Tuesday, August 30, 2016

He's asked me to move to New York.

New York. ....and everybody I know on Facebook from back there wants me to. New York.... ? All my family originally came from there. Both dads. And there's the street and statue in honour of one of them there. 

Can't sleep.

And now Mr. DC.... who said I was just a fantasy.... even when I say I need to be by myself this still happens to me, only I am not concerned. I think it's funny, I guess. Amusing. What's he up to? 

Only, it's the whiplash.

That's my lasting impression because after me I guess..... how do you follow the nymphette queen? Who possibly can? I'm kidding. It's a joke I'm not that in love with myself. Not that. Maybe a bit though, I admit but at least I can admit it now. To myself.

New York? I was really starting to think San Fransisco for the art and the weather.... Or that place Kris described but-- Maybe New York-- it's the world in that city, it's alive with so many different cultures and interests and art. And I already know it. And know people there. Only that's why I left. I thought 

Monday, August 29, 2016

Bring me back


the obscurities we have chosen
stem from different places
like many of those pebbled roads we've taken
they belonged to different faces

We talk 
 lost in conversation
but in the morning I go 
you will leave me at the station

but even long after I've gone
I know you will stay with me
(4eva)
&never be able to circumvent 
You'll  haunt and linger, like your scent 

Steal my mind on repeat 

Like the way we connect
like the beds we wrecked




some day it will feel so far away and long ago 
but I know that I will remember 
the way
your lips spoke don't cry
and your eyes said good bye 

on a day bathed in blue
a different city and season my phone rings
and it's you 

So we talk all night as I sit at a station 
and get lost in conversation
trying to decipher
the way you make me hyper 
I get lost in your conversations
trying to decipher
the reason for your disguise, while lost in your alibis 

I watch the scenes go by
from the train leaving the station
and still feel your kiss on my lips
and their silent communication


this road, it brings me back
recalls all the old
and all the new, but mostly you
and all the things we said we'd do

I watch so many roads
they watch me back from their view
I wonder which to take
and what I'd do
Even as I know, they all
will just bring me back to you

the obscurities we have chosen
stem from different places
like many of those pebbled roads we've taken
they belonged to different faces
but they all will just bring me back to you

one day I will walk that track back
  and find you long gone 
but our initials 
traced in cement will remain 
forlorn 

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

song lyrics 1



Working on songwriting so this is the latest

 song lyrics poetry

arms, they are a vise
arms with things up sleeves 
they squeeze 
they pull you in

 because the strangeness    
the strangeness 
that was there   
 like stiff new shoes the first time 
had begun to give and soften
since 
the first awkward embrace 


some of us take longer 

to let the walls down 

some of us never 

and like a chrysalis 
and alien
had begun to form
some anomaly
a long forgotten riddle 



but then as soon the fortress walls
begin
to come crumbling down 
do those arms fall away
cold shoulder away 


as soon as 
it's all gone away 

as soon as 

because there are
the ones 
you don't know why you picked to let in

arms they are no friend to me 
don't wrap around and choke me 

(Chorus)

I don't believe in you 
       (anymore)
I don't believe 
        (remember when?)
I know you choke me every time 

it will happen to you but I won't be there anymore 
What you gave away so easily you 
                                          (Threw)
                                           (Away)
just as quickly took away (withdrew) 
and gave it to the next 
(We're through)

How can that be true, 
how could any word be 
what I once thought it ever did 
to you 

I don't know what I 
mean to you 
or ever did
because I don't believe 
you meant it now 

I think I coulda been n e one
I was just the one there
a body 
to wrap around 

& that makes all of it a lie

I don't know who you are 
I guess you never showed me 
I don't know who that was 
or why you had to 
why you had to 
why you had to 

why?
tell me why 
why bother 
why any of it?
why not if not tell me why you had to 
had to had to 
or was I just there

there had to be 

had to be 

y me

because you always need someone 

you can't be alone 
                .....what pulled you ....2 me when u said u wanted me

