Unknown Space

Slightly delirious from Nyquil. Feeling sleepy, feverish, stuffed, but somehow content. These drugs must be stronger than I thought.

Too many thoughts were racing through my already cluttered mind as I drove home from work today. Pieces of poems that have yet to be written were the most prominent. I managed to remember the opening lines of this one throughout the twenty minutes spent in the car and this is what I came up with. (As with yesterday's post, the link to download will be at the end).

-------------------------

"Unknown Space"

somewhere between

what he sees
and
what she cannot(will not?)

lies the squandered, the suppressed.

bulging hips and
dimpled thighs,

crooked this
and
off-center
that;

every flaw for which she
holds
herself somehow accountable;

every reason for which she
feels she deserves
far less than those with

hips that curve like country roads
and thighs as smooth as satin,

those with
hearts that pull like gravity
and smiles that silently serenade.

she saw it,
once,
the beauty by which he swears.

well,
she will tell you that she thinks she saw it.

perhaps
she saw it.

well,
it’s really, very unlikely that she saw it.

nothing more than imagination:
interesting,
adventurous,
inviting,
exhilarating,

but, at the end of it all,
non-existent.

nothing more than thoughts
in passing trains
that have an omniscient destination
except to the man wearing the hat.

trust,
says he.

i do,
says she.

in every form
in every action,
she tells the truth.

trust was always easy for her,

especially when faced with his
blackened pools through which she could see
only light,
only good,
only wonder(she wonders what they saw in her).

but struggle still
remains.

pull her(won’t he touch her?)close
and listen to the off-kilter beating
of what was once an unbroken heart.

steady her head
as she shakes it.

kiss her brow
as it furrows.

bite her lips
as they fall.

she will believe him,
eventually.

someday(please, have patience),
she will find herself
staring from his eyes,

and she will understand.

-------------------------

Here's the Pages file and here's the MS Word file.

- May (you remember to nurture your spirit).

Adoption

I know it's been months. Many things have happened between then and now. Some were wonderful (many, most were wonderful), some were bad. Either way, life goes on and I am still here.

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of my adoption. I always write something around this time, usually poetry, and this year is no exception. I wrote two; one is rather sad, one is more accepting.

The spacing won't come out properly here, so I'm including a link to download the files at the end (there are two versions of each: one is a Pages document for all you iWork users, the other is a Microsoft Word document for everyone else).

----------------------

“January 15th”

one would figure.
in any other situation, it would
be more than(though
maybe just enough)adequate. one would

figure that something closely resembling
ELEVEN MILLION minutes(yes, you did,
indeed,
read that correctly)would give one(or two,
maybe three or four, if

you were daring)direction.

if not
direction,
then at least enough time to
hunt
down and locate a poorly-drawn map.

but these roads are many.
these roads are dimly lit(sometimes not at all).

dead ends are perpetual. i turn and walk yet
somehow end up back to where this involuntary

journey began. always back to her.

always in search of
HER.
i do not know her name. i do not know her face.
i do not remember the sweet words she may have sung
when my heart was not yet capable of gratitude(how

i curse it to this
very
moment).

i always imagine gazing into dark, dark eyes,
red-rimmed,
trying their hardest to avoid my own.

did i look at you, knowing they would soon
forget(how i wish i didn’t
forget)?

did they promise loyalty in return for yours?

how i wish i could have begged;
i would have pleaded, “my heart will be yours

if you keep me but a moment longer.” but i would
have promised you the moon if it
meant that you would love me.

do you love me now? from
across the
distant(so very
distant)sea?

our world, once together, now separated
by a pool of the Universe’s saline sadness.

there is no map to you.
i do not know where(who, what, why)i am.

PLEASE.

keep me but a moment longer;
i promise i will love you as i tried to eleven million minutes ago,
i promise i will remember,
i promise i will smile,

if you would only promise
to guide me back

to you.


----------------------

"January 15th, Part 2"

every thought
look
melody
question:
a boat

in which i am held captive,
in which i have

no c h o i c e but to

float

back to you.

accusations of false information(because
i am ultimately untrustworthy)from
mouths too

god damn

ignorant to fully
comprehend this from that,
those from these;

they are the worst and they are frequent.
they are the titantic of all vessels:

impossible
to ignore.
impossible
to forget.

tragic.
devastating.
but
somehow
beautiful.

i have started to believe that you are nothing

more
than something i have conjured(many things
are elusive fabrications)in this tangled web-mind
i have been bles(burdened)sed with.

yet logic and the universe tell me
that you must have

existed,

even if only for a moment.

i will

exhale my
breath,

pour out my
love,
bleed my eyes
dry,

so that each may fill a tiny
paper
boat;

i will

set each on a sheet of liquid glass,
salty and unclean and unknown
beyond
these shores of home;

and pray that they will find you,
pray that you will see them,

pray that you will know,
pray that you will remember(do these thoughts

haunt you when you wake?),


and learn
to let

you go.

----------------------

And, as promised, here is the link to download to see the proper spacing and formatting and things: poetry folder at box.net.

- May (you expect the unexpected, always).

Etsy, Etsy, Etsy!

I finally put stuff up on my Etsy shop! There'll be more coming soon! :) Check it out and buy something, if you're compelled!


Obvious Answers on Etsy, by May

Artistry

Inspired by the likes of one of my favorite artists, Andre Jordan (with a hint of Marc Johns), I decided to do some random doodles today. They're not meant to be works of ART as it's typically known. The point is to do adult satire with child-like drawings. That's how I see it, anyway. Plus, it's fun. :)

There are seven total, two of which are together. Instead of filling up your page with them, I'm going to post one and then you can click the links for the others!


"Approximations aren't usually accurate."

P***y cat has been changed to Vagina Cat because it's more politically correct.

I never could figure out how to do things to scale.

The ___ and the ___. They're actually mortal enemies.

Small print: May result in broken glass.

Thanks for all the times I climbed your branches. But seriously. Do something with your life. Get a job.

Don't press that soft spot. Unless you need a make-shift ashtrayy.

- May (you find the humor in everything.)