To Love Unwisely

Tell me the story of how you’ll be free
Hold me close and swear it will never be
Tell me the lie that will always haunt me
Then show me the love that I will always see
Tell me the tale of how you came to me
Hold me close and play with the memories
Tell me how my love should always be free
Then show me the lie that will always hold the key
Tell me the myth that love lives in one space
Hold me close to hide the truth on your face
Tell me to give myself to this world
Then show me again how I can’t be your girl
Tell me the one that always makes me laugh
Hold me close and call yourself a cad
Tell me that we can never share this way
Then show me every other side to what you say
Tell me the joke that makes me cry
Hold me close until my eyes become dry
Tell me that one day someone else will dry my tears
Then show me again why I’ll never truly be his
Tell me the truth of what we can have
Hold me close and feel me and laugh
Tell me that I’ll see this as true
Then show me how to say and do

If I could blanket us both with my love
If I could solve the puzzle of heaven above
If I could dream a life we can’t live without
I’d build you a castle made of doubt
Plant hopes and wishes in each stone
Know every secret you wouldn’t have known
I’d find the key to this home
Keep it safe when you need to roam
Hold my heart with you in mind
Hold out hope and bide my time
Till that day you knew without a care
This love we have and were meant to share

Till then I sit and wait
Knowing my end and bemoaning your fate
Till you understand you don’t have to be alone
And place yourself in our home

This day may never come and my faith may wane
I may come to shy from your face and curse your name
Whatever will come I face without shame
Time spared for you will never be in vain

Confessions of the Unrequited

As intelligent human beings we sometimes have a tendency to ignore basic fundamental truths about life.   One being our instincts and how accurate they are most of the time.  In my opinion, as we have become more and more 'civilized' we have figured out how to ignore our animal natures for the sake of logic.  I particularly have a tendency to ignore all that defies logic.

Love has and always will defy logic.  Why would I, how could I fall in love in a moment without a thought other than this.  I am in love.  Frozen and in shock completely unbidden. I never asked for this part. For so long I've been aware of your existence and never noticed anything about it. One moment, one chance meeting and I see nothing else. I feel like I'm insane.  I am an intelligent, rational, pragmatic creature that only on occasion commits to flights of fancy and fantasy driven rhetoric.  And when I do, I'm careful to keep it contained.  But this overwhelms me and I can't hold it in not one second longer.

What are the rules of engagement when it comes to declaring impossible, unrequited fairytale love?  In person, by love letter, over a near death experience.  All can either take the path of enlightenment or fall short to suffer the slow pangs of death by the mundane rudimentary nature of our normal existences.  But I was never a stickler for normalcy. Normalcy feels like art without passion. Just an empty shell of what could be. I'm rambling and stalling.

I hope this is taken with the utmost suspension of disbelief.  Because I don't believe I have ever been so painfully honest as I am being right now for you.

I don't know you, yet what I feel . . . I am in love with you and I know as surely as the sun will rise in the morning and set the following night that I will love whoever I find you to be. 

When you tell others of this foolish strange wordy woman throwing herself at you shamelessly, please feel flattered.  I beg of you to speak kindly of someone who has never conducted herself like this before and try not to make it into too big of a joke at my expense.  I may be insane but I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago so I expect nothing more than the knowledge that I was honest enough to tell you.

Never Surrender

Never settle or is it rather never surrender. Life as it stands seems to toil away at the much ballyhooed art of the beatdown. It is a grinding churning crushing system of pure attrition. The presence of life means the absence of death however the toil of life is the pathway to the unavoidable outcome. All decisions in life function around survival and what is needed to enable the most successful method of survival possible. And while quality of life is a compelling attribute we are honed by challenge.  The true forge of human levity, quality and quantity is strife, trial and battle. The convention of battle has been perverted. We hardly know what it is anymore other than a terse conversation with a coworker. The most intense and effective battles happen within and not without. On a grander scale they happen with those who have false impressions and opinions of us. The ones we are closest too that know us in ways we don't know ourselves. If you know someone who has never had even a mild criticism of you don't trust them. They haven't bothered to see you. And we need to be seen to benefit from battle and strife.

 The words benefit from battle may sound foreign but if people really think about it very little of consequence has ever come from surrender or settling.  All that occurs is that an easier more palpable outcome transpired.  Meaning you most likely did not get what you came for but you got what you needed. Fighting for the sake of also has its benefits. Like sparring in arguments with others over perspectives and viewpoints. But upon occasion everyone has to meet a moment when everything is on the line. Never deny that at the core of human engagement and action curiosity and conflict remain our more prolific motivators. When circumstances threaten what one has termed their life the obvious answer is to fight for it.

