DISRASHTI0N. PAYSHI0NS. N DR0. FUCK DA SMALL SHIT.
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I'm not sure. Although, I know it's mine.
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I have found the dance at the edge of awareness,
I have found the beauty of a half-opened flower,
I have found the truth within each precious body,
I have found the laughter that suffuses all unfolding.
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If I find my own way
How much will I find
You
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I've found that I get away with nothing and that I keep repeating the same lessons until I learn, change, and move on.....
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peace, love, thoughts, feelings, physicality, insanity, darkness, gods, gurus, etc.
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Acceptance. I don't get pissed off much anymore. Life isn't perfect. People aren't perfect. We don't get everything we want. That's the way of the world. So don't get an ulcer over it. Don't pop a blood vessel because of the lousy driver who cut you off. On the other hand, don't be afraid to speak out for what's right, defend someone who's being treated badly, stand up for what you believe. But remember that essentially life goes on as it always has. So take a deep breath, cool down a bit, try to have a little fun when you can, and seek peace within yourself.
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I've found OUT that I'm TERRIBLE with MONEY.
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I've found that you can destroy almost anything with just a hammer.
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Assistance
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my fiercely brave inner warrior goddess whose always jonesing for justice...she suits up and shows up to fight the good fight with a little humor, sass factor, and glam.
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That I'm pretty happy/comfortable living alone with my Yorkies.
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That helping other without thought of payback gives me a really good feeling about myself. In fact, that feeling is all the payback I need.
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that happiness is not about having the best of everything but about making the best out of what you already have
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More illusion than fact...more greed than ethics...more kindness than I expected...more narcissism than I can bear.
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that I really do love cashews.
that writing continues to bring me great joy.
that I still miss my friend Peter, who died nine years ago.
that Rome still beckons, though I haven't yet figured out how to live there.
that sex in my mid-40s with a man I'm wildly in love with, yeowzah!, sets the bed on fire and burns the paint off the walls!
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That fear and a lack of faith are my greatest enemies
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more questions.
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I have found that the thing that makes me love someone the most, or like them, or desire them, or enjoy them, is the way they make me feel about myself, and their ability to see something lovely in me. I can't decide if I am troubled by the narcissism of this, or lulled by the obviousness.
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10 cents, in a bag I bought at a thrift store.
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I've found that most people born after 1985, just don't get it!
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th e coptic christian footwear intending although quite already.
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At least six four leaved clovers in the last week.
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Well, every other day this month (April is National Poetry Month!), I have found a line of poetry in my inbox, from my friend J---. We traded lines all month. We have four more days, so I have one more line in response, as I'm going to let Jeannie finish it, because a gentleman always lets a lady finish. Here's what J--- and I have found so far. J--- had the first line, I had the second, then back and forth between us. She's Grey-eyed Ajeana, hipper than Athena, and I'm Aslopius, the wounded god of garbage:
Narratives Thwarted,
An April String by Ajeana & Aslopius
Remember the dresses, a circulating skin
rainbows on cuttlefish, a cloud of squid ink
a touch of the blood on the nib of a pin
the well of the soul or the fingered instinct
tracing the notes on a crumbling spine
in the shrine of the goddess in Paleo Paphos
whose regrets are entwined in the upturn of moss.
Her husband was lame and the god of the swine
who plays his own game while lamenting his loss
a heart that he hammered into an infernal tine
and pulsed with blood from the bacchic vine.
But the shrine is now silence, dust and dross
as the poet looks skyward for a sign
angels tattooed with the sign of the cross
or token clouds with a silvery line
stretching from the nail to the Sea of Tranquility
lighting up the branches of a juniper tree.
There bloody hung dresses skewered on a fork.
Heading for the crossroads, the two of us talk
of the death of the future in the birth of the past
and other bad castings that leave us aghast
for poets are allergic to missing the mark.
Sparrows rain-dance in the heart of Queens Park.
The Red Oracle sings from a cage facing East
of folly when friendship's a movable feast
the road too well travelled is bait for the beast
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Nothing new.
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A better question -- why are you asking these questions?
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Mystery and truth, somewhere between the earth and the stars.
I have found my place in this world
Light years away from where I thought
I have found comfort in the sunshine
Laughter in the pain.
I have found that the ones that matter stay
Even as the others fade,
Slowly turning to dust.
I have found that home isn’t a place, but a feeling.
A feeling I have found in this city on uncertainty.
The city lights shine bright in this place I’ve found.
Biding me, “Come here”, “Try this”, “Buy now.”
I have found that music cures the soul.
I have found that the good die young,
And everything you need in life is free—
If you look hard enough.
But I have found that searching is the hardest part of all.
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And mine...
A very unusual relationship, which I am enjoying very much.
That writing on the sidewalk and volunteering at the county jail make for an excellent Tuesday.
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