Category Archives: Thinking Aloud

At All

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I go through the motions, put a smile on my face
Oh I’m just fine to those who call
Only one could pull me from this dark space
But you’re gone,
So I don’t care at all

Every time I think I’m doing better
The pain holds me in tighter thrall
And I know you’d hate that I’m like this
But you’re gone,
And I don’t care at all

I know I should be better off than I am
But I also know I just don’t give a damn

When it’s all about “Tis the season”
I still hang garland from doors and walls
I once loved the holidays without reason
But you’re gone,
So I don’t care at all

El Sol churns out yet another day,
The flowers bloom, then leaves fall
Luna glows oh so marvelous they say
But you’re gone,
And I don’t care at all
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 76 – Holiday Edition

Start Somewhere

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 I run my days in such haste
No one thought has time to land
Barely having time to care
I must start somewhere

A still pool of water calls
With a dare to simply glance
A tired me shimmers there
I must start somewhere

Natural needs pushed aside
My all to all but me
For the sake of my welfare
I must start somewhere

I free my mind of clutter
Donate a moment to peace
In awe find a moment spare
I will start with prayer

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Today’s Form:  The Kouta

Kouta – KOH-OU-TA (Japanese: little song) A broad classification for several varieties of short songs from traditional to popular which is most often associated with the songs made popular in the pleasure quarters of Edo (old Tokyo) where they were often composed and sung by geisha to the accompaniment of the shamisen.

Kouta has two forms, both four lines. The first has a syllable count of 7-5-7-5, and the other has a count of 7-7-7-5.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week: 71

Query…

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So, a friend posed an interesting query in one of my Facebook groups:

“So here’s the question. If you there was a button that you could push that would give you superpowers but would also permanently change you to the opposite gender – would you push it? Would it be a hard decision, whether your answer was yes or no? Or is it an obvious choice?”

My initial response was heartfelt No!  I enjoy being female in this modern-day and age.  For all the roads we have yet to travel equality wise etcetera, so many more have opened up for women just in the past hundred plus years alone it is a great time to be female.

But then I stopped thinking about me, and me being me, went and did what I always do and over thought the hell out of it in a generic sense.

In a transgender scenario, the flip to the opposite sex is obvious, having a superpower to boot is a bonus. This sex switch mostly becomes of interest for the cisgendered.

What of the woman who now has all the physical characteristics of a male, but her heart and soul would remain feminine?  If the new body build is proportionate to the original (a tall, fat male becomes a tall, fat female etc.), I’d say that is going to make the desire to wear a dainty dress interesting.  Is she in drag now?

Let’s go down to another level, sexuality.  A hetero male is now in a woman’s body. His sexual preference is still for females – you just know someone is going to ask if this now makes him a lesbian.  Yes, he can now teleport, but can he handle the perception of being gay?

And speaking of perceptions….

This is looking at it from the view of the person who chooses to push the button.  What of the married hetero female, who did not choose to switch and power up, who now has to deal with having a wife? What if they live somewhere that does not recognize gay marriage? Hell, what if the husband, in his new bodacious female body, is even prettier than she?  Trust me – some women are going to go there.

Oh, that rabbit hole is getting pretty damn deep there isn’t it, Alice?

Now let us swing that spot light from the generic back to specific -aka me- again.

Would I be willing to trade being a female to have the ability of flight, telepathy or telekinesis, shape-shifting or a myriad of other self-serving powers? Absolutely not.

However, what if with a push of that magical button I have the ability to heal?

  • With just a simple touch – the mangled body from a car crash – restored.
  • The baby born with a deformed heart – now whole.
  • Make that virulent cancer not just go into remission, but disappear as though it never existed.

I’m not a girly-girl. Never having to wear a dress (or bra), again would not hurt me in the least. I think I have strong masculine features in my face anyway, so other than a change of hair and not bothering with make-up would also be a bonus. My friends who know me well already say I think like a male in so many ways, personality-wise I do not think it be much different. And to top it all off, I do love my men and my women, so even sexually I’m still in a good place.  At this stage in my life, I may very well be one of the best candidates for that particular button pushing.

