Venetia's posts with tag: beyond the veil
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 this was inspired by a Dr. Phil show...and life...it crystalized when Sacred Songspace offered a poetry challenge about fortune or misfortune... A Sacred Songspace Offering
and
A - Wednesday Poetry Offering Dressed in her lavenders and grays
she sits upright, in his living room chair
hands firmly clasped
the light softly sculpts, a delicate face
touched
with subdued cosmetics
although there are faint indications
of bruises
make-up imperfectly hides
her hair, is in a neat chignon
yet a wispy tendril
escapes
as she speaks
the words, are softly spoken
matter of factly, pithily uttered
but her intentions
elude him
he cannot quite grasp
the meaning
it is as if
she is speaking in tongues
each syllable is a hammer blow (she thinks)
as she says
no
this simple semantic
vibrates and echoes
but there is a look of incomprehension
on his face
much like a gambler
who has lost his life's fortune
at a Las Vegas baccarat table
so she repeats
quietly and softly,
distinctly even
no
never again
motherfucker
but he thinks that she is speaking in
tongues
 I love the slow silences
when you are gone
in this solace
I can hear my simple thoughts
not corralled by your brilliant opinions
"Silence" by Galina Pavlova - http://www.bestnetart.com/acatalog/Pavlova_Silence.jpg
I love her art...her use of color is amazing...I wish that I was rich..I would surround myself with works, from my favorite artists...travel...write...
 Note: I have said for ad nauseum, that I am inspired by my fellow poets and bloggers. My newest friend Karen, has an AMAZING poem on her blog: Masculine/Feminine Energy (An SP2 Challenge by Bunny) by Karen K
Broken Halves by Karen
Too many women are afraid
to be angry, afraid to be hard,
afraid to shout NO from the rooftops and rafters.
Too many women being taught
to be too nice.
Too many women liking their men
a little scary,
a little bad and mean.
Too many women give too much
and feel empty. Too many women need too much
because they give away all that they have and are.
Too many women feel
like sad, tired, scared, nice little girls.
To many men are angry and crazy for POWER,
when they should be angry they're not allowed
to be afraid. Too many men have forgotten why
they should be crying. Too many men being taught
to defend the world, the women, the kids, the weak
and getting all hemmed in behind their defenses.
Too many men liking their women afraid,
a little silent, a little obedient, a little in their place.
Too many men are weakened most
by their fear of being weak.
It's time to be strong and weak,
shrill and soothing, giver and taker,
soft nurturer, demander, mediator, pirate.
It's time for men to stop,
for women to stop,
for people to stop
being afraid to be whole.
It's time to find the woman in every man
and the man in every woman
and bring them together in a crazy,
rule-breaking, mind-blowing, transgessing,
wild, healing, perfect bout of wholeness.
© K. Kammann 2007It inspired the following poem....Karen forgive me, but I could not help myself....your poem is AMAZING! at five years old, I learned that girls
were made of pastel sugars and everything nice
boys were constructed of blue snips, slimy snails
and smelly puppy dog tails
at seven, I learned that Barbie was beautiful, Barbie was fashionable, Barbie had a lot of clothes, a plastic car and a dream house
and trucks were for tomboys
but boys could be loud and boisterous
rough tumbled and brave
at nine I learned that sobbing dramatically
was part of the feminine mystique
and boys were, never, ever to cry
even when broken
at thirteen I learned that a pretty girl could get away
with ritual murders and character assassinations
of the un-popular, un-pretty graceless girls
while demurely, smiling gracefully
at the manly strutting pubescent boys
at fifteen, I learned the clique had replaced Barbie & her dollhouse, plastic car and big blonde hair
and going to second base with mobs of manly boys, was frowned upon
unless one was a bad, trashy, nasty girl
the kind of girl, the old ladies whispered about
at seventeen, I knew that station in life
was critical
accouterments of furs and diamonds,
real houses and un-plastic cars
were signs of good breeding
and math and science were for boys and geeky girls
at twenty-one I was captured, married and caged
with those diamonds and furs
real houses and un-plastic cars
by my manly pubescent boy
at thirty, I was tired of his shit
and society's expectations
at forty, I bought my own damn condo
a hybrid electric car
and found out what it was to be free
and finally meart - http://www.borofsky.com/individual/malefemalecross%5Bi%5D/malefemalecross%5Bi%5Da01.jpg
Autumn leaves flutter past me
A barrage of fading avocado greens, golds and auburns
Flit and dance before my unseeing eyes
It is the autumn of my intentions
While spring's bright hope gave sway
To summer's addictions
Autumn shall give way to winters resolutions
To forgive and move on… Who said that the road to hell is paved
With good intentions?
