Me And My World

There's only me and my World.

Minus the crooks, liars and cheats.

Minus the mobsters, their wives and their mistresses.

Oh, how I pity these women. 

Do you really think he ever loved you?

Tell me, do you think Hitler was capable of love? 

It isn't possible.

You were nothing but new shiny earrings on a mannequin.

You were the mannequin - empty and hollow. And not because you're empty and hollow. But, because you bought into the lies. You fell under the spell of the Magician. It was all illusion, wasn't it? But, I'm sure, at first, it felt like he put on a good show.

Some of you fell for the bling and the flash - the jewelry, the cars, the house, his touch and charm - the 'fantasy' or what some would call 'the good life'.

And when it was all said and done, you even paid with your life.

I hope you're able to exercise your revenge from beyond the grave.

You'll have to ask the Angels for permission, though, but I doubt they'd allow it...unless, they're Demons. Will you even know the difference?

You can forget God. 

You killed your God a long time ago. 

It makes no difference that you christened your children, that you put crucifixes around your boys' necks. What did it matter? 

God was never there.

God stopped listening.

There's only me and my World.

Minus anyone mean and cruel.

Minus the thugs, the selfish and the greedy.

Minus people like you.

There's only me and my World.

Ladybugs and butterflies.

Fields of lush green grass.

Majestic trees.

The oceans and the stars.

The Moon and the Sun.

Spiders and centipedes.

Knives and Swords.

Alligators and venomous snakes...

So if you happen to stumble my way, 

I'll be ready for you.

On The Bathroom Floor

I'm the girl with Irish bones, standing on Irish soil in my Irish dress dreaming of sitting on a rock by the Irish Sea.

But, no. I'm here, curled up on the bathroom floor, wondering what went wrong. Oh the peace, the peace I felt once the spinning stopped and the discomfort subsided. Still, I'm here, curled up on the bathroom floor trying to recall what I was.

There's no grace. Only Rose. Rose. Rose is my name. And the scent of roses and lush greens, fields and pastures. My heart is like a lighthouse. I find my way back, back home, my home...to Rose. To Rose. To me. To the girl with Irish bones, standing on Irish soil in her Irish dress dreaming of sitting on a rock by the Irish Sea.

Let me be scattered and carried by the wind. Let the storms come and wash me away. It's no matter. I'll always be the girl with Irish bones, standing on Irish soil in my Irish dress dreaming of sitting on a rock by the Irish Sea...

In this life, I'm affiliated with old women dressed in black, overbearing Godfathers and silent Godmothers, mafia cars, drugs and money and overweight pigs, their whores and mistresses, kids who grow up not knowing how to treat women, boys who never become men and girls who make it their dream to remain...pretty and desirable.

Let me walk now. Let me walk, in my Irish dress toward the Irish Sea, as I lay curled up on the bathroom floor. Let me make music with my Irish bones and do not dare disturb me, as I lay curled up on the bathroom floor. I invite the wind and the water and the birds in the trees, to add texture to my song...to this song, which originated so long ago and from deep within, as l lay curled up on the bathroom floor.

I find a rock and sit by the Irish Sea. I lay my Irish bones down. What a perfect day. Just me and these clouds, the misty rain and the sound of the sea. I take off my dress and let my hair down. I offer a gift to the gods...because I'm the girl with Irish bones, standing naked on Irish soil by the Irish Sea.

As I lay on the bathroom floor, I pray. I pray like I've never prayed before. No, that's not true. I prayed that hard one other time. I beg Her to save me, to save me from this moment, this moment of loss and desperation. I pray. I pray to be kept safe and well. And, my mind wanders. It wanders. I stare into space and the space becomes a landscape...a landscape which includes a girl with Irish bones, standing on Irish soil in her Irish dress dreaming of sitting on a rock by the Irish Sea...

I don't want to leave this place...this place by the Irish Sea. I don't want to wake up. I want to stay here. Here, with my Irish bones.

I bring my head back and let myself feel the drops, the drops of rain like tears from the Irish clouds. My arms are outstretched for a moment or two. Then I lay my hands over my chest and I give thanks. I give thanks for this moment which spawned as a result of my laying curled up on the bathroom floor. The flame flickers. The light is faint. My light, my light...is fading. 

