My Random
Self-Fulfilling Prophecies
by R 2 on Aug.22, 2010, under My Random, My Thoughts
Thoughts slipping away in to a world in which I create.
“You make your own reality.”
Where will I end up?
Not conceited.. more like…disheartened
by R 2 on Jun.29, 2010, under My Random, My Thoughts
Humans are so odd. I am baffled by how I can be one.
For My Lover, Returning To His Wife
by R 2 on Jun.15, 2010, under My Random, My Thoughts
| She is all there. She was melted carefully down for you and cast up from your childhood, cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies. She has always been there, my darling. She is, in fact, exquisite. Fireworks in the dull middle of February and as real as a cast-iron pot. Let’s face it, I have been momentary. vA luxury. A bright red sloop in the harbor. My hair rising like smoke from the car window. Littleneck clams out of season. She is more than that. She is your have to have, has grown you your practical your tropical growth. This is not an experiment. She is all harmony. She sees to oars and oarlocks for the dinghy, has placed wild flowers at the window at breakfast, sat by the potter’s wheel at midday, set forth three children under the moon, three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo, done this with her legs spread out in the terrible months in the chapel. If you glance up, the children are there like delicate balloons resting on the ceiling. She has also carried each one down the hall after supper, their heads privately bent, two legs protesting, person to person, her face flushed with a song and their little sleep. I give you back your heart. I give you permission - for the fuse inside her, throbbing angrily in the dirt, for the bitch in her and the burying of her wound - for the burying of her small red wound alive - for the pale flickering flare under her ribs, for the drunken sailor who waits in her left pulse, for the mother’s knee, for the stocking, for the garter belt, for the call - the curious call when you will burrow in arms and breasts and tug at the orange ribbon in her hair and answer the call, the curious call. She is so naked and singular She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid. As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off. Anne Sexton |
The Vine by Robert Herrick
by R 2 on Jan.20, 2010, under My Random, My Thoughts
I dreamed this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphosed to a vine,
Which, crawling one and every way,
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Methought, her long small legs and thighs
I with my tendrils did surprise:
Her belley, buttocks, and her waist
By my soft nervelets were embraced
About her head I writhing hung
And with rich clusters (hid Amoung
The leaves) her temples i behung,
So that my Lucia seemed to me
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.
My curls about her neck did crawl,
ANd arms and hands they did enthrall,
So that she could not freely stir
( All parts there made one prisoner).
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts which maids keep unespied,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took
That with the fancy i awoke,
And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a stock than like a vine.
Ella Mason and Her Eleven Cats by Sylvia Plath
by R 2 on Jan.14, 2010, under My Random, Poems
Old Ella Mason keeps cats, eleven at last count,
In her ramshackle house off Somerset Terrace;
People make queries
On seeing our neighbor’s cat-haunt,
Saying: ‘Something’s addled in a woman who accommodates
That many cats.’
Rum and red-faced as a water-melon, her voice
Long gone to wheeze and seed, Ella Mason
For no good reason
Plays hostess to Tabby, Tom and increase,
With cream and chicken-gut feasting the palates
Of finical cats.
Village stories go that in olden days
Ella flounced about, minx-thin and haughty,
A fashionable beauty,
Slaying the dandies with her emerald eyes;
Now, run to fat, she’s a spinster whose door shuts
On all but cats.
Once we children sneaked over to spy Miss Mason
Napping in her kitchen paved with saucers.
On antimacassars
Table-top, cupboard shelf, cats lounged brazen,
One gruff-timbered purr rolling from furred throats:
Such stentorian cats!
With poke and giggle, ready to skedaddle,
We peered agog through the cobwebbed door
Straight into yellow glare
Of guardian cats crouched round their idol,
While Ella drowsed whiskered with sleek face, sly wits:
Sphinx-queen of cats.
‘Look! there she goes, Cat-Lady Mason!’
We snickered as she shambled down Somerset Terrace
To market for her dearies,
More mammoth and blowsy with every season;
‘Miss Ella’s got loony from keeping in cahoots
With eleven cats.’
But now turned kinder with time, we mark Miss Mason
Blinking green-eyed and solitary
At girls who marry –
Demure ones, lithe ones, needing no lesson
That vain jades sulk single down bridal nights,
Accurst as wild-cats.
I’ve decided…
by R 2 on Dec.21, 2009, under My Random, My Thoughts
believing in God is like having an on-line boyfriend.
lol I was reading someone’s post and they said their Christmas gift to God was “undying love and faithfulness”
Anyway… been working across the river lately. That mall is dead. I remember when it was alive. I’m going to go .I don’t have much to say.
“Realization”
by R 2 on Sep.23, 2009, under My Random
Saw this bulletin on myspace tonight. From http://www.myspace.com/lllhsklll
Sooner or later, everyone arrives at a point where life seems to have become too big to cope with. Life is never really too much for us, but it can seem to be. When this happens, we have to get life back in focus. We have lost our perspective, but it can be regained.
You may have come to think of the world as unspeakably vast–the earth, twenty-five thousand miles around, and outer space, full of unknown worlds. But, practically, the world is limited to your house, your shop, and your town. Even if you fly to India or Paris, or Honk-Kong, your world is no bigger than the interior of the airplane, and no farther away than the nearest airport.
You may have come to regard the world as teeming with millions and millions of people. In Reality, your world consists of a very small number of people—those you live with, those you work with, and those you’re acquainted with.
And the awful, menacing future, that unending nightmare of shadowy days and years! Cant even bear to think about it. Well, quit thinking about it all. You live only a split second at a time; thats right this minute. You can think of only one thing at a time, do only one thing at a time;you actually live only one breath at a time. So stop living in a tomorrow that may never come, and start living one day at a time—today. Plan for tomorrow, but live only until bedtime tonight.
In short, that big bogey-man, LIFE, can be cut down to his real size. Life is only this place, this time, and these people right here and now. This you can handle—at least today.
Mirror Pt. 2 by Nicole Kovacs
by R 2 on Sep.16, 2009, under My Random, Poems
Although I reflect your pain and feel what you feel,
I can’t tell the difference between what’s yours and what’s real.
I feel so alive when people are around, I feel like a person- I’m safe & sound.
When the music fades and the light loses it’s glow,
I take a look at me and I have nothing to show.
When a mirror stands alone in an empty room
All it reflects is stillness and gloom.
I don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be,
I get to ‘be myself’ but what does that mean?
I search within myself and get totally lost.
Behind this mirror, emotions are tossed.
I’m completely deaf and wandering in the dark
Questioning my soul and trying to find my mark.
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