Wednesday, June 17, 2009

bad ass, cream puff

It seems those are my two main modes. I wonder, if I move quickly enough from one to the other, will it appear as if I am in the middle?

I'm sick, it's true. And I tell you, right now I can feel it. It's not like crashing my Vespa at the end of March wasn't enough. You know, broken fingertip, ankle raped by asphalt. It's not like I don't already make the same exact turn every day on my way to work, in my limping LandRover, and curse the spot. There's been a dead smushed furry somthing there for the past three weeks.

No I know I'm not feeling well. I hide behind my monitors. I hate people secretly, without reason. Short-tempered, I bark. Brittle bad-ass, snapping at friends and people who try to take care of me. That's just before melting into a puddle of weepy, nose-reddening self-pity, writhing around in despair.

O Despair!

No... then I can go into some sort of auto-pilot... particularly facilitated by FB Mafia Wars. Click. Click. Fidget, wait. Click. It's the ultimate mouse-in-maze cheese hunt ever, for me at least.

Now my ears are burning, and I'm pretty sure it's coming from inside.

I crank the volume on my music, to drown out the LOUD OBNOXIOUS voices coming from the hallway. I think again with queasiness about the grinding sound now suddenly coming from my front wheels in the truck. Or maybe that queasiness is from the meds Doc T gave me yesterday. They are pretty potent, making the world spin just a litle. And I feel... ill. Hard to describe yukkiness, coiling and hissing in the base of my skull. Light bothers me. Some sounds bother me. That voice in the hall particularly, but she seems to have gotten the hint from my music volume and is now no longer using her outside voice.

Fucking moron.

I whip up hatefull thoughts more easily than I cry. I wonder about my defense mechanisms, and knowing that those who care for you are the first ones to take advantage of you. I know it. Four year old me knows it. And she's been around for a long time. She sits in a rocking chair on the front porch, a bitter Lily-Tomlin-take-off, smoking a long pipe and reminding me that it's never safe. Ever. Never safe. Feeling bad now? Just wait, it gets worse.

It's probably the brake pads wearing down or just wearing out. I should stop driving it until it's fixed, I can tell. Wonder how much that'll be. Wonder when my money will get straight. Wonder when I'll pass Adult 101... I'm not sure that I have. Is it possible to get a grade in 301 and still be remedial in 101? All the kids in the advanced class love my prose but they don't know I still can't tie my shoes.

Spinning, spinning. I know. I do! Or else I couldn't write it down. No no. I document to disarm. Proof and evidence of existence. I am here. Here I am. Beautiful and bumpy and infected.

And worn out. With a smile in the corner of my mouth. Even as I pool up in distress. I reach out and feel love coming back. I can imagine your hand on my head, smoothing my hair. Many hands. Many snuggles and nuzzles.

And that's when I know I just want to go to bed. And dream of Angel Caretakers who don't know how to steal.

And tho you're not here, in this moment, I can tell you that Ani DiFranco serenades me with Amazing Grace, and I'm sure it's gonna be all right.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Sweet, Bitter, Shalem, Shalom

I have to stop to beg
which is another way to pray
I beg for a moment
for a slice of time when I am fine
otherwise I fling from heartbeating to heartracing
am flung from up to down and around
wondering why
why this why that why now bastard
how could you
do that
be that
want that
wish that
when will I get a moment of rest
instead of watering them and watching them grow

time is tight like skin over a burn
the universe hates me and sends
sickness upon all who touch me
I have pleaded, unworthy
wished, without giving first
is that it? is it a price to pay?
is it all chits in the bank
tokens to sell, deficits and profits
score keeping tallies and
tandem break downs
tortured souls tapping out
rhythms and syllablles
never spoken but
screamed in here, between my ears
time telling what
only time will tell

she keeps her secrets and slyly seduces me
with a humor only she understands.
the joke's on me

I am
upright for which I am eternally gratefull
thinking, my Lord and for that I am proud
You did that.
If I thank You for each breath with each breath
can I have all I wish for?
Will all my wishes come like horses and
trample me to the ground?