So let it fade. It's only a flame. All things must die and end. Let me be extinguished. Later does not matter, anyway. Because all I have is now. All I am is what I am...now. All I have is what I have...now. My name is Rose. I'm the girl with Irish bones, standing naked on Irish soil by the Irish Sea.

You'll find me in rocks and stones. You'll sense me in the water. You'll hear me whispering through the leaves in the trees. You'll see me in the distance supporting and encouraging you home. I'm everywhere. I'm beyond this flicker of light. I am the light in the night. I am the darkness in the light. 

I take a few steps in the water. My naked body and the sea become one. I'm home. I'm home, as I lay curled up on the bathroom floor. Because I'm the girl with Irish bones who was standing on Irish soil in her Irish dress, no longer dreaming of sitting on a rock by the Irish Sea...

The Queen of Swords' Burden

Why does this Queen tend to be seen in a negative light? She's seen as the cold one, angry, revengeful, stern and abrasive. Yes, perhaps in her negative aspects. And yes, her blade can cut and wound but that's not always a bad thing. I'm interested in focusing on her positive characteristics and therein lies the problem because her positives, I've come to realize, are a difficult thing for some to bear.

She defends herself and her own honour. She can decipher and sense your motivations behind the words you use. She'll see if there's a discrepancy or an incongruity there the second you open your mouth. Is this not a good quality? Is it not one you would want to cultivate and enhance in yourself? If she were a man, we'd be patting him on the back for being sharp and intelligent. Yet, when she does it, she's deemed a bitch, stuck up and unapproachable.

Why is her strength admonished and reduced to a weakness while a man's strength is respected and raised to a 'holier than thou' status?

It is said she lacks heart and warmth. Yet, it's her heart and warmth that draws you close. It's her wit and intelligence that attracts you to her. It's her strength that you recognize and envy. She's seen things in her life and when she feels, she feels deeply. If she's betrayed, these feelings become like a poison in her blood or a sharp knife that turns inward. It might take a long time for her to heal and though she may forgive, she cannot forget. All the power in the world will not allow her to forget. It's not set up that way. The experience becomes imprinted on her brain and every painful experience she endures thereafter become her little jewels. They are gifts but don't ever tell her that. She'll laugh in your face.

All of that darkness and tragedy give rise to a kind of wisdom she can't help but make her silent weapon - her weapon against the set up and structure of this world, its falseness and inauthenticity. So, make no mistake, if you cross her, you will regret it. Not because she's going to do anything. She most likely will not do a thing. She'll simply turn her back on you. She's been there, done that. She knows what you're all about. She doesn't have time for the unworthy.

If she sees you're up to no good, if she senses you're a taker or a liar, she'll smile a little smile but her wheels are turning. In that moment, she's made up her mind about you and she'd be right even if you think she's wrong. It's just that she's become such an expert at detecting bullshit, there's nothing you could say or do to redeem yourself once you've lost her trust. She's already figured you out. It's too late.

She sometimes wishes this 'gift' wasn't so. It makes her feel lonely. She doubts whether there IS any good in the world. She doesn't want to raise her sword to you but you leave her no choice. Her word is like gold. When she gives, she gives fully and wholeheartedly. She gives with her Being. She can't settle for anything less than that in the other.

But what makes her utterly beautiful and larger than life is her ability to cut you down without ever having to use that sword. Her words carry intent and meaning. In that space between words, too, a stirring takes place and she can feel it. And she knows you can feel it, too. She's in a league of her own. You'll wish you'd never met her. Why? Because she's seen right through you and she knows you don't deserve her. She knows that you know you don't deserve her, either. And that thought satisfies her, immensely.

Tiny Fragments

I thought I mattered a little bit...

Surprise. Surprise.

I lay here listening to 80's music. Nostalgia is having its way with me. No time like the past. I remember walking down the corridor and smelling the Spring air. It still smells like that except it's Winter, now. How cruel, the way our minds play tricks on us...unless, you like Winter?

It's almost dark. I take off my clothes and head for the bathroom. It's time to slip into the tub. I wait for the water to fill, first. I pour some salts and a few drops of rose oil. I keep the lights down low and light a couple of candles. I slide into the tub. I sigh. I'm free.

