Friday, January 30, 2009

underdogs

always champion of the underdog, she found herself, once again , the champion, basically, of herself. she, who had never known unconditional love, true acceptance, even from herself.
she, who could not escape the nonconformity she was born into. wanting to embrace it, but starving for acceptance, at times wishing she was, instead, born "normal".

as a child, she sat at the family piano, between a symphony and some dresses she had designed.
she looked towards the heavens as she looked inward. partly wanting to attain, partly wanting to trade it all in for "being like everyone else", a bargain made in her own mind, to deaf ears.

the years passed. time dulled the blade that was once her intellect...or did it?

she was hobbled by life,by what it dished out to her, who's fault, at this point, not important.

little twinges of her mind grew louder.

could she sustain?

Monday, January 26, 2009

life is not a dream, but a furtive, ever changing reality

Saturday, January 24, 2009

this planet is not our paradise lost, it is our paradise trampled upon, then discarded.

when man realized he had recklessly thrown away his own home, he struggled to find a way to extricate it from its own end, by looking inward to repair the outward.

man is as man does, and hopefully soon

a banned done dog on the road

why did she leave me in the cold
it is not my fault that i am old
i stood right by her day and night
alone i am now how can i fight
will anyone hurt me or take me in
i have no food i am getting thin
so many cars they drive so fast
i do not know if i can last

Friday, January 23, 2009

antitoxin

i have seen my own mortality. and i am on the move.
time is forever forward i need to find my groove.

i will not be smothered by anyone's
cloud of negativity

so keep those hands off of my neck
and mind your own activity

Thursday, January 22, 2009

i do not write in the profundity of pretense
my feeling are not swaddled in florid words
they are what i feel what i know is real
and i am happy that they are sometimes
heard

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

i would like to find a place where i could be myself
so my basic nature would not sit on a shelf
to be appreciated for the things i say
leaving quite behind when i go away
dont want to be stifled
my heart and talents rifled

she stands

she stands before the precipice
did she ever think she'd get to this
the changes in her life she's making
new directions she will be taking
trying not to congregate
too many thoughts
upon her plate

bathing in the rush of history

i have lived through several presidents, with their accompanying bland inaugurals, their terms sometimes forgotten.

the things that linger; tragic assasination, blatant dishonesty, rank ineptitude. always compared to some of the great leaders of our past, and some of the scoundrels.

my coworkers and i sat, watching a man, a nation, take a walk into the history books, path uncharted, destination unknown.

will this be like cinderella at the ball, shoes off, glitter gone. alone with the chore before her?

as commentaries drone on, our new president looks into the blank slate he must write on, to insure america's future

Monday, January 19, 2009

torn

she had made a decision, not easily, but she did it. she stood prostrate in the face of actually executing her plan. her fear of the unknown had, for most of her life, completely overtaken her. so she sat still.

in a few days, she would act upon that decision, ambivalence dogging her every step of the way, her inner conflicts exacerbated by the input of those around her.

in the final analysis, it was her life, her choice. this she knew and did not debate. her struggle was tuning out the naysayers, and going forward

Saturday, January 17, 2009

stuck-o

he walks the world with clouded mind
he does not know which way to go
he just keeps walking, often talking
head sometimes high but mostly low
the childhood was not kind to him
his heavy grudges his daily trudges
blameless is the self he sees
the pain it drags him to his knees
he will not let go
so he does not grow

Friday, January 16, 2009

sometimes

his life was his life, always was, always would be. he had his patterns, his personal home security blanket, his minor dalliances on the side. the blanket was warm, but not fuzzy nor cozy.

he liked things this way. it gave him a semblance of control. he would venture into arenas that he hoped would not challenge his emotional status quo. distant, detached...this was his way, at least outside of the place he called home.

home...a farce in its own right. he knew it yet he kept it. allowed to play like a child on a long leash but always yanked back home.

sometime he thought of her. how she ran away from this nada he offered her. he wished she would be available to embrace that same nada again... knowing that she was not.

life is safe in dreams
you can always wake up

push

from her corner the room looked sparse and wide
and empty, noone else inside
she crawled around, and crawled some more
until she found the half open door
she nudged the door an inch or so
then she stepped back afraid to go
she found herself plunged into a morass, the intensity of which she had not experienced in some time. it attached itself to her slowly, insidiously, until this morning, when it emerged in full bloom.

she had not experienced any creative surges in a while, did not know the cause, and wrote it off, while, of course, not writing. she went on with her days, thinking that she would somehow return to whatever her normal was.

she did not.

the morning was cold and the heat in her apartment was faintly sputtering, more noise than calorie output. she bundled herself up in a second bathrobe, sat up in bed, looked around.

the room had a warm, cozy familiarity. she felt safe, as safe as she was capable of feeling, which was not really much. her breathing was labored, her chest sore from the effort.

she could not formulate a cry, but cry she wanted to do. if just to alleviate the tension, bring whatever inside, out. her eyes were stinging with tears that would not come, simmering, taunting.

she started to sort through the issues that caused her to become so clogged. none were particularly momentous in nature. it was the minutiae that always placed her under maximum duress.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

i have walked the world through different eyes
never going to far do not like surprise
with every phase from day to night
so many ways how things cause fright

Friday, January 9, 2009

you manity

humanity
just what does it mean to you and me
people inhabiting a failing planet
busy with their wrecking balls
just trying to can it
warring with each other
some dont know why
killing their brothers
while we sit and cry
all other creatures living dependent
on a world where all once was
resplendent

Thursday, January 8, 2009

the tentacles of distortion stretch far and suffocate all they touch
though sometimes under cover
old prejudices still hover

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

poeme perdue

i wrote poem lost by this blog
i cannot recreate it through memory jog

judge mental

i really bare a grudge
against those people who judge
who are they to say
you must do it their way
inside, her quiet demeanor churned. this had been going on for days. it was almost like a fluttering.

she could attribute this angst to one thing; conflict

surgery, drawn out recovery with complications and accompanying discomforts...work, or rather, returning to it after 2 months away. unending wars on forever bloodied battlefields.

she was conflicted. she wanted to work, but knew she could not further jeopardize her health by remaining at her present job. she wanted peace in the middle east but not at the expense of israel's health and existence as a nation.

she could not sort out her own torment, so she certainly had no answer for nations at war.

the cannons fired.
.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Monday, January 5, 2009

to naysa(an abused mare in louisiana)

how many tears can i cry for you
after everything that you've been through
i sit through tears cannot shake the image
of your sad, shot at, damaged visage

life is box of empty/full surreal

life is what happens
from the time we are born
when our day is over
we leave those who mourn
i will not play cupid
for the epidemic
of stupid

Saturday, January 3, 2009

will this

will this planet ever be a place
where we would be proud to
show our face
where cruelty, hate and bigotry
would be lost in the annals of
history?

Friday, January 2, 2009

ice o layshun

i have foundered, wandered
alone upon a beach
i have stared at yonder
a life so out of reach

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i am older than dirt and proud of it!!!! i have managed to incorporate my eternal 60's nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga, the beach, waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. i have added sketching, watercolor painting, and photography to my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance. P.S. all painting, poems and photographs are my originals karen Lyons kalmenson