a letter for me

today is a sunshine
feeling
on my soul
as i am
sideswiped by
some
free floating feeling
of hope
a little glow
of
happiness like a letter in the mail
but not a love
letter
not a secret admirer
hoping for a
woo
but the letter i see in my heart
a letter telling me
how wonderful
&
talented
how amazing i am
a letter for me
& me
alone
i do not crave an “us” when
this happy happy hits
my heart
this anticipation
of good things
to come
no
i crave a me
all i want
is me.

i realize yesterday i was talking about wanting to be taken care of. and, yes, i do long for someone in my life to love & care for me in the way i need that. however! when i was feeling hopeful on the day i wrote this, i was not hoping for romance. i was hoping for…how do i say it? fulfillment? reaching that place in my life when i am…i dunno. it’s so hard to explain. i felt it in me when i wrote this. it got expressed as a letter in the mail. that special feeling of a letter in the mail.
but a letter that completes me…as a person? does anyone know what i mean? also, this picture was all pen on paper–no forethought. i just put pen to paper & drew. so…brick mermaid? i’m not sure. maybe i will interpret it at some point.

meanwhile, a couple days ago i was driving in my car when i remembered intentional communities. and then thought about how maybe there was a community that would welcome livestock as well.

sometimes i feel like my brain is a very poorly routed labyrinth.
how did i forget about intentional communities? i lived in a cooperative house for four years where my passion for cooperative living was ignited despite the horrible drama of said house.

so i started researching over on the intentional communities site i have always used. and i have found there might be a place for the minions & me & all of our pets.

but the point of my bringing all of this up is that there is a place called teaching drum in wisconsin where a community of people live on property and teach outdoor skills. i went to check out what they are hiring…beekeepers? goat milkers? duck wranglers?…office administration. oh.
then i thought…do i qualify? i have no experience with anything. no one will hire me….

but i started writing my resume and you know what? i have a lot of fucking experience. and some of it even happens to be in an office & doing computer-y stuff. holy fuck, y’all. i have done a lot of things–learned a lot of things–in my 48 years breathing air on this planet. writing a resume incorporating life experience & informal jobs/education can be empowering.
huh.

i have a lot to offer to an intentional community.
maybe this is what that letter in the mail feeling is about. valuing myself.

Advertisements

don’t worry

spirits
ghosts
whispers of things
i do not know
a flutter
at the corner of my eye
voices
bumps in the night
letting me know
i
am
never truly
alone…
if i don’t
answer the door
don’t worry
one of my other
personalities
will
i am safe
tucked
into
the corners of my mind
trading secrets
with my demons
&
arguing
with my angels.

this is what happens when i start a thought on one day and finish it a day or two later. ha! i kind of like it.
in my effort to not escape me by binging on god-awful tv shows per netflix, i am only watching movies on netflix.
the other night, i watched the kindergarten teacher with maggie gyllenhaal. it has a five year old writing poetry and–of course–i started comparing my own “poetry” to his (which i am sure was actually written by a team of adults.) like i do with my art. then i have to remind myself that it is okay for me to be in love with someone else’s style…it does not mean that mine sucks.
right?
that’s the story i’m sticking with.
anyhoo…this random thought free verse started one day finished another…it kind of (just a little bit) reminded me of the poetry in the movie.

short story long.

and i do constantly argue with my angels. they are all like, “focus on you, heal you…” and i run off with the demons because they have a six pack, several seasons of some completely pointless & poorly written tv show, and smoldering looks of come-hither.

also, because i don’t seem to have a mother personality in place for myself–just a horde of wild women & some really awkward pre-teens–i keep going outside in the snow without shoes on to chase goats.
so my head cold should turn into pneumonia anytime now.

tall dark & handsome

he came to me in a dream
ready to end
my misery
with talons
like razors
a creature from–
well…
nightmares
a feathered man
tall dark & handsome
my sure
demise
but to my credit
i fought
for my
wretched
life
even resorting to
my
feminine
wiles.

a little something different.
maybe too much halloween candy, but i had a vivid dream last night about a big blackbird-man who came to finish me off. except he was also sexy. i think i have a pretty conflicted view of men.
speaking of….
so who remembers clan of the cave bear? my brain often references the idea in it that ayla is guarded by her spirit animal, the cave bear who scarred her. she is thereby deemed to have too strong of an energy for most men to mate with her and make a child with her.
i think of the grizzly bear as one of my main spirit guides. i feel her energy in me & feel i am protected by her.
i have found that my strength makes dating tricky. which i think is weird…but it seems to be true.
until (at least) this point in my life i have chosen physically small men. feminine men. men who do not seem threatening to me…. yes, i chose them. if i wait to be chosen, it is a long wait. however, most of the men i choose then turn me upside down–& not in a good way. most of them seem threatened by me. most of them try to dominate & degrade me.
so i’m thinking maybe i should be looking for a romantic interest that has–at least–the grizzly bear spirit i have?
i dunno.
just brainstorming here. it’s not like i have suitors lining up at my door to choose from.