Were I still married and raising my children, I know I would likely turn it down without a second’s thought or regret. However, I am not married and my children are very much adults.

So if I can heal others, would the adjustments to my new body, both physiologically and psychologically, outweigh the greater good of all I can eventually help?

In all honesty, once again, I have to answer Absolutely not.

As the TV show would ask – What Would You Do?

I’ve Got The Look…

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All mothers have a certain look in which their children instinctively comprehend to mean  stop and desist NOW.  I do not care how “no mannered”, “fresh”, “no home-trained” et cetera the children may be, all instinctively understand the most powerful wrath short of the Lord Almighty’s is about to reign down upon their little souls and behinds should they continue with the offending activity.

There are the mothers whose look will only work on their own progeny. There are the mothers in which the look not only works on their children,  but other family members’  children and sometimes the neighbors’ children.  And then there are the mothers. Those special mothers who can utilize the look with such force, that even the children of complete strangers will take heed.  It does not happen often, for I realize I have to be in a certain mood and the child involved must have seriously crossed my invisible line of intolerance for it to be at maximum force, but I am definitely among the last group.

That being said, while all mother are capable of that look, not all mothers have the ability or the desire to use to its full potential and that is a shame. Mothers who cannot put the fear of Mom unto their little darlings at a very early age are soon victimized by the tiny terrors they’ve brought forth unto this world.  I ran into one of those unfortunate types this morning.

I heard the mother already pleading with the child the moment the subway doors opened.

“Sweetie won’t you please sit down.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself!”
“Didn’t I say sit down, Sweetie?”
“You’re going to get a pow-pow.”

The mother did not say “Sweetie” I’m using it  instead of the child’s actual name to protect the little hellion more so than the parent.  I also cringe when parents of young children use cutesy names for things. If you are about to discipline your child, the child should fear it. It is not a “pow-pow” it is a “spanking”.  Children do not fear the cute, especially when spoken in that sing-song sugar coated speak most adults reserve just for young children. Sweetie was not that young and I’m guessing having heard such idle threats all his young life, this child was no exception.

I partially read my book, partially listened to my music and partially watched as I sat across from them.   The little boy climbed up and down from the seat, swung on the pole and yelled back at his mother in turns. Several people were giving the mother the stink eye as Sweetie ran among them nearly causing one passenger to spill her coffee and causing another to trip. Mother would apologize, yell at her child, the child would be still for all of two seconds and then the boy was off again.  Even as the train became crowded he still misbehaved, just contained his mini-mayhem to a smaller area.

At some point a woman who had had enough touched Sweetie on the arm and nicely suggested that perhaps the child should sit. Sweetie turned around, screamed at the woman from the top of his lungs on how she is not his mother and hit the woman with the plastic bat he had in his hands.  The mother grabbed the bat from him and apologized to the woman. This was twenty minutes after I first embarked and now even I had had enough. I took off my ear buds and put my iPod and the book I’m reading in my purse and stood just as Sweetie turned around and started to run.   Right on cue Sweetie accidentally ran into me. He spun around and raised his hand as though to hit me and I’m guessing that was the moment it happened.

The Look had made its appearance.

I raised an eyebrow at him and whatever he was thinking about doing, he rethought it as his hand slowly came down to his side.

“Say ‘I’m sorry. Excuse me.’”  I looked down on him.

“I-I’m sorry, excuse me.” He echoed contritely, taking a step back.  I heard someone exclaim “Daaaamn!” as I pointed at the boy and then at the seat next to his mother. Without another word exchanged, he picked up a toy that was on the floor and sat down close to his mother looking at me penitently.  The mother looked at me balefully as though she was about to say something and I looked at her waiting for it.  She thought better of it also, putting a protective arm around Sweetie as I returned to my seat.  There was a small bout of applause as I sat down, put on my iPod and returned to my book. The man sitting next to me looked from me to the kid and back “How’d you do that? And can you please teach my wife?” I just smiled, shrugged and returned to my reading.

