Feeling sad, feeling more focused
Feeling The Big Goodbye
Although it was my wish
And this new freedom energizes me
The goodbye still manifests while I move forward
In missing what was good and briefly forgetting the bad
Survival is a mystery and genetically designed
My buoyancy always taking me to the surface, to take another breath
Goodbyes are sad. Like fresh flowers on their last days
Preserved on jpg and floating in the internet, like ghosts
I try to talk to my ghosts
I tell them it’s time to cross over
With a candle lit, I talk to spirits, calling a truce and asking for forgiveness
This crops up often. Chemistry and attraction trumps age. Sure, age is a starting point but like food, it doesn’t hurt to try new things to see if you like it.
Spring chickens can be inexperienced. Old dogs can be too. I have no answers to finding a life partner. Until that day comes, the buffet is well stocked and hot.
I’m posing a poem
“Would you consider moving to Paris and being my model?” Said the poverty stricken American artist circa 1830
With nothing but what could be carried
“Would you drink red wine in goblets that we tucked in pockets,
Stolen on a drunken dare?”
“Would you recline on a chaise, and pose?”
The city is busy and the artist watches them watch you
A classic beauty that elevates disparity
As the artist records with coal
The struggle bears fruit
As the Artist absorbs, through eyes and mind
“I will share you with the world” said the poverty stricken American artist
I comply, flexibly, like a willow
He sweeps me over with gentle hands
As if I am water, soft waves pushed
I am his doll, for him to play with
I trust him beyond the furthest point
I move closer to the other side of the world
I feel him, I hear him, I smell him, I savor him
As a new bud savors the sun, this vintage rose does still bloom
I found her
Stretched out, as if she was leaping
Her eyes, parted, still sparkled
Her returning glance, stilled by death
In shock, myself, stilled by death
I crouched down and touched her
She felt frozen in time
When I picked her up, she felt heavier than in life
Such a beautiful cat, even after this life
Frozen in time. Leaping into the next world
Her grey paws reaching for the beyond
What forces me to survive, sometimes when I don’t want to? The amazing things I’ve experienced. Some would call it God, guardian angels, magic or random. Whatever the case may be, I have experienced negative things and in most times, a kind human has been arms length for a hug.
Tonight I called my reliable colleague for some bodily exchanges. I’ve been under a lot of stress.
After our exchange I went into the kitchen for coffee. It was then that I discovered my Dove cat, dead. My colleague was very comforting. Like a real friend should be. Giving me instructions and offering to help or do all. I’m thankful that once again, a kind human was in arms length
Ps. This is a true story like a few hours ago.
I feel like I should write something. . .
I got a portable turntable
Set it up by my crate of vinyl memories
Voices singing, brings the click of a slide show
No digital
The familiar tunes are a lullaby to a racing heart
Parked at a drive in, watching home movies
It took a few months to place a black disk in play
The ghosts of Me past gently haunt
But I’m not so scared anymore
Two of a kind, you and I
Though my age betrays a maturity
Your guidance directs me to my soul
To be lost for so long, a kind gentleman showed me the way
I was out walking. I pushed myself, heaving
The sun pulled all moisture from me
The clarity was like cheap vodka in a plastic bottle
That walk produced bug bites, infected
By a hair removal cream, chemical
Dark spots, as if I had a case of the pox
I remember how he paid no notice
Two of a kind if there could be
The gears always moving, puzzle pieces turning, or Skelton keys jangling
To find a matching groove consoles me
If and since I do not wish to be a romantic unit
And if blessings aren’t reserved to God
I hold you as a blessing, in the most primal sense
You remind me of what I’m trying to forget
Though genuine care f*ck over my imagination
I toss my mane and squeal
On darkest of nights, the Illuminati of all pretenses
Bury your head into my chest, allow me to inhale the scent of the wild
Truly, why are you here? There are some good ones but always far away. There are profiles that stoke the fires
Too far away to make fires real
Why are you here?
To tease and recluse, to attract and reject?
I cannot sleep with such thoughts, enlighten me