We are animals and in this idea we crave some of the same things all animals crave. But mostly we crave the competition of life.  The battle of supremacy. Peace while a respectable concept gains very little favor at the table of human avarice and society hierarchy.  We scrape for resources sometimes as shows of power and force.  An animalistic concept that binds us to our own brutality no matter how much we may despise it.  And always there is this sense of something more when that code is accepted. But from the second I became aware of myself as a human being and as an animal I knew that fighting was part of the primary function of existing. I felt the burn of it pushing against the back of my throat.  I felt an untapped resource in my belly ready to turn on if battle was presented. Felt what the emotions of anger rage and hurt could produce. I felt the power of them scorch my heart and pump it to flame.

I often write about battle in my books because there is no battle that has higher stakes than those involving love. Make no mistake my characters are in a duel that they plan on making a lifelong occurrence. There are those that argue that sex and not love is what is needed.  If love was not a needed resource we would not fight about over it and with it. We fight for sex but the true condition that sex mimics is love. Humanity is rife with tales of love. Love of others, places, things even love of self.  All stories carry the component of love in some respect because only love has the power to make a battle just and righteous. When fighting for love what else is viewed so well?

There is a reason the saying is all is fair in love and war.  It details the underlying current of love and human relationships.  We found them in battle not always through community. It’s why it will always be known as the battle of the sexes.  The inherent idea that the very opposition between the natures of men and women is the core value that makes the attachment beneficial.  They say it takes a strong person to make a relationship work and last.  I agree and every girlfriend or boyfriend does their part to help build your arsenal. If you don't see a relationship as a fight or seek to avoid fights then the end result will be the same matching the effort you have put in. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

The battle has to be engaged daily as point of action and as a point of acceptance of the very natures we are victim to. What we search for is not the perfect partner but the perfect adversary.  The one that makes us face what we are even when it’s unpopular.  The one who has only challenge in their heart and in their spirits.  The one who will tirelessly meet you on the field of battle again and again knowing that there is not any other place they would rather be. The love of your life should fight with you, against you, because of you but always at your side. And they should under no circumstances settle for less of you or ever surrender you.

Fantasy

I sometimes wonder about you

Something in the way you stare

When I get ‘I love you’ out of mid air

Am I truly that lucky, more love than I can bare

I wonder about your mask, the face you hide

Why is there apart of you that you hold inside

I then want to know all there is to know

To be told the many places forbidden for me to go

Will someone else be granted into this space

Someone else be given access to this place

I would like to go there and be with you

I don’t fear ugly I suspect what is untrue

This man I love is he real or fantasy

A figment of a perfect man as I would have him be

Myths are lies too fantastic to touch

I want life with warts, flaws and such

I know for me you are the man you desire to be

But what is the point in living a lie to satisfy fantasy

In this perfect little world where our love rules

There is no room for mistakes and misguided fools

In others you rest your passion

Your lyrical voice with fanatical fashion

If only those thoughts lied with me

If only I could be the fantasy and reality

I suppose I will settle for being your wife

Never truly knowing the drive of your hidden life

Where you see sickness I see the recipe of my true love

Where you see separation I see stife unheard of

As I lay myself bare to you

I wonder will you ever follow through

As I tell my worst fears

You lie to stop the tears

All along I thought this was about quality not quantity

All along I believed I held enough variety

I suppose the biggest crime of all remains to face me

That you require more than me to fulfill your fantasy

Falling

Have you ever been here before, has life ever pulled you away from yourself?

How does one walk forward into chaos knowing what it is?

To know your devil and to face it are entirely removed from each other.

I’m falling fast, hard and painfully.

I feel my nails grating against the steel walls

I feel my legs treading as if in water

My arms flinging to either side of me

My head shaking in denial

The question in it impossible but viable

How do you stop the inevitable?

Where does comfort remain in a force like lightning?

Swift, powerful, restrained yet free

What are you doing to me?

Bring me love without a partner

One heart, one soul, no blend, no empathy

He can’t love me, has no desire to do so.

