Two Stems

Two stems; one blossom.

Like all pretty ones,

it's no good for you.

Don't get curious...

one cat will kill another.

Red

Waves crashing through my body again.

I dream of kitty cats with green eyes, 

black fur and sharp claws.

I run and they catch me...

Red when I wake up.

3 am is the perfect hour

to wash away that original sin.

I stand beneath the shower head

looking up like there's help to be found.

Woman, get your life together,

you should be used to this by now,

Been years of flips

and lost ones.

I lay down dizzy from the racing thoughts,

sad from the memories they carry,

questioning yester years like they matter.

"Ester and Gester" squeezing every ounce of

sentiment from me.

"Are you sorry now?" they ask.

And even though I don't answer,

they know.

I pop the pills and pray

angry prayers,

curl up, contort, and cry

without my consent.

all this...every 26...

Jesus Christ: Single-Serving Friend

I'm four days away from my 33rd birthday, and I just can't seem to stop thinking about Jesus. (Yep...I said it.) Jesus! The figure I was introduced to at about four years old. The light of the World. The WORD made flesh. The Son of God who hung on the crucifix at the front of the church in my small, parochial K-8 school. The silky-haired, pale face who hung on the wall of my great grandma's bedroom with the exposed, thorn-wrapped heart. The guy who scared me when I had a dream I saw that exposed heart in a puppy beside my bed (true story). The rebel religion-starter. The Savior who died for me. The Messiah from heaven whose suicide mission ended during his 33rd year (or at least that's the age most agreed he died).

Jesus had an eventful last year of life -  a year that made his life. Who he was before few cared about; who he was afterward started a movement. That's what really fuels my faith. As a human, his accomplishments were simply amazing, and I don't mean the miracles. While raising stinking Lazarus from the dead impressed the everyday witness, I have always known that's what Jesus was supposed to do. I mean, in Catholic school, Jesus Christ was a real superstar. He might as well have been a magician. Loaves and fishes. Water into wine. Life of the party. Catholic school didn't really focus on that other Jesus, though. The one that flipped tables in the temple. The one who sat with society's wretched BY CHOICE. The charismatic soul with no job, 12 followers (who weren't exactly pillars of the community), an affinity for women, a problem with hierarchies, and no incredibly substantial relationship with anyone but God (who just happened to be...Himself...). That's the Jesus that has always fascinated me. The one who understood a lifestyle littered with single-serving friends...and didn't mind.

Fight Club gave me the term, "single-serving friend" (alas I cannot take credit for its genius), but it applies so well to the examined life, especially if one believes in God. You learn early in life where or if you fit at all. Contexts change; the questions don't. Do I fit? Am I supposed to? What happens  and what do I do when/if I don't? With all the church-going folk I have always found myself around, they never had anything to offer but common sayings that one would find in Christian fortune cookies (if they existed). "Find yourself a good church." "Pray about it." "Be thankful/it coulda been the other way." "Be happy you woke up this morning." What happens when that doesn't work, though. What happens when you don't fit this paradigm?

About a month ago, I wrote a poem after sitting across the table from an empty chair at my parents' anniversary dinner (a fifth wheel, now that my brother is in love again). At that moment, I was post-thaw  after having endured a long deep-freeze of trying to deny that I even wanted companionship. And I had just figured out I had walked into yet another "it-just-ain't-meant-to-be" situation with another guy who wouldn't care if I walked away and would never hurt for companionship. The next day, I didn't want to get out of bed...didn't know what to do or how to make it better.

Well...WWJD?  Flip tables. Tell the hard truth. Here goes...

I can count my friends on one hand (maybe three fingers, actually...) I have a great heart, but there's a piece missing. Part of the missing piece is where the writer me belongs. I'm supposed to be much more to me than this. The other part is all the love I have to give to a man I want to love, for no other reason than I love him. (I've never said that to anyone before.) I'm passionate about art and living life. I want to live mine, but I often volunteer it to make others happy. (I fuckin hate that I do that.) Because I do it, I have made a lot of single-serving friends who hang around too long because they are more enamored with my energy than they are interested in being the person on the other end of the tough questions. (I really fuckin hate that I do that too.) I curse a lot because I'm angry that I don't make difference in the world. I just make more people depend on me. I have done many great things, most of them professional. Personally, I feel like a failure - nothing but fleeting moments of butterflies. Love only rents here; it's only the name on lease, actually. Who knows who is actually occupying that space. My sarcasm is strong. It's the only real defense I have against the crafty, self-serving agents in this sick, sad world. When I'm at work I walk a tightrope between being an agent and being a defector; I understand why they need school, but I also understand why they don't like it. I'm not impatient; I'm just ready to live. That tends to happen when you've never fit, and your mother told you to wait until you were older, and you're older and still don't fit. Still don't have a dedicated group of friends. Still feel like you give way more than you get. Except now you're coasting on fumes...and people are calling you impatient like they know your story. *eye roll* I'm tired. I'm tired of waiting on my adventure. 

Truth. "The truth shall make you free." I think that's what worked for Jesus. I think He got tired of playing small. I think he got tired of seeing and never saying anything. I think He flipped that temple table because He wanted everyone to understand that He wasn't a joke or a novelty...or a magician. He felt like He had something to do. So He upset the status quo; challenged the establishment. Walked on water. Asked tough questions. I admire that courage to live the way He wanted - inspiring to some and blasphemous to others. I understand why He took his love and kept it moving. 

I'm still a bit weirded out about being 33 already, but I think I'm ready to live it out loud, like He did. I'm no one's savior, of course. But I'm not willing to give up on the chance that the greatest adventure might be just ahead. 

Wish me luck...

The Knew-ness

You knew before it shocked you it would happen

because you knew yourself, 

even if he didn't,

and he knew himself,

even if you didn't,

and though you both flirted with the idea

that either of you could be enough to complement the other,

you knew it would end in the light of day...

Knew neither of you would stay faithful to the idea...

Knew you were two not one...
and the new faded into knew.

God's Special Creatures

Favor looks good on you!

(Better than those snap backs I love you in or

that shirt and tie I bought.)

It drips from you...

the reward for being first.

No real expectations, 

so anything you do well

wows them.

Great by comparison.

Powerful by nature.

A life filthy with opportunities, 

God's special creature.

And here I'm thinking I'm SOMEBODY...

more like A BODY among many.

Round bottom girl in a sea of the same...

typical view for a looker like you,

run through the crowd grabbing

all you can hold,

letting bits and pieces slip through your fingers

(collateral damage in the war of want,

I suppose.)

But all is forgiven, special one,

you've been handed this world to explore,

not your fault we overpopulated your peace - 

Your world made complicated by us.

All we could ever hope to be 

is chosen.

                                  

Raw

Dialogue girl in a texting world...

I'm obsolete.

Too much work and effort,

too much me 

wrong time

for him

...but what about God...?

What about God?

...gave me my fleshy, open heart,

and with it I seek the unavailable,

uninterested,

uncompromising,

Not-readys...

I didn't mean to cause you undue stress...

Just wanted to walk across your mind

and leave footprints behind,

Deep ones that won't blow away,

so you can follow them

and find me...

But...

I forgot to ask if you were looking...

So...

Nothing more to do than to take my messy, fleshy heart

and cliche it

'cause you ain't comin' back

to re-see me.

(Cliche 1 - "It's his loss.")

Nothing special over here,

just something The Lord made...

at the wrong human time...