Project 

Playing in her mama’s makeup

Do we ever really stop

Trying so hard to paint ourselves

Just trying so hard to be grown up

Look at this

See what I can do

Just looking for the prize

Or looking for the gratitude

Be careful how you paint yourself

In those corners of your mental hells

Playing grown up

And everybody rides those 

Rides

Baby be careful who you invite

Who you shut out

Shut down

And who gets to ride

Maybe we are stronger 

In our innocence 

Our quiet needs

Our silent prayers

And living confidence 

We all live

We all live 

Outside our pretense 

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Run

and She woke at some five in the morning
realizing the personal loss

Of 
those conversations that could never be had

with someone who would never understand

whether drunk or sober

heavy or light

angry or stable

left or right

in those tears of unwinding

And fierce cries in the night

From repressed visions

And liberated art shows for one man

whether plays of the sexes

or psychological unties

Boundaries we cross

Sounds of Breaking free

Sounds of Breaking time

Either way

She was never going to hear them again

so the mare stares at her old gateways
trying to decide

should she just run free alone

or go back to rails

and security

knowing those times and memories

will never be the forever

that set her free

he that opened her gate…man

he let her be
he set her free

then he left her alone
to tame her own fires

and be her own song

and she woke at some five in the morning
feeling that loss

and who would understand

except that type of woman

to that kind of man

and only the tears that cry for no reasons
running traces that burn

explanations that explain
but never learn

so the mare stares at her old gateways
trying to decide

whether to keep running

or to hide

To All the Men I’ve Loved

To all the men I’ve loved. Because love is a complex things and there are many different levels, or kinds of love.

To my father, my first love. Thank you for calling me a princess so I’ve never forgotten my place in the world. Thank you for passing on your genes of being hard headed and stubborn, which has gotten me far in this world as a single female. Thank you for making me paranoid, yes even that thing that many may fault their parents for, I thank you for making me paranoid about the intentions of men. I know for a fact it has kept me in check and superseded what could have been fatal attractions. Everyone has dad issues, or parent issues, but overall…you were one of the good ones. Even with your issues. I miss you.

To my Grandfather. The only Grandfather I knew. Thank you for your dramatic, impromptu and inappropriate humor. For your debonair suave. For your love of reading, which was passed on to my mother. For your switch turn anger that scared me to death as a child, yet I recognize in men now and wont tolerate. Thank you for doting on my grandmother and for epitomizing all that is great in young to old sweethearts. Thank you for demonstrating  in your family, the art of gifting. Miss you, Grandaddy.

To my favorite uncles on both sides of the family. To my uncle on my dads side, with your righteous anger that actually was wholeheartedly unrighteous and I would never have actually agreed with you on, man you had tenacity. Thanks for being proactive in researching genealogy, I’m inspired to do that with the other side of the family. I always admired the nieces that came from you, who led their lives in such a strong manner. You may have had your angering prejudices. Your biases and weaknesses to and for the opposite sex, but to me you were a veteran and older bad boy of the family. Maybe the archetype of men I loved in the future. And your carpentry skills, why don’t men create anymore? I miss you too.

To my favorite uncle on my mothers side, my uncle who played with me as a toddler, under tables. Who did magic tricks with me and my brothers until we were old enough to know better but you made it so convincing, thanks for always being magical. For being cool and for being the humble favorite. I’m forever scarred and ruined by men with motor oil under their fingers…Who love to get in engines and see how they work. Who can fix the car or tell you whats wrong with it. Yeah, I see you in everyday mechanics. Whenever I see them.
 

To my second Uncle on my mothers side. Thanks for caring enough to tell the truth. Because you know you are right. Because you know the facts. Because you love to research. Because you care. Thanks for being suspicious and inquisitive. Thanks for making me question everything.

You two are the standard I hold all men to.

To my ex husband. You got me at a very green age. You were older and seemed so much more experienced and educated. You weren’t. You just seemed that way. Ultimately you were just as green as I. You taught me to be tougher than I should have had to be, You taught me to see when I was being lied to. You taught me to spot an insecure man, who despite being talented, would never allow himself to reach very far. You taught me to take what all the other men had taught me and use it. I had to, in order to mentally survive you. I may be fifty percent of why we failed, but I don’t miss you.

To my pastor and stepfather. Thank you for showing me that there are educated men who admire women physically and mentally. Who want their partners to excel in life and succeed in their dreams. Thank you for the counseling and advice, and guidance. I may not be getting my Masters if it were not for you.

To my best friend. Thanks for proving that yes, a woman can sleep in the room next to a man a that man not try to jump her bones. Thank you for being present and willing to help in so many situations. Thank you for seeing me at my worst. Thank you for the willingness to attempt to be a balanced view point. At your worst and your best you have always been consistent. I owe my best self to you. One day I might be able to give that.