I can’t say I don’t love him, myth and lie in one

Stop falling, I scream to myself

Stop falling, he won’t help you up

Stop falling, let self-preservation kick in at any time

Stop falling, isn’t the nature of falling uncontrollable

Stop falling, I can’t

Sergei

Clair was admiring her shoes in the mirror when she heard the loud insistent knocking on the door.  She jumped and then started over to it.  His knock wasn’t quite a cop-knocking because it wasn’t the pounding normally associated with cops, but it was only a few notches down from that.  Clair opened the door and there stood one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.  He certainly hadn’t looked this dapper when they had first met. 

Sergei stood on the other side of the door with a single rose held against his chest, which was covered in a dark blue linen shirt that made his ice blue eyes really pop.  The slacks were also a linen it seemed and in the same shade.  His hair, which he wore just a touch long, was combed over and parted on the side.  It was such a nerd thing to do and it was one of the cutest things Clair had ever seen.  He stood ramrod straight, almost military straight as he let his eyes roam over her.  Clean shaven, his angular jaw line and ridiculous cheekbones were put on display framing his full lips as he softly smiled at her, finally meeting her eyes.

“Good evening Clair.” He drawled smoothly.

For a split second as she stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, his deep voice caressing her, Clair did something she had never done before.  She went completely blank, no thought would cross her mind as she stared into his eyes.  She felt her mouth open but no words came out.  And that was when panic had started to set in.  Blinking rapidly she stood in the door facing him as her jaw flapped without voicing anything at all. 

Sergei arched a brow at her seemingly enjoying her display.  Mercifully he asked, “Can I come in?”

The question registered and Clair solemnly nodded and stepped aside so he could do just that. As he passed her, the frozen ‘deer in headlights’ feeling she had started to fade.  What in the hell was that, she frantically asked herself.  I acted like a deaf mute for a second there, he’s not that hot!! She could feel the last thought actually being yelled in her mind.  With a deep breath and a concert smile she turned to the large man that was standing in her living room.

“Sorry about that.” She said briefly.

He shrugged casually. “About what, it’s a compliment to render a woman dumb, deaf and blind for a second.” He paused and thought about it some. “Or it’s very sad.” He frowned as he thought about the other end of that.

Other Posts on this book:

That Scene with Sergei and Clair

Sergei

Clair Fair

Love is Queen

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

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Clair Fair

 ‘Rapture.  As a noun meaning delight.’

Clair thought to herself as her fingers flew over the piano keys as if she didn’t guide them. 

‘Delight as a noun meaning enjoyment, ecstasy, enchantment, contentment, joyance, relish, which leads back to rapture.’ 

Since Clair discovered the piano and the joy inherit in this instrument that could whisper and yell, sigh and resonate, she spent her spare time trying to find the word that defined the sublime elation that filled her when she played.  She searched thesauruses, other languages, symbols, whatever she could get her hands on.  But not a single word alone described this feeling of release and bliss that she experienced while she played.  So her mind would string together all of these words to try and express what was being experienced.

‘Bliss, as a noun meaning ecstasy, euphoria, felicity, heaven, paradise, which leads back to rapture.’

She was playing Mozart’s piano concerto no. 20 in D minor.  It was one of her favorites to practice on at home and loosened her up when she was ready to compose her own works.  No. 20 in D minor was special to her.  This one had been the culmination piece of her first full concert at the age of 15 for a local arts festival.

After her Aunt Mary introduced Clair to the piano it had been the passion of her existence.  She had played throughout middle school with a mix of lessons with her Aunt Mary and whoever was available.  When she had entered high school, Clair had applied for a work-study program that allowed her to spend fewer hours at school and more time practicing her instrument.  Her dedication had been noticed by several of the local musicians as Aunt Mary had made it her job to find teachers that could operate at the level that Clair had reached and could carry her beyond.

That had been when she had met Edwina Powell.  Edwina was a large maternal woman with dubious ethnicity.  She was dark in coloring with her black hair and dark brown eyes.  But it was her tan skin tone that made it very hard to place her into any particular race. Edwina had been teaching pianoforte for 15 years in the small high school in Taos New Mexico.  It wasn’t until you went to her home for private lessons did you see the fruits of a 20 year long professional classical pianist career.  She had played everywhere, Carnegie Hall, the Kennedy Center, Sydney, Paris, Japan.  Her walls were lined with accolades and world championships.

The day Clair had met Edwina had changed the course of her life.  Before that day, Clair had believed that she would not be able to become a professional artist.  She was told by school counselors and most other adults that choosing to become a professional artist was foolish and would not support her well. Everyone agreed with exception of her Aunt Mary and her mother who had both encouraged Clair to follow her passion and to ignore the call of material wealth in lieu of happiness. Still Clair had been undecided until she had her first meeting with Edwina Powell.

