just paisley….

previously published on …why paisley???

bestowed upon me
at the moment of my birth
a matter of chance
*
silently it slept
quietly through out my youth
innocently still
*
without a moments
hesitation, a life force
all its own emerged
*
eradicating
any and all evidence
childlike innocence
*
adolescent angst
made fat on childhood dreams
crouched, ready to strike
*
lashing out at life
mere words become a weapon
heart hardening lies
*
love lies asunder
another casualty
suicidal war
*
waged by and against
invisible opponents
inner battles rage
*
thirty years fighting
and still no peace to be had
misspent gift of youth

photo:

http://www.adventures-in-dialectics.org/

Adventures-In-Dialectics/EightTheses/art_of_war_4.jpg

when all of this began
you had no way of knowing my truth

you accepted the version
of it you were fed
and why wouldn’t you
you were just a child
(and, if i remember correctly
so was i)

it was on that foundation
that you built your image of me
rebellious
selfish
immoral

the world with which you were surrounded
had labeled me “bad association”
i had become a sinner in a world
where righteousness was everything

and the fact that i was your sister
served, i am sure
as an embarrassment to you

but now
some thirty odd years down the road
it is you that has fallen from grace
it is you that has been labeled
rebellious
selfish
immoral

it is you that is being treated
(despite forty years of life proving otherwise)
as “bad association”
and it is now
that you will come to know my truth

there is a part of me
that wants to say
i would have done anything
to save you from
ever knowing first hand
what it feels like
to be “unacceptable”

but secretly
(and selfishly)
i am happy
for the first time
in my whole life
i feel as if
i am not alone, as if
i have a sister…

photo:

http://fc05.deviantart.com/fs23/f/2008/009/d/2/

Sisters_by_yumali.jpg

this form is called a cadae. it is based on the numbers that make up “Pi”, which represents the ratio of any circle’s circumference to its diameter… Here is the formula of Pi,, i only used the first 42 numbers….

3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592

olive tree

“A woman
is
like an olive
tree.
“When its branch catches
woodworm, it has to be chopped off {this
is} so
that society stays
clean and pure.”
quoted from
the Quran, basis for
“honor killings”… turkey, jordan
pakistan and palestine, muslim men
“protecting family honor”
can murder, their wives, sisters, mothers,
daughters, for
simply
refusing
to wear a “hijab”, or headscarf
having a non-
muslim boyfriend, or male
friend of
any origin. seeking
education,
employment.
worst of all
attempting to assimilate
to western
culture.
globally an average of
5000 women per year, murdered.
in the name of “allah”
0
i am
sickened, repulsed, appalled, angered
this form of god sanctioned murder
must come to an
end.
how can we as a world, stand by
and watch ritualistic
death
like just dessert????

read more: Crimes against honour, crimes against love

inspiration provided by rethabile, in his post, stars of stone, featuring the work of,

Rustum Kozain, This Carting Life (Kwela/Snailpress, 2005)

photo:

http://carcassbloodycarcass.deviantart.com/art/Can-t-Speak-Won-t-Speak-75042309

this post courtesy of three word wednesday

photo by: me 05/12/2008

jasper is not your average redneck.. he did not start from scratch,, and achieve “all of this” by the sweat of his own brow… oh no.. he was born, jasper wellington newsome III, first born son of prominent publishing magnate, j.w. newsome II and was at one point in time,, heir to the publishing throne….

but that was before the inception of web logging,, or blogging as it came to be known… virtually overnight,, authors and poets all over the world possessed the ability to write, publish, and own all the rights to their own work… in no time the need for publishers, literary agents, editors, proofreaders, and such ilk became,, well, dare i say… “so yesterday?”

on an average afternoon,, jasper can be found sitting on the front porch,, popping the top on yet another cold budweiser and daydreaming about what his life would have been like had his father and his constituents put a little more stock in the age old adage, “Give an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters, and they will eventually produce the works of Shakespeare.”

this was inspired by a poem, entitled, betrayed,, written by leigh lear on her site, words from an author…

this is the only existence
of which i can be assured.
there is no guarantee
of reward or punishment..
and to live
solely in hopes of either
seems ludicrous.
i must live this life in truth,,
to no one but myself…
and when i take that first step
towards me
if i find myself standing alone,,
it is then,, that i will know
that i am all
i ever really had….

photo:

http://orpheus-blue.deviantart.com/art/Alone-in-a-Crowd-52607722

ky marina is a layin’
at the foot of the bed
her old bones
on the cool tile floor
moo moo’s outside
somewhere’s
a layin’ in the shade
and the breeze
is a blowin’ in,,
my open front door

some wicked
old monarch is
a prissin’ it up
in some movie
playin’ on the tv
as i engage myself
in deep,, meaningful
conversation
about my fa-vor-ite
subject, me..

