Tag Archives: hope

Fickle Mistress

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Fickle Mistress

How much can one heart hold:

Sadness-

Love-

Anger-

Happiness?

Swelling and contracting

Heaving like a deep breathing chest

Rising and falling;

like rapid cycling moods.

Hearts can heal

All too often it seems

Just in time to break-

again.

Love-

Love is a tricky bitch.

And hope?

Hope is a fickle mistress.

Paradiddle

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Paradiddle

The curve of your lip

soft

like your hand on my hip

guide

Flash of the light

sigh

hands clench tight

kiss

Mouth open wide

bite

crest the rolling tide

rise

Scratches arching skin

shiver

secrets spilled ear in

whisper

Space once sought

back

Arm wrapped taut

sleep.

 

 

 

 

The Dark

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The Dark

Ubiquitous coupling of individuals:

dating, seeing, hooking up, hoping…

 

Such hope, misshapen and oft, mistakenly placed 

Among those who could be a catalyst… 

For growth

For love

For the exchange of energy 

 

A soft place to fall

A mirror for reflection 

For learning 

For safety

 

Can you be trusted?

Can you trust? 

 

Me in a vulnerable place

You in a similar position 

 

Our traumas they resound 

Like echoes they attract

Signal like a beacon 

Other lost souls

 

Calling out 

to find their way back 

Pain is sensual

An illusion we embrace 

 

But the questions still remains:

Can we hold hands?

Lead each other;

through the forest, 

the trees…

Do we walk toward light

Or retreat back to the dark…

 

Waiting…

Breath held

Throat clasped

Rise

Exhale

 

Fear feels safe…

Somehow

You know.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder.

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Fuck you, Eddie Vedder.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for being my main boy/man archetype since I was 12.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for giving me hope. Hope that angry young men who hate their mothers and miss their fathers could grow up to be sensibly deep and poetic souls.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for narrating my youth and adolescence.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for giving me a voice and a growl to match my self-imposed angst.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for making me think that all angry young surfer/skater/artist boys would grow up to be passionate and well-adjusted adults.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for making me obsess over Matt Miller for years.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for having your lovingly familiar brow furrow.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for being my jokingly “8th ex husband” as I inch closer and closer to number 8.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for cutting your hair. It made Chris Cornell cut his! You bastard. Chris Cornell has the voice of an ANGEL.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for marrying a goddamn model and having a baby with her and having it be glorious.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for the soundtrack of Into the Wild, further complicating what I thought was a pivotal moment in my growth by proving that you angry boys could become men and could snap out of your melancholy to write something so provocative and insightful.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for influencing that vote of mine for Nader.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for making me love greasy rat men from Singles.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for all your mind opening documentaries and eye-opening activism.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for performing with Johnny Depp, which was a wet dream.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for Ukelele Songs, which made me love you even more.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, for my wedding song.

Sigh. Fuck you, Eddie Vedder.

I still love you.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder, because I would probably still marry you; if you and Jill don’t work out. Even though you are the same age as my mother. It’s not as weird, now that I am practically middle-aged.

But whatever.

Fuck you, Eddie Vedder.

Happy early fucking birthday, freaking Capricorns.