Feminism, Freedom, Inspiration, Nature, Poetry, Spirituality, Womanhood, Writing

But I’m Not Perfect Yet

Old poem, old photo, newly paired, never shared:

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But I’m Not Perfect Yet

Why the shampoos
with promising poems
“You’ve really got it now”
“Not your mommas hair-do”
“Beautiful, luscious, supremely clean”
Why all the claims and things
in the ads we see
I know some who
can take it
or leave it—
and why I ever accept it,
I don’t know
I was beaten with it
as a girl
see: media and magazines
images of youthful
concealed women
(concealing whatever doesn’t fit
with the current trend)
see: glowing women or matte
depending on the season
submissive yet dominant
bronzed and flirtatious
You hear confidence is
everything but I don’t believe
that to be true
(I pride humility)
I cannot blame myself
here, and neither should you
Some days I am bland
Some days I am sexy
Some days I’m just decent
and free
but all these days
I am taken with
thoughts of
What I Should Be
My eyes aren’t large enough
My hair won’t lay strait
My clothes just don’t look
that good on my back
Not nearly as good
as they looked strung
up on the rack
I contort myself
with belts and jeans
I pinch, prod and shave
I bleach
chop
polish
and press
I bend over backwards
trying to achieve
a standard that someone
somehow made me believe
I didn’t feel
good-looking
today, it’s true.
I wanted to grab every
woman and ask
“Do you feel this way too??”
I wanted to know
that deep down we
are all just the same
and that on the outside
none of us are ever
what they claim
on the backs of the
bottles of $16 gunk
those are just words and wishes
amounting to junk
intended to make a buck

Dreams, Inspiration, Poetry, relationships, Womanhood, Writing

Poetry Reading at Eugene’s Barnes & Noble March 12th at 3 p.m.

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Poetry Reading at Barnes & Noble  Eugene (above)
1163 Valley River Drive
Eugene, Oregon
March 12, 2017

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I am pleased to remind my friends and readers of this low key poetry reading event at Eugene’s Barnes & Noble. With the Eugene Poetry Foundation as our platform, my cousin Crystal Gasser and I will be reading for fifteen minutes each, followed up by an open mic.

Being it is the fifth consecutive month of our Barnes & Noble readings, I am honored (and only mildly freaked out) to have the stage and the headline. See our flyer below. All are welcome to join! Other poets encouraged to attend!

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Poetry, Womanhood, Writing

Seen/Hidden

My emotional makeup is running.
fushia-colored need blossoms falsely on my cheeks
while neon strikes of pencil glow in
a most unfavorable way
on my eyes and lining my lips
I am drooling down my chin,
which is caving.
The more I paint my outside
the more my inside suffers,
ignored.
The more
pain the more paint,
it seems.
My emotional makeup is running but
I never looked better than after I’ve
washed my face.
Still, every morning
I paint-by-numbers
in an attempt to be
seen and to
be hidden.

Freedom, Inspiration, Poetry, relationships, Spirituality, Womanhood, Writing

The Hole

The hole inside of you does exist
but it is a vessel for goodness and care
not a dumping ground for excuses and addictions

“What are you trying to forget?” I once asked a
man who drank too much (according to me, mind you)

“What? Me? Nothing.”

Oh.

The hole inside of you may be there
it’s true
Maybe blasted open in youth, a big
gaping hole of neglect and rejection
or maybe you’ve been carving away at it
for decades, an attempt to become a real
Rockstar–edgy and tortured

The hole inside of you does exist
I’m sorry I ever said it didn’t
but you turn that hole upon its head
and it is a vessel for goodness and care
not a dumping ground for excuses and addictions
it’s all in how we look at the cavern
light it up and it’s not so bad after all
not so bottomless–albeit there

Feminism, Freedom, Inspiration, Poetry, Spirituality, Womanhood, Writing

IRL

In real life
sticky black ink
pools at the tip
of my writing pen
it bleeds onto my
fingernail–the ugly one that
was slammed in the front door
I lick my fingernail, wipe
it on my sleeve but the
ink stays, it cannot
be deleted–
which almost
surprises me.

I stare at the page.
my handwriting is that
of a harried, unbalanced person
my handwriting is not feminine
it does not stand up strait but bows
and curls with the weather, with mood
I hate it. I wish my words could be as
pretty as type, as pretty as font.

In moments of weakness and disillusion I
desire — foolishly — to filter our life.
perfectly symmetrical
handwritten pages of
original thought.
this might bring me some joy,
create some illusion of order.

How can I work with ugly and imperfect?
I mean, the goal now is that nothing
is ugly and imperfect: nothing should be
not with the tools we have today
Not our penmanship or our thoughts,
not our friends or our parties and
most importantly: not our faces
oh heavens no, not our faces.

Funny how in our pajamas,
slack jawed and scratching
here and there,
breathing heavily
through garlicked tongue,
we click and primp — determined
to camouflage our shortcomings
(as if nobody knows they’re there)
but in reality when we up and walk
from the computer: we are no better off
than when we sat down

I cannot help but wonder where
we’ll end up

How deep the divide of fantasy
and reality
will widen

IRL we are worse for the wear,
evolving, stupidly
toward disillusionment
passing it off as enlightenment.

I cannot help but wonder where
we’ll end up

How deep the divide of fantasy
and reality
will widen

Dreams, Feminism, Freedom, Inspiration, Poetry, Spirituality, Womanhood, Writing

Windchime

A windchime
shutters to life.
Little had I thought
of a windchimes need
for chaos and swirl.
“Be the windchime”
I realize
as practice closes
and in perfect timing I
am set to step into Now,
despite the unpredictable
circumstances and
clouds,
those pushing undercurrents,
life’s unavoidable buoys and lifts,
life’s twisting gates,
opening and closing
with the weather,
with storm
“Be the windchime”
I realize
Make sweet sounds
in the turbulence
of your own life
not for others this time,
but for you

You are the windchime