I am untethered
A green globe drifting, floating
Party balloon of the gods
Foiled favor gone too far, let go
Having given up the ghost
And denied the host
A proper gift, goodbye
I will not be played with
POP!
-a.r.
Painting: Green Balloon, by Tonya Engel
That newly stitched and fluffed
Quilt of clean and pristine snow
Simply covers and preserves
The piles of dog shit down below
-a.r.
Photograph: snow hills by savechip on deviantart.com
I cannot tolerate this crunch beneath my feet
There is too much gravel on the ground
Where I am going
And yet
Still
I step
I cannot abide this slicing into my bare soles
There is too much blood pooling behind
Where I have been
And yet
Still
I go
I cannot stand this isolated resting stop
There is too much dust untouched
Where I wait
And yet
Still
I sit
I cannot dwell on the rescue I may be wishing for
There is too much time wasted
Where I wonder
And yet
Still
I want
I cannot stray from this place empty and spent
There is too much unknown
Where I might end
And yet
Still
I will
-a.r.
Painting: The Song of the Lark by Jules Breton
no Self to be saved
no big You to the rescue
this Me fantasy
-a.r.
Painting: The Lovers by Rene Magritte
Last night
My lover made a claim, expecting ALL of me
Of loyalty and of belief, I cannot let this be
I reject this, my body will not digest this
All of anything is a lie, unless we speak of when you die
ALL of me is not up for grabs, not even on the table
I alone will save this painted face, if I am able
There is at least one card you cannot see
So close that I have sewn it directly into me
Mine alone, this fleshy vest, you may have the rest
But this old Dame, I control her play, one day
I will reach, with this hand, into my beating heart
I will rip these seams apart, and I will throw her down
This Queen, and claim her crown
Until that day, She and I decide how much of me
To hold, to play, to bluff, discard, or hide
Or perhaps if you are lucky
To let it ride
-a.r.
Painting: Judith II The Queen of Hearts by Karen M.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
My lover likes me restless
I must admit I like it too
Careful not to bliss away
Or distract with comforts new
A stark direction or idea
Could be born from agitation
Stay mindful not to kill the thrill
With too much empty meditation
-a.r.
Verse sits heavy on my chest
And hisses lines into my head
I cannot turn or toss it off
No sleep, but demon’s slave instead
-a.r.
Photo title and artist unknown
SHE.
Wild-eyed-wailing loud mad woman
CRAZY!
Spewing laced and racing thoughts
SHREW!
From her dark and sharpened corner
WHORE!
Dimming all your made-in-sparkle plans
HAG!
Unaware and unconcerned with offense
BITCH!
Chewing on your shit-shined-up clichés
COW!
Gathering together all the bits you leave behind
TROLL!
Creating for herself a shrill and singular dementia
HYSTERIC!
Ruling high and quick before her forced capitulation
QUEEN!
Reborn and formed again untouchable and touched
Madonna…
-a.r.
Painting: A Mad Woman by Eugene Delacroix
I cannot concern myself
With other people’s pride
When I have such work to do
Deconstructing mine
-a.r.
Painting by Luis Duro
I cannot let myself
Live on illusory comforts
I must plant myself firmly
In the mud and manure
Of mad melancholia
-a.r.
Painting: The Mad Painter 1981 by Enzo Cucchi
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