I consider I already have my wish
I already praise Thee Adonai,
with each breath and every language I know
olde english, hebrew and so

I tried to cut it out of me, to
bang it out with my fists

I set my wanting aside and only observe
even then I am thronged by masses souls hearts
in need of things
life, love, comfort
You, God, give us all we wish for
we do not know how to stop it
how to handle it
make it go when it seems gone

My people
these people of my heart
the ones I have dared to let in and love
the ones who I care for
whether they know it or not
these people, my people,
if I bless them You must promise not
to curse them

Would I trade this world
the one where any man
can stand with death in his hand
for one where no one can stand upright?
Choice, my God, hurts.

If you can't make it not hurt,
if that's part of the whole nasty deal
can you show me why?
Can you give a picture, so I could explain?
Or just comfort myself
silently in slow tears.

I consider, I already have my wish.

Dripping quietly behind dual monitors
hiding behind technology because the rest is
too hard, my God, it's too hard.
yes I feel my feet,
so far both of them.
What are you telling me?
What is the message? The moral of the story?
I tempt fate, leaving my door open
weeping openly
I tempt fate, living so
walking around town with this cap on my crown
I do tempt fate

Bring it to me. Bring me the gun man
bring me the hater
I will surely take out my rage for You on him
and so,
disgrace your Face
shame You

To not defend is also a crime
lesser yes but how

sitting here,
naked as the Naked Lunch
I suckle my own instincts
to bring something of nourishment for the rest
I pull from my own
to see into the distance
type without checking
the endless sheet of paper I never have to change
I consider I have my wish

Naked, yes, I was

Am Still naked in front of you.
The faces of friends who read
are shocked to see me
knowing the dark corners
surprized to find me functional
Others know
from experience direct Direct evidence
Without others present I must
pass the crazy torch to myself
Yes I am that crazy
Passion unbridled and luckily mostly uninterested
beware the laser focus of intent
you may burn under its intesity
or just crush under its weight

Naked here me
For you, for me To what end?
What for?
Why now?
Writer's block
writer's flow much worse when you can't turn it off
much more frightening when you know you can't control
when it comes or when it goes
how fast
how far
how bitter or sweet

Waking up
Will you wake up?
Will you snap out of it
And go back to the work that is
Our Every Day Lives
It's packageable and sold
black market costs more
and tastes so sweet

Life, not for sale
Not for hire
We hardly know how to steer it
much less ride
Much less plan
Driven by passion by force
I insist on the will to resist
I cannot condone the random violence
I must insist it be planned
thought through
and ultimately disregarded
because it will not work
It won't work

Talk to me
That's all we can do really
Talk, try to understand
Talk to me, what do you need?
You know I am here for you
I exist to keep you
upright, standing
breathing deeply.

I duck, from
birds slamming into my windows
from feet standing in front of me
I can only see toes
as I duck
behind my monitors
behind my every day.

I'll wave to you as I pass by
If you'll blow kisses as you go.
Send love, strength and hope
In buckets and boatloads
To the Celstial Processing Center
for intensive distribution
to my people sweet hearts
the ones who don't even know

Friday, June 5, 2009

Misha's Mocha

Ach the love! The light frothy milk at the top.
The button of choco-flavored foam.
Had I not gone to lunch, had he not been driving,
My love, I would have never known your spicy kiss.

Coffee comes and coffee goes but
Misha's roasters ought to know.
They do it there, you smell it:
The love poured into, over, and on
A tiny bean uncovered in a huge fruit
How did this meeting ever come to pass?

I won't question but the flavor brings me out.
The elixir on my tongue
Front to back and side to side
Every millimeter tingles and screams with joy
The sweet chocolate dances with coffee
And I am gone

Gone gone, head off and floating
Mind reeling remembering
The coffee of kings the drink of legend
Each mouthful is a history

What a glorious day!
Raining outside and strolling through the
Cement castle of parking places
My feet skate lightly and my head
My head is traveling
Back in time
Around the globe
This taste this flavor as powerful as a memory
As moving as a song
As savory as love

(Blessing for spice? For drink? For all that comes from the Earth? Baruch Ata YY. That's some damn good coffee.)