The first meeting had been at Clair’s home with her mother and aunt.  Ms. Powell had walked in like a ruling queen.  Her stature had been perfect, her clothing, hair and makeup immaculate. She had asked for Aunt Mary to leave so that she and Clair could speak privately.

The woman had instructed Clair to sit at her piano and then circled her seemingly looking for deficiencies.

“Clair.” She stated clearly in a Spanish accented, deep feminine voice. “That is not your full name.”

The woman waited a moment or two and then continued. “Clair is short for something, what is your full name, as it is written on your birth certificate.”

Clair had hesitated, hating what she was about to say out loud. “It’s” she paused taking a long labored breath. “Clairvoyance”, she sighed, “Clairvoyance Olivia Warren.”

The woman only stared pointedly at Clair, “This shame’s you.” She stated. “It is empowerment, a characteristic that is unique only to you.  You should embrace this name of yours.”

Moving to stand next to Clair she stared pointedly at the instrument before them both. “Does this shame you as well?”

Clair turned to her quickly denial in her heart. “No, there’s nothing embarrassing about a piano, or playing it.”

The woman sat next to Clair at the bench. “What is this instrument to you?”

Clair thought about it long and hard staring at the instrument in question.  Softly she ran her fingers over a few keys and the day her Aunt Mary introduced her to it flashed starkly in her mind.  Her entire body was filled with the euphoria that had started that day.  Her Aunt’s words ringing in her ears, ‘this does not care what color you are, it only knows music, it only knows joy.’ With that fresh in her mind, Clair had answered Ms. Powell with the only word that had summed it all up for her.

“Freedom.”

Ms. Powell had nodded. “You’ll do Clairvoyance.”

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Love is Queen

When I started So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar is was a customary stand alone one off. Somewhere in the middle of writing this story I realized that situations like the one i'm describing are extraordinary. This wouldn't happen just to create a perfect love between two people. No two people are that special unless their connections have broader implications for not just them and their immediate environments but somehow for the world.

I began to explore the concept of prophecy and mythology.  I read origin stories from different religions and the concept of the world ending.  And on the back of this one novel I have plotted out 3 different connected series' as well as a stand alone series that can have as many configurations as I can think of.

Sergei and Clair began a lot more than they will ever know and I hope the reader gets to take the journey with them.  I hope they feel the fissure of excitement and joy I have whenever I open my laptop and see how Clair and Sergei are doing on their long road to fulfilling their destiny and the new direction of the world.  The common will no longer be common, the framework redesigned and love is queen.

Always w/Love,

Sue

Other Posts on this book:
That Scene with Sergei and Clair
Sergei
Clair Fair
Love is Queen
So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

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All The Parts

There are so many parts of us that should be seen to and kept

From the top of our heads to the tips of our toes with each aching breathe

The broad side of us against the narrow core of us

The breadth of us to the very shallow of us

All another piece that comes together to make the whole

From the memories we keep now and lose as we grow old

To the muscle that powers our moves

To the tissue that DNA provides and proves

So I must choose a keeper for my many parts

Is it possible to find just one to update so many charts

So one I choose to care for my body

With you thirst will be seen to whether pure or bawdy

Another I'll entrust with my mind to keep it young and fresh

Each day should be full of knowledge clean with wash and dress

So that leaves my heart for you to insure that it always beat

Fill my life with love that can be felt from head to feet

So that leaves just my soul that I can't seem to fit to a tutor

Perhaps that one is just for me to look after and succor

If there was just one keeper how idea would that be

Just one person to see to all the ends that make up me

It's a dream I can't fulfill, one that has no true match

So I'll try to see to the whole with one by one patch

But the thought always lingers that if there is but only one of me

And with all my parts gathered close to cause me to be

There must exist the other end that looks out with such disheart

Knowing that there must be one who can see to all the parts

From Perilous Flight
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Opened Doors

"Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby." 

She hummed softly to the melody as the song blazed through the room.  Always she kept the stereo just too loud.  When it was just too loud, it drowned out all else. Even thought.  "Said you'd be coming' . . . But this song, reminded her of everything.

Like everyone else, she had heard the stories about the groupies, the women who follow and chase bands and celebrities.  She hadn't been one of those women.  She stretched her back at an awkward angle and continued the task of washing dishes in the sink that was never big enough.  In the kitchen that left her wanting for more, in the house that seemed to never hold enough space to be comfortable.  She stayed because it was hers, and no one else's.

