Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Dial it Up

I started talking to my children tonight.
I told them what to watch out for.
"Don't talk to strangers."
"If anyone makes you feel scared or touches you in a way you don't like: tell me or your father."

It's hard because I want to tell them everything so they can protect themselves.
I know they'll either be most at risk when they're without us or if we're the ones to fail them.
You can't tell a three year old certain things.
I want to be with my children all the time and when they're adults to know they're okay.

I feel like being a parent is one of the hardest challenges possible to take on.
And yet, so many people do it.
I want to tell my two children to trust their instincts.
I want them to be surrounded by a shield of protection made of the strongest material known to man.

My husband is militial.
He folds his underwear and organizes it by style and color.
If I leave the ironing board up he scolds me.
If I forget the laundry in the dryer he makes me wash it again so it's not wrinkled.

I like it that he's strict and organized, because we're always ready.
He keeps me in line and he keeps me sharp.
My friend told me I'm sharp enough.
I think that's what people say to you who wish you were easier to trick.

We live in a house in Calabasas.
It's a two story house with four bedrooms.
My husband and I always slept in the same room with our children when they were babies.
They were in cribs though, because adults roll over sometimes when they sleep.

I was vigilant and maybe a little too anxiety ridden about their welfare.
In the end it was my husband though who I really trusted to protect us.
I knew there were certain things I had to do to be the best mother I could be.
I had to show my selfless side.

Sometimes I had to suffer so they wouldn't.
Or I had to learn to do things a different way, a better way, for them.
Being at home with them made me happy.
Being with my husband made me feel like I was at last in the right place.

It isn't always easy.
In many ways I'm surprised when I talk to my children.
Because it lets me know they're coming.
It's years away, but they're coming toward me.

Friday, August 8, 2014


Visionary work is often overexposed or out of focus.
Say yes to adventures and memorize survival manuals.
The providence of success left me wondering what to do now.
But it was the geniuses who were audacious enough to think they couldn't be kept out.

Watch the disconnected signs vanish: the immorality, the apathy, the irresponsibility, and the laziness.
A dead end was - the truth - it stopped him.
When people "don't get" what you're doing, subsequent discoveries will amend that, in some cases.
There was the fear that empowerment would wrestle the shackles away.

She has the ability to dye her imagination any hue and to recover from anything.
Your chance for stardom is to imbue us not with feelings, but rather with life force.
The rapture of truly living cannot confine us to a zoo, there are no bars where this bird sings.
My totalitarian innocence is better than connecting the dots for you.

"Saturnia" - a definition of sanity - past and present.
The nature of man is the vessel we use to explore life, not hate it.
Cross-pollination is the device, right?
The human adventure is the desire for improvement and God.

Do a back flip, we cannot approach them directly.
Children are the "eureka" that keep everything alive.
We're working on different frequencies.
You and I.

Monday, August 4, 2014

Message From An Island

I heard an angel speak to me.
She said he loves me.
In fact, the angel is real.
She's teaching me about "helping."

And when she speaks I listen.
And I think before I speak.
But when I write to her the quotes don't add up.
I wonder if she will wonder what I'm trying to say.

"I'm" not saying anything, the books are, but it makes me uneasy.
Oh and it also makes me perplexed to have confirmation that he may in fact be in love with me.
We've been through this before.
And I'm beginning to get the feeling we may go through this again.

Is it that I'm shocked?
I did so much work creating a story in tatters behind me.
The remnants are scattered across my states.
The ruin of me.

I'm actually collected.
It's the tale that's in pieces.
Not my version, mine is almost complete.
All the other accounts are distributed chaotically - controlled chaos.

When I hear the words, "I think he loves you."
I feel like a vested part of me is brought to life.
Like a vested interest.
Break, I cannot break.

However, I can sit and think a lot.
This is what I do now.
My mind seamlessly processes everything it's fed.
My most valuable processor.

I'm shy about revealing anything too specific at this time.
To say, "tonight" or "today" gives too much away.
Strangely, I do have a secret to tell you:
Half of what I write is fact and half fiction.

I put it to you to decide which is which.
I used to only write about my direct experience.
When I fell in love, you fell in love too.
I know you felt it.

My use of the word "you" has changed.
It used to mean mainly one person in particular.
Now it mostly means "the reader."
Something is changing, inside and out.

But to have a message from an island, a place where magic is happening.
To receive a message here, in a place that makes me "stronger, harder, faster."
It means, well, it only means what it means.
And to compose a message - a poem is a message - a letter too - is a creation all it's own...

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Thanks for Stating the Obvious

I sat down next to him, but I didn't realize it was him until later.
I didn't realize because for once I was wrapped up in a world separate from his - apart.
In my world I wasn't concerned if I looked fat or picked out the wrong color of lipstick.
I wasn't thinking about how my yoga teacher corrected my posture in class.
I wasn't interested in whether or not I knew the answers to everything.

When I sat down I was in my own territory, in a place not a lot of people tread.
Sometimes when I'm there I stop noticing the landscape around me.
It's like when you find yourself chewing on a jalapeno, but you never feel the spice.
Then he said my name, which almost frightened me at first.
I don't know a lot of people here.

And what was he doing in a coffee shop in Colorado?
It was absurd, even to me.
But for me to accuse someone of following me is sheer folly.
Follow me here, follow me there, follow me, follow me, everywhere.
I hope you enjoy your life underground.

Destitute time - what does that mean?
I hope I'm destitute in time.
No one wants to be destitute.
Time is always destitute.
Leave me alone - I'm destitute.

Simply lost in a reverie.
That's where you found me.
Only you didn't really find me, because I wasn't there.
I won't tell you to go away.
You always go - it's my favorite part of the day.