The Aging Duckling

In college mid 20s probably. Most of my pictures involve me not looking at the camera.

This is me at 40 looking terrified of the camera. I am really scared of the camera okay.

Crisis, pretty much describes my mind state for the last few days/weeks. I guess you could say I am going through a dark night of the soul. Purging. Trauma. Ego Death. The delicate balance between collapse and surrender. At the moment the only way I know how to let go is to beat myself down until I am too exhausted to resist. I don’t know if I am a sadist or a masochist. Maybe I am both. So what, you may wander, is bothering me specifically?

Well to start with there’s childhood trauma. I am really tired of dealing with this particular trauma and I have sincerely tried to heal these issues and move forward with my life. Basically it is feelings of insecurity. I don’t feel safe. I am still clinging to the side of the pool for dear life, metaphorically. There is other things too: I am afraid to hurt the people I love and afraid that the love I have to offer is somehow tainted. I don’t feel worthy. I don’t feel pretty enough, young enough, successful enough, good enough, sane enough, reliable enough, interesting enough, talented enough. Enough period.

Speaking of young enough. I am having some type of midlife crisis. I have always struggled with changes to my physical appearance for better or worse. I think it is because of the disassociation. I don’t see a gradual progression of changes but sudden, inexplicable changes. Which might be the reason I don’t wear makeup. I need to see my real face, not another external face plastered on top of my own. My dad was a pedophile and misogynist. He was really cruel in his judgements of women. Adult women particularly. I admit I have read about dating when you are 40 and it is basically the same diatribe he fed to me as a kid. One article said women are past their prime at 18. Presumably the article was written by a prebuscent boy. I hope so anyways because if a grown up of either gender wrote that article it is heart-breaking, not for me but for them. Personally I think you can be beautiful at any age. At least, I have never really cared much about the age of other people. So why does my age matter so much to me? When I was in college I used to subscribe to the Oprah Magazine. Which was probably geared toward middle-aged women but I liked it. Anyhow it had a collection of beautiful women. Older women. Each woman had a small biography accompanying her portrait. These women were in there 70s and they had such a sense of self, such confidence. They were gorgeous. I had this weird idea that I was going to get older and develop some sort of peace with my appearance. That I would shed the crippling insecurities of my youth as I got to know myself better. This hasn’t happened yet. The parts of my body I am not insecure about: my thumbs, my vagina, my feet most of the time, my nose which my daughter gives me hell for several times a week. I think a crooked nose is sexy (my nose is crooked and angular from the side from the front it’s a different nose). Truthfully though I always feel both old and young at the same time. I am not as different from myself at 20 as I expected to be (I mean internally not externally, I am definitely different externally lol). I am still me you know?

