Love5

Falling

or

Holy Crap Batman, where the f did you come from?!

for my starlet bestie's birthday

you know who you are you beautiful extraordinary inspiring lady...

I’m smitten like a kitten in mittens

I’m in love like a dove high above

I’m dolled up like a pup in a cup

I’m a sparrow hit by bow and arrow

I’m a dork who says hi with a spork

I’m a nerd who forgets the key word

I’m the last softball pick who accepts with a kick

I’m the cater waiter thinking of later.

I’m lost amid mundane conversation

I’m distracted by idyllic imagination

I’m inspired, I’m tired, but still morning wired

I’m besotted by keen admiration.

I’m out like a drag queen at pride

I’m a pirate swinging through at high tide

I’m the intrepid wonder singing along with the thunder

I’m an actress’ heart about to nail the change-your-life part.

I’m hungry but satiated, immune to petty albeit normal conflict

I’m un-bother-ably chill, but still abnormally quick

I’m  ready to dance, run or swim to get close to you

I’m ready it seems for a love that is true

you.

i mean i'm not even a dog person.  but like...come on!!!  

Luddite Rant

I am a child stuck in the middle of the technological revolution. Straddling the societal/cultural storm that change incurs. 

Cue music. It’s quite a ride.

Oh please oh please don’t forget how to write

For the love of all, embrace your inner erudite

Recall right in this moment when just one word

Flipped an average thought to one that’s absurd

Remember when a single perfectly prosed sentence

kindled love, grief, hate, or in some, repentance

Recall a time when the intelligent pen

Had the utmost respect of women and men

When nothing else could covey the perfect illusion

Of a culture’s zeitgeist, of an era’s delusion

Of the look of a god, of the guts of a thief

Of some impending woe told in whole but in brief

Of a story ever known but rewritten anew

Of ubiquitous truth, of outrageous sinew

But why this call to arms, or rather call to the pen?

Why this beacon to commemorate a literary when?

Well, right now, I’m rather critical of new modes of connection…

I think they’re somehow evading open honest real reflection.

I think the avalanche of a mass techno/media obsession

Is skewing our potential of unreserved unconditional confession

We’ve seen it all before cause it’s catalogued (sans Dewey decimal) somewhere

And it’s paralyzing people from observing real detail

They compare their own experience regardless of desire to or not

And I just sense a loss, that there’s something missing in this plot

That our future will be a mirage on the internet, a web of math and steel

Leaving us evolving but having missed some essential maturation meal

So now am I just ranting? have I made the point already…?

That our breadth of knowledge doesn’t make us smarter…

it makes us petty.

That while humanity may be evolving, it’s also getting tough and jaded

We forget how to fall in love cause we’ve seen it live!…and faded.

We think we’re batshit crazy from emotion, from intuitive insinuation

But WE DON’T KNOW the outcomes.  That’s the job of REAL creation.

Oh

Sometimes I’ve got to take a step back and forget the whizzing breeze

Cause the electronic strangle hold makes me start to wheeze

I cannot will not text to you the meanings in my head

I cannot will not show to you my whole self via profile spread.

Instead I choose to write to all, I appeal with this odd old system

To express the spectrum of my life, and hope for communal wisdom.

how long have you spent debating something via text message? 

honestly, how long? 

Cathy says AAACK!

i love vonnegut. 

one of my all time favorite writers that i've been privy to.

if i ever have a boy child. i'm naming him kurt.  or Vonney. Von?

something tells me he'd get this intellectual squirming

Pop appreciation

Me?

The dazzling styles of imperfection,

That’s my choice, my literary selection.

I don’t really care for structural idealism,

Cause I survive on intellectual atheism.

Not that I don’t like what’s near supreme,

But I think it says more to be crème de la creamJ

It’s not that I hate on whatever the hoards approve of,

but rather I think the hoard itself is a myth.

It’s not that I hate or don’t drink the kool-aid,

but it’s rather I appreciate glitter with pithJ

oh how i love them...

    Marina and the Diamonds/ Lady Gaga   

                                                   Katy Perry / Ke$ha

 glitter or stars...

 or the surface of a humback whale...

 or the surface of a plastic cup?

Prideful Susan Sings!

Prideful Susan hated losin’

So she never played the game

She sat at home eating provolone

Each day played out the same.

Until one day when the rain pitter patter

Summoned her curiosity with its clatter

She wanted to run out and didn’t’ worry

About getting soaked so she ran in a hurray

She jumped into puddles

She danced in the mud

She slip sloppy slided into some unknown crud

She started to sing to the rain with bravado

She sang deep and slow, she sang high with staccato

She sang out without fear

Applauded by the vast falling crowd

Of little rain droplets

All of whom were wowed.

