MAYONAISE: February 2009

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The wrong way...

Drill Bit

Tuesday I hear it’s going around;
I’m off...again, knuckled white.
Wednesday I will talk myself into
Round about routes to denial.
If I say it, then it won’t come true.
And, I find comfortable restraint; bound to
Repeating it over and over and over. And again,
It feels better that way, medicated meditation.
Then Thursday everything is white. I eat
From a bland full service spectrum buffet,
Plated and nothing touches.
I won’t even sip from her cup.
By Friday I am unable to tolerate human contact.
And, I count back to the last
In order to find spared time. I’ll be free-
On Saturday what is in the air will kill me.
So, I hold my breath between rooms. Suffocated,
Sunday I become completely restricted.
I will not accept from anyone, anything
That has been anywhere other than here.
Those days, they wear me hard
And to the end, so I have become
Exhausted from the fight. I finally sleep.
Then Monday brings me back, slightly.
With a negligent handshake,
So that again Tuesday I am found,
Wringing dry, anticeptic hands.
I will not allow myself to open a door
I stay; refusal and restraint, withholding.

p.s. its got quite a grip.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Showered

Why are my fingers cold
When they trace the back
Of your neck and up under
Your hair? It is smooth and pitch
And I wish it were my own
To push behind my ears
Before falling over your eyes.
Willing, asking it to stay.
Where it stayed...
Your shoulder now holds the ends
Fresh from washing, shiny and wet.
I rest my palm there then drift
Down your arm to your elbow,
And pull you into me. To find a way
To warm my hands that you find
Already warm and willing to stay.

Moonlit Night
Tu Fu

Translated by David Hinton

Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Ch'ang-an. By now,

Her hair will be mist scented, her jade-white
Arms chilled in its clear light. When
Will it find us together again, drapes drawn
Open, light traced where it dries our tears?

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heart full

Today on my way home from class, I stopped off at the petrol station for some petrol. I paid on my card which wasn’t a lot, and then as I was getting into my car, I saw an old man walking past the building. He had a red and green stripy jumper which was frayed at the ends. He was also wearing some jeans that were dirty and had holes all over.

I sat there and became intrigued by him because I didn’t know what he was doing, so as I sat there and watched him, he continued doing what he set out to do.

He walked past the trash cans and first picked out a cup with some drink still in it (one of the cups that you get from burger king that has coke in it). He then walked over to the next trash can and pulled out the end of a half eaten sandwich. In my shock horror, he ate it and then went to sit on the wall to drink the drink he had found.

I felt sad, I wanted to give him my last $4 that I had but I was told when I was younger that you should never give people money, you should give them something they need or can use because that way, if they had an addiction, they would not be able to use the money for their addiction. So I went into the shop and bought a chicken sandwich from their deli counter and then walked out of the building.

The guy was still sat at the wall drinking his drink so I walked up to him and asked him if he would like this sandwich. He thanked me and said that he was hungry.

I should of felt good after that, doing something for someone else but all I could think of is where his next meal will come from or where in fact he will sleep tonight.

Fimble Star
September 30, 2008 8:08 PM

(Tonight, although I am cold and my feet are sore, my belly is full.)

something

Don't let anyone tell you how to live your life. Hold your head up high and be proud of who you are. If you've had a shitty day and you feel like people just don't want you to be happy, and when you find yourself struggling to make it through the day, just keep on believing and keep the faith. Also, from personal experience, don't push people away. When they say they want to help and that they are there for you, let them in. Believe me, I know how fucking scary that thought is, but don't shut others out.

paperheartxx
September 22, 2008 11:07 PM

Retro-spectacled

Sometimes, when you look back on stuff in your life, you know, the crap that makes you shake your head and say, "Holy shit, what the Hell was I thinking?" it's part of what makes you - you.

I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I have made small mistakes and really big, fucking scary mistakes. Would I change those mistakes and blunders?

No. Wanna know why?

Because they make me - me. They help make up the person that I am, what I've learned the hard way. Hopefully I've learned from my mistakes and have become a better person for it. And, hopefully I don't repeat those same mistakes. Although, sometimes I repeat variations of certain ones, but I'm working on that. :)

Jennicula
June 11, 2008 11:19 AM

aloft

Blazing against the sun
like locusts,
samaras swarm the sky
and skitter to an earthly end,
dry
like clever words.
I want to make them fly up,
flip heaven upside down
and dance across the top of hell
and sing your thoughts
to the sound of thunder
that you love so well,
rip open the littered sky
and bathe in the light
or draw across the firmament
the blanket of the night.

In only a day they have
covered the ground,
their brief flight
yielding nothing permanent
on infertile land,
a fleeting moment of swarming glory
that calls to mind our own
short story:
Diamonds and petals,
the loom and the light,
the inkdark moon, foxfire marsh,
an open, waiting hand.

Clever winged seeds
of childhood reminiscent--
and like the idiot grown-up heart,
as stubbornly indehiscent.

Weaver Girl
May 26, 2008 11:27 PM

Electric Blue

…today I saw a ulysses butterfly it was in our yard and settled to feed on our hibiscus. They really are fantastically beautiful things, the electric blue is amazing, however as they sit with their wings closed they are rather nondescript and dull. Sometimes people are like that, from the outside they seem unappealing but within there hides an amazing beauty for those lucky enough to see it. I hope you appreciate beauty in all things, and look for it perhaps where others miss it.

ergoproxy
April 29, 2008 4:45 AM

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL.

I read your post again and suddenly without warning memories of construction paper filled my head. I remembered all the lop-sided flowers my girls made when they were young. Bright blue, yellow and pink flowers that were cut out with blunt end scissors would fill the windows to decorate for Easter. An occasional bunny was attempted but those usually ended up looking like creatures from a horror movie. Flowers were so much easier. I can close my eyes and hear the paper being cut into petals. I can smell the Elmer’s glue squirted on in huge blobs to attach each misshapen petal to form the flowers. We had a huge arts and crafts box full of wonderful items just waiting for their imaginations to turn into something wonderful. In my mind I see my daughters, as they once were, small, blond little girls sitting on the floor surrounded by scraps of paper and other art supplies. They would create their masterpieces then proudly show each other. Oh and Lord the messes that would ensue if the glitter made an appearance. Now, the box is forgotten. I’m not really sure where it even is anymore. The few flowers so lovingly created that survived are faded and dusty and high on a shelf they sit. Time marches on, so many things get left behind.

Today was the first Easter I spent alone. I don’t think it really upset me until I remembered the construction paper flowers. Of course I understand that my daughters are growing up and have lives of their own. But understanding doesn’t make it any easier to accept. I miss my little girls in their frilly Easter dresses. I miss the laughter that filled the house when they found what the Easter Bunny left for them. And I miss making the damn flowers.

Elena
March 24, 2008 3:57 AM