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
On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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
On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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


On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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

On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

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
On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

The Unnatural State of True Love

The best of us from the worst of us, cacophony and symphony, as heralds heckle and jeer, as heralds praise and cheer. Walk with me down the slippery slope of a path unknown to find solace in a peaceful word. I know as you know its comfort is false and temporary, like holding the kite as lightning strikes. Yet you stand, to ashamed to run, to fearful to embrace. God I see so much of what I love in that face.

Tearing, pulling, shredding, holding, kissing, missing, sharing.

Please be real, I beg and plead . . . please be real, I have to believe. . . . PLEASE BE REAL, there are no words. I couldn't know . .I couldn't . . . .deserve. I shouldn't know. . . . I shouldn't. . . . . deserve.

The voice in the back of your head is your heart pleading 'Don't fight me anymore', 'Don't resist, take what you want'. The mind insists, 'This feels wrong'. Everything in me is Dying, 'dying', "dying".

The quiet whispers, 'Is this right, am I right.'
The darkness chimes, 'How did I miss, so much'
The light shouts 'How did I see, so little'

Like sunrise, like a storm, like water on your face, this place, the fields and the oceans, the air and your soul heat and breathe new life

Like fingers shifting apart gossamer the wind says, 'Let's do that again'.
Wrapping its stroke around you it coyly beckons, 'Take this trip with me.'

From Perilous Flight
On Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords

Oddity of Mind

A few year ago I released a memoir style fiction called Perilous Flight. It was a coming of age thing that had a lot more reality in it than I ever wanted to believe.  This weighs on me right now.  Give a read.  Feeling a bit of melancholy, need a little direction or just want to get lost with someone who was.  Perilous Flight is the book you're looking for. It is the culmination of healing a broken heart that begins and ends with understanding what you should and shouldn't be fighting for:

I usually don't indulge in psychic flights of fancy.  I know things, I don't like it, I just do.  But every once in a while I have an awareness issue where it feels all of the world's everything is pouring into me.  So it's a haze, blurring dizzying and out of control and then I focus.  And out of the whirl comes a clear conscious stream.  Within this stream I see everything.  Not just a picture, I see people, what they are thinking, what they are feeling why they've responded the way that they have, the connections in their lives that have made it so.  I see myself through their eyes and still maintain what I'm thinking.  It's almost like watching my life as a spectator.  I remove myself from myself and then just politely, quietly watch. 

Not many people know this except for close personal friends. But I dreamed of Siegfried for years before we met.  Call me nuts, but really what use would it be. Anyway in these dreams he would murder me.  He was a serial killer, and he would come up to me and I would stand there knowing that he wouldn't hurt me, trusting him even though I knew I shouldn't and I would let him cut me down. 

He would start with my limbs slowly hacking away at me.  His face impassive and calm, indifferent.  He wasn't even really enjoying it, or paying attention truly.  He was performing a function.  And I endured it knowing that while I would die in one way, I would be reborn in another.  The sane would say that you stay away from the man that murdered you in your dreams.  I say I'm not sane and this was the path I needed to take.  Pain teaches so much more than pleasure does.  As far as my life up to this date has shown me at least.

Honestly I owe the man I'm divorcing a bit of gratitude.  I am just now becoming the woman I've always wanted to be.  And I never would've done it if he hadn't destroyed me emotionally to the point that I no longer wanted to live.  It made me find a reason to exist and forced me to find value within myself and not as a side car of what other people want from me.  The greatest gift a woman can ever give herself, is herself and herself alone.

And now my dreams are my own.  They are tempered with flirting, anticipation, longing, desire, waiting, anxiety, all of the delicious, delicious sensations that accompany being alive.  And now I'm starting to finish the dream, the one where Siegfried destroys me.  It doesn't end like I thought it did, but I never knew that before.  The pain of what I was enduring was always too much and I would end the dream early, well before he’s done killing me. You see, I always thought that this ended in my death and I always check out of dreams before I die in them.  Too Nightmare on Elm Street for me. But now, that I don’t fear the dying I can finish it, picking up from where he left off.

I watch as he pries out my heart and just holds it staring into my face waiting. Finally I yell at him to leave me alone, cursing at him, hating him.  He calmly tosses away my heart, gets up and leaves me lying there. I lay on the ground, my limbs scattered around me, they are burned and singed from my proximity to hell.  My eyes are closed and I weep, uncontrollable weeping.  But no motion, it hurts too much I can't bear the pain of crying as I normally would because heaving does me no good.  I turn to see tiny red demons with stubby limbs fighting over my heart.

Suddenly, the earth shatters around me and I hear him before he lands.  The sound of his wings ripping away as he falls cuts through my pain and stops my tears. I close my eyes as the lightning strikes, it tears up the sky and hurts to look at. And I can see him in my head, falling backwards through clouds, his black wings being torn from his back by the force of his falling. He folds his arms across his chest and lets himself fall.  His face is obscure because it’s being covered by his whipping hair. And then he's there. 

I can't see him, but I can feel him slowly putting me back together.  He starts with my legs, the putting together is almost more painful than the hacking off had been.  Because I can feel the burned torn flesh, I can feel the skin he peeled away from when Siegfried was pulling me apart.  I can feel the exposed nerves, the aching of my bones as they are being fused back together.  I feel the stranger’s hand at my brow. I want to open my eyes but I’m so afraid to stare into the face of my savior, so afraid to meet the man that will have all of me forever no matter what else is decided. He fell for me, what choice do I have. Not that I would choose anything else.  I feel his lips at my eyes telling me its okay not to look, and I feel him push my heart back into my chest. 

Through my pain I now know what to look forward to in pleasure.  I can feel it pour over me peeling away the marred, burned, sliced, and badly cauterized wounds the one who came before left.  This mystery coming into my life just unzips this heavy carcass of my despair, and carefully pulls me free from it.  Like a snake dropping its skin, my reconstructed form, starting with my feet he slowly pulls every part of me free.  His hands brushing away the debris slowly I feel the warmth of the sun combined with the coolness of water. The smell of burning flesh replaced with the onset of spring honeysuckle and lavender. Without a word, his lips to mine I am reborn.

From Perilous Flight at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

Perilous Flight

This is the aftermath of a fine romance. Sometimes I think as novelists we have to indulge in heartbreak to understand how something becomes so very perfect, and wonderful. The ancient Greeks called it tragedy. That aspect of life that ripped out the soul, and replaced it with bitterness, pain, and a reckless desire to hurt others. We are all capable of becoming a victim of such nihilistic thoughts, and machinations. The proof is in what you choose to do about it.

The following is not crafted as a book or novel should be. Instead it is raw, and rushed. It is hurried, and frenzied. This work is littered with bad punctuation, improper phrasing, and words that don't really exist. It then becomes what it should accurately resemble. Life.

This is Perilous Flight

Always w/love,
Sue