The Four States of Imbalance

Overfed and overworked;
Underfed and overworked;

Overfed and underworked;

Underfed and underworked.

Which state are you in?

Which state are you promoting for others?

Napa Valley

The Pygmalion Project

When we meet someone we are attracted to the way that person

complements us, fills in our gaps and inspires us to be better.

Once we settle into the relationship, we immediately go about the 

Pygmalion project, trying to change the other, make them like us.

After all, if that's the way we chose to be, isn't it the better way?

The sad thing is, we never see the damage we're causing, the 

unwanted baggage we are accumulating, the inspiration that's lost. 

I think it can't be repeated often enough, resisting the Pygmalion 

project, accepting and embracing differences, will make us happier

and, after all, isn't happiness our goal, isn't that what we seek? 

In favor of more balance

How far is it worth going

for the sake of others?

Not far at all, would probably

be the reply from the West.

All the way, would probably

be the reply from the East.

Just like that, the world is split

into school shootings and

bombings in foreign lands. 

Freedom & Commitment

Freedom can be equated to poverty:

you have nothing to lose.

Commitment can be equated to wealth:

you have everything to lose.

The Grass is Always Greener on the Other Side

Independence

Independence is an amazing thing

it is empowering, dizzingly so,

it is like drinking margaritas on a sunny deck.

It takes us far on its wings, to places

we never imagined we'd go if we ever bothered

taking off our PJs and leaving the comfort zone.

With independence we drive our own Ferrari

no one tells us where to go or how fast to drive

but, then again, no one tells us anything at all.

Indeed, I'd say, the fall from grace can be worse

than the hangover from the margaritas on the deck

when no one is there to catch us on our fall.

Going for a Walk

I love being places where

I can walk far on my own.

It's better even if those places

are lined with trees and dirt paths

that every once in a while come to a fork

or offer a pebble to throw or a bench to sit.

I don't even mind if my feet get dirty

and my back gets sweaty and I stumble

once or twice on a stray piece of rock

if I get to glimpse one animal or flower.

And if I get rewarded with the upside down

smile of a rainbow in the sky or by the golden

setting of the sun from the peak of a mountain top,

then I know that I have done well choosing that path.

Back in the '80s in 2008

Brazilian coastline

Two Anchors

To know your priorities

makes life so much easier.

It serves as a compass

pointing you North

and letting you know 

when you're facing South.

The trouble begins

when life gets in the way

and we lose our compass

and are left stranded,

looking every which way,

like a boat adrift in the sea. 

Body and Mind

I treat my body a different way

depending on the day

sometimes I treat it like a receptacle 

there to absorb the excesses of my mind

and the abuses of society.

Sometimes I treat it like a vehicle, 

there to take me someplace else.

Sometimes it takes control

and treats me like a prisoner

trapped in its confines.

Other days it is my friend

and we have a great time together.

More often  though, it is my enemy, 

unwilling to change for my benefit.

This never-ending parade,

this work in progress,

this disaster of a body,

this beautiful machine,

gives me so many choices

and my mind, this constantly changing,

restless, impatient, fast moving, dangerous

controller of my fate, gives it so many purposes

it's no wonder we rarely meet halfway, in peace.

Take responsibility

Unresolved feelings

are like bad loans

Passing on the heartache

by ignoring it and moving on 

is not much better than

passing on a bad loan

as an attractive derivative:

they both come back 

and bite you in the ass. 

If anyone asked

If anyone ever asked

this is the advice I've give:

Stay true to yourself

be in touch with your feelings

ignore what's purely rational

because feelings have a way

of getting in the way.

I'd also say:

be persistent but don't be pushy,

be assertive but don't be aggressive.

Just don't hold it in, don't let it

build into a furious red rage.

Try to be as honest as you can.

This is what else I'd say:

Don't make assumptions

especially ones based on 

feeling rightful and empowered.

Never be afraid to ask questions.

Be flexible, but don't be a pushover.

Don't be afraid to be passionate, 

but be willing to make concessions

and keep your eye on the big prize,

which is to be alive, and mostly:

don't ignore your feelings. 

On the road to Paris

The Roller Coaster

I was on a roller coaster today,

even though I don’t like them,

I had convinced myself again

that it was silly not to like a toy.