His was paved with knowledge, built with clarity
and maintained with deception
And thus I can say, must conclude
He never loved me -
Though these words come hard
Quietly, with conviction I repeat
He never loved me -
I must hardwired the realization in my heart
reinforce it in my mind
And cling to my new mantra.
This must be the autumn of my intentions…
The winter of my unyielding resolutions…
When I forgive myself
for loving you
your true visage and vices
masked and hidden
behind a pleasing countenance
paraded brazenly, flamboyantly
with such deliberate deception and dishonesty
to the world, to me
yet
inside you bleed
incessantly,
from wounds and hatreds
self inflicted, willing embraced
they are etched in your psyche
your familiars
attached eternally
they trail behind you
or in tandem
wrapped and binding
somehow obliterating
what was once a human
part of your Faustian promise
or curse
entangling and trapping
those who would love
you
for this bright shiny penny love
romantic falsehood
I sold my soul
marching in time
to a deadened hobo-ed heartbeat
goose step by goose step
eagerly seizing the chance
to fall
captured
joining you in your damnation
yes, happily
I gouged out my eyes
chillingly
accepting those blind man blinders
forgetting
I was neither lover or wife
neither peon or queen
beloved or honored
existing in a state of abeyance
expecting
the words I love you
hoping
to be enchained with you
forever
I
became the star of my own Euripdean folly
awaiting a Deus ex Machina miracle
when to my dismay
reality caved in
and my love jones was
revealed
please don't ride my coattails
my garments are holey and raggedy
thriftily purchased and mended
expect no pearls of wisdom
no divine spark to reply on demand
I am as foolish and flawed
as any other
having no answers
that begs the questions
distilling no dreams
to gladden and inspire
at the end of the day
I am still defining me
how can I define you?
still you seek answers
advice, mantras and creeds?
then venture close and listen well
my friend
I once sold me soul
for love
neatly, prettily, provocatively packaged
tied with a rapacious ribbon
and sealed with his gluttonous kiss
all that was dear
held hostage
to be ransomed by lust and passion
kept at his side
by lies
forcing me to the threshold
of insanity
I eventually emerged
to become
a self contained unit
of one
remembering deep in my cells
that we are born alone
and die alone
listen and harkens well
my friend
this hard fought freedom,
these seemingly wise words
came at a hefty price
today I have nothing fragile left
to forfeit
no softer naive emotions remain in me
to entrust
having neither loved wisely
nor well
these lessons laboriously learned
were forged specific to me
I am ten feet from freedom
as I sit staring at the door
listening to another lie
eyeing you, watching you
finally seeing through you
as you dramatize another impassioned plea
devise another outlandish story
reprise more reasonable rationalizations
comprise sincere explanations
your words
are no longer filtered
through my right brained love for you
I am not your mother, father, sister, brother
there are no biological imperatives
to preserve
and service
this relationship
no genetic links
to keep me chained by your side
no legal contracts
to fear sundering
your golden tongue, like pyrite
worthless gilt mineral
I learned too late
all that glitters
is not gold
only capable of purchasing and oxidizing
me
exhausting until I could not breathe
as the lips kept writng
counterfeit checks
issuing meaningless streams of syllables
your soul and heart
would not, could not cash
being already morgaged
to your lies
you tampered and tapped the lodestone
once too many
the sultry, mysterious magnestism
no longer attracts
it is uncanny how
you repelled me
right out the door
you wanted
a balanced
unbiased
nuanced hearing
said to skip the histrionics
spare you the emotion
just keep it factual
the details bored you
the intricacies were irrelevant
you questioned my objectivity
and subjectivity
needing my passivity
as you reduced our relationship
to dry legalistic verbiage
you managed to gather
our twenty years of triumphs,
struggles and disappointments
the wonder at the birth of our children
nights spooned about each other
whispers of futures dreamed and anticipated
moonlight walks strolling hand in hand
plans of dual rocking chairs
as we watched our grand babies cavorting in the yard
and render them meaningless
when you decided to find yourself
a new
improved
younger
version
of me
to dandle on your knees.