as much as i
would like to think
that i,, got way
more important
things to do
the truth of the matter
is that i am
totally content
just settin’ here
and thinkin’ like i do

so if your a callin’
i probably won’t
be answerin’
and if your mailin’
chances are
i won’t respond
as i’m just a sittin’ here
waitin’,, ever so
contentedly,
on the taxi
come to take me
to the great beyond..

photo:

http://fc02.deviantart.com/fs8/i/2005/289/e/3/

Hey_Taxi____GOOMV____by_infernall.jpg

photo of me on my parents wedding day, april 6, 1963

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

                                 by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

how was i to know
i would so literally
become the “little girl”
in longfellow’s poem

and had i known-
what,, if anything
would i have done
differently??

to that-
i still answer
“i just don’t know…”

this was inspired, by a poem written by linda, entitled the game ,, and posted on the new collaborative site, your poems. your stories….

someone asked
me today, what i
would do if i knew
i had only a short time
left to live..
and with a leap of joy
my heart answered
“exactly what i am doing..”

pouring out
my heart
and my head
and my soul…
writing down
the emotions
the moments
and the people
that so deserve to be
the reminiscent icing
on a life,
i was only too fortunate
to have lived..

a life that
has taken me places
most people
will never go.
a life that has
allowed me
to live out my every
dream, whim, and desire,
and left me
breathlessly fulfilled,,
and ready to move on…

i am so ready
to die.. not because
i am unhappy
or morose
or depressed
i am just done here…
i have had a wonderful life..

i would just like
to be released before
my most treasured memories
have been made to
linger too long,
and i am forced
to watch,, as they fade-
and slip behind the veil
of old age…

photo:

http://volentivince.deviantart.com/art/Not-ready-to-die-65617982

for those of you that do not frequent anna’s blog, free poems on a regular basis,, (and shame on you,, you know who you are……) i want to let you know that she has added a new duet of blogs that i am really in favor of supporting..

first of all,, and my favorite,, is your poems. your stories. it is a collaborative project on which we,, authors and poets alike can actually post our work (prose and/or poetry) directly to the blog,, thus making our work available to a larger audience,, and supporting the writer/poet community here on the web…

so if you are interested in a new venue for some of your work,, i would suggest you stop on over and have a read,, and feel free to register with the site,, and add your work.. (and yes, of course you can link to your own blog!!!) wouldn’t it be wonderful,, if we could combine our audiences??? what a readership we could boast then!!!!

i have offered up my first piece for publication over there,, entitled, as the dust swirled,, and would really appreciate it if you clicked thru to have a read…

please feel free to contact anna either by email at anna (at) poempoempoem.com,, or thru a comment on either of her blogs if you need further information….

secondly,, its sister blog, poem poem poem is a poets resource blog.. it offers information such as:

1. an up to date listing of the working online poets.
2. a resource for finding “free poetry”. both individual poems and books of poetry
3. a direct link to purchase published works of poetry.
4. a link providing publisher information, for both in print and internet publications.
5. as well as an huge listing of poetry workshops available,, on a variety of subjects.

i have had the honor today of publishing one of anna’s poems, the mermaid poem over on the ink pot,, so if you would enjoy seeing a sample of her excellent work,, you can drop on over and have a read….

the site is brand spanking new,, and is still in its infancy,, so your contributions, comments, and patience would be greatly appreciated…i just cannot help but feel it has the potential to be a really great place to bring together our creative efforts…

the feed options for both poem poem poem and your poems. your stories. are available in the side bar, for those of you that would like to keep an eye on it’s progress,, and see if it appeals to you….

thank you in advance for your participation…

photo:

http://www.reproarte.com/picture/Carl_Spitzweg/

The+poor+Poet+/10591.html

this weekend, jane’s inspirations put this picture up as the prompt,, and this is what it said to me…..

creepy girl with skull by Faythalie

now i lay me down to sleep
my daddy’s skull i always keep
beside me on a little chair
remembering when he sat there…

and how he touched me when he did.
when i was just a little kid
too young to know, it wasn’t right
too small, to put up a big fight

he told me it would be alright
when he touched me, in the dark of night
but i was smarter, than he thought
and could not wait, till he got caught

i poisoned him with powder that
had killed the mice and then the cat
i fed it to him every day
and waited for him to go away

i was right,, it didn’t take long
and quickly he was too far gone
to stave it off,, to save himself
i killed him dead.. all by my self…

amen…