They oohed and they ahhed

Slish sloshing in her ears

She really loved this rain singing

She loved the wet watery cheers

That’s when Molly, her neighbor

Came out to join in

And prideful Susan saw

She had a joyful let’s-sing-together grin

Susan was frozen there in the rain with fear

She didn’t know what to do!

What if Molly was the best singer in the world!

What if she’s better than you!

But before Susan could run away

Before she could make her mad dash

Molly grabbed her hand and started to sing

And their voices did the opposite of clash!

The two it seems could harmonize

And suddenly they’d made up a special song

The rain was truly overjoyed

At how the two girls got along!

And Susan could barely remember

The last time that she’d gone out

She was so much more accustomed

To her sitting on the sidelines safe-from-losin pout.

But her smile was taking over

Cause it was far more FUN to play

Than to stay dry inside eating cheese

Thinking you know the better way.

That day Susan met her very best friend

She learned she loved to sing

She learned that sometimes you gotta play in the rain

To know what life can bring!

Gene Kelly in Singin' in the Rain

i love love love the rain. 

Life lessons?

What would it be like to be Jon Stewart…

To be like Steven Colbert?

What would it be like to be Batman.

To have a home with a secret lair!?

What would it be like to be president?

What would it be like to be cool?

What would it be like to be decadent

And never feel like a fool?

I think it may always be complicated

No matter who or what you are.

But I know we all want a limo

Even when we’ve got a town car.

We strive for more than we’ve got

Call it ambition or greed or desire

We look to those we want to be

To those we respect and admire

But we rarely get the full story

And maybe that is fine and ok

Cause great things are often inspired

From the statue and not from the clay

Stewart: saving our gotham city from crazy bad jokers. 

Michelangelo's David @ the Ufizzi in Florence.

Can you imagine?...that was once just a giant rock...

  "Michelangelo's intention was that the finished David would serve as more than just a fierce protector of the city. While the figure is menacing, there is no indication that he is fueled by aggression. There exists no tension in his considerable arms or legs. Indeed, the political symbolism of the work conveys a warning to fellow Florentines that "Whoever governed Florence should govern justly and defend it bravely...eyes watchful...." The David embodies the Renaissance sensibility of force tempered by intellect."

FORCE TEMPERED BY INTELLECT!!!! AHHHHH ok onward...

So look to the tycoons and the moguls

look up to the stars, the great paragons

look up to minds and hearts of our era

look up to them before POOF they're gone

But in your awesome veneration, 

remember right now to recall 

that they too once came from nothing

that they too once were just small. 

that they too once ate baby food 

that they cried at their first failure, 

that they questioned all their motives 

assessed their lives like neurotic tailors.

remember we're all just atoms

racing around in distress

and in a way we're inescapably the same

no matter the height of success.

home of the neurotic tailor:)

Epiphany

If you have an epiphany every day,

Do you write it down? Yay or Nay?

Because it’s sense within your mind

May in fact change from time to time.

ok so...the talmud is a book of ORAL law...hmmm.

my theoretical picture book might show a kid with a broken leg looking at their superman costume.

Proverb 1- naked ambition

I know that I want far more than what I get,

Maybe I need to want it more than I have yet.

too much? only for proverbs...

clearly in my theoretical picture book it will be a picture of a little gal climbing a hill or something resembling the little engine that could...but for now...we get to see something just a little more real...a little more risque...i think you can handle it. 

for mommies methinks...

Terrible Twos

terrible twos are a terrible time

to sit aroud and commit no crime

it all looks so grand and enticing

I had to draw with blueberry icing

and every piece of every pie would look so pretty in the sky

and every point of every crown would look much better upside down

and every mess that’s such a hassle looks to me like a make believe castle!

and every hysterical screaming fight, I just keep thinking it’s almost oscar night!

I really can’t say that there’s anything wrong with me

Thank goodness for you, in a year I’ll be three!

our darling veruca salt...who, as it turns out, never left her terrible twos.

this one is just ripe for my theorhetical picture book.  

When I grow up...

Challenging the idea that an airhead can’t be a genius...

or at least smart.

I want to be a popstar

I want to be a queen

I want to be a philathropist and fulfill others dreams

I don’t quite understand why I can’t do both,

Why the popstars and the queens often forget they’re so betrothed.

That they have the wealth and power to do most anything…

I want to do so much more than curtsy well and sing.

But curtsy well and sing I will until the night is over

It doesn’t mean I can’t be ballsy, kind, profound, a supernova.

Dirty5/Love5

The Romantic Neurotic Pragmatist

-the friend to lover conundrum-

You’re hot and you’re awesome and you’re definitely cool

I’ve never told you that though we’ve known each other since grade school

I’ve always been taught don’t shit where you eat

Keep a life that's light easy organized and neat

But Your eyes light up whenever I’m near

And I can’t believe this giddiness, it’s so ominously queer

Cause I’m falling falling falling for a guy I’ve always known

I am falling falling falling  for years he’s had his own ring tone

I know how he likes his coffee I know how he likes cartoons

I know how when he gets to drunk he likes to drum with spoons

I know which books he’d like to read and which ones he’d pass to me

I know the hook ups that he’s had since nineteen ninety three!

