A Declaration

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This is a piece I keep coming back to year after year, changing and adding to. I’m getting to the point where I kind of like it now, but who knows, next year I may pick at it again.

Sorry, it’s quite a bit late for the old V.D. I thought I had posted it, but alas, it got stuck in the drafts box.

A DECLARATION

I love you all

Well, okay
Not every single one of you
But….uh you know.

Most of you
Let’s just say
The lion’s share
And leave it at that

Or not

There’s a wee handful of folks that
While I wouldn’t leave them to die in the street
Or throw them into a woodchipper if no one was looking
I might wish for a moment that
I could
Lack compassion and……

But it’s just as well
They are stuck with themselves
What worse punishment could I wish upon them?

So for them,
I will work to give compassion
But not love
Because they aren’t wired that way anyway
And they wouldn’t have the first idea
What to do with love if it curled up in their lap
And started making biscuits

Those born or becoming
Shortly thereafter
Incapable of feeling love
Or empathy
Remorse or gratitude
Mimics
Kabuki Theater played out
In the shallow end of the pool

And while that makes me sad
And sometimes afraid
I won’t waste my love on narcissists
Or psychopaths
Empty children
With incessant appetites

But to the rest of you
I do
Enthusiastically
Give my devotion

I love you all
Even if we haven’t met

Dreamers
Believers
Adventurers

Your bright balloons setting out across the sky

In contrast
The timid
The hopeless

Lovers of falling leaves and moonlit snow

The tender nurturers
The truth seekers
Champions
And guardians

Earthbound angels
Falling through the cracks
Wanderers at will

I can see that not all tricksters are wicked
I can see that mourners are not always sorrowful
I believe that almost all are redeemable

I
Love
You
All

Truly
What’s not to love?

Even if you doubt
Your worth
Challenge me
I will find it

-LM 2015 /2016/2018

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Abandoned Ship

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abandoned ship

 

ABANDONED SHIP

I’m not as hollow as I feel
My abandoned shell just off your sandy shore
You mock me with a gentle breeze

Whistling through my rusting plates
Leaving me covetous for the sound
Of life and laughter

Dreams unrequited, memories escape
The integrity of my bones slowly gives way
Falling in upon myself

Emptiness echoes through and down
Lonely passageways once full of light
Becoming a flood of sleeping shadows

A bird occasionally lights
Upon my deck in an animated flurry
To mock me trapped as I am

You wrecked me here
But you won’t take responsibility
Acknowledge all the songs you’ve silenced

And while I slip with time, into the sea
You are within my sight
But too far from the scope of my grasp

Are you afraid
If you took a step closer
My fury would rise up like a wave

Might pull you under with me
And push your bones up to the surface
Exposed, your carcass on parade

You trepidate, the thought of your insides
Stretched out, like some side show fake
Gelatinous sea monster who has lost his venomous sting

Perhaps the enjoyment of the taunt
Has outweighed your concerns
All of your doubts in their nest, little chickens

Clucking to themselves, oblivious
While you play the fox
Sniffing hungrily at the door of your own henhouse

More likely, you are as always
Ambivalent
You don’t know what you want

There is no satisfying conclusion
Standing in the sun, while you feign sitting in the shade
You are not Switzerland when you have an agenda

You can’t decide what leaves you shining
To sink me, to leave me or to try save me
So you just stand there staring from the shore

Gawking at my spreading rust
All my insides floating like an algae bloom
Turning into a suffocating blanket of red

Declaring that you’re helpless
All you can do is look away now
Let things decompose as they do naturally when left alone

LM 2014 – 2018

* A note:

I stumbled across this unfinished piece about a month ago. It’s been sitting open on my desktop begging to be finished. You may notice it has a poem within the poem. That was difficult to hammer out, but sometimes even a free verse poet likes to toy with structure. I actually began this poem several years ago when I was still working through my breakup with The Josh. It was not primarily about him, in fact it was inspired by the photo of a shipwreck.
This is one of those things, that in the old days, I would have posted on Facebook and there would suddenly be a flurry of angry badgers accusing me of it being about something or someone, that it was not. It generally encompasses our experiences of abusive narcissists behavior; spreading destruction and chaos then refusing to take any responsibility and ultimately only being concerned about their image and their needs. This is something many people identify with. It didn’t have to be specific, but I admit, it is ironic and timely. It just isn’t purposefully related to things coming to light, right now that I will probably write about in my personal blog posts.

