Monday Random: potpourri

  • I’m using this Monday as a do-over from last week. Last week sucked balls. And you know I never use that language. But seriously. Sucked. Donkey. Ba…..well you know
  • In all fairness much of the crappiness of last week was my own fault so I’m done complaining. But that felt good and circumvented hours of whining to the husband which would start off another bad week and we don’t want that, do we
  • Question: what do you do to calm and soothe yourself? You’ve got your yoga and eating the ice cream from the container with a spoon approaches. But do you do anything quirky for your decompression time?
  • For me it’s very bad Lifetime movies or if it’s really horrible, Hallmark Christmas films. Even when it’s not Christmas
  • The first Christmas without the kids I watched Christmas with the Kranks fifteen times. True story
  • Nah, didn’t really help until I ate the ice cream as well
  • Complaining really isn’t healthy and passes bad juju around. Sorry about that. I think I won’t delete it though. Transparency is very trendy and I don’t want to come off as perfect because that would be worse
  • I’m learning to make pepper steak tonight. Hubby says it won’t work because I bought the wrong beef, but he’ll eat those words. It will be delicious and that will show him
  • When I used to cook it for a family I worked for as a domestic, I always put slices of tomatoes in it at the end. But none of the the recipes I’ve found use tomatoes. Do you put toms in yours?
  • Enjoy this new wave 80’s song to start off the week sad and sweet, and hey, don’t eat all the ice cream, have some kale as well

Have a great Monday!

You know what, how about one more hit from the 80’s. It’s like a big hug

-P.S.

3 a.m.

I am too long awake
with my companions
greedy for my attention
impatience and discontent
on either side

Whimsy comes by
in a lavender tutu
and laughs at us
doing her best
with hand stands
and shadow puppets

Impatience wiggling
my big toe
while discontent
drives a truck full of words
through my brain

I am too long without sleep
delirium, keep me
from loneliness
as you pass over my body
closing my eye-lids
without warning

Open letter

Your presence is not required.
I am not the same girl, face down
on the cold floor for relief
not the same needy sycophant
begging for crumbs

Your presence is not requested
at the birthday party for this
newly born woman- not so penurious
as to give nothing back, but not
your problem anymore. My friend

of the east, of the wind and the meadows
showing up out of nowhere with your
five piece one-man-band, and I
with just a knack for getting to the
heart of things, driving you down

Your presence is not required, on your knees.
I won’t demand and deflate
the ego of your youth.
I have my own-and when someone has
got their own, they don’t steal anymore

I have this new path I’m on
mottled with the unknown, and
no map to speak of. Your presence
is not required. But if you would like to join me-
the path stretches far ahead

Windy city, bleeding heart



I could be anyone, any girl in a coffee shop on any street, in any wayward town where people are glad to be from and hope for other shores with higher waves beating on the beach

I might have been any woman in the art gallery, gathering dust for inspiration among the dead and the painted

Some shoes squeak, my shoes speak, every mile I walk throughout this glittery city, telling me how I know nothing after years of sweating verses

Watching paragraphs walk by, their stanzas on bicycles looking fit, and I can’t find the words

Stunned by the sight of all the stories placed just so, each letter splendid as Rubens or soothing as Monet

Seeking out shadows as the heart on my sleeve begins to drip along the sidewalk, the drops collecting into a puddle, following me as a stream through this mighty place

Giving me away, and

Screaming at me that I have not yet written anything

I loved you at the station

and to consider you anywhere else
whether it be glade or glen
or the food court at a mall
would tarnish our veneer

your backdrop of rail yard and crowds
a pillar of smoke rising
from your corner of the shelter
as you waited and I was late

was worthy of being painted
would it be possible to capture
all of you and the trains and the depot
in the brush strokes

our love is abandoned baggage now
left at the side of the tracks
waiting for its master, as we have gone
two separate ways

do nightmares chase us into day

sunrise plus seagul

the sky changes
from black to blue
layers of cobalt and cerulean
over flames afar off
my horizon burning off a nightmare
that chased us through the night

running for home
over sooty streets
we were not overcome by the dark
aquamarine dancing with apricot
thoughts of the new day
hopes that the sun will ignite us

for we have become
day sleepers over time
all of our late-80’s hopes
riding on blue and grey clouds
whilst melon and tea rose
slice the sky

Show-stopper

Sunset and leaves

I had so much riding on this day
my mind in too much thought
each sip every step all my hopes
just to purchase another hour of life
the way it should be lived

It is a pendulous evening
heavy air at eight
the lines nearly erased now
between night and day
the horizon breaking out
with its glittery evening show

A slice of this sky I count on
my doubt and injuries wavering
I take one step, and then another
every hope winning out over the past
and its mercenary plans

Intruder

shadow on wall.jpg

I stomp through your rooms
I scream my childhood until it echoes
I take off my shoes and lie on the floor
feet on the wall while I read

We live here in shifts
you with reality, I with my fairies
wandering in and out with one of them
on my shoulder. Scampering

When you come home you kick off shoes
you turn on music and from a shadow
we watch you dance away your day
before we find another place

to lie through the night

sound track

our soundtrack
skipped records
dusty cassettes
ready to snap
8-track era crooning
no one else can hear

should we turn it off
or turn it up louder
each note someone
agonized over
we are all part
of the stew

take your face and try
to keep it silent
isolated in a sea
of countless faces
who know you better
than you know yourself

need we understand
why we can’t
move forward
stuck fast
and its me I know
that’s keeping me here

me with my hand
in the cookie jar
four decades
and I won’t let it go
the secrets of the unwise
locked up

in two hands
one no good
without the other
they press at the door
wood creaking
screaming for me
that time is running out

can we cha-cha
through the nights
so no one will notice
we are slipping
music so loud
it drowns out the
expectations

the band playing for days
feet flying
over wood
polished to a luster
blinding us
to all we remember