A chapter or so later I realized it was still quiet. When I looked across the aisle from me Sweetie was fast asleep. The mother still looked like she wanted to do me bodily harm, but I was not worried about her. A few stops later, she and Sweetie disembarked.

Someday, someone is going to be there when I give some unfortunate soul “The Look” and have his or her cell phone camera ready to capture the moment. Obviously, I have no idea what I look like when I use this unique expression, but it apparently has some mystical power in it and I would really like to see it for myself.

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Slice of Life Story Challenge

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

Thanks for nothing, Disney & Barney’s

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First Disney and MAC Cosmetics pulled out the cyber liposuction on Disney’s Ursula character for their Venomous Villains line in the spring earlier this year. Now with the help of Barney’s, Disney is out to ruin more childhood memories by transforming their classic icons Mickey, Mini, Daisy and Goofy into modern-day runway models…

Women’s Wear Daily: http://wwd2.wwd.com/eye/design/cartoon-capers-barneys-new-york-the-walt-disney-co-team-up-for-holidays-6202984

They say it’s a team-up, I say it’s just another subconscious gang-up on the psyches of girls and women. Another under the table way of saying taller and skinnier is better. It’s one thing to make Mickey, Minnie and Daisy slimmer. That is annoying enough in it’s own right, but not surprising in this current social climate of the slender body image. What is the deal with making them several inches taller to boot?

If even fictional characters must redesign their bodies to fit some designer’s clothing, what chance do most of us poor humans have of such? Because heaven forbid, those same designers actually design the clothes to fit their bodies, let alone ours.

Come the hell on it’s Mickey, Minnie Goofy and Daisy for Pete’s sake! Changing Ursula was bad enough, she was a secondary character, but this? This is just insane. Do you know why they are iconic characters? Their basic look does not change – that is what makes them icons.

“The standard Minnie Mouse will not look so good in a Lanvin dress.” explains Barneys’ creative director, Dennis Freedman. I call bullshit on that. Did Lanvin and company even try to design for the character’s bodies as they are? We know it can be done in two words: Miss Piggy.

A hot commodity in haute couture, her “weight” may go up and down, but Miss Piggy is always fierce, fabulous and unapologetically fat.   Proof is in the porker that designing for iconic fictional characters, without changing that which makes them iconic,  can be done with something Lanvin and company obviously do not have – imagination.

What’s next? Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren designing pants for Pooh Bear? Barney’s, but especially Disney should be ashamed of themselves. Children’s characters should not be yet another mirror of some unattainable ideal for adults. Children’s characters should be remain just that children’s characters.

Time Drawing Near

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‘Aladdin’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’ no longer hold a charm
‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ have lost their sway
The sound of glass breaking, holds not the same alarm
When I could conceive a multitude of frights just yesterday

Macaroni and glitter artwork, stuff that used to be bane
Along with a medal made of paper, in the scrapbook
A box with a bundle of model trains and cars and planes
Memories past, that bellow for a just another look

Emphasizing the second syllable of the word every
The volcano project that was quite a bit unstable
The melted chocolate cookie smile used to distract me
From the crumbly mess left on the kitchen table

The children who couldn’t fib, looking me in my eyes
The kids I couldn’t trust not to burn the toast
The brats who threw a party and told straight-faced lies
When confronted with evidence of their being such gallant hosts

The con-men who know ‘Please mother?’ from ‘Mommy PUH-LEEZE??’
The house slaves with laundry finished and dinner cooked, ready to serve
The hooligans who greet me at the door when I take too long fumbling with my keys
The young men who offer the aspirin, sensing I’ve had a day that tested my nerves

These days I find myself staring a little longer at their faces
And the tones of their voices, to my memory, I try hard to adhere
Some mother’s instinct I suppose, preparing for empty spaces
That once remote chance of their leaving, now drawing near
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 65

For all its potential…

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We are all wounded.
We are all fucked-up.
We are all scarred.

Some of us are a hell of a lot more jacked than others. And not all of our scars are on the outside.

Some of us are equipped to deal with it.
Some of us are not.
Some of us don’t even want to try.