 

 

 

Inevitable

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Inevitable

If you happen to be walking around your apartment
In clean socks
The odds are high
That you will unwittingly step
On the only
Three square inches
Of carpet
That have been baptized in cat vomit

And there you will stand
For a moment
Stricken and forlorn
One sock dry
Soft and warm
As an oven fresh bun

While the other
Sends a shock
Of cold misery
Slime seeps through
Coating your skin
And you’re twelve, touching fish guts

You will be too tired
To force
An appropriate curse
Past your lips.
But you will probably sigh

Resigned
And repelled
remembering fish guts
Or comparable grossness
With a vague nostalgic cringe

You will slip off your socks
And toss them
In the laundry bag
On your way
To grab a paper towel

And you will wish that cat
Could hand you
A chilled gin martini
Smooth and wet
And with none of the misery

Instead
She will chirp and rub
Against your legs
Like you’re the best thing
That’s happened to her all day

You will sigh
You will scratch her head
Take the paper towel
Scrub the vile spot until
It’s as dry as your one clean sock

Then
You will take
Your roommate’s shirt
And drape it
Over the empty cubby
She can’t resist

Her little nose will poke out
Past the curtain you made

And even though your toes
Are ice cubes
You will melt
From head to foot
Like butter in a hot pan
And forget all about socks

It wasn’t my fault…..line; oh yeah, it was!

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2018-01-27_12.54.32In which Captain Merphlepoof sleeps through an earthquake, Lorelei spends half this blog naked, there is some unnecessary meanness, but Nurse Practitioner’s Rule and so do Social Workers!

Sometimes insomnia is a blessing. On January fourth, 2018, while early-to-bedders were startled awake in the dark by the earth shaking their beds, I had all my lights on and was wide awake for the roll. My cat slept through it though. She is getting old after all. She used to be a very efficient early warning system. It wasn’t a huge quake, though it felt further up the scale than it actually was since this time it was close. It was also long and loud, I watched my furniture sway while my bed, my solid redwood bed, shook for about 20 seconds. If it hadn’t been deep, I suspect there would have been damage. The worst part for someone with C.P.T.S.D. is the sound. It was loud. It roared and grumbled. Inside the apartment, it sounded like things were breaking, but nothing was damaged. If it had been less of a roller and more of a throwing things up and down, that might have been different!

Because I was awake and had my lights on, I was impressed, but fairly unconcerned. I had exited the shower only about ten minutes earlier, another lucky break, and was sprawled on my bed naked. When the walls started to groan, I should have jumped up and thrown something on, but as the earth’s crust rolled to a stop, I sat still waiting to see if it was going to start up again. It felt like a pre-shock. I’ve been there before. And as I sat there in all my vulnerable glory, my Kindle started to ping as the flood of Facebook posts came in: Earthquake? Did you feel that? EARTHQUAKE!! That had to have been at least a 5! And soon the magnitude and location started being posted, and then the adjusted magnitude of 4.4.

26172839_10209870398387818_3866016165342914805_oTwenty minutes later, I was still au natural, one eye on Facebook, the other on my tall shelves, in case they started to sway again, ears perked for stony growls. It crossed my mind that perhaps a good aftershock was needed, at least to motivate me to put pajamas on. It would have served me right if I had had to run out in the hallway, but lucky for the neighbors, I didn’t. Merph was still sleeping soundly. Finally, she awoke and stretched with a chirp.

People were posting about their dogs freaking out. Merph yawns and says, “Meeeer Ma Meh” which translates to, “Pfft. Dogs. Such cowards! I do not bother to wake up for less than a 5.5. Pet me.” 

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I was still getting notifications about the earthquake an hour later. I’m still awake, because I would be anyway, but I now had an extra layer of anxiety.

The feed is homogeneous, except for one stray housing listing.

My feed looked like this:

“earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake earthquake” LOOK! This is very EXCITING! It’s a HOUSING POST at a rate I CAN AFFORD!

