deal with it

my mom drew him aside
to say
“it’s not your fault…
she is difficult to live with.”
as much as it hurt
i can not deny
i am
difficult
to live with…
i am
so
what now
do i give up
or hope
for someone
who can deal with me?

better than just deal with me though–celebrate me. someone who enjoys the ride my crazy can offer. because there are good parts to it. really good parts.
but also some annoying crap.
but who doesn’t have annoying crap?
yes, i am difficult to live with. but i can also be a delight to live with.
it’s true.

promise me

sometimes
i can see my future
like a lightening
in my heart
easier
to breathe
easier
to believe
a warm hearth
on a cold morning
a promise
of a blue sky.

while digging up beds to plant seeds for spring flowers & herbs, i stopped and counted my blessings. i love my madness manor, incomplete but full of promise. i feel so fortunate that we found each other. not everyone has a home. and i have spent a lifetime searching for mine. how is it i can wake up one day & realize i have the home i have been looking for? the family i have been looking for?
it all seems incredible to me.

hold the crunchy granola

i’m not crunchy granola
i’m more like
bitter chocolate
with a gooey center
too angry
& opinionated
to spin with the hippies
i’m more likes
to stomp & swear
& cut off
all my hair
but don’t forget
my gooey center
there can be sweetness
in me
after all.

thoughts on why i no longer can find a home with people who i once thought i had something in common. although, admittedly, whenever someone called me a hippie, i corrected them by saying, “no, i’m an aging punk rocker…we just look a lot alike.”
i did have a friend, not too long ago, break up with me for being too angry.
but i fucking refuse to be passive. i spent way too many years doing that. letting the anger eat me from the inside while i tried to be a good girl.
nope, even it if means being unbelievably unpopular, i will not hide my anger anymore.

repulsion

i am an experiment
in denial
if i deny all my desires
turn them away
like peter at the gate
pretend i do not know them
do not want
do not need
if i deny everything
i desire
will they come for me
anyway
my desires
attracted by my
repulsion.

this is my thought when i think about trying to market myself. whether it be my art or my writing or my new idea to put myself out there as a homesteading pet sitter…. i cannot bring myself to do anything past making a wish & rubbing my money toad.
seriously.
it’s like i’m hiding away daring the world to find me, but not leaving any clues as to where i might be found.
who does that?

from my crow’s nest

(i am re-posting this as i totally forgot to include the illustration last time i posted it–oops!)

it took him years
to pull apart
the fabric of my joy
i guess its a credit to me
that the cloth was strong enough
to hold my joy
through so much sorrow
i must be like a crow
stowing away
bits of glitter
& strands of sparkle
weaving them into a nest
to hold my joy safe from all the hard stones
of pain
& isolation
some strange crow
in a fantastic nest…
now an older me
a wiser me
is tasked with collecting my joy
back to me
once more
rebuild the nest
reweave the cloth.

my ex is in my thoughts a lot with two of our children having birthdays in october. i am trying to give myself credit for surviving him. i did survive him after all.
also! in an attempt to value myself, i have decided to start submitting poems, stories, & art to magazines & whatnot. i haven’t actually done it yet, but i do have a list of possible periodicals to pester.
once upon a time i had the hoo-ha to send out novels & novels to publishers…back when you had to supply an SASE with every mailed manuscript. it’s been awhile since i have had the backbone to put myself in the line of fire for rejections…. but, i am working on it.

ps. misha suggested that this was an inking of the sun & the moon 🙂

it’s still INKtober!

i checked out some books on sumi-e, japanese ink brush technique, as i have all the tools & may even have the talent. and! i have so many empty canvases i have been lugging around. of course, now that madness manor & i have found each other, i hopefully will not be moving again in the foreseeable future.
but i still need to do something with all those empty canvases. one is like 5 feet by 4 feet…or something ridiculous like that. i have it in the back of my head to do something epic with it. i think combining sumi-e with my own style might just be the trick. so i am practicing my sumi-e. above is “second experiment” and below is “first experiment” (per the instruction book but with some artistic license taken by me.)

poisonous

my words are poison
& as much as i would love
to spit them at you
you will not understand my pain
you will not wither
& die
you will use my poison against me
you will use my poison to make your own
my thoughts are poison
but where can i put them
what can i do with this pain
how can i get it out of me
can i use my destructive urges as compost
to grow something beautiful & beneficial
can i find my meaning somewhere else
find my salvation somewhere else
grow without cutting everyone down
i have four children
but i am not a mother
how can i be
with all of this poison in me
i have to
have to find my meaning elsewhere
find my salvation elsewhere.

this is directed at my ex. i often find myself wanting to make him hurt the way he has hurt me…but i know from experience that that will not work & i will just end up hurting myself even more.
i was in a lot of pain for the birthdays of my oldest & youngest (one day after another) as my soul remembered the different pains of the experience of becoming a mother for the first time with an unreliable partner…& for the last time with that same partner.
the pain did lift…but it was intense while it lasted.
this incoherent vomiting of verse was my attempt to make sense of what i was feeling.

just peachy

stick your thumb through the squishy
meat
of a peach
all the way through
feel the hard scratchy pit
with all its nooks & crannies
that is my heart
all of it
the squishy overripe peach
you can smell from across the room
& the hard
edgy
pit
all of it
all of me.

true story. i am hoping to start sending out poems for possible publication. i really do not know if any of mine are any good. i have never considered myself a poet, and when i look through my journals, it all seems like i’m sniveling about me. does anyone really want to read it? is it helping anyone for me to air my dirty laundry so enthusiastically? i do wonder…. but i did like this one. i will keep playing with it & see if there is anything to it.

that last pregnancy

you didn’t love me
for that last pregnancy
for that last seed you planted in me
you didn’t love me
for a year & more after he was born
you didn’t love me
until i let you go
then
only then
you returned to me
like a no longer dormant venereal disease
hellbent on a rampage
love
some warped thing
that doesn’t even make sense
anymore.

i don’t think i have had good examples of “love” in my life. with my folks it was fucking or fighting. with my exes it would be crazy passion followed by extreme rejection…taking turns on the passion & rejection until one of us gave up for good. i am not sure i even know what love is supposed to look like. or how to do it.
i have to remind myself of these things, even if it is painful, because i do not want to get stuck in another fucked up relationship.

but would i even recognize a healthy relationship?

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