Even when bad is really bad, it's okay. The water is my refuge. Water saves me every single time. It doesn't matter what's going on outside. It doesn't matter what's going on inside. Here, right here, all is as it should be. All is well. I am free.

I take a sponge and dip it into the water. I pour the excess over myself. Sensuality is my best friend. You can't imagine the power I feel when I connect to it. My Imagination becomes alive. I see things I've never seen before. I hear in a way I've never heard before, too. Each scent is vibrant. I don't need a bucket list to go where I already am...I just have to close my eyes and 'poof', where ever my mind goes, there I go...

I gently wipe my body down with some oil. I'm learning to love myself an inch at a time. I need to stop comparing myself to those flawless bodies depicted on the air. None of that is real, anyway. It's just the Magician playing tricks on me. On you. On us. I spend time with myself. I enjoy my own company. I care for each part of me. I must come first. If I don't put myself there, no one else will or can...

This is a kind of intimacy most people will never experience. In this space, I am in touch with every cell of my being. I know what my heart is feeling. I see what my mind is thinking. I understand the function of my body and yet, I am none of these things. I am more. So much more.

I wiggle my toes for a few seconds. I place my right hand over my chest and my left hand over my belly. I slowly lift my legs and rest my knees to the side - left foot over the right. I thank the gods for my gifts. Whether they can hear me or not, I do my part, no matter.

Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow. The contrast it's able to reflect back is astounding. It's just the cold. It's only the cold. Keeps the heart and blood warm...here, in the water...this water that IS my life.

As The Veil Lifts...

Don't wake me from my slumber. You and your senselessness. Stay where you are and don't move an inch. I won't receive you no matter how shiny and shimmery you become. You're no star. You're just fragments of a thing left behind. There's nothing of you here. There never was. 

You're a fake, not because you and I are not on the same page but because you didn't follow through to the end. You sneaked away like a coward. I know I shouldn't blame you. We do what we need to do when we don't get what we want. And you did, by walking away. It's okay. I walked the other way long before you when I saw what you are. You're no prize. You're no jewel. You're nothing special. But, I am. 

Now, I understand you. Now, I see...see the nothingness it really was. Just ups and downs, lefts and rights but no real movement. You want casual? You got casual. You got what you wanted. And yet you didn't, did you? Not the kind of casual you were seeking. I'm not sorry I disappointed. You're the disappointment. You can't help what you are. 

All your posturing amounted to foolishness and illusions. You can't deliver. You don't have what it takes. Why should I feel bad for being stuck up? You're not worthy of anything more. This is what you attract in me. It can't be any other way than how it is. 

I hope you're ashamed of yourself. I hope you feel bad. That's my only revenge. It makes me smile that I don't behave or respond the way you hoped I would. You're just a snake in the ground. You carry no poison. I hover and tower over you like the 5 ft 6" being that I am. Inwardly, I'm so much grander than that. You can slither all you want. It didn't make a difference then and it won't now.

I remembered how I waited. Oh, how I waited. Like the High Priestess. I sat there with all the knowledge of the world on my lap. I knew the truth then. I decided to rise above it. What else could I do? I am so much more than you could ever fathom.

Emotionally, you're immature. You're incapable of investing. My lack of response towards you says more about you than it does about me. I'm the star that shines in the sky. I'm that thing you'll never reach or acquire. You sneaked away because you saw there was no point in hanging around. So, go. Go. Slither away in the dirt the way you do in search of your next casual connection. I'll still be the star in the sky who didn't fall for your nonsense. You'll always be.. just a man.

Ponderings

He asks me what I want. I say, "I don't know." But, I'm lying. I think I'm figuring it out and it's not something I would have imagined ever wanting. So I take a step back. I look at it from every angle possible. I talk myself out of it...because I'm a lady.

It's not my fault I am the way that I am. I blame the Angel for my essence. I blame the Angel for my personality. Well, it's not all bad. It's not all terrible. Only inconvenient. Yes, sometimes, it's so darn inconvenient, unless I look at it from another angle, and then I see, it's all just right. I'm just right.