It took me up slowly, steadily chugging along,

while I happily spied the top of people’s heads

as they moved about, consumed by their lives. 

“This isn’t so bad,” I thought to myself.

It was a beautiful view once I got to the top

I felt like I owned the world from up there.

But then the car I was in suddenly raced downhill

and I was digging my nails into the safety bar,

my hair was flying behind me making my spine cold

and I was terrified, petrified, feeling paralyzed. 

It was so beyond my control, so unexpectedly violent

I felt my lunch come up in protest and my face lose color. 

I couldn’t understand why such a fall was necessary. 

And then it happened again and again

until, by the end, I was placid and conformed

to this way of life, but I was no longer smiling. 

When I got off I refused to speak to anyone around me

feeling like I needed to figure out what had happened

and that’s when I saw that this mad roller coaster,

with all it's dips and turns, ups and downs, was just life. 

Barren Lifescape of Anxiety

I try so hard

sometimes I get sick of it

and just want to rebel

and it makes me so mad

when I don’t get it right

or when I get screwed over

then I get sad

so I try harder, put more heart into it

and even then I get less out of it

so then I just want to give up

nestle into myself and say screw this

I’m moving on, I’m better than that

then I wonder if I really am

and what makes me think that

Those are the moments when

I think: it sucks, it just sucks

to live inside my head.

Time Space Compendium

When I was a little girl

I thought all moments 

were created equally,

that it was impossible

that time and space

could conspire to lend

one moment

more significance

than another.

Now I know better,

I know some moments

count a whole lot more.

That some moments

will find my heart

beating erratically

and other moments 

will find me dozing,

unaware of the world.

And that it won't always 

be my own choice

which moment matters

and which does not.

And I will have to trust

that I will know when

to fight or take flight

and realize that sometimes

I will do the wrong thing.

Beach town in Brazil

Beat of My Heart

Walk in Maine

Buenos Aires in the Spring

Jackson Hole

Hanging by the fire

sweet alcohol in a glass

constantly close at hand.

Good feelings, positive vibes,

floating around the room.

Flames from the fire

reflecting in blue eyes,

brown eyes, hazel eyes,

warm, warm hearts

burning backsides, sweaty feet

content expressions

thoughtful conversations.

Outside the deadness of winter

brought alive with awe

through admiring eyes,

mouths open and soaring hearts

experienced through glass.

The vision of a moose

seen and smelled up close,

feeling the cold

tasting the dryness

loving every second

appreciating beautiful territory.

Inside again,

sitting around a table

laughing merrily

eating heartily.

Good food, good people

bringing out the best

in each other.

Loving smiles,

squeezing hands,

reassuring looks,

good tunes,

a unique time/place

in a world that’s been

turned upside down. 

A Pathetic Existence

I’ve seen a lot with these eyes of mine. People think I’m too stupid to notice anything but, I do, I notice it all. Take yesterday, for example. What a day. It started off with a semi-homeless guy who I know. He usually spends the night with me but last night he got exceptionally drunk and only made it by the first hours of dawn. I couldn’t be sure where he got the booze, but I think it was that alcoholic who lives over on Mulberry St. She’s always happy to have someone drink with her. Too bad she isn’t generous enough to ever invite him in to clean up after one of their drinking sessions. Instead I get to smell his stinky breathe and soak up his sweat. Anyway, yesterday he arrived, drunk as a skunk, and set about lying down on top of me. Pathetically, I was actually kind of glad for the company, it had been a lonely night for me. But soon enough, a police officer came along and it turns out that my homeless guy had gotten into some kind of trouble, of the running down the street naked after a girl variety. He got arrested and I got to be alone again.

At about ten in the morning there was some new excitement. Another sorry looking guy who looked like he was running from someone caught sight of me and came my way. He checked me out from five feet away then came closer and, you’ll never believe this, took a piss on me!! What has the world come to??? He took a piss on me then walked away as I stared at him, speechless. He even had a little smile on his face, the bastard!

Since I’m incapacitated from moving and there was no one around to rinse me off I breathed in the raunchy smell of his urine, fuming silently, until it finally rained shortly before lunchtime. It made me cold and wet for a while, but it was still a relief.