upon my blossoming
you shroud me in black
veiled in a mummy’s wrapping
head to toe
emotions and freedom stripped and gutted
yet I bear no royal pharonic blood
nor am I deceased.
from the moment of my conception
when ova met sperm
and god, chance or fate
bestowed the double X.
I had been judged
guilty of Isthtar's crime
Isis's desire
Aphrodite’s beauty
a crime
for which I have no defense
before man and god
in my funerary clothing
these charnel house raiment’s
overt signs of your male honor
I have learned to
acquiesce, to suppress
obey, to survive
tread softly, less I offend
breathe shallowly, less I suffocate.
my honor rags of silk, cotton and linen
blinds me from the world
and
blinds the world from me.
I am garbed, confined and hidden
in plain view
my daughter and her daughters
and their daughters
also condemned
to this honorable
man and god sanctioned life
without hope
death is our parole.
 | Bandaid | Oct 18, '07 10:48 PM
for everyone |
being with you
meant
suspending my intellect, life and dreams
your dramas and emergencies eclipsed and encompassed the whole globe
it meant
responding to the growing abyss of your voracious, invasive needs
you were so captivated by your pain
it meant
existing as your simulacrum of Freud, Nightingale and Livingston
when you demanded, commanded answers instead of seeking your own
it meant
cementing you back together into a facsimile of a person
when your life invariably, endlessly fell apart
somewhere
along the journey
the constant bleed out
became a river
sweeping away my care and compassion
a torrent
shredding your wound preserving patches
and in the end
became too much
for me to remain at your side
as a human bandage
You wanted to be one
Said that we needed to complete each other
How many pieces of my soul
Did I need to eviscerate and divide up
And allow you to consume
Before you were satisfied?
How much of my inner essence
Did you make a proprietary claim on
Leaving nothing for anyone
Including myself.
You must have breathed in and affected
Every molecule of my being
A human endothermic and exothermic force
You were collision theory in action
Shattering and re-bonding me
Into permutations
Never intended by G-d or man.
My every thought
Became a reflection of your dreams and dramas
As I smothered on your love and care
Your pain
Your agony
Your life.
I died a thousand deaths as I disintegrated
Losing so many pieces of myself
As I was absorbed into
You
Lithesome, lathed curves,
smooth, warm flesh,
in a myriad of hues,
intriguing, unknown depths,
what tales does her breast hold?
Shall I tell you?
She has been veiled, bewigged,
stoned, and burka shrouded,
imprisoned in the seraglio,
convicted by sex,
of being less;
she has been worshipped and adored,
and when her pedestal crumbled,
marginalized and trivialized.
She has been steadfast,
warrior and defender,
of hearth and home,
weapons under one arm,
child in the other.
She has wept from joy,
and howled in sorrow,
bowing her head,
in final acceptance,
of the arbitrary dictates,
of man and nature,
She,
who has been your child's solace,
is Man kind’s home.
Shall I tell you who they are?
Makeda, Zippo rah, Hatshepsut, and Helen,
Women of beauty, intelligence and loyalty,
or of Zenobia, Boudicca, Elizabeth, and Mankiller,
Women of thunder, strong and bold,
of Sakajawea, Liluakalani, Susan B., and Chisholm,
Women of strength, power and dreams,
and of Trotula, Curie, Amelia, and Christa,
Women of discovery, curiosity and intellect.
