Ode to Red

Ode to Red-

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

Red is the color
of Anger
of Vanity
of Love
of Lust
of Sex

and all the rest.
love

Red is
the color of a new day
beginning to dawning.

Red is the color
of rubies
of jewels
of revenge
of Power

of kissing

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
and Red is:

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
Each day that we awaken,
we are born anew.
we are struggling
with only
the re-birthing process

like caterpillar to butterfly
Each day we change and become
something re-born, something mighty, something
as large and lonely
as Hope.

Each day we shed our sins
we shed our snakeskins
and begin again with the coming
Dawn

and the color Red.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

All kinds of Moody

Some-days you can

have it happen,

that you fall in-between

the spaces

and your falling-

through the cracks, on the bedroom wall,

as the paint peels backwards

and you feel nothing, no nothing at all.

 

Then there are the other days,

where the day itself

catches you by surprise

and you realize

you are all kinds of Moody.

 

Running rampant

from sorrow to grief

to solemn and to bitterness-

across the angry loophole of rage.

 

Some-days you cry for no reason

at all. Or you may find you are

hysterically laughing at absolutely nothing,

no nothing at all.

 

I find the more, i try to pinpoint,

what I am feeling-

the more it becomes vague-

all kinds of Moody.

Life is messy too, not only artwork.

Life is messy too.

Not just Artwork, self-expression, painting, drawing,sculpture, photography…

writing for example is another messy art;

thinking of things like:

libel,copyrights,slander,plagiarists, tabloid-journalists,badly written poetry,poorly written novels…..writers block.

But Life, on the other hand is frequently a different landscape,

altogether, a big terrain of heavily soiled tears.

disappointments, family feuds, emotional problems,

irrational and faulty logic,

thrown upon you,

like a fistful of sand.

then there are those persons,

who bully,cheat and lie.

Yes, as the saying goes, no one said life was easy.

or if they did, clearly they were mistaken or

simply full of shit.

no, life is a messy place.

A child’s hand-prints on the door-frames,

dog-prints on the muddy kitchen floor,

lipstick on a collar,

a cat who shits outside its litter-box.

 

Changing an baby’s dirty diaper.

house-training a puppy-dog.

Telling somebody you love them but…

you do not like living with them anymore?

How do you even do that?

I don’t even know.

 

I passed the ball to my husband.

He is dreading the conversation he

must have with a family member later.

 

I would not want to bring the subject up my own self-

I’m chicken-little, I don’t want to see the sky fall

down.

But Life is very messy.

if it wasn’t

i doubt i would love, living half as much.

Distilled Silence

Distilled Silence;

a metaphor created from lyrics-

of the silent, shade of blue, surreal song.

In the shade, stood the Earth.

It was whole, I am not.

a shiny beach song for a single,

copper-headed penny.

Distilled silence,

into liquid- a crucial matter

of disgusting drugs.

Depression grabs me off balance again.

Now what? and why? and who?

My friend waves the Peace flag again,

she gives me permission,

to attempt a death-defying,

savvy pen miracle,

once again.

wet paint

wet paint

warning “do not touch”

If i could paint you a picture,

of all the fantastical thoughts and emotions,

I could muster…

a lot of the imagery would be,

colorful, bright and happy,

while in the corners,

would lurk the dirty, the “maybe” moments,

the undecided bits, and pieces,

of my Oh, so cluttered mind’s hazy eye.

Be oh, so careful, do not sit down,

wet paint is all around,

do not touch this,

finger-paint mess,

of indecisivenessImage.