How can I go against my nature? I don't know how. It's comfortable over here. I don't know how to play the game. I don't know how to take the risk. I'm too...naive?? I'm not sure. Apparently, I'm too heavy. I bring him down. I have nothing to say. Hmmm. I have plenty to say, just nothing he wants to hear. It's okay...I guess I'll have to take off my clothes...alone.

I remove the clip from my hair. I look up at the cloudy skies and smile. I walk towards the shore, the shore that is my life. I marvel at how the waves move the way they do or the way the wind blows and how the trees talk to one another. I can feel the grains of sand between my toes. I know it's futile to hang on. But, I don't want this moment to end. I want to prolong it, stretch it, expand it. I pray - please, just a little longer.

I hear a whisper, "Your wish is my command."

I ponder. If I can't talk to him about my personal life, what's the point? What's the message? First off, there's a complete resistance to 'natural' progression or to the natural flow of interaction between people. There's a hindrance to growth. In a real sense, to building and creating. There's resistance to emotional intimacy. Am I missing something? Is that really what he wants? I don't see where the value is, where the exchange or reciprocity is. Or is that the point? There is no real value. Why would I want that? To ease my loneliness? To have a good time for time's sake? To appreciate the beauty of no attachments or expectations? To be satisfied with what is? Because it's here today and most likely, gone tomorrow? So I should just take what I can get and leave my troubles behind...for a little while?

But, what am I then? What would I be? Who would I be? A commodity? For as long as he has a use for me? For as long as he's satisfied with getting whatever he gets from me and I from him? And what would these 'things' be? Companionship? Money? Sex? Love wouldn't factor in. The set up is designed to keep love at bay. I don't see why I would ever agree to such an arrangement. While I enjoy his company, spreading my legs for him while other women are spreading their legs for him, under the guise of 'friend', doesn't turn me on or make me feel special. And, I want to feel special. So my legs are staying closed. If he wants to enter my depths, he's got to do better than that. 

We can't change people. He is who he is. I am who I am. He can't sell me what I'm not willing to buy. I refuse to be a faceless being. I keep coming back to this. I can't help it. I won't stoop for...pleasure. I'll have some chocolate instead! The idea of a man using my body, and then trying to convince me that I'm getting something of value out of it, too, is repulsive to me. 

I was looking at myself this morning in the mirror. I admired my breasts, my stomach and pelvis. I felt tenderness towards my arms and legs. I remembered the line - how we do anything is how we do everything. Sure, I can live in fantasy. I imagine what it could be like with him. I imagine him being a certain way. But can I be sure he is who and what I imagine? He can't be. I've seen what he is. How attentive could he ever really be with me? What happens out here is a reflection of what happens behind closed doors. I'd be left heart broken and the heart was never supposed to play a part. He's even said that. So, fuck off! It's all bull shit. None of it matters. How utterly shallow! Why would I want that? That kind of nothingness? To be reminded of everything I absolutely despise about mankind? No thank you. 

I don't understand why I would have sex without caring and tender feelings in the mix. It's so easy for him. He can stick his wand in anything. I can't let just anyone cross that threshold with me. It's too sacred to me. I'm the woman he thinks doesn't exist anymore. But he doesn't want the real. He can't handle the real. He wants to remain in the shallow end of the pool. I've been swimming and residing in the ocean for a good long time. He's got to come where I am. I have no interest in going backwards.

Unspoken Words

I stood in the silence of my heart hoping to be anchored as he uttered
his senseless words
Only to discover there was no silence there but a tempest of great
magnitude waiting eagerly to spill over and devour this scene

I grabbed hold of my book of secrets
raising this jewel to my untamed and roaring heart
I whispered as loudly as I could
I pleaded to remain calm
I tried to comfort her
"Remember, they're only words. Only words."

I felt the heat of the sun on my face but longed for the coolness of the moon
I mustered a smile as my eyes reached for his
I'd recalled how that morning, in the bath, I'd taken my bottles of
lavender and rose oil and added a few drops of each to the water, how
I'd said a little prayer, how I'd set an intention, how I'd pronounced
the words with such power and emphasis, it became a mantra
My heart's chant

The space widened
I slowly crawled out of my abyss
And he saw. I saw that he could see.
But what did it matter now?
What good is a Prince when you're already a Queen?
What good is his light if my dark outshines his?