Wednesday, December 28, 2011

things of the night

the loss shattered my sleepless mind, a new melody haunts the space between us awakening the heavy lidded eyes. happiness and sorrow blend into the wee hours of longing as i wrestle with my hearts desire for wrong and my mind's desire for right. the magnetic pull of absence and connection brews broken, fragmented thoughts in my weighted head. i catch myself contemplating things that are not of my make up and design. that chemical connection twists and burns inside.

the muse is calling...drenched in the echo of a thrashing dream i slink up off the heat of bed. stripped of all pretensions the cat like steps propel me towards the knocking door. haphazard sheet dress and wild haired, to your pleadings i fling open my hidden door. fires catch white hot and blue as the cataclysmic forces meet in creative combustions. after hours of painting wild erotic stories i fall into a dreamless sleep upon that same wrought iron bed.

he hovers like a bat above my bed...the vampiric ghost looking for a life to bleed. fool that i am i offer up my willing neck, willing to bleed my life for his parasitic survival. the ever expected role of a woman...give it all for the sake of a lover. i eat the crumbs from the table of life until there is nothing left for a mouse to survive. in that moment my wisdom takes over and i begin to break all these culturally constructed lies. if i allow the bites it's for my pleasure, not for your survival this time.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

bluebeard

he took me away from the darkening days. some said that he was the devil enfleshed but all i could see was the lonely outsider looking for rest. madly we fell into to the heady perfume called love and sex. in a small span of time it was happiness sublime, never had i known a love so complete before. then he went away giving me a key to the secret door...quick kisses and a promise to avoid he door in which he gave me a key to. our love story ends with threats of my head on a platter and ending with his head on the plate instead of mine.

Friday, December 23, 2011

pin-ups, playboy bunnies, and what is sexy?

A few weeks ago I once again found myself at a special event that featured BRMC...gee I wonder how that happened.

What was most interesting to me was that Playboy was one of the event sponsors (it was put on by Playboy and Harley Davidson, for current military personnel...which according to Peter Hayes was the main reason BRMC was playing). Now one would think that being at a Playboy event would lead to very major shattering of any "normal" woman's self confidence or at least add some cracks. Especially for someone like me who has struggled a lot to see beauty in herself. I mean really like the porn (and basically any media industry) who can compete with those who have been CONSTRUCTed to fit an impossible ideal?

I mean very rarely are larger women seen as objects of desire or affection. I to date have only seen one film that showcased a sex scene with a woman over size ten, and it was an indie film! So going into the event I was assuming that I would just bliss out to one of my favorite bands and ignore the women who were dripping sex appeal. Because being the person I am when it comes to competition, especially in attracting men, I bow out early and fast.

So with all of this swirling in my mind I entered what is one of the hippest clubs in San Diego...only to get hit on with in about ten minutes by one of the guys who worked for Harley! Instead of feeling threatened by the Playboy girls, I felt bad for them because so many of them seemed to be less comfortable in their skin that I was. While I have a whole bag of issues when it comes to myself image and relationships, when I let go...I do let go. Because I didn't need the attention of anyone there I was able to just groove to the preshow music and of course BRMC. Actually truth be told I was getting rather ticked off at the guy who kept hitting on me during the concert...I mean really when I say this is one of my favorite bands please don't talk to me during their set!!!!

Over all besides the always wonderful experience of this band live, I walked away from that night feeling sexy, confidant, and wanting to hear the stories of the women there who worked for Playboy.

Since going to that show I have been rolling around the idea in my mind of what exactly is sexy and how do I want to express my sexuality? How do I continue becoming more comfortable in my own skin and being. As I've pondered this I find that I keep remembering moments and people who encouraged me in this adventure. I also have been looking at what I see as beautiful and sexy images...what looks or elements inspire me.

There seem to be so many; 50's pin up styles, burlesque, writing on the body and tattooing (the pillowbook is a film that greatly effected my view of the body as a canvas), the film Secretary, vivid colors and lush saturation of color....and the list goes on. I find that beauty and sexuality are more about confidence than anything else. The women (and men) I know who have the most powerful aura in any setting, are those with utter confidence in themselves or at least a deeply rooted sense of self. Many people can take on a "role" for a while but it is a powerful and world shifting stance to live fully into ones self. In the end I think that is what I find most appealing...confidence rooted in a solid sense of self...and that is what I am slowly in snail time developing.

Monday, December 19, 2011

heart films

Once again music starts the film of memories, those real and those remembered. Longing kicks in for whom I cannot have and aches stand guardian. Yet just as the frosty and perfect image begins to worm it's self around in my heart, the reality of the moment shatters the constructed illusion. I may love fiercely and strong but the you of this song will never be the one to woo this heart along. It can't be done the true reality shatters the constructed icon of hope and no amount of chemistry and passion will bridge the gap. It may happen that I fall down the rabbit hole but this time for warned Alice will bring her climbing gear.


movement

As the days go by my world shifts by millimeters and inches. Nearly undetectable until I stand back from the ledge of months and see that I have scaled this impossible cliff. Dreams no longer seem so far fetched and antiquated as once imagined. The stars and moon are easily caressed with a reach of my nimble hand. Lady wisdom smiles down as time and promise rise up to shower the fairy dust of blessings. With one foot in front of the other visions are birthed and hopes come out screaming their existence. My heartaches with the happy afterglow of a morning after dancing the night away in joy and pleasure. Step by step the process , the journey leads to fragrant and lush fields beyond the current scope of vision. Smiles soak my face in anticipation of the wonder it will be.


Monday, December 05, 2011

soft lighting, sun rise

so much beauty that my heart wells and swoons. it's dearest and locked up desires offered in a feast of blessing. who knew that all you had to do was start jumping off cliffs and believing in flight for magic to appear? i feel like wendy sprinkled with fairy dust bobbling and weaving through the air thrilled by the soft touch of clouds. in the cool winter of long nights and short days i find a summer sun kissing my spiritual eye. suddenly everything is vividly technicolor and hollywood soft. thank you for the impossible possibility of it all.

Sunday, December 04, 2011

dreamwalker

He haunts my dreams. Entering and then backing away on dates and times unknown. A foolish connection of unmet desire. I looked in your eyes hoping for fire. The passion was gone, left on the stage and I stood there and cried, hoping for rain. My hands type words that I wish I could say. I'm desperate to fill up your heart with the truth of a hope more solid than I even know. Everything in the dusky days feels like the daytime fantasies of a small child, creating stories in her head because the reality is to hard to deal with. On certain days I wonder about his ability to dreamwalk and see that which is so rarely seen...is that why he comes in and out, with the evasiveness of spirits and dreams? Dreamcatchers, feathers, spirits and Christ...the tokens of entry into a holistic life they sit on a shelf and gather dust as of late. Maybe someday they will carry a bit more weight. This spirit or being is like a vinyl record playing in the other room...the nostalgia for things past and things yet to come.