every bullet every shell every cartridge everything you fire my way, I collect. I dig them up from my flesh. I stitch my wounds. They are now my ammunition. one more spark and it explodes. You are surprised when it does. Suffragettes Feminists Women movements #MeToo I am proud to show my scars. Is this war? yes. But I can't stop fighting. You are the one still shooting.
Category: Occasional Poem
So much uncensored joy and love. Never ashamed, never embarrassed, never ending. I yearn to learn how to express it. I studied I observed I now understand I now comprehend I can see the outcome I can picture the emotion. Yet, when I try to recreate it all I have are puzzle pieces I'm not able to fit together. I don't even know where to start. Duh, I know you start at the corners and edges. But corners and edges is all I've got.
Napoleon was terrified of cats
cats have OCD - licking and
licking and licking the same spot
spots and pots and kettles
are all the same and all are black
black versus white and right
against wrong
wrong turn on the road and you are lost
lost treasure, a mere
X on a map
a map to someone’s imagination and dreams
dreams and nightmares,
who knows what is real?
real feelings of heart - a strange place
place that
turns into a new world
world that turns and we don’t even notice
it spins
spins and turns (again!) - i’ve been here...
here and there and
back again
again and never, love hurts and tastes so good
good deed will
get punished and innocent will suffer for sinners.
sinners and saints
both walk the earth and the Earth spins
faster than ever.
end of the road fortified walls doors shut be strong hands tied legs broken throat dry eyes blind be brave don’t weep laugh it off be alive.
welcome to my goldfish memory!
welcome to my goldfish memory!
welcome to my goldfish memory.
damn, i don’t feel too well.
art by ken wong – mistaken identity (www.kenart.net)
mercilessly beating the trees whirlpools of leaves in devilish dance tugging at my skirt debris hitting my face i'm hoping the gravitational pull of the earth will not let go of me
my fingers are like stones
…that makes no sense.
but it does make a sentence!
hahaha
i laughed out loud.
can you feel the electricity?
the tension? desire?
the lust, the love…
the missed opportunity
how deep can we fall
how dark can we become
for something so pure
glaring at me
laughing at me
i’m fighting with it
but its whiteness blinds me
