KICKED TO THE CURB LAMENT

harps-on-the-willows
Online art

One keeps living on,

but has no idea

how it is even possible.

Can lungs that breathe

no oxygen

still function?

Can a body with a cavernous

hole in its center

exist?

Can a mind with no meaning

still process thought?

I am living proof

of animated flesh

that no longer

has a soul.

 

 

 

 

THE CAREGIVER….

earth move
Art from Flicker online

Three lost days when I was sure –

it appeared –

I would lose

my first love,

my home, my mind.

His legs and life melted beneath him.

I witnessed my warm earth quake and dissolve.

One prophet said he was near death.

One beloved prophet declared the sands will shift.

Be prepared to act.

One prophetess told me his diagnosis

beforehand, and

all would be well and he would be well.

One prophetess said it is miraculous

how he has come back.

One prophetess sent me Light and promised

I would see God work this day.

Christmas '18

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Memoriam — To Hope

agonizing-wolf
Online Wolf Tattoo

“Rumor has it he’s the one I’m leaving you for.” ~ Adele

 

There is a kind of peace knowing I treasured you.

I always will.

You hurt and disappointed. I forgive all involved.

I love you still.

 

You can celebrate and dance because if this has been a duel

Of beauty, pride, making an impression,

Having meaning in life,

You are winner without question.

 

My life was a phantom of being loveless without you.

I’ll put in my time — whatever I’m due.

My essence was an unfinished sentence . . . .

I no longer have to be completed by the likes of you.

 

 

 

 

 

Day 4 of Exile: Pellucidity

 

MichaelParkes-for adul
Art ~ Michael Parkes

Longing for naked pellucidity,

hoping for carnal reciprocity,

begging like a bitch beneath his table.

In the end,  he was simply unable

to be courageous and transparent.

I do not blame him.

It’s the centuries of inbred obtusity.

Woe is me.

Woebegone are we.

 

 

 

 

Day 2 of Woe

goddess
He has faded like twilight shadows.
I am newly aware I could never please.
I recall his delight in me once sheltered from sorrow.
Oh, light many candles on my altar.
Grieve with me in silence over the loss of our joy.

SAD LOVE POEM

sad
Photo ~ my own

 

I delete 100 of your texts every day.

The years you and I conversed with joy.

     Texts gone.

There was a time you were eager to contact me

Before the world.

You were proud of me. (I am proud of you.)

     Texts gone.

You sang love songs to me.

We wrote poetry together.

     Texts gone.

You knew me more and better than anyone

Ever in my long life.

I know you better than even your mother knows you.

     Texts gone.

You were the one who had my confidence and trust.

Your family, home and friends were mine.

     Texts gone.

Over the months you backed away —

Fading more and more.

I became angry and sad.

You became angry and sad.

Then the fighting began —

Vicious cycle — so mad.

     Texts gone.

There never was or ever will be

Another love like you.

And yet you withdrew.

     Texts

     Gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE TRIUNE GODDESS: Her Personal Thoughts on a Man’s Sense of Entitlement

Art ~ Susan Seddon Boulet

My Dear Self, I need some answers.

From ego driven self:

How do I handle this being hot as coals on my head angry? I feel kicked to the curb. I have been used. I have been made promises that were never intended to be kept – misled — probably laughed at. Now my pain is being used against me. It tastes bitter. I invested self-consuming love and trust. Now I am cast aside.

 

From Truer Self:

Remember. It isn’t like I went in sightless. Is it wrong to choose to love someone? Is it dishonorable to give, even to someone who is giving little back? I knew. I chose to love based on examples of those who suffer for others and give, give, give. So, there are false promises that were believed at the time they were given. Big deal. No denying this person is delightful company. My joy is real. Even if someone else’s joy is not. That is punishment – for them to never feel genuine joy. I was sincere. No one can rob me of that. I built another’s new life for them. Their choice of dishonesty carries its own punishment. For me, no fear. No authentic loss. Maybe disappointment that turns into a lesson learned.

 

From the Divine Witness:

This has no importance. The True Source of You is present in, with, before and behind it all. Your serene power is forever protected. Deceit gains nothing. It cost you nothing essential. You are not harmed, but helped. You are not weakened, but strengthened. Your love has grown more fruitful. You have not become more imprisoned, but more free. Rest. I protect you from “being taken” – there is no such thing. I give you freedom to love. No hate can poison Me/You. It is all harmless.

Love and unified life win.

 

 

 

Loss I and Loss II

Loss 2
Photo ~ my own

LOSS I

In July 2017 I had a glimpse of what it is

to love the Divine above all else.

Seems to be the by-product of letting go voluntarily —

then having even more ripped from you.

There comes a point when you have nothing remaining

except a shred of Hope.

That is enough.

 

love B 2
Photo ~ my own

LOSS II

 

I know a man who lost his lifetime of work and wages

to the greed of one person and a system without a whisper of humanity.

Because of this,

within three years he lost his health.

Because of this,

he lost his balance, body strength, energy, vitality

and clear cognitive skills.

(His wife tells him, he has not lost his looks.)

Because of this,

he gradually became unusable to ones who looked upon him

as an object to be used.

Because of this,

near and extended family and friends

fell away one by one.

He is rarely paid much attention.

What he does not lose

is his serene detachment from his chattering ego —

his Zen-like one liner philosophy and

faith in the Joy of living.

Because of this,

he does not lose me —

his first love and second wife.

in conclusion
Photo ~ my own

Winds

woman and taz
online art

I am in the grasp of the Divine Taz,

This has been transpiring relentlessly for many months.

Sometimes the whirlwind is more than I think I can bear.

So I hold on for all I am worth —

which seems to be quite a lot —

and gasp at the swirling, breath-giving scape

from above, below, within.

I have sometimes felt unsafe, but not one scratch.

Many helpers whirl with me.

What better passion than to reel

tumult, reel

in the company and design of Holy Taz.

 

 

 

 

 

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