February 25, 2011: A Someday Song

I got this face, it gets me by.
I got a couple features I'm not ashamed to hide.

Some have said it's pretty nice.

But it's not pretty like sexy; it's pretty like me. 

I got this hair, and it's alright.

It don't bother me too bad, it suits me just fine.

Some have said the color's nice.

But it's not colorful sexy; it's colorful me.  

I got these eyes, they're kinda bright.

If they're beady and blue, they still let in the light.

Some have said I can make them smile.

But they don't smile sexy; they smile like me. 

I got these teeth, they're kinda white.

I got a few fillings, but they sure can still bite.

Some have said my grin is nice.

But I don't grin sexy; I grin like me.  

Got good hands for holding,

A heart full of song.

Good feet for walking,

Through and along.

All my pieces fit into the puzzle that makes me,

I'm not all together, but once the glue's set...

You can't break me.

March 21, 2011: My Last March

I'm willing to forgive absurdities,
If you can see past mine.
I lost your love years ago.
Friendship faded with time.

I feel I still reach out to grab you,
Your fingers slip from my grasp.
Some hope or a song to remember,
Somehow seem so much to ask.

If you reached for my hand, I would take it,
Weaving our fingers, following beside.
But the weeds and thorns consume you.
And you are far too hidden in time.

I mourn to not have followed, though, I'm glad when I look back.
Because there was not a present in the past.

Hand Me Down Love (Apples and Oranges)

I always took what I could with you; some things I know were wrong.

All the times I mourned for you, but you weren’t even gone.

Something lacking, never found.

I hid away most of my heart.

I wore a mask, you weren’t around to see me torn apart.

I got hand-me-down shirts, pants, and shoes.

And I got hand-me-down love from you.

I hid away all my tears; you didn’t ask, I never told.

Was it assumed all would be forgotten when I was old?

Black sheep, fifth wheel, odd one out,

Yours are apples and oranges are mine.

All emotions concealed.  Raised to back down. 

My only comfort inside of my mind.

I got hand-me-down shirts, pants, and shoes.

And I got hand-me-down love from you.

Sometimes I think I’d like to take it all back,

But I’m a product of all of my woes.

Always remember it could have been worse,

Sometimes that’s just how it goes. 

I got hand-me-down shirts, pants, and shoes.

And I got hand-me-down love from you.

Top 10 Things I Learned in My First Year and a Half as a Mother...

I haven’t blogged anything in too long.  It’s not like I haven’t been writing, I suppose I just haven’t been in the mood to blog.  I wrote some words on the inescapable pull of the Oatmeal Crème Pie.  I wrote a song while my Pap was in ICU in the hospital.  I’ve been here.  But I’ve been gone.

What I would like to discuss now is my daughter.  She turned 18 months old on Sunday.  18 fucking months old.  That’s a year and a half for those who are math challenged (me).  What have I learned in 18 months of mothering?  Oh, let’s make this more fun than sentimental waxing mama and I’ll give the touchy feely a proper blog.  Top 10 Things I Learned in my First Year and a Half as a Mother…GO! 

Top 10 Things I Learned in my First Year and a Half as a Mother…

10.    “Babies aren’t as fun as they look!”  - Boyd Lucas

9.        Breastfeeding a tongue-tied baby is more exhausting than the pushing stage of labor!

8.        Eventually bodily fluids are of little consequence; you learn to not care what is stuck to or smeared on you or what you are elbow deep in.

7.          In a pinch, a Carmex tube can successfully be used as a spoon at a Beatlemania concert.

6.        Nothing is leak proof, spill proof, or resistant to anything.  Everything they tell you is a lie.

5.        Your guess is as good as “theirs”.  Who the hell are “they” anyway?

4.        After kids learn to walk, pictures start turning out a lot worse and are more of a chore and test of patience . 

3. Once talking starts you find out what your favorite “catch phrases” are and training yourself to remove swear words from your vocabulary is harder than you think.

2. Distraction is your best friend if you ever want to accomplish anything ever again in your life once toddlerhood hits.

1.   It gets better and worse every day.  ;D

All in fun, but serious just the same,

Missie Sue

Is Love Wrong?

Is love wrong?

In the face of the world,

Of god,

Of righteousness,

Of dignity?

Veteran crimes hide in eyes concealed.

Is love wrong?

A wave of consciousness, of awareness, of being,

Of mutual appreciation.

 Passionate purpose.

Is meaning wrong?

What is a feeling?

What is a willing?

2/22/12

Oatmeal Creme Pie: An Allegory

Oatmeal Pie, I’ve had my eye,

on you now for so long.

I let you be, up on the fridge,

a symbol for what’s wrong.

I pass you by, day after day,

“I’m always here,” you seem to say.

I bite my lip and turn away.

I’ll save you for another day.

Your hearty shell, your sweet insides.

Are pulling on my will and mind, Crème Pie.

Oatmeal Cream, you haunt my dreams,

My mouth, it waters, my taste, it screams.

I want to bite right into you.

I want to wake the dream of you.

I can’t get through, your wrapping’s tight.

But I want to savor every bite. 

Cookie pie, I just might die to taste you on my tongue.

To chew you up and spit you out, you know I’m not that one.

I want you to stay inside me, treat.

And dwell within, residing sweet. 

I want the guilt, the cavity too.

I want the mix, the me and you. 

 Crème Pie, Crème Pie, how I have tried.

Crème Pie, Crème Pie, how I have cried.

You do a number on my will.

If I don’t eat you now, someday I will. 

Crème Pie, Crème Pie, how I yearn.

Crème Pie, Crème Pie, how I burn.

You make it so damn hard to pass,

Despite the weight you give my ass. 

Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Cream, and Pie,

Tell me, tell me, tell me why.

Your sweetness is for to just die,

My heart, my dream, my cookie pie. 

I’m guilty of the passion of crime,

I guess I’ll open that box this time.

I’ll fight the fight, but we soon shall see,

What’s in my belly is a piece of me. 

Your hearty shell, your sweet insides.

Are pulling on my will and mind, Crème Pie.

2/22/2012

Be My Cynical Valentine

Valentine’s Day.   Bah.  Humbug.  Do I really not like it? 

Who actually doesn’t like a day when someone is almost forced to tell you how much they love you and give trinkets and remembrances?  There are some, I am sure. 

It is just a day after all.  It’s not even rooted in Christianity like St. Valentine’s Day suggests.  In all likelihood there was never even a St. Valentine, or if there was he wasn’t martyred on the 14^th of February for refusing to marry people or whatever the Main wants us to believe. 

Valentine’s Day is actually based off of the Pagan holiday of Lupercalia.  Now, this whole story deserves a blog, but an informative one, and I’m not in the mode right now.  Long story short, it was actually the 15^th and not the 14^th.  Romans basically drew a lottery and whoever’s name you go, that was your sexual partner for the “festival of sexual license”.  This is to say if anyone can prove anything that is written in a book (they really can’t).  So, like all history, your guess is really as good as mine.  Not really, but Valentine’s Day is definitely stolen from Pagans.  The Christians couldn’t keep the Romans from celebrating (how could they, I’m sure they LOVED it) so they basically adopted their holiday and changed it to suit their purpose.