"Baby, baby, ohhh, baby, I love you."

The floral skirt she was wearing dusted the floor, leaving only a sliver of her naked foot barren before toying with the hard tile.  As she swayed to the music it danced with her, gilding her moves like an echo, ruffling the air trying to remain still around.  The black tank she wore was nearly threadbare from repeated washings.  One of those items of clothing she would wear till it fell from her form.  As most of her clothes were. 

The tears came quickly, as they always did, not unexpected, they never were unexpected.  Most days saw at least one outburst of misery from her soul as it cried out the unfair fate that was forcing her to be so very strong.

The heartbreak wasn't a normal one.  She didn't cry from bitterness of being abandoned.  She cried for having tasted just enough joy to make her long for it for the rest of her life. He hadn't lied, never made one false promise.  So the song actually didn't fit her situation.  But it made it all the worse in truth. He hadn't cared enough to tell her pretty lies.  So unimportant to what he desired in the grand scheme of things she had been that he hadn't bothered to tell her anything.  Not a hello, not a goodbye.  No baby this, baby that, one day soons, or when I come back. Not a don't wait for me, we end here, this was a mistake, or never agains.

For six days and seven nights he had filled her with all that he was.  For three of those nights, she had held onto herself, the fourth she pretended that she was still whole, on the fifth she had stopped lying, and the sixth and seventh opened up another door.

As she discovered the real problem with opened doors wasn't in getting them open.  That had been almost too easy.  It was the closing that proved to give the fit.  Silly waitress in a bar was all she had been.  A foolish girl that had no idea of who he was.  No man had ever made her  . . .feel.  That was who he had become.  Nothing more, nothing less. 

More than just touch, words, expressions, the color of his eyes, the length of his hair.  She knew where he was in the room at all times, as he did with her.  The melting promise of joy would hum through her when she knew he was near.  Damn that opened door.

"Long ago. . ."

She didn't count how much time had passed in years, they seemed insufficient when the number was tallied. Instead she felt his absence in moments.  As the sun slid to rest.  Heavy footsteps approaching. The feel of freshly washed sheets.  Morning dew falling from leaves onto her skin.  Phrases that matched his cadence. Catching musky scents in the air.  Accidental contact with a stranger.  Fresh strawberries against her lips.  And songs bemoaning loving an entertainer.

What he had left was possibility without hope.  She didn't wonder if he would come for her, never dared dream that he still even thought of her.  He ruled her waking thoughts and dreaming nights. Soon it became insanity to pretend that this wasn't the case. She knew that this door in her was wide open now and oh so hard to fill.  A few brave had tried, only to be told, "That damned door only seems to be the right size for one man."

". . . .I thought it was you, it was only the radio."

The dishes were done, the kitchen finally clean.  The baby was sound asleep and the song filled the space.  She turned and held up her arms as if holding onto a partner.  With great confidence she began to move slowly to the soft strings of the song playing. Gazing upward fondly she smiled, sweetly, softly beautifully.  "I love being in your arms", she whispered to the sound pulsing air around her.

From Perilous Flight
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Needless to Say I'm Having a Bad Day

I reached out my hand and met only air

I suppose it would've been nice

If someone had cared enough to at least slap it away

But no I met only air

I dream of my bed, so very tired from the day

But I see myself there alone and drag my feet to it

I reached out me hand and met only air

I didn't understand the nature of loneliness

I thought it was only felt by the weak

Those who let themselves be taken advantage of

I reached out my hand and met only air

Even a slap, there some strong emotion in hate

Indifference leaves nothing, not even a breath

Dispassion leaves less than nothing, not a trace

I reached out my hand and met only air

Why isn't there someone there

I pray, I share, I give and I care

And still I reach out and only touch air

How have I landed here in this place?

My only comfort are books

My only companion plans

I live to go to work, there are people there

And if I close my eyes and pretend just right

I can just convince myself

If I disappeared they would care

I reached out my hand and met only air

I don't know how to fix this

So far gone I can't back out

So far gone I don't even know how to anymore

I have this spot, this place, the tower that I view all from

Never truly understood and never truly appreciated

What can it do for me, whispers in the back of my head

How can I use it to make me feel good

Circles in my mind

Maybe if I jump, it will all end

No one will catch me, no one would dare

And if they did they'd only use me

Always only use me, for what they want

Never give back, never really see me

Just what they want from me

It's so stupid, it just wants to make you happy

Make it love you and it will do whatever you want

You never have to give back, you never have to care

Just pretend, it'll believe you, it always believes you

Maybe if I jump the voices will stop,

Maybe if I jump, they will let me fall

I'll die with the truth

If nothing else, I'll have the truth

Maybe if I jump. . .what reason is there not to

To soft to love, to tough to hate

Maybe if I jump. . . . there will be someone on the other end

Maybe if I jump, .. someone will see me.