 

INKtober thirty-first

i hand my heart
to you
you
carelessly
drop it
in a corner
i hand my bruised heart
to you
you
break it
without
a second thought
i had my broken heart
to you
you
leave it
in tatters
forgotten
i hand my tattered heart
to you…
stop
back up
i hold my own heart
my own
tattered
broken
bruised
heart
& wonder…
what the fuck
do i
expect?

INKtober thirtieth

i can feel my brain
clawing
desperately
looking for a way
out
a rat
scrambling to escape
a watery grave
or an all encompassing
flame
smelling her own
singed fur
choking on the smoke
realizing
her fate
a wolf
gnawing off her own
paw
to be free
of the trap
where do i think
i will go
who do i think
i will be
if i escape
myself?

so.
been feeling a bit angsty these past few days. i have not yet gnawed off my own arm, but it has been a close call a few times.
i have hated almost everyone i can name who is in direct contact with my life.
so much hate. so much anger. i just want to disappear sometimes. get a mind wipe & start over somewhere i have never been.
innocent & free.
sigh.
but now it is the witch’s new year. day of the dead. a waning moon. and new possibilities on the horizon.
fine.
let’s see what tomorrow brings.

fun fact: one of my eyebrows is higher than the other & one of my ears is lower than the other, so i cannot wear a pair of glasses without the glasses appearing to be crooked.

INKtober twenty-ninth

you killed the me
who thought i could be
a good
mother
you picked her apart
tore her down
slowly
…deliberately?
did you want
me
to fail?
you turn
away
every time
i show you
the pain you caused
& then i wonder
why
do
i
still
try?
it’s ridiculous
really
that i am
still
still
still fucking
trying
to convince you to care
about
me
the person you destroyed….
why
would you care
ever
much less
now?

so this took me long enough to figure out. if someone is okay with hurting me once…they are probably going to be okay with continuing to hurt me and they probably aren’t going to be sorry about it.
i’m a bit dense sometimes.
okay, i’m often a bit dense.
especially about people who i think should love me…but really really don’t.

exposed

The literati mafia

how much do i hide
how much do i reveal
is too much of me
showing
am i scaring you
do you feel uncomfortable?
is that a good thing
or a bad one?
i want your attention
look at me
look at me
look at me now
oh
wait
now i’m scared
now i’m uncomfortable…
(is that a good thing
or a bad one?)

© quixotic mama 2018
for more of my art & writings, visit quixotic mama
the image is one of my original inkings

View original post

INKtober twenty-sixth

my lovely
lovely
demons
they keep me
warm
they keep me
company
never alone
when you’re
haunted
my demons
dry my tears
they tell me
everything
will be
okay
everything
will be
fine…
once i give up
admit defeat
disappear…
i know
i should
send my demons
away
let go of my
demons…
but if i do
what friends
will i have
left?

this post was inspired by yesterday’s post. yes, i am my own muse.
also, i have never seen the movie ghost…but this well-known scene popped to mind when i tried to picture my ever loving demons.

don’t know what this says about it all, but i accidentally gave my demon one of my tattoos–the one that is an engagement tattoo to an obsession i have done my best to let go of….
hmmm.
there are no accidents…right?
also, i totally think my demon is sexy.
i need to get out more….

INKtober eighteenth

five years ago
you were a total
turd
five years ago
i spent the longest day
in unholy pain
pushing out a baby
i knew
would
destroy
me
while you denied
our relationship
while you created
futures
with a woman who wasn’t
me
while you conspired
& lied
& spat bitter words
resenting me
for the baby you planted
the baby i grew
inside me
resenting me
for still loving you
for still wanting you
five years ago
i learned to hate you
to hate the stranger you chose
over me
while i struggled
to learn
to love
my own child.

so while shopping for a madonna & child depiction i noticed something in all those paintings of that duo. mary never looks  happy or especially devoted to the often freaky looking infant lord she has birthed. she usually just looks exhausted, resigned, sad, distant.

my first pregnancy, i was all about being the mom. i was so over-the-top devoted to being a mom. the same could almost be said for the following two pregnancies. my fourth, however, planted there perhaps by some unholy spirit with a terrible sense of humor…my fourth was an accident. a very much unwanted accident. an extra ovulation in an aging woman’s quixotic reproductive system.
during that difficult pregnancy, dusty began his most destructive affair.
it is difficult for me not to remember all of that pain on this, my fourth child’s fifth birthday. when i look at that sad & overwhelmed madonna barely holding on to her “blessed event,” i can feel her pain.
as much as i love poppy, he can be a very difficult child. i wonder if he senses my hesitancy to be his mother. if all of that strife during the pregnancy permanently tainted my beautiful son. i want him to be happy, and when he is, my heart feels lighter.
but when he is angry & sad, i can feel his pain and believe it to be entirely my fault…& dusty’s.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