I Howl At The Moon

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fenrir eating the moon
I howl at the moon and I’m howling at you
I’m wearing the rain and I’m wrapped up in night
Oh I’m singing for stars that are hiding their light
I’m keeping it down and I’m seeing it through

I’m wielding a flame that is flickering white
Burning me deep, every breath is a bite
Feel the heat through miles, I know you do
A need, like a notion, a blue-black devotion so true

I won’t need to tell you, you already knew
I howl at the moon and I’m howling at you

I dig in the dirt and I’m digging for you
Prying under the stones ’til I’m covered in moss
Oh I’m singing to creatures that are born at a loss
I’m keeping it down and I’m seeing it through

I‘m lost in a crystal that glows with each thought
Dazzling me, every movement a fight
Feel the depths that I’m stuck in, I know you do
Taking root, lost to motion,  muddy devotion, like glue

I won’t need to tell you, you already knew
I dig in the dirt and I’m digging for you

I reach for the stars and I’m reaching for you
I’m holding the void and I’m coated in rust
I’m growling for lost bloom and holding my lust
I’m keeping it down and I’m seeing it through

I’m dowsing for water that is gossamer blue
Washing me clean, every drop is my truth
Feel like drowning again, I know you do
A drop like an ocean, a sea green devotion so true

I won’t need to tell you, you already knew
I reach for the stars and I’m reaching for you

I danced in the flames and I’m dancing from you
I’m burning alive and I’m crowned in the bright
Oh I’m singeing my feathers but not giving up flight
I’m keeping it down and I’m seeing it through

I’m clutching an ember that will not go out
And I am transforming, each cell, every bone
Feel the heat through miles, I know you do
Releasing a note,  piercing clearly and true

I won’t need to tell you, you already knew
I danced in the flames and I’m dancing from you

LM 2013 – 2018

* I picked this up again after forgetting about it. Who knows, it may still not be finished.
69c7fe5e020ab6ea65de5e61ff932c56

 

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Pestilence

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This is another installment that is part of something that has been percolating for a long time. It started with a shorter piece, The Miracle and there is a lot more to come. The working title for this collection is called, Vessels. I was having a terrible time finding the right image until I stumbled across Jenny Marie’s beautiful Pestilence illustration and while this isn’t my character, it sets the perfect mood. I think you will agree.

pestilence_by_autonoe-d6u4pcs

Click image for link Artist is Jenny Marie aka Autonoe on Deviant Art

 

Pestilence appraised her reflection in the mirror. The very corner of her lip curled in an almost imperceptible smirk of approval. She dipped a brush into the little pot of powder on the table in front of her and swept a shimmer of violet across the pale skin of her eyelids. Next, charcoal liner for a touch of smoke and finally a quick whisk through her lashes with the mascara wand. Her eyes; bright green glass, shattered and reassembled, seemed to be swimming in the soft cloud of colors she’d framed them with. Reaching into the top drawer of her vanity she pulled out her comb. It was carved from the back of a tortoise and inlaid with silver. Something had died so that she could comb her dead hair. This amused her.

She ran the teeth slowly through the sleek icy bob. How long had she had she had this comb? She remembered that it was an antique. A gift from her mother, perhaps? Or maybe it had been passed down when her mother died. A piece of dead turtle from her dead mother to comb her dead hair. She laughed softly, white rectangles peeking out from behind rose colored lips and creamy skin. She slid a small clip into the hair just above her left ear. The elaborate little piece was carved, a dragonfly curled around a rose, delicate and detailed. In the center of the rose was a tiny skull. It was her favorite.

On the way out of the house, she gave herself  final inspection in the hallway mirror. She ran her hands over her blue sheath dress and slipped on her coat, its crisp lines were echoed in the sharp triangle of her clutch. She smiled again. Whenever she smiled, she felt a buzzing, a rattle against the back of her teeth. She knew it must be her imagination, but she sensed a thousand flies beating their wings against the pristine enamel, pushing to get out. Sometimes she felt that she literally had frogs in her throat, but she had never seen one. She found the thought of being a creature full of other creatures more entertaining than macabre.