Maybe if I jump .. . love will be on the other end

Maybe if I jump . . . it won't matter anymore

I reached out my hand and only met air

Time to accept

This is all that will ever be there

From Perilous Flight

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From Your Disposable Baggage

I wish it was as easy for me as it has been for you, to pull away as if nothing that happened was real

To pretend that a person doesn't live, breathe, exist and feel

I wish it was as easy for me as it has been for you, to move on with life without a backwards glance

Not even caring that this thing you never really gave a chance

I wish it were as easy for me as it is for you, to ignore even the basics of courtesy and forgo basic compassion

To just toss aside another person and remain in style and fashion

I wish it were as easy for me as it still is for you, to pretend that I'm not there

I see now that because of you I'm going to learn how to stop being fair,

I'm going to understand how easy it is to just not care

I'm going to indulge in the game of making people disposable

I'm going to see the justice in being weak and pretending I'm not able

I'll show them how little they mean to me with my disregard

How unnecessary they are like dead leaves in the yard

I'll show the others what you've taught me

And their pain in being hurt I'll delight to see

For everyone will wear your face

And maybe when I've had my fill I'll regain my grace. 

From Perilous Flight

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Pick Up That Axe. Life After Prince

The first time I heard 'Do me, Baby' I was too young to truly understand what it meant but I knew it was everything I wanted one day.  Sitting in the back of my mom's car listening to the local Dallas, TX R&B station I heard Prince for the first time and started to try and understand the concept of doing someone.  Because according to him it could be the most amazing thing anyone would ever do.  So of course I wanted to figure it out. I never asked my mother cause I didn't think she knew anything about it or else she would be on the radio singing about it. So I wanted and need more of this Prince fella.

This started a love affair with what he considered music which calls to my soul in ways most people can't understand and a few know all too well. Love is sometimes a taboo subject for young poor dark kids.  Mostly because all the love we see in media is usually not dark. Prince taught me what love could and should be. I became fascinated by his vision.  It wasn't till I was older that I truly understand what was the most engrossing thing about this artist. Prince taught me to accept me. No matter who I find that person to be.

When you grow up and you have a very keen understanding from the first time you become truly consciously aware of yourself that you are different life gets harder.  We have a culture obsessed to a painful degree with fitting in and staying in your lane whatever in the hell that means. And when people step outside of the bounds of where everyone thinks they belong they get shunned. It’s the functioning act of society.  Provide the human interactions that we need to feel whole or deprive them from those who buck the system.

When I first saw Prince I found him to be beautiful in a way that I had never seen a man achieve beauty. He was glorious, fashionable, wore heels and just glowed.  He showed attitude and sass he was everything any young girl would want to be.  But he was intensely male no matter what else he had going on. So he then became who any girl would want to be with. It was a perfect moment of the yin and yang energies of masculine and feminine existing in the same being. It was the first tangible understanding that the concepts of male and female are a myth.  A structure we put into place to maintain the status quo.  When you realize that is a lie you begin to question everything and then you begin to rebel.

Freedom looks beautiful and Prince embodied that in every way.  But it was beyond freedom.  His freedom was unique because its core was identity. It’s not till you get much older do you recognize what that beauty is.  Prince was a man that didn’t' challenge identity and gender roles to be controversial or as a gimmick. He challenged them because he refused to let them define who he was and how he expressed his art or lived his life. He lived as he needed to in order to bring clarity to his art to his life to his unique vision. He was an alchemist who took the elements around him, reshaped them and reformed them to become something we had never seen and realized in that instance we should have never lived without.

What he became for me was a catalyst to a crucial understanding for every human walking this earth.  Of all the things that can be bottled, copyrighted, co-opted, stolen, renamed, identity will always be yours. The unique aspects of your life and being that make you who you are is the only marketable skill any of us will ever really need.  The art is driven by the artist, not the other way around. Your art is not your vehicle to success, you are.  And how well you reveal yourself defines the success of your art.