We try to tend to our wounds, control our persons in our own ways…

Some drink; some get sober.
Some starve; some binge.
Some find Jesus; some lose Him.
Some chose to sleep alone; other choose to sleep with anyone/everyone rather than be alone.
Some are adrenalin junkies, crowd seekers; some become hermits.
Some draw, paint, write, create.

And some of us wake up to a tear drenched pillow yet again, but don’t remember crying…

Some of us do any combination and/or all of the above in our lives.

These are our realities…
How we dull the pain…
Silence the noise …
The ways in which we attempt to overtake that which threatens to overtake us…

For all its potential, this world can be such an ugly place sometimes.

It’s up to us to find / carve out our own individual niches of beauty within it, to survive the best we can during our time here because the alternative sucks and neither side has a reset.

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Found this written on a paper tucked in a book while I was cleaning. I hadn’t read the book in years, so I’m not sure when I actually wrote it, but it was definitely my handwriting.

I scare me sometimes.

Triple A…

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Some say I’m a nympho
And that’s quite all right.
And hell yes! I do love it so!
But only one fills me with delight

He calls me his Triple A Pet
Anytime, anything, anyplace I can get

Anytime

Soft as the murmuring breeze of a new day’s dawn
When the evening sun is about to set
An afternoon thunder shower should the mood spawn
Or perhaps during a midnight buffet

Anything

Going out commando on a dare
With nothing over my shape but a very short coat
Then sitting open in a park getting air
While he presses buttons on that special remote

Anyplace

Members of several airport’s Mile High
In the nose-bleeds, for a Knicks game at MSG
The feast at The Great Wall still bring me sighs
The weekend in the brink for the stunt at Wrigley

And I know it’s just not my predilection
Anytime – Anything – Anyplace
For he suffers from the same affliction

In limos, in cars, in buses, in trains
In a taxi during rush hour, against the door
I think we’ve hit every state except Maine
In a hotel picture window on the second floor

Anyplace

Swinging wildly with our motion
Re-enacting the latest porn
At Macy’s taste-testing lotion
And yes, that cob of corn

Anything

The times the reason how they vary
It’s not for food when we go for brunch
One crooks finger the other doesn’t tarry
At my office 3pm, because I needed to munch

Anytime

Anytime, anything, anyplace that he can
I call him my Triple A Man

Manual, anal, oral, it doesn’t end
With but a moment’s loaf until recur
To each me he’s the perfect godsend
That doesn’t mind if you call him a satyr

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Hyde Park Thursday Poets Rally Week 73 (September 20 – September 26, 2012)

Still Pissed…

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Yes, this is an Akin rant, because I am still pissed….

Is there is a dearth of viable children available for adoption via the usual ways as is, that we have to use legislature to replenish the stock?

The moral majority has the right to have their opinion on who, what, when, where, why and how and for that matter how many we choose to use our vaginas. After all, it is just opinion, and like assholes, almost everyone has one and it has little bearing on how we lead our sexual lives except where we choose to let it. As the kids say “YMMV”, but I personally do not give a fuck.  Actually, that is not true, I do give and receive fucks – not as any wear near as much as I’d like, because I do have standards after all, but I digress…

The moral majority however does not have the right to legislate what we, as a legal adult females of sound minds and bodies, will allow in or out of our vaginas voluntarily (the harm to animals big and small not withstanding – because I know some idiot reading this is going to think it).  They damn sure should not get to lay down the law on all females simply because it goes against the moral/religious stance of some. Attempting to define what is considered “rape” and then what to do with any potential pregnancies that may result from it, by people –the majority of whom are male and one of whom, who apparently did not pay attention in sex-ed and does not know shit about basic reproductive biology- has galled me to no end, especially this week.

Forcible rape. Date rape. Statutory rape. Guess what they all have in common?

They are all still RAPE.