She had snakes sliding through her veins as well, their venom hissing through the arteries to her heart;  invisible, but very real. Nobody knew, least of all Pestilence, who had been named Selene. Selene lived up to her name, cool as the moon, calm as the surface of the reflecting pond in the atrium where she spent an hour meditating every other afternoon. As far as anyone knew she was a lovely girl who added a certain elegance and grace to any room she entered. She was a woman who could turn heads in blue jeans or Prada. She made people uneasy and yet, charmed them with her warmth. She didn’t put on airs. She was the air; a flawless  breeze.

Selene was the witty and gorgeous guest you wanted next to you at your event table. She was the most charming date of whom no parent could find fault. She donated to charity. She held season tickets to the ballet. She did yoga. She was always eager to pitch in when her church asked for volunteers. She drove an expensive, but not too ostentatious car. She never shared her love of dead things in polite company, even feigned the proper touch of disgust should a gruesome topic ever enter a conversation. She was a perfectly lovely girl.

And she was teeming with death and disease.

 

ADDITIONS

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martini alien blog

Art by Bob Canada, click illustration for more

There’s a backstory to this. I have a friend, writer J.D. Robinson aka Scamper, who among the plethora of interesting articles he loads in his feed, often posts to say he is writing science fiction. I usually counter that I am also writing (I am. Evidently there is some strange synchronicity between writers) and sometimes, if I am lucky, a humorous exchange ensues which just makes the crush my brain has on his brain more intractable. Thank Gods his brain is not from Scotland. (If you don’t get that reference, you should read my blog more often)

Me: Am Writing Poetry. Much less interesting than writing Sci Fi.
Scamper: Throw in some aliens, then we’ll see.
Me: Well, it’s open to interpretation. It could include aliens. *sigh* I only came here tonight to, “read the articles.” Now I feel challenged!
Scamper: Beh. I’m no poet. Aliens should be everywhere, I suppose.
Me: Challenge accepted! Never challenge a sleep challenged free verse poet unless you want a silly poem because I can’t resist spouting off some nonsense on the fly!

ADDITIONS

Things are always better
When you add a secret ingredient
Seven herbs and spices
A subtle flash of heat
Shake the cocktail, stir it twice
Add something green to the soup
The guests will rave every time
And they’ll wonder
Leave them guessing
Swirl it in
Mix it up
Something unexpected
A unique twist on a classic dish
It’ll be out of this world
If I take your advice
To “Throw in some aliens”
Then we’ll see
Everyone’s sure to want
My recipe

LM 2017

I was rewarded with “Stellar Work!” and “theremin sounds” This made my brain happy. I probably had to remind it about the Scotland thing to calm it down. What can I say? I get a lot of brain crushes. I also like to riff off other creative people and to collaborate.

By the way, if you or anyone you know likes to read, YA Science Fiction. you should check out J.D. Robinson’s book, The Hole In The World. He just came out with an updated edition and it’s available in paperback and for Kindle. Like many writers, Scamper hates promoting his own work, so running across this poem was a good reason to give it a shout out! I highly recommend it as it is an excellent read!

holeintheworld

 

Balls!

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My inner 12 year old enjoys the abundance of balls in the kitchen right now. My roomie’s mom likes to send him things like huge tins of almond rocha and boxes of Ferrero Rocher candy, the chocolate hazelnut balls wrapped in gold foil. This leads to lots of jokes about holding my roommate’s balls, eating his balls, enjoying them and so forth. (Hey now, note the disclaimer of inner immaturity above)

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A few nights ago I was making some sort of rice and leftover mystery bean soup/chili I found in the freezer thing. As I’m working my magic, I pop a chocolate ball in my mouth. Yum! Well, my roommate also usually keeps bags of meatballs in the freezer…… you can see where this is headed, right?

J: (Walks in, opens freezer) You know, you can add some of these if you want.
Me: Oh my god! What do you want me to do with these? I’ve already got one of your balls in my mouth right now!
J: (Snorts) Just put them in the toaster oven.
Me: ALL OF THEM?
J: Sure. That would be good.
Me: How long do you want them in for? The package says 30 minutes.
J: They’re already cooked.
Me: So you want me to try warming your balls for what, 20 minutes?
J: That sounds good.
Me: That’s what HE said!