Because 
If you knew it was all a lie
why did you have to go so far? 
was it fun? a power high?
Because you are so good at acting sincere
I was so dumb to trust it
Every day I wish that I could rewind that away

Was I really so easy to replace?
 Our hours Our hours Ours
they are shadows, they are ghosts
dreamed by no host

they mean nothing to you 
they dream nothing to you 
and diminish every day 

those conversations 
those things we used to say
deleted forever by you 
 r u really so not true?
(and never were 2me)
is it true

maybe you never got me


not deep enough 
not smart enough 
not real enough 

 I thought you 
went in there 
with me 
I thought I felt u
deep inside....

arms that deceive

I don't know what I saw
Thought I saw
but what I saw
Wasn't you I guess 

Part of me part of you 
I was just a guest
In your best 
Friend chair
Musical chairs of friends of best
Till next

arms, disarm, arms once so warm have turned cold
arms once for me 
have opened to
another to hold
so willingly although 
Underhanded you feel no overhead 
to taint once it's Game Over 

did you ever really feel 
those things
you said 
was n e of it real 
tell me what you feel 

by the retraction of a promise 
free to go 

was n e if it real?
Reel
from arms
open wide
open free to fly away 
tell me 
was n e of it real? 

Monday, August 22, 2016

God, why is life so confusing? I've been sleeping for two nights-- at morning. Like five AM till ten. I think I feel safer when the sun comes up. Because as soon as I start to see the light, I feel the tension leave me. Then I realize how exhausted I am. I'm always holding myself tense. The doctors always comment how my reflexes are abnormally fast. It puzzles them. It's no joke when I say I have cat reflexes, people even tell me because I can see a disaster before it hits. It goes in slo mo. I once concluded as a kid that I can race time. Because it's like standing on a precipice and you go into the zone. I started doing this as a kid when my dad was hurting me. It had something to do with not wanting to let him see me cry. He would get a sick smile when he got me to cry. So one day I decided I'd never give him that satisfaction again. So , you're eyes tear when you are past your threshold of pain and it isn't even a choice, this just happens. So I figured this out as a kid after a few attempts of trying to hold myself back from crying. I just couldn't take the humiliation any more especially as he got such a sadistic pleasure out of it.... of course there was no one around to see it happen but this is what he did. So one day this was happening. Thrown over the ottoman to receive my punishment on my knees, so I'd get rug burn too. Every time. I think it's the surprise of the whip. It shocks you when it hits because you can't see it coming. So the body tenses which allows the nerve to be most open to physical sensation on the pain level. Because at the dentist they always told me to relax when I got the shot so it won't hurt as much. With this logic I convinced myself I'd do that .... the first time I tried it I realized it was bull shit. It only works with shots. Too late, because this actually made it hurt worse and I almost succumbed right away and started to but my dad said something like, "you ready to cry now?" in a taunting voice and even that hurt worse than ever at that moment but that is where I found the strength to become a masochist. The combination of rage and both physical and emotional pain sent me right into a kind of madness. Like maybe that was self hatred. Angry at myself for being the kind of person who had a dad that hated her and enjoyed hurting her. But I decided at that moment that things were going to change forever. I never wanted to feel that way ever again. So.... I started laughing. I didn't even have any tears. I told myself as the leather ate away at my skin with that sharp 'zip-snap!' (He used to practice cracking the belt in front of me) that I really loved how it felt. I didn't have a lot of success with that method either but it triggered a kind of inner fury that had me ready to face combat. I can step out of myself; I'm not really sure how I do it, but I never forgot how to do it since that day; and this is when time moves outside of me--no, I am outside of time. Hyperaware. I see everything at once and assess every possible danger in seconds and nailing down the escape so that before they know it's coming, I'm out of there.

I've been so spacey since I've been sleeping. But subconsciously rested! I haven't been dreaming for about a year because I can't stay asleep long enough for REM. I always remember my dreams too, and there haven't been any for a long time.