They have been born in ephemeral Man Nations,
given birth to the meek, the brash,
the low and the mighty, the lover, the murderer,
watched as city-states burgeoned and bloomed,
across a pristine earth,
and sunk back into forgotten anonymity,
becoming the debris of history,
to be scavenged on the midden heap.
We hold the shades and the essences,
of those that go before us.
We are your mothers, your lovers,
your sisters, your daughters,
your child's solace, Man kinds home.
you want, you need
you whine, you bitch
I give
not enough
I respond
you rant
I inquire
you rage
I try again
you scream
I explain
you accuse
I walk away
you want to do this shit
all over again
| Eyes | Oct 18, '07 10:21 PM
for everyone |
eyes downcast, I am filled with a emotions that must stay
shielded and swathed
less the truth or the beauty in my gaze be revealed
or seen
I must view the world, my children, even a flower
from the corner of my eyes
or thru a filtered mask
face and figure disguised
and hidden
less a direct look be misconstrued
and my man's honor
questioned
and my life
forfeit
there’s nothing left for me to give
there’s nothing left for you to take
the love feeling
that I had for you
did not emanate from a bottomless pit
despite the captured preserved photograph
displaying artificial smiles
you kept as proof
of our happiness
together.
you took
I gave
and in the midst of all this unequal taking and giving
my feelings started to fade away
slowly, unavoidably, inevitably.
but it’s alright
and it’s okay
there’s no more hiding
no more rationalizing
no more posing.
where there was once a deceiving warmth
a coldness persists as reality seeps in.
what I thought was love
was sterile sex
a random pairing
a vague rendition of playing house
as I tried to lose myself
in you
never escaping from a loneliness
exacerbated and unrelieved
even when we were alone, together.
but it’s gonna be alright
and it’s gonna be okay
no more excuses need to be told
you are not the one
and
I am free at last
what a heady feeling.
I smile, then I smirk
the laughter bubbles out of me
this amusement
is a strange fit
a comfortable old baggy, worn suit
once placed in a closet
locked away
and I grieved
even as I sit chuckling
remembering all I had stored away.
in the midst of all your tensions
your dramas
your alienations
trying to enforce my submission
to your will
I had lost the ability to laugh
at your bombastic pronouncements
pretense announcements.
was the person that was me
so terrible
you needed me to wither and die
that even my laughter and joy
was viewed as rebellion?
so now I have to retrieve and grow
back into this old comfortable suit
and learn to laugh
without the tears...
remembering that
emperors and tyrants
never had any clothes
to begin with.
I watched my surroundings carefully
knowing of his malevolence
if I could not live unhappily with him
then he would ensure that I did not
live at happily all
I knew that he lurked in shadows
like amanita phalloides
thriving in darkness
but I chose life and
bloomed despite his presence.
I felt eyes everywhere I went
the scent of the evil almost smothered me
the miasma of his disorder
cloyingly parasitic
as I walked down streets
deciding to live my life.
I knew he wanted to keep me a prisoner
in my mind
stalking me
family enabling his insanities
watching my every movement
all the while
declaiming his love for me
inundating me with messages
strangling me with his concern
and trying restrict my freedom
with bizarre controlling rages.
he was a shark, a predator
sniffing for blood and fear
mindless in his lust
for revenge
of imaginary wrongs suffered.
yet
he never looked in the mirror
and viewed the monster in the mirror
that I saw every damn day
until I cried
enough
in this expectant tidal silence I dare breathe how quickly your exhortations, demanding exhalations wash over me as I drown in the sea of expectations
She was the archetypical, stereotypical
deer caught in the headlights
stunned and pinned by indifference
modeled and molded
while sacrificed to various philosophies
defined by genitalia
manipulated by the dollar
medicated by witch doctors
redirected by media
she finally looked in the mirror
and saw no reflection
as her mirror cracked
| |