The earthquake was in Berkeley. Someone in Berkeley is NOT posting about the earthquake. WTF?  Oh, BUT WAIT! The WTF’s don’t stop there!
Continue reading

Queery

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*Not my best poem, but I still like it as a wee bit of verse for starting a new year. (also a not so subtle reminder that you need to send me to Scotland)

 

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These are the steps at Pedan’s Cove, River Ayr, Scotland.  Click photo for more about this place

Queery

Where do the steps go
I want to know
Do they go down to the water’s edge
Or do they only rise up

Can you tell me
Where do they stop and start
Are they slick and wet
Or dry and sure

So many questions
To pause and to ponder
When I could just climb them
And see

I wonder
Where do the steps go
Shall I go and discover

Would you like to come with me
Or am I on this journey

Alone?

LM 2017

Slow Start To The New Year

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In this episode: Lorelei discovers she may have a new spirit animal, finds she is losing patience with white fragility, and laments her lack of appreciation for brawny Scotsmen; if they are real Scotsmen (they may be American models in kilts for all she knows)

I Can Haz New Spirit Animal?

26165565_10209877033073681_7194738149102289868_nHaving an invisible chronic illness really puts a damper on my otherwise exciting life. We’ve talked about that before, right? Although, I suppose it is exciting never to know exactly what you are up to on any given day, eh? It’s like a spinning wheel of fortune at a cardboard carnival. Will I reach my destination today? Oh look, I won three whole days in bed, all expenses NOT paid, but a bonus party in my cranium! Hooray! A couple of things I can generally count on though: Chronic Lateness and Low Energy.

Messaging with to my roommate who was encouraging me to do…..stuff:

Think of me as a sloth person. I have a huge, “to do” list, but it takes me a full day to climb down the tree just to drop my weekly poo.

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And I realized that I had just summed myself up perfectly.

Damn.

Best New Year’s Eve Ever!

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Prologue:

The year started off with a magnificent full moon, but I forgot to go outside and see it. It gave me an excuse to thank my friends for putting up with all my Moon jokes in 2017. On social media, and in conversation anytime someone mentions, the moon, regardless of context, I almost compulsively comment as if they are talking about me. My last name is, Moon, get it? My sense of humor is not everyone’s cup of tea, but it is not nearly as groan worthy as my father’s was.  I blame my, inner 12 year old, my favorite, “get out of maturity” card.

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By the way, this gorgeous painting is by an artist named, Jana Ireijo. It’s only $450. If I had a wall to hang it on, I’d probably be batting my eyelashes and saying, “please” a lot, right now.

Part One: Not Exactly Flush With Festive Spirit, My Inner Virgo, Pulls Out My To Do List

I have to say, I wasn’t sorry to see 2017 go, but I wasn’t feeling particularly excited about 2018 either. My situation is still a challenge, my soul still feels like it is weighed down by a stack of pianos topped by a vengeful elephant who is not tickled by the ivories! The ugliness that crowns our country is still swirling through it the way that murky flood waters churn, hiding shit and disease, dangerous objects and death. I don’t see much improvement on the horizon without a proper shakeup. Yes, it could happen, but I’m just not excited.

I was so, not feeling anything, this time around that I couldn’t even dig up a smidge of envy at the revelers gushing of their plans to party and dance the night away. I had nowhere to go. I didn’t feel up to making myself shiny and putting on a festive face. For once, the idea of kissing someone at midnight didn’t even glimmer in my mind. My loneliness was barely a blip on my radar. I just wanted it to be tomorrow already, to mark off another day of gears grinding. Honestly, my apathy was liberating.

I didn’t have any work, but I have been caring for my roommate’s cat. He’s been traveling a lot lately. He was home briefly and left again without buying cat litter and I had already used up the last of LiLi’s litter, adding it to his cat, Ichi’s box.  Things were getting smelly. I had to buy cat litter for both of them now, and so I ended up at Safeway on New Year’s Eve with two plastic jugs of gritty clay in my cart, while everyone else was buying alcohol.  You know you have reached the climax of full blown Cat Lady Spinsterhood when you spend your New Year’s Eve at Safeway, buying cat litter for your roommate’s cat. At least I put on lipstick and combed my hair first and I wasn’t in my bathrobe. Go me!

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As if restocking the cat toilet on New Year’s Eve wasn’t awkward enough, I happened to step into line behind a former neighbor in the checkout. Continue reading