The Death of a Real Star

Today is two days after Xmas.  Princess Leah is gone.  Jabba the Hut anyone?  She was beautiful inside and out.  Come on, Lenny, Prince, and David, just to name few more.  In my humble opinion, Princess Diana was the beginning of the end of my generation of people taught to be obsessed with attention.  I would just like make it passed this years finish line before another exctremly influencial ‘Demi-god’ leaves us.  RIP Ms. Fisher. 

Daily Prompt: Tart

via Daily Prompt: Tart

A sour explosion as my teeth grind the mandarin wedge between them

Brief moment of disappointment in hopes for something sweet…

With momentary shock, I realize that orange peel had deceived me

My mouth is only searching for its next piece, baited and waiting

I pop in another, the chemicals coursing through my body

Much to my pleasured amazement, I push aside my caffeine

As the tart rhythm moves my body into the rising of the sun.JM2016

 

 

The Next Step

 

Don’t leave me hanging;

For your next best thing;

I will not wait as my wrinkles deepen;

You choose not to slow down;

As the voices bleed into the one;

Much to my dismay;

You will never wait for me;

Loyalty a thing long passed;

Love being the only  truth on solid ground;

In this dream of a world we call home.

I am always trying to think of the next step.  Especially with my life, I often wonder if people think the same way that I do.

I was born  before a PC  was as common in a home as a TV.  I was elated as well as extremely curious when we got a TV  with a remote and cable I was ten. So I seriously struggle ‘keeping up’ with this constantly manipulated technological environment that we seem to have created for ourselves now.

It is hard to commit to the next step for me, this world we now live in seems to be full of people who lack impulse control, so you are never really sure where you stand.  What is even worse it is okay!  I can feel like a million bucks and then turn on my computer and in a matter of seconds, I am over the hill, I have a disease, and I feel the need to psychologically re-evaluate all my relationships.

How do I teach my daughter that the things outside of her aren’t as important as her self esteem and self worth?  It scares me and yet I welcome the challenge with love and deep commitment.  I am a Jellyfish or a Helicopter Parent either way, my daughter, like my son, will know that loving oneself first is the most important thing when it comes to taking another step in life.  This is a tough lesson when faced with only a faint light a the end of any proverbial tunnel.  Especially after repeatedly  fulfilling the  demands and needs of others before considering your own.

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My Muse

My Muse

Thinking about my muse I think of a mystical fairy garden where she sleeps under a flower.  All I have to do is gently lean down and lift the petals off of her ashen pink skin so the sun wakes her up.  She never used to wake easily, but with time it has become easier and rouse her from her stupor.  She loves to wake up on her own, and if I let her, she could sleep for years if only nothing would disturb her.  Sleep is were she finds the magic of  rejuvenation and the all of her mystics secrets.  She runs if treated abruptly so she must be approached with a gentle excitement as to not scare her.  Our relationship is symbiotic and electric, I really miss her almost desperately when she disappears.

Now I think of her that way, when I first started my poetry experience I chased her, cursed her, and even tried to forget she existed at times. Strange how my relationship with her has changed like that.

 

She left me abandoned once again, and I predicted it this time;

I let her go this time, salvaging my energy for that poem or that amazing idea;

That always follows a creative hiatus.

I found her in a cave this time, under a blanket of moss;

Now she is peaking around all of my corners;

No misfortune it took, the pressure a welcome, long awaited invitation.

I love that she whispers words that float around in my soul;

Making my dreams electric, as she sings her mesmerizing lullaby.

Oh, thank-you my gracious muse for giving me a voice, with no sound;

She whispers and continues convince me too surrender to she charms.

Next time I will not let her sleep so long, I will keep my paper;

I have my pen, an invitation she finds impossible to refuse.