I consider his death a wakeup call to the conformers and those on the fence.  The ones trying to fit in and emulate others to achieve fame and fortune. Greatness is only gained from great risk and there is no greater risk than true unfiltered exposure. The reason he was able to be prolific after decades of work is that he never had to figure out where to go.  The art was never in control, he was. The art didn't live in its own space to be pulled from and used. He was the art. People can remake his music, they can offer tribute they can mimic his style even take his name. But they will never capture the essence of what made him great.  That is a journey that each artist has to make for themselves.

If you take nothing else away from the death of an icon understand his beginnings. He was ridiculed criticized and maligned. But he never stopped his journey because it didn’t matter what you or anyone else thought. His work was never about impressing you.  His work was about expressing him. His story is a living breathing testament to faith beyond all else. To trusting the higher forces because they have entrusted you with this life and this time.  This place. Stop counting. He never counted. It doesn't matter when just do it. Like the man said, Do me, baby. Like you never have before. Which really means do you. Make the journey.  Find it, embrace it, put your foot in it. Pick it up. Pick up that pen, that paintbrush, that script, that microphone. Pick up that axe. 

And now my favorite Prince moment of doing him:

For Him

Like rose petals, falling away from the stem

Each layer reveals another thought of him

Before I succumb to despair I think

What a gift to have for just that moment

Whether more moments come or whether I am to be denied

What a gift it was for the brief time it thrived

Things I never believed in and was hesitant to guess

Were shown to me without the normal trials of duress

I wonder, was it truly him or my idea of him that made this so

Was it just a nudge to know the ways things could go

Maybe a hint at what I could share with another to come

Or was it meant to be savored and seen to till done

What expressive eyes, telling too much and not enough

What a charming candor that is too pleasant to be rough

What a confounding mix of the things that matter to me most

What a pleasant surprise that was this familiar haunting ghost

You want to be free of me, that I can understand

The trials of my present unacceptable for a good man

If only I had met you first, where would we be now

Things go as they should, regardless of how

Thank you for your time, for showing me moments to never forget

Until my dying day the memories will remain and never relent

From Perilous Flight

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Perpetual Bliss

In states of heightened awareness I see where I am

In those shadows and layers I know what to do

Before I turn the corner the slightest flicker catches my gaze

I’m always wanting, wanting, wanting

In places beyond my grasp I flow with the rhythm

In voices that don't speak my language I catch what I can

Before I answer the call I can hear coming, I relent

I'm constantly wanting, always wanting, wanting

Intrepid with indecisive ambiguity

Frozen by tempestuous allegory

I'm continuously wanting, constantly wanting, always wanting

Turgid with growing anxiety

Catatonic from pending despair

My faith holds out, for more than I can bear

I'm always, constantly, continuously wanting, wanting, wanting

From Perilous Flight

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Tempting Fate

Winding wheels of time do turn

the grinding halt of lessons learned

Why do I feel the need to explore

The burn of touch, a desire for more

Didn't pain teach you anything

The vacant spot where you once wore a ring

Why do I seek this out

That voice that takes away my doubt

Didn't love leave you flat

Nothing but wind and sorrow in your hat

Grinding gears and twisting tide

I run to the front when I just want to hide

Too much, too soon, too fast, too . . . .good

Too good, is  . . .there really . . . . such a thing?

From Perilous Flight


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Freedom

Freedom is a myth they say.  A dream that haunts and never sees the light of day.

Freedom is a lie I’ve heard.  Just another concept that turns out to be only a word

Freedom is a trap I believe.  No one can just get up and leave.

Freedom is beyond our reach I think. The last thought that a person has before they sink.

Freedom is a foolish wish I'm told.  Like hunting for treasure when their's only fool's gold

Is a prayer that never gets answered

A prophecy that remains unfulfilled

Freedom. ..... Freedom

A cry from a desperate part of the human soul

A prize that can be dreamed and not held

A farce without a funny bone

Freedom . . ...Freedom

A path that has no end

Freedom  .. . ... .Freedom

A life unlived

Freedom . . ... .Freedom

A goal without thought

My dream, my path, my farce, my prophecy, my trap, my wish, my cry, my goal, my myth, my lie, my thought, my prize, my prayer, my love, my life.

Freedom is my life

I pursue, I maintain, I endure,

Reachingly, crave, longingly, desire, fulfillment, lasting, tolerance

Feeling diligently awakening ripping piercing raging hollowed hell

pulling within

I hear the cry, thrill shriek of truth calling.. . you . . .the words so clear, words I long to hear.. . . have. . . .desperate to know, so afraid to know. ... it.