I know he’s into cooking and he really likes cool socks

And I hope to hell he’ll match up… to my experience of cocks

Cause there’s nothing worse than that weird not so sexy situation

There’s nothing really worse than that awkward second invitation

There’s nothing really worse than hearing yourself say

I’d really really really like to erase the date with you that day. 

Love 4

That weird annoying Space between the seconds…

Did this other human being impact me so deeply and so greatly,

That things would happen to me not mentally, but immediately and innately?

Such that against my will I cannot breath when I hear or read his name?

Not that the breathing stops entirely, though it comes across the same…

That it seems within that unruly moment, a million years have passed

Between the last futile funny instant and the one that’s coming fast….

And within this interim lies this strange and tingling sensation

Of something I can’t control and thus, reminds me of degradation.

It’s a powerhouse of something, it’s an electric shock of nostalgia

That my body forces on me despite my moved on mental regalia.

 I really don’t understand it and it scares me to my bones

That I’ll never see it clearly; that it’s just mismatching stones.

That the pain was just too great and the love was just too small…

That the love was just too great and the pain the consequential fall.

OR maybe I just remember, a hint of a familiar feeling,

Of something that was once terrific and hilarious and healing.

Maybe I remember not the sting or the rejection

But also that idyllic good, that perpetual affection?

And my body in expectation of that awesome blissful time

Pauses the universe for one second to experience the sublime

It’s my inherent physical reaction, like the nervous system has been willed,

Against my honest wishes to recall perfection perfectly distilled.

…and god it makes me angry, and god it makes me mad

Cause I need to shed the shackles, I didn’t know I was still clad.

i just can't seem to find the right image for this.  but I'm doing this play in New Haven...a play about love...about letting go...and the ferocity of it all. magic.  Italian American Reconciliation.  Shanley, our author, has a hoard of broken hearted muses so true, so brutal, so hysterical....I wonder will I ever be courageous enough to be this stupid again? Aw...aunt may:)  Come see my play and it will all make sense:)  click here to buy tix;)

Can't we just all get along?

Arachnophobia

I eat the bugs that make you mad. I eat them all the time. 

So stop swatting at me when I swear to you, I’ve done no kind of crime.

I’m not an evil spider just a living can of raid. 

And if you do get rid of me, you’ll wish that I had stayed. 

Cause what makes you feel all icky, is just my appetizer,

and while my webs are sticky, I know you’re no bug sympathizer. 

You see we could work together be pals or at least a team.

Oh common, you’re so much bigger, shouldn’t I be the one to scream?  

my theorhetical picture book will have a friendly spider maybe holding out an olive branch or something to a boots shaking type of kid...I'm mean this kid is totally freaking out... standing on top of a chair trying to get away... oh the little loser:)  mind you i used to throw encyclopedias on top of bugs to kill them.  "Why is that encyclopedia on the floor, lisa?  Were you looking something up..." surprise! icky:) 

awww...remember charlotte?

and then there was this...

Science: hell yes.

Electrons:

I really do love this silence, the grace of gods’ within her. 

Silence is clearly a woman, right? Sexy smart and sinister.

I’m sure it’s her daughter, Darkness, that adds a special flare

To that thick feeling: stillness, the trick of the bustling airJ  

furthering my hypothesis, this photo is titled "Electrons Excite Particles in the Atmostphere." awesome. And the colors this creates is called an "aurora" which makes me just delighted in regards to sleeping beauty. and i can't figure out why i can't take off the underlining. grrr. anyway. my point? science is so satisfyingly sexy.

Love 3

Jaded

I fell in love once, it was probably a big mistake

Like the belly ache you get after you eat an entire cake

Like the morning after hangover that felt like it’d never go away

Like the nun who fucked the priest who then found she couldn’t pray

Like the man who climbed the hill just to see another

Like the sister who killed herself so she could save her brother

I don’t know anymore if it’s worth it, I know it’s certainly not sane

To crave an expectation that overcomes your brain.

To crave a state of awareness so keen your bones go weak

To crave a situation in which you become the freak.

And…

I know there’s more to love than this grave apprehension

I know it’s the spice of life, it’s godly intervention

But I didn’t get it wrong that time, I once grasped at the real thing

And it shattered me to pieces, I still have a broken wing

So…

Love, you ask, love you say? Sure, I know it’s there.

But to survive it nowadays, I bargain with a sure-to-end-love care…

See, I always wear my warmers; my reflexes are nice and ready

To leap at a moment’s notice if a He is anything less than steady.

I trust my intuition. I’m generally spot on.

