A Room For Poetry

Struck...as My lips remain dumb I am in awe of myself Dancing in the rings of the full moon Working in the fields, harvesting time Remembering me yet Not knowing me In want of me Je suis tu es ils est elle est nous sommes ... No second chances Mark has butter sandwiches and you and Mimee Turn out ok Goo goo ga joob...

Before bed, she painted her face she wore her mask to bed so no one would know her                     in her dreams She dreamt of painting and dancing Of speaking to Jesus Of dating a woman And writing                 the truth All of these things made her happy As she slept

A wee look into my thought process... Mar 24/09 In search of wisdom and contentment, I start yet another journal - this one dedicated to truth and lies, poems and prose - me. I want My father died still in want It is spring and the land is wanting what lies beneath not wanting to be found I want In want to be larger than life Yet want to shrink away into nothingness In want of a child In want of Love To be Loved To Love I want Janet Jarrell

So, she paints her face white Looks deep in the mirror To see if there is anything there "Am I worthy?" "I am afraid." She blesses herself To prove she is clean Then drinks back the wine and takes the bread She finally admits who she is A mystery

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am." "Kiss me and you will see how important I am." "If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days." Sylvia Plath (1932-10-27 – 1963-02-11) So much like Sylvia, Iam. Iam. Iam.

If everyone could be so confident and cool as Pinky Tuscadero, and snap their fingers, and be loved by Fonzi - well, true poetry is subjective...

This may not be a poem, but it is certainly poetic. I was quite moved when I saw this in When Nietzsche Wept and thus was compelled to share it with you here. "We were friends and have become strangers to each other. This is as it ought to be. We do not want either to conceal or obscure the fact as if we had to be ashamed of it. We are two ships, each of which has its goal and its course. And finally, Dr. Breuer, we have to become strangers to one another, because it's the law to which we are subject."