere to go. Nobody
hears Her calling to the Furies. Where have you gone, dangerous lady of the night?
No curses. Its not nice.
No. Just sit and shred papers. All the notes in your head. All the lists and all the restrictions.
Because it looks like nobody will be here on time for dinner anyway.
It’s a ghost town out there where My Cowboy used to ride.
And I remember the horse that He rode.
(No you don’t. YES, I DO)
“Take me with you. Far away from here where the fire isn’t something I have to make myself. Where the Men are the blood that I wear.”
But no longer do I go into the shadow that brought you to me…
because she’s gone, over the edge of forever.
Naked and bright like a star with no rider.
My heart has a hole that I just can’t fill,
honestly, God pokes too hard.
Where I fell from Him, is where I bow to you.
In my own special way, down on my knees…
bruised and bleeding…
and I learned to use to His weapon because He promised me love…
I mastered Him actually.
and I never listen unless I’m the one talking,
So that’s a problem of course…
just another kiss. just another mouth. just another touch of His mane against my heart.
wild stallion in the open field
you saw the only flower.
so I’m getting on,
don’t fight me.