Friday, March 27, 2009
Water from the sky,
Dropping gently on my head
I look up and sigh.
Alien girl feels cold,
Alien boy rushes over
Human boys feel sad.
No season for eggs
Winter, spring, summer or fall
The fat creature says,
I am going to Europe.
Does anyone care?
I'm twenty seven,
Will write for food, life, and love,
I am my subject.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I know for a fact God loves me more than I can ever love myself.
And I believe with all my heart that He wants me to be happy.
I am certain that no amount of worrying can stop the hand of The Almighty.
And that excessive fear can choke the mustard seed of faith.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Hands by ~Enslavedbymetal on deviantART
These hands hold memories of men, who have died in my heart,
grasping the lingering touches that have marked these palms.
Beyond the forbidden promise of clasped fingers,
and the reckless kissing of wrists,
are whispered stories that still move me to tears.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Because I hate things like that. Crying without meaning to, smiling all of a sudden, expecting things I know in my heart, I shouldn’t.
And it’s not like you have forced it on me—to be these things. I may not be known for my self-control, but I do have my pride, which has kept me company all these years.
But why now, why at this point in my life? When I have firmly established my comfort zones. You have me checking my phone unnecessarily, anticipating when you’ll go online. That’s not the person I want to be. Not anymore, at least that’s what all these years of being alone have trained me for.
Oh but to encourage these emotions, (I feel) is as reckless as seeking the eye of the storm. What am I to do now, when it looks like I have to give up everything?
(Disclaimer: I don't own this pix, or SHS, though I wish I did. Credit to http://shinwashi.blogspot.com/, one of my fave blogs out there.)
Monday, March 2, 2009
I’m fascinated by metanoia and its psychological implications. That such leeway is given for psychotic episodes, even encouraged, is amazing to me. Forgive me if I’m wrongly interpreting Carl Jung’s psychology. Yesterday’s homily focused on the concept, and so I have decided to look into it.
Of course, the theological meaning is quite different. Still, I want to explore metanoia as it pertains to my current situation. Come to think of it, metanoia either as repentance or as breakdown of the psyche, produces symphonies of curiosity, that ignoring such obvious writing prompts will be like spitting in the face of destiny. I exaggerate, but it’s not like you can stop me.