Post Election Blues ~ Love and Election, Night & Day

My love for him lives in little unreachable spots

Along with reality

My son’s eyes shine like his

Too late forced to let go of a lifeline

Of yes and no

Black and white

Cause and effect

The flow goes where it will

Time spears existential

I only saw his eyes

Mesmerized me

His life authorized me

Couldn’t see the sky

Didn’t realize

Nor analyze

The color of my hair

Eyes constant

They see what they think they see

What they want to see

How they want time to proceed

It’s the whole package

Entire gestalt – height, weight, hairstyle - length

Eyes know eyes or we think when we stare in someone’s eyes

Swear we know what we see

We know what we sow

We almost know where it goes

We know or think we know

Boudreau to Bordeaux wine map

Sanctity - Humanity

Only way to understand

Move ahead – my own private heaven

Hard to feel good in our political world

Affects me whether I pretend to care or not

Unable to move ahead

Live in fear need to survive the

Stuck here for 4 more years

Did you hear about the Buddhist Monks who pretended to have a sanctuary for lions & instead bred them for parts to make medicines?

My own private hell ...

How can we live in peace?

How can we force those in charge to care for our planet

Humanity is scary when people in power don’t value Earth’s health

Though we require it for survival

Anxious terrified

I tell you

TESLA HAS THE ANSWER

This is a love poem turned political

Because I can’t shut it out of my mind

On the brink of disaster, predict war, famine

Flooding ~ Now understand why the end of days is coming

Man destroyed by greed

Wars provide great economic growth

Biggest trick in the book is to make war

Standing Rock Nation’s access to water threatened

God, please help us in our suffering

Until combined we are strong

Winter has been coming for a long time

Now you know it’s finally here

We must work survive together

Think love ~ breathe love ~

Somehow ~ we must survive

I'M A REALLY BAD GIRL

They ridicule my nails – they’re so unkempt, with lined skin and chapped. Make fun of my faded “pink” hair when I fail to recolor it quickly enough. My son tried to teach me some skills and went and bought me a Papyrus card with an enclosed gift certificate for a manicure to try and show me what others expect in the way of grooming. I used the gift card to get a manicure and massage, both of which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Examine and judge me like an object there only for their enjoyment and disdain while they gossip about my hair and my nails. Really is this what counts? How I make myself up nice and proper and meet the societal mores? My nails, my hair, shaving for the beach – I hate all three.

I’m too busy and too cheap to take the time to enjoy the little things. Time takes its toll, year after year, cleaning and cleaning, rarely using gloves I clean without gloves to feel what I’m cleaning, to feel smoothness or roughness, to feel dents and bruises.

I think I’m confused by it all – why it means so much. OK, I admit it’s true it’s not that much money, but for me – I, who more or less consistently refuse to shave my legs and rarely shave my underarms, and who uses scissors to trim my underarms, do you really suppose this is what will take importance on my growing to-do list? I use opaque tights and the hair doesn’t show. I rarely wear sleeveless so what difference does it make if I only trim the hair? It really does burn and hurt my skin for two days afterward. It’s like heels – I can barely walk without heels so how am I going to walk with them? 

Oh, I hear the arguments now, “Your self-esteem must be affected by not doing these things.” Or, “You have to be nice to yourself and treat yourself sometimes.” And incredibly sometimes, I do carry through and buy these treats for myself. Perhaps in my entire life, I’ve had less than a dozen manicures. Well for sure, I can guarantee you I’ve had less than two-dozen manicures. But I do - do occasionally I do - do for sure.