This is punishing the victim on a grand scale. We all know for all the rapes reported, there are so many more that are not. Therefore, the responsibilities any pregnancies resulting from such -for those females who do not have these mysterious magic vaginas that shuts down and blocks insemination when being raped as Akin stated- are solely on the female. I know there are states that will uphold rapists’ rights to fight for custody of their children should they be so inclined (which is whole other level of punishing the victim), but is there a law that mandates all convicted rapists who father children must take full responsibility of them whether they want to or not?-No.  However, whatever spawn is planted in our wombs we may soon be ordered to give birth to whether we want to or not.

If the woman is not crying bloody murder about the event, she asked for it? Tell that to the woman in an abusive relationship that hasn’t found the courage to leave yet.  Maybe the college girl hanging out with someone she thought was a friend and is slipped some GHB in her soda will be okay with it, but I doubt it. Does anyone remember back in the late 80’-early 90’s when women were taught to not fight, but just lay there and take it because they were more likely to live through it? Tell that to the women who heeded such advice. Perhaps the 10-year-old girl taken advantage of by a male family member who was too scared to say “no” that she (and let us be honest her mother also), must keep the lovely memento left behind as a reminder for the rest of their lives?

And really, even if the female (or mother of the female), CHOOSES to keep the child due to her own personal reasons, would she want the father to be in the life of the child?

And just for the sake of devil advocacy – let us take rape out of the picture altogether.

I am a middle-aged peri-menopausal woman who already has two adult children and damn sure does not want any more. How much do you want to wager -should I find out the condom broke- just how ecstatic I will be to learn that I just re-upped for a minimum 9 month, but potentially another 18-24 year gig due to government decree. I love my sons, but I have raised them and they are living their own lives now. Raising children to adulthood is work and my job is done. I have officially entered consulting mode for which there is no chance of being let go from my services and I like it that way. I am not starting over, nor am I putting the child up for someone else.  I am saying it right here in print – if it becomes national law and I would have to give birth to said child – there will be a “vacation” to another country in my immediate future and I guaran-fucking-tee you I will not be the only one.

As I will be out of the childbearing game soon enough, this really isn’t about me any more.  It is for all the other females of this age on whom such legislature will affect.

Most of the ones attempting to control our wombs and lives through such laws were not around, or old enough to really remember life before Roe v. Wade.  To them and to the ones who think I’m blowing it out of proportion and need to let it go, I’m telling you, if we don’t wake up and continue to fight to keep these from becoming laws, we’re all going to be pretending we do not know about the many uses of wire hangers again within a few short years.

This was my Facebook status Monday morning:

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (regarding the ongoing trend to legislate the female body below the belt): I am a grown ass woman, the only persons who have any “legitimate” say about what is allowed to come out of my vagina are my gynecologist whose job is to check it out and the lucky ones I voluntarily allow in.  All else need to Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

I feel as though I have spent the past few years explaining/defending/exercising my right to control my own vagina so many fucking times, I’ve had it up to here *levels palm just above pubic area*

Or as my girl ‘Monds likes to say ‘Iz ded”.

It’s Thursday and I am still pissed…

In the Shadows of the Night

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In the shadows of the night
With a bright moon above
I lay here longing
For a chance at love

Each morning sun I rise
Hoping I find the one for me
Each night I go to bed
With my heart still empty

I’ve since long proven I can make it on my own
Now I’m just so tired of being all alone

In the shadows of the night
My heart I’m willing to share
But it don’t mean just any fool
Is going to be welcomed there

I once rushed too soon to someone
Who brought me nothing but pain
That was one hurt, one too many times
I don’t need to go there again

A man of faith, a man of heart, a man of his words and deeds
A king custom made for this queen, Lord you know what I need

In the shadows of the night
I offer my plea; my prayer
You built this vessel of love
But my cupboards are bare

Am I paying for some sin?
Did I transgress somewhere?
Is this how I repent?
Will no one ever be there?

Your daughter’s pleading, prostrate with hands clasped tight
Oh please release me Lord, from this harsh plight
How my heart is aching, in the shadows of the night

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It’s been a grr week…

Slice of Life Story Challenge

The Weekly Slice of Life Story Challenge

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dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight Mic

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight ~ Week 55