something about

over
under on top
this is it
that was now
wasn’t it
wasn’t it
spiraling
pack pack pack the fucking brain
round the square corners

jump the cycle
break the loop
think outside the box
that was 1990
wasn’t it
business speak
can’t speak anymore
much of anything
who was that glossy chick with the shiny shoes and the matte business card
baby spit on the shoulder
now dirty sports uniforms

something about files or writing
art no it was art
crap family coming this weekend no next
was there a party I was planning for someone I love
it’s the school thing he needs to be at she told you
what? what was I doing

oh yeah
the studio I was filing my art
away for something
wait I’m in the wrong room

where the hell did I put my studio
there’s no food in the fucking fridge
social-ing on social media isn’t always
walk yourself Mojo
I ain’t got the time
I gotta go drop some books by airplane
purple roomI consider my childhood bedroom – my first studio. There at the table is where I pretended to be, Kolchak the Night Stalker. The wall “rainbow” was my first mural. I’d give anything to reclaim my original Breyer horses there on the shelf. My Clairol makeup mirror – geez, I’ll never get that close again to a magnifying mirror with lights, and my little budgie hanging in his little cage – I often let him fly around.

Please pardon, but I’ve been back cleaning old posts. Many I’m not too pleased with, so I’m reworking these older writing pieces while the brain currently in my possession is on vacation.

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chapter 3

chapter one
before
chapter two
after

before
I knew
after
I realized

I pray
I can write
chapter three

before my spine
becomes unglued

joy august ripsaw

joy august ripsaw


escaping

the young athlete in purple and gold was trying to escape
his muscles maxing out in length beneath his sweating skin
each time crawling on knees and palms to reach the outer ring
to safety
every wrestler knows when you reach that white circle, the whistle blows
out of bounds
you get another chance
he was fierce
yes he was
in his determination

the other wrestler wearing the baby-blue and white singlet
continued lunging at his fleeing opponent
baby-blue and white wanted the win badly
purple and gold was trying with all his power to escape

on the other side of the large wrestling mat,
a bulbous-bellied man in a bright yellow shirt
was positioned like the sun
he stood there eclipsing all else around him with
his giant flashing camera and smashing fists
he was a bright star
without the warmth
but with all the heat
loads of hot air bursting out
through a constant barrage of bellows
screaming at the young wrestler–his son
“YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT”
“GOTTA PULL YOUR LEG ‘ROUND FASTER”
“QUIT RUNNING FOR THE RING”
“YOU’RE NOT TRYING”

and secretly, the young wrestler in the purple and gold and I both knew
he was trying
trying very hard
to escape
to reach that white circle
and never stop running
Love Tackleart previously published
unfortunately, this is a true story, colors of singlets were changed to protect the innocent:)

how to stop missing you

How to stop missing you
I’ve no idea
Don’t want to keep thinking
how much
We are here
then we’re not
The concept makes complete sense
practical really
My head wraps around the saneness
of the notion
Not enough room for everyone
Sustainability is not possible
Resources will crumble

We must be but a bit of space
a snippet of time
It’s universal law
It’s worldly wisdom
And all that shit
Logical
Practical formality
We are here
then we’re not
That’s all there is to it
Seize the moment
Grip your lover
Hug your child

How to stop missing you
I’ve no idea

I am here
but
you are not
for all its logic
I cannot stop crying

Dancing Flames

Dancing Flames

dancing flames published before, fire for cold is warm for life

wooden ice and sock skates

I slid across my kitchen floor yesterday
wooden ice
sock skates
Mental Ice Capades couture
sparkling red
curling tulle at the hemline
I grinned
then did it again
I sang while gliding
despite missing a few notes
The windows were open
my voice quite loud
In this moment
she did not worry

My mother-in-law giggled
a candle flame
burning brightly
Easy laughter
released from a breast pocket
curlingwas having some fun sketching while on hall duty yesterday

apparently I’m on an Erté kick now – he really was quite fabulous!

the tipping point

the tipping point
there is one
and this is it
spinning on sharp hair
like a top
waiting to see which way
the body falls
I can already hear the thud
welcome music to my ears
eyes finally close
rest now
you’ll spin again
tomorrow

leonada's earring

leonada’s earring

giving

yanking a thread from the soul
that’s what it is
one filament at a time
you unravel

note by note
composing
soundless symphonies
for the outside world

dreaming
word by word
form by form
every infinite limb
in the universe
becomes rapt
in your pursuits

then
one day
there’s nothing left to give
only
what you’ve made

and your efforts
are either remembered
or forgotten
two horned blue birdcrazy blue bird, created a few weeks ago with Tombow markers and Prisma pencils, while in a feathery mood 😉

boiling blood

boiling blood
coagulates like milk
clogging thoughts
thwarting permeation
to the heart

raging senses
flame anxiety
heat depression
lacerate hope
undernourishment
of the mind
as blood thickens
the heart hardens

like curdling milk
the soul sours
until

no contentment
in cool flowing breezes
only writhing anger
in hot spiraling winds

animated refuse

animated refuse

Tidy Bowl Man

dinghyI have a sinking sense sometimes
the cork in my dinghy will pop out
while getting sucked down into a watery vortex  –
a horrifying image…

Do you know what happened to the
Tidy Bowl Man?
I’ll tell you if you don’t know or can’t remember –
his career ended up in the crapper.

I don’t want to end up
in the crapper
wearing a white sea-captain suit.
I don’t want to spiral helplessly down, down, downward,
while desperately crying out,
“…it works so you don’t have toooooooooo–”

I vow to always work. I promise to never be lazy.
And I’ll always keep a plunger nearby, in case I hear the Tidy Bowl Man’s plea 😉

 

LoBoat Illustration created a few months ago and previously published.

Fellow blogger and friend, Deb of C-Dog & Company and I often discuss the merits of keeping our respective creative dinghies afloat 🙂 One must keep their sense of humor when discussing dinghies, corks and creativity 😉

no comfort here

beloved
hiding above the tempestuous sun
and beneath the marauding stars
fingers shaking
I extend my arms
the layman’s moon is within reach
gentle and giving
not you
your condemning avoidance
bitter cold like ice shards
when will you come to me
when will you let me caress
when will you comfort me
as I do you
words of mine…

Wingless

Wingless

rendered a few months ago and still waitin’ on those wings 😉