Never gets old!

ballsdinner

Anyway, dinner was quite tasty mmmm. We enjoyed my roommate’s tasty balls!

It seems like balls were just everywhere this week. The next day, I had boba tea and sucked a lot of balls, gelatinous but firm, into my mouth.

Then this happened:

I was just minding my own business watching season Two of,  Sneaky Pete on Amazon, when the internet glitched for a moment.

The scene: Giovanni Ribisi stepping out of the shower and when surprised, he quickly covers his naughty bits. Then he removes his hands and….

Frozen, full frontal.

Um…..For a moment, I feel like a perv, but then I think of all the opportunities men have taken to freeze (in the old days) VHS tapes of Jamie Lee Curtis (and other actresses) nude in films and now just do screen grabs and somehow 10 seconds of staring at naked man junk attached to a nice bod (which may or may not actually be Giovanni Ribisi’s) doesn’t feel so gratuitous.

Um. Thanks Comcast, Amazon, Internet fairies…I guess?

Balls. Everything full circle.

Thoughts on Loneliness

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I’m not lonely. I just feel lonely in this moment.

lonliness in the moment

Why are we humans so afraid of being alone?
Why do we perceive loneliness as an undesirable thing?
Why is the act of taking or being given a moment of solitude where our hands, eyes, mouth, mind and heart aren’t busy so disconcerting?
Why is an uncomfortable feeling automatically viewed as negative or detrimental by so many of us?

Loneliness in the moment is a good thing. A moment passes.
The loneliness reminds us of our desires, our needs.
It allows us to feel grateful for moments that are shared, moments that are full.
It guides us, gives us perspective.
Loneliness is contemplation.
Loneliness has been the fuel for periods of productivity, personal growth and great art.
When loneliness is shared through art, we all can identify with it because loneliness is a universally shared feeling. Experiencing loneliness is a big part of what it is to be human. It drives our desire to reach out.

Loneliness is what we choose make of it. We can embrace it and put it to good use or we can spiral down into it until we are lost!

I recently saw an article that conflated the correlation between loneliness and shorter life span to not having a love relationship and shorter lifespan. It completely missed how many people in relationships are heartbreakingly lonely. I am not involved in a  romantic relationship at the moment. Sure, there is part of me that would like to be, and oh do I miss sex which for me needs meaningful connection if I’m going to enjoy it, but the realities of the situation are that I do not get out much to meet people, online dating is an additional layer of hell for people my age.  I would rather hold out for someone who actually sees me for the amazing person I am with all my flaws and all of my glories and will treat me with respect and be able to feel the same about a partner than settle simply because I do not want to be alone. I have wasted a lot of time putting up with partners dumping abuse and baggage on me, I think it’s reasonable to prefer being single to doing that again.

But none of this means I am fully alone or that 24/7 loneliness is a given. Yes, I am lonely, but it is usually fleeting. There is so much that is not lonely about my life. My loneliness is not hollow, it is rich and present. I have learned to see it as a gift.

Disclaimer: This does not mean I have stopped hoping for a Scottish husband (or lady). You’ll have to pull this fantasy from my cold dead hands. *Those who know me are aware of my lifelong desire to visit and move to Scotland. There is also a running theory that the reason I have not found my true love is that they live in Scotland and I, alas am stuck here.

Conversations With Denial

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*The part of Denial is played by my cat LiLi

whisker

LiLi: What are that? It tickles.
Me: You lost a whisker.
LiLi: That’s very interesting, but that’s not mine.
Me: It is yours. I’m saving it. Usually you drop your one white whisker so I never find it. You always look odd until it grows back again.
LiLi: No, that’s not mine.
Me: Do you see any other cats in this room?
LiLi: I have all my parts!
Me: Uh. Remember that time I took you to work with me at the veterinary hospital and you fell asleep and when you woke up your belly was shaved and you were sore for a few days?
LiLi: Eh, vaguely.
Me: Yeah, well. We took out some of your parts.
LiLi: *yawns* Clearly, you do not fear me adequately. Fortunately for you, clawing your face off does not fit into my schedule.
Me: I just trimmed your nails!
LiLi: You just make things up all the time. *sigh* I nap now.