'Last night' (morning) I must have dreamed because I jolted myself awake saying "Dad".

I have been told I talk in my sleep. I have awakened myself by this about three times now but usually I have no recollection of it. I can sometimes tell while I'm dreaming that I am about to talk out loud and catch myself! But this time it was so very strange. So very fucking strange. Dad?

I never even called him that.

And I know that it wasn't him I was dreaming about because I woke up really happy from it. But I have no idea why. So, I guess I don't remember some of my dreams but I think that when I'm exhausted, when I actually go into like almost an unconscious deep sleep-- I get the feeling something intense happens in my head because I always wake up with that feeling like how you feel when you have just had the most satisfying sex and are so completely relaxed.

Why did I just have to make that correlation? Lowest common denominator strikes again.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

i give it my soul

Today it seems I am pissed at the world. Especially my phone. My phone is not shipping i-T with me right now. We are not getting along.

Such a weird day. Wake up wrong side? That's part of the problem; last night I actually slept. Technically that was this morning. But I've been going on little sleep for weeks now, it keeps me high, it feels like that but I can't help it because of the artistic energy lately. I feel addicted to the flow of energy of ideas that I can't stop myself from receiving. I think I've been touched by the Muse. I've never had so many ideas at once, it's a kind of rush. A rushing too. I'm always overflowing and running out of time in the day so..... I stay up all night doing them. I'm sure this would be bad news to the head shrinker. How can I care, though? When it feels like a giant dark cloud has passed me. I feel so free. So light. I want to run through a field barefoot like it was May Day. But don't I always? I'm such a heathen. I wouldn't do that naked. But I'd wear a gauzy Victorian slip modified to knee length with nothing under just to feel it touch me as I ran. Like flying.

I think I'm finally becoming a poet. Because I turn to beauty; I turn to Art. I depend on it for air. I trust it. I trust it will hold me. I give it my soul.

I see now that I am more fulfilled. I am Daniel Day-Lewis in Unbearable Lightness of Being. I've shed everything. I am free. Really free. Finally free.

I'm not getting trapped again.

Ever.

I belong to me. I don't want anything. I'm more happy this way.... I have chosen space over ....--the other. I like having my head to myself. I like finding out things I never got to before, and when I fuck up-- I do get really mad at myself, but I get over it and decide it was worth the fuck up. Your fuck ups say what you are really feeling and it's possible to stop hearing that.

We are our inner voice. We need our inner voice. I never heard mine. I heard it whisper in peeps for a long time though. Or rage out of control because it was stifled and explosive.

If hearing my inner voice leads to Narcissism-- that would be ugly and undisciplined. I don't see myself in danger of this though. If the explosives don't get released, it's hazardous to the surrounding environment. That's how I see it.

I think I would love to live like Merlin. Mostly alone in a cave when I'm not traveling the world spreading magic.

I would have put that down as my career ambition when I was at school if I could have seen it this clearly then. I knew vaguely but it was chaotic thought without actual perspective.

Friday, August 19, 2016

alternative means, not like them

I've lived twice in the state of Michigan. It went like this: met first husband at a bookstore. It was in New York on Long Island, in Levittown; actually, ten years later I met my second husband about a block away --at Pearl!-- after I moved back to NY from Ann Arbor, Michigan, where we had been living for nearly a year. But even before that, we had lived in Traverse City, Michigan for three years, where I gave birth to my daughter.

So, I had zero connections to Michigan originally. It's a fluke I ever found myself living here. And New York too, actually. New York was never what I imagined for myself in a million years, first growing up in Miami where I was born and lived until I was eleven. No-- wait, I lived the first year of my life in Jamaica. And I mean the country--not the city.