At lunchtime I was joined by a couple of cops on their lunch break. They usually avoided me, but it seemed that they wanted to get away from their usual routine that day. They didn’t seem to mind my smell and were with me for about an hour, in which I had to contend with their heavy weight and still listen to their conversation about a drug trafficker who they were trying to get a commission from. It blew my mind that they were so careless about who was listening, but I guess I didn’t present much of a threat.

I finally had some time to myself that afternoon, which I used to get some much-needed rest. It was only at nightfall that I saw some excitement again. A couple, making out against a tree, didn’t notice me quietly watching them. They seemed so in love, it was something I would never have. It made me kind of sad until the guy started getting a little too pushy and the girl started getting a little scared and then, right in front of my eyes, as I stared immobilized, he raped her and left her there, tears running down her throat.

Right before midnight I got to witness another wonderful example of humanity. As I was sitting there, just thinking about my day, two guys ran past me, the one in front gripping a briefcase close to his chest and the one behind him aiming a shotgun. Just before they left my line of sight I saw a shot being fired, once, then twice, then a third time. One of the shots caught my foot and the other two shots caught the man with the briefcase. The shooter didn’t bother with me. He checked the victim for a pulse, grabbed the suitcase, threw the gun on a grassy area nearby and took off.

It really isn’t easy being a bench.

The Rug Beneath Her Feet

A beautiful Oriental rug it was

My balance on top it kept

All the designs met up articulately

A geometric pattern presented perfection  

Cherry, alabaster and moss intertwined

A regular routine – hard, taxing work

Little time for dreams, instead tiny pink pills

Glamorous events and beautiful leather

And silk and pearls and red, manicured nails 

Champagne in flutes, paintings on the walls

One bitter night when owls didn’t hoot

Coming home from a glorious affair

My heels ceased to meet with soft tapestry 

The room had become a burial ground

Only lingering ghosts shimmied around

I used to eat gourmet ice cream on the rug

With a precious, elegant silver spoon

That I usually reserved for special occasions

Beauty had been a constant in my life

Until a fast moving car, a driver awry 

A split second, no time to ponder even

He picked me up in his frustrated drive

He left me as scattered fragments of a person

My beautiful Oriental rug dissipated 

In a cloud of smoke

Into thin, flimsy air 

I resurfaced in a cold, metallic room

Latex coated hands inches from my face

Surrounded by screaming red and sterile white

Months later, my face a patchwork

An ancient, wrinkled map of rivers

And streams and waterfalls running into each other

My feet walked on cold, stone ground 

Until I decided to reconstruct the gap 

Between my feet and the depths of the Earth

My beautiful Oriental rug

became a field, plowed in the spring 

In preparation for the harvest

Gold, weaved through glorious rose and auburn

Winter seeds sown into the ground

I was thrown into another life

But I embraced it, indeed I graced it

blooming with the beauty that I found
had been inside, all along. 

Fun Winner in the Winter

Winner 

Rhymes with dinner

A sport for the sinner

Wouldn’t you agree?

Then why not make it three?

Ok, that’s wasn’t the best rhyme

But, rhyme, reason or season,

When is a better time?

Time for what?

Why, for being silly!

Why not?

I’d rather be Fun Billy

Than boring Sally May

Anyday! 

To give and not hold back, I want to be

To be outside frolicking in the outdoors,

to be dancing indoors, high on being alive,

pulsating with the rhythms.

Eating crusty bread with wine, chocolate and almonds,

drinking cups of milky, sugary tea. 

Sleeping, cozy and warm, under a multicolored blanket, 

a vase with white flowers,

a kiss on the forehead.

To smell amazing, to smile lazily,

to fill my chest with air and exhale with confidence.

To feel proud of a perfect stranger 

and, after a long day,

take a walk in the moonlight and get

butterfly kisses from the rain. 

Disgrace

Under the brazen surface of disgrace,

beneath the scum that we are

lies the mercury that heats us from the inside,

propelling us forward, tumbling, stumbling

for survival.

Covering the tracks with fake beauty,

Underneath we are beasts of instinct.

We don’t even know, half the time,

why we do what we do. But,

We do.