I preemptively always know before a He will move a pawn

So am I getting hopeful now?  Is the spark not completely dead?

I do want there to be a possibility for this heartbroken head.

Oh it’s funny. Love, come on! I mused you so wittily out of existence.

But the hope of you still has me, despite my mindful sad resistance.

Love love love, love love love.

You’re the greatest thing in the world.

I will always feel most true to that

Like how naturally my hair is super curled…

creepy baby says it all...

hoarders, the 1st grade version

Cecilia

Hello, my name is Celilia!

I have lots of memerobilia.

I like to play, then stow it away,

Cause I might really REALLY NEED it one day.

I don’t mind if the day never comes,

So long as nobody calls me dumb,

Cause if it starts to pour and rain,

While everyone else goes insane,

I’ll be singin’ the I told you so game!

me thinks this doll sends the wrong message...

and i'm blaming this wrong message for my uncanny ability to hang onto so very many t-shirts.  "How could i get rid of that one," i cry, "it's from the battle of the bands!!!" or "that shirt might be totally perfect for an audition i might have one day!" or "awww that shirt is sentimental...something...well, something good happened in it. gotta keep it!" yikes.

Spirituality 2

The agnostic pigeon?

There was this pigeon with no religion

And he didn’t have much to say

And sometimes he envied the pigeons with faith,

Cause they seemed so filled with style and grace.

With strength and security and honest maturity.

With direction and meaning, they didn’t stress about spring cleaning.

But rather they doted on the life here after,

They had peace and no curiosity about that super high rafter.

Still somehow he couldn’t buy into it all

And questioning them was like engaging a wall.

So fed up one day this pigeon flew away. 

He flew so far to a place you couldn’t get to with even a car!

Who knows what he did while he was gone

But when he came back it was like a civilization dawn.

He’d turned white as light.

And had clearly lost his itchy plight.

He was no longer annoyed didn’t feel the need to question

He’d just relaxed under some NEW direction.

Maybe he’d touched the sun?  did what the poor sparrow couldn’t.

Maybe he’d finally found god, found answers to all the shoulds and shouldn’ts.

All were in awe of his new self.

It seemed a vision of spiritual wealth!

An embodiement of good…an embodiment of clean, an embodiment of everything extraordinary and serene.

I still wonder to this day what the pigeon was doing

I wonder how he changed so much to stop all his poo pooing.

And when he was interviewed the day after last

A fear took hold of me inappropriately fast

For he claimed he didn’t now, nor never believed

And I was kind of shocked to see I felt utterly relieved.

See, I never really waxed hard on what it was that I actually thought

And now I’m scared I’ll need to fly away and question what I’ve been taught.

me hugging the agnostic pigeon. clearly.

Public Transportation and Spirituality:

Subway

Millions of people have sat where I sit.

Millions of people all dimly lit

I wonder if there’s some cosmic design

To where I have sat…our communal behind.

pretty sure this cat knows the answer...

pretty sure cats were gods in ancient egypt...

feeling very tom robbins right now...

aw man! remember when all we all read was tom robbins!? 

Oh how i loved thee, Still Life With Woodpecker...

if you, reader, follow me here, you're probably awesome.

if you don't, that's ok, you're probably still awesome cause you're actually reading this.

brain reverts to 6th grade poetry, i still like it.

Have you had this nightmare? It freakin' BLOWS

I’ve got to get out of here

I yell and screech and scream

But I can’t really hear myself

I’m a walking breathing dream

I try to pinch arm for safety

I bang on locked and bolted doors

But I’m irrationally stuck

My feet can’t leave the floors

My body separates

into shattered broken glass

The pieces look like jewelry

but the gold has turned to brass

My heart aches from the inside out

It’s a sore and battered bruise

there’s a sharp and keen awareness

An encroaching finish line with a sign that says, “you lose”

I’m desparate now for my alarm

This can’t be real, I sense it

But the way out is eclipsed to me

It’s a middle of the night suspense hit

I pray for my positive living nature

to sway this nasty part of my head

that finally something auspicious

Will help me feel safe again in bed.

Though possibly this is where

The violence in me lurks

It’s only in my REM

Does the devil get her perks.

And thus in this restless sleeping state

I’m reminded that waking life, in fact, is heaven

That this horrible reality will at long last end

when my alarm admits it’s seven.

I’ll be grateful for my yoga class

I’ll be grateful for my sassy awesome gig

I’ll feel inspired by the sunlight

I’ll dance a stupid god bless coffee jig

My costumes will be awesome

My lines will all be learned

And I will be loved and everyloving

This dream forever will be burned.

Addendum:

So since the night will come again

And so it doesn’t haunt me

I wrote it down so it’s in the past

my subconscious can't continue to taunt me.

I feel like I’ve won this battle

With my hellish inner brain

But now all I want to do is sleep all day

Bad dreams traded for amazing dream cocaine.