Lastly…
To the man who saw what no one else would call out. The lover to the wild in me, thank you for giving me the space to run free. Thank you for making me speak my own thoughts and teaching me how to articulate my own mind and need. Thank you for letting me in your world and for coming into mine. Thank you for honoring our disagreements and for touching me so deeply. There is nothing I will ever write that I cannot thank you for. Because you were the first man to call me a writer. I love you, I miss you. Thank you ..
Thank you all.

menshands

 

Neon Goddess

Sometimes I wake up in a nightmare

of reality that someone else dreamed

someones version of utopia

and their definition of reality
and the pinnacle of being a woman
really isnt being a woman at all

it’s being everything they hate about men

and being free don’t mean nothing
except the freedom to think like them
and make the sacrifices only a female can make
on the alter of the neon goddess

drink their own blood

and callous their own hearts
nothing in their eyes

but judgement for dissenters
and in the alter of the neon goddess
she requires you lay down for strangers

in the name of reclaiming what you didn’t know you lost
and then make them pay for your passage

and you can be free just not with the male enemy
and if you do you better cut out his fruit
but if the blind is leading
then the blind just follows

wearing veils of thin and shallow laughter
coarse arguments about nothing more than politics
that they learned to give their life for
breaking down parts of their soul

on the alter of the neon goddess

Be the right kind of woman
defend the right kind of woman
and free your sex
but not your love

and not for a man
like a slave maiden in the courts of Aphrodite
prostituting in the temple
for a success that never comes

maybe men used to hold us down

but now the women limit our view
but its just so much easier to keep blaming you
don’t be fooled by the twisted visions

supplied by spin sisters
who sold their souls to some neon goddess
trying to become great
and trying to make us all pay

Good Women

Good women with their head on straight

still get a little crazy sometimes
Grown women with no expectations

still sit up and wait
we can’t help but care
even when it’s not our place

feel that man when he is gone

feel that man when he is away
and sometimes he keeps walking
but we still wait

Good women
with so much weighing in
still has to keep standing
stone roses

waiting for some magic water
and those fairy tales don’t come true
but they keep trying to prove
prove to themselves that they do
Good women
they are just so hard to find
or so that’s what they all say
they say it when they tilt their hat
say you’re incredible and then walk away

but those roses still grow

and good women
smart and holding no expectations
cry on the inside and hold their faith

good women care

if its wrong and it’s not our place

feel that man when he is there
feel him when he is gone
feel when he chooses not to stay

Triggers

When I came back from the prison

I brought all the chains with me

took all these years to shake those words off

Things hidden just resurface when triggers are pulled

and little battles come back ready to be fought

baby be enough

baby be more

baby so funny when she tries to allure

baby just thinks too much

just don’t understand

the needs the needs of a man

And when I came home

I brought all that baggage
repacked the memories

and I had the advantage
things written on paper
somewhere hidden about sadness

nothing like laying next to someone

who just can’t be pleased
nothing like carrying the weight
of someone with no dreams

and baby it’s not enough

baby what do you know

baby sometimes its gotta be rough
cant be so close all the time

who cares about the rain
and who cares about the lines

baby its not enough

but baby its just too much
baby a man needs variety but..

red isn’t really you color baby

and when I woke up as a live wire

You know you ain’t no lady
I took out that gun

you take things to serious

for the last pulled trigger
you’re so cute when you try to be mysterious

and threw it into the sun
Some women like it like that

When I woke up I just realized
open your eyes dammit
it was never even my fight

forgiveness and forgetting

such a beautiful things

because baby came alive

yeah now baby got her wings

Dreamer Woman

Inside the alone
feeling like another planet

must be something in the song she wrote

feeling the feelings you aren’t supposed to feel

feeling things so deep

so deep you wonder if they’re real

and when the wind came

she prayed it would blow this house down

and when the rain fell

she prayed it would take her

and drown these thoughts out

sitting in the doorway
because he’s coming home again

and all that space she made

just gets crowded crowded with him

and the pulls and pain

the needs get needed again

and somewhere a voice cries

somewhere its deep inside

comes out in water sometimes
water silently from her eyes

and in cold hard surfaces of the mind

maybe one day she wont hear it

and she wont even recognize

her own self

like the mirror she resembles

in this hell nobody escapes

the kind you make with your own keys

the kind it takes a special kind to get free

but she was a dreamer child

and this dreamer woman

cant dream herself out of the mess

and when the wind came

she prayed it would take this house out

and when the rain came

she prayed it would drown these voices out

then no one could say she never tried

no one could say she wasn’t in the right

in these cold walls and all their echoing voids
voids that take in all this noise

and that voice in the cry

that she scared one day she wont recognize

as her own

like the mirror that she looks

and resembles somewhere

she used to dance and sing

where this dreamer used to dream