The truth unveils itself like petals .. you . .. flowers growing . . .have . . .in the abyss . . .it. . .. .nothing grows here

Too much pain  . .. .you. . . ..to give new life  . . . .have . . . .can't be . . . .it

Improbable, could it . . .you  .. .have .. . be .  . . ..it. . . . . . true

you .. .have . .. .it

you have it.

From Perilous Flight

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The Stages of Woman

Our mothers they teach us to be who they are and as penance we lose our first love

Our friends beseech us to act as they desire and for this we lose our next love

Our loneliness forces us to discover that we can only be what we are and within find our last love

As we stop craving the love of those that crave only our pain.  As we stop seeking that for which only wants to give us our fondest desire of being destroyed. Fascination with being put out of our misery begins to fade.

As we finally look within for what cannot be found without. As we finally look within to the cradle of the truest deception.  The whispers are clear and ever growing louder as we face what all have tried to hide.

Who said that I was flawed, who claimed that I was without.  So hard to believe that they didn't deserve you, much easier to believe that you are the problem.

You only get back what you put out.

Have I, all this time been the maker of my own pain.  Have I, just now begun to realize that I am worth so much more than they say. worth so much more than I say.

so much more than they say, so much more than I say, more than they say, more than I say, than they say, than I say, they say, I say

I say,  I am a woman, I say I am worth so much more than you will ever know, I say that I hold all of who I am, while you hold none. I am strong enough to yield and fierce enough to give, I am hardy so I will stand and I am confident so I will rise to any challenge. 

I am. . . .power. .  I am. . . .joy . . . . .peace. . . . . I am. . weakness  I am. . .undeniable . . boundless . .  I am force. . truth. .  submission . . .decadence. .  I am . . .malleable . . .distraction. . I am  absolution . . mystery. . . .I am. . . .temptation . . . . .rejuvenation . . .exaltation . .  I . . .loyalty . . . .am. . . .reckless. . . .imperfect. . . .I . . . . love . . . . human . . . am. . destruction  . . .rebirth .  . .life. . . .

I           am        flawed.

From Perilous Flight

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Not Broken

I told myself that you weren’t broken

I hardly could believe the words were spoken

In my time, my pain I can still feel the truth

Even though there doesn’t seem to be one ounce of proof

My heart, speaks over my mind

It tells the story of love being blind

It has not prejudices no flaws are too great

There is no word that will spur these feeling to hate

Jealously disguises itself as love

Envy tags on and pretends it’s from above

Judgment comes and fills the world with its pain

Even lust wears love as if it were its name

I have fallen to each and carried their flag with no shame

I have let them whisper their designs and submit me to their game

I have torn down my own honor, my dignity and moral code

I strolled down the roads that pride and arrogance foretold

As I pull myself from the depths of their treachery

I see clearly that my love has carried no heresy

I have not denied the feelings God blessed me to have and give

I have not forsworn my love as false thus it will forever live

So as I say that you are not broken I know that it is just

I let my love guide my hand to declare till I am dust

As long as there is breath in me, my love will not dissipate

Whether for a year or 20 a part of me will always wait

Mayhap one day I’ll pass you on the street

Mayhap that day you and I will truly meet

From Perilous Flight

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My Fate, My Destiny

I hold my fate in one hand and my destiny in the other. 

I reach across the plain to drop one to find that neither will let go.

I reach across the sky to release one in the wind and realize that I cannot let go.

My fate stares boldly back at me from the base of my right palm.

My destiny laughs as it watches the play from its place in the base of my left palm.

They know a secret to this place that I have yet to discover.

They taunt me from their vantage point holding their own favor.

I hold my Fate, the words vibrate, in my mind

I hold my Destiny, the words resonate, through my heart

In one hand and the other, floods my soul

My Fate, nothing is ever promised

My Destiny, nothing is ever gained

In one hand, I know the way to go

And the other, I’ve always known the way.

My, how long have I run from myself

My, how often have I avoided my own face

In, so many ways the road is revealed

And, carelessly I have chosen to stray away

I hold my Fate, in this hand as I close it into a fist

I hold my Destiny in this other hand I now close into a fist

I own, My Fate, I own, My Destiny.

Opening, I rub my palms together.

Now they are as all parts of me,

One . . and . . . the same.

From Perilous Flight
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