Making Changes

I want to be Alice in Wonderland

And own her possibilities

Wonder whether or not to take the pill

See if this will give me a drop

On a nicer line-

Something with a better design

The sound of rain beating down

Upon gray pavement

Thunder claps

People pull on caps and hoodies,

Tent papers and plastic bags over heads

Still can’t escape the explosion of

Wet splashing, sound clashing

Hazy curtain of rain

Soaks my clothes through to my skin

Lost my train of thought

To the winds, the chimes

Of time descend

A gathering vine to the vibe

I’m a “wanna be”

I’m a “wanna be”

I wanna be graffiti covering walls boldly like Shira and

some old time guy – Crash one –

who painted graffiti on trains

I wanna be classical art like Van-Gogh, Degas and Matisse

Modern like Roy Lichtenstein, Pollach

I wanna be art covered in dead mosquitos

Visions of what we can and should be

Envelop my dreams

I wanna be actress, singer, grand some sports enthusiast

I wanna be poet, writer, Indian girl

Damn 3 percent Indian girl

Don’t you think I know it’s hard to be so many things

All at once, we have to climb high

Be many things all at once

I wanna be means I try every day

To be another me

Media throws so many me’s in my face

Every day I’m like, “Who am I gonna be today

You wanna be me

Try to walk a mile in my shoes

Yes it’s cliché to say but so true

I wanna be Halle Berry, Jenifer Lopez, Marilyn Monroe,

Debbie Reynolds, Beyonce, and Jayne Mansfield

All rolled into one convenient slice of pie

I want to be a Royal Purple Audi 500, Special Pass Auto

I wanna be best of the best, is who I Want To Be

It’s hard to be anyone when mostly everyone

Barely knows who they are today, or tomorrow

Our hearts immune to roars of despair

Controlled by media, the score, blind deaf despair

Back in the day popularly called wanna be’s

Now everyone’s a “wanna be”

Hard to know true, everyone imagines we can be

Who we want to be – nurtured by American dreams,

A society amiss with misfits who all wanna be too

Some few have the means to be more than they are –

I don’t fit in with the Jones, try to fit in

Wherever I can, yeah it’s hard to be a loner

Barely fit in anywhere, if you please

Plus I don’t have the means to fit it in with the Jones

How free would we have to be

To be who we you wanna be today

The controllers say

Free your mind,

I ask can my mind decide my identity?

Try to be, can I be who I want to be today or any day

Happy New Year to you all and to all a good night

Ooooohhhh did ya hear we’re all free

So free that all we need do is free our minds

Be friends with crazy Bob Dylan,

Joni Mitchel and Natalie Merchant

Hobnob with high society

Just a wanna be

Wanna be someone different today?

Will The Real Violetwrites Please Stand Up

For Fat Girls Who Want to Have Fun - I attest to this!

I love putting on wigs.

I love wearing wigs

I love feeling different

like I can choose a new me who I want to be,

a new self when I put on a wig, I feel freer

I don’t know how free I can be

I don’t know if I can ever be me

Because reaching for me

Is only the next reality

Of who I can be where I want to be

Want to be free

More of me shining through the alternative

Psychic reality of desire to be

To make a better me

Emerge from the light

Another new sight

Wigs cant make me a better person

But they make me feel bigger and better

In the moment of a cheating heart

my poetry flows like liquid literally

Each time I wear wigs

I feel I choose a new me I want to be,

a new self, I become because when I put on a wig,

I am freer

I say more because wig or not

I'm a chubby girl having fun wearing a wig

pretending to be someone I'm not

Wearing a wig or not

Wigs let me pretend I am who I want to be

And eventually, I will be me

See, I wrote this on Amazon for a free wig

And it was written by true me,

like with each new wig I choose

I can choose a new me who I want to be,

a new self when I put on a wig, I am freer

I try to be more than I am, bigger than I am

More of me than I am ever to anyone

More me, better bigger,

more confident, prettier, younger,

More precise in being a better me

Who am I

I ask myself every day

Who is the real me

Will the real violetwrites please stand up

Please Please stand up

Are you like me?

I’m the one I claim I’ll never be

I’m the one I try too hard to be

Laughing & crying,

I stand up to try to see who is the real me

I try to be the one I see

the me I own today

is the one I see every day