Only, the oddness of my destiny with Michigan began before all this. When I was living in Holland  (and there is a city in MI named Holland!) I seriously dated two boys from Michigan, Kelvin and Dennis. And about half of the American teachers at my two different schools in Holland (The International School of Amsterdam and the American School of The Hague), so, it seems for reasons I'll never understand, destiny fated me to be connected to this place. But it's weird.

People don't really understand when I tell them that I don't really feel like I "belong" anywhere. I feel no strong sense of nationality anywhere for myself. I mean, the only place in the world that I can say feels really like what I feel is my true home is the Netherlands because all my young adult experiences in life happened there. Everything major (besides losing my grandma and my close cousin) in my life. Things like: the first times I paid a cashier for my own purchase, the first times I learned how to ride public transportation alone and be responsible for knowing how to get around and get home on my own; my first kiss, first boyfriend, first menstrual period, first time I saw myself without braces, first pair of glasses, first pair of contacts, first real pair of jeans, first dance.... but more importantly, where my love of art really found definition (no better place than from the Masters), where my love of modern music first molded me into being someone who found connection with that strangely enigmatic named musical genre, 'Alternative' really left its indelible impression.

 in Holland it wasn't called 'Alternative music,' at least not that I ever heard. In Holland Alternative music was actually just regular pop (and England, right across the Channel, significant because English radio was all I ever listened to growing up-- literally I grew up on the english beat (yup, much like the band) and this is the kind of music Pop Music. But, Pop Music there isn't like the American kind. I've worked at several music stores throughout my years of employment in the states and the Pop Music in the US.... it seems to not really be taken as seriously as it was taken in Europe. I don't know how to describe what I mean except to point out how strongly the Dutch culture feels about the arts and the humanities. There is a very laid back feeling about art expression there even as it is taken quite seriously. They have much pride for their cultural history which maybe best illustrated by this provocative fact-- they have laws that are over 500 years old to protect and preserve their actual physical buildings. What this means is: when you walk down the street in Amsterdam you get to see the same buildings that Vincent Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Mondrian, M.C. Escher....etc saw too. They respect their architecture and their history and have a personal and enormous sense of pride-of-place.

My values have all come from those years among these people. I spent more time around the Dutch people than i did my own family. And my school! It took me two hours to get to school everyday. I'd walk first to the bus stop a few blocks from our apartment. Then I'd wait for my connecting tram. The tram took me to the train station. Actually, on the way from school on my connecting tram the tram tracks went right into the train station at Centraal Station Den Haag. It always reminded me of a James Bond movie; the interior was immaculate, pristine white, so it felt like arriving at Dr. No's!

Lost in daze

 Until I became a mom I never lived any where longer than two years once I left Holland. The longest I ever lived anywhere was first in Cedarhurst with Ken for five years. Then it seems with Chris I surpassed that . If you put together the two apartments in the same complex an actual move. We moved here first I think.... 2006? I'm so lost in dates. I stopped counting after the '90's actually. Like cos that is when time went warp speed.

We were there, I think ten. Confused. I can't believe I have an identity outside of Chris, because I think I got lost in the years of his morass.

I got lost.

We met right after my parents died. I was fucking his best friend at the time. Then I met him. So they now both have spent time hating me. I guess. Not that I made any of that happen. He tells me he is not going to drink anymore. But anyway....

See how it goes?

But I now have an identity. I'm not his girlfriend and I'm not his wife. Not exactly. I'm me. I get to walk around naked all the time. Which I do. It's a weird thing because he was uncomfortable with this-- so now I hate having clothes on. Or hardly any. I should go to a nudist colony. I have this weird new fetish now too. I take erotic pictures of myself, it's too crazy fun for words. And then I dance to "#DriveAway" in front of the mirror watching my ab muscles as I move to the music. It's fucking lame, I know. But it's my new favorite thing to do. Just because. I fucking can. And post some. Is it rebelling? Well, if it's fun is it rebelling? I think I'm losing my inhibitions. Finally. But not actually as far as people. You know because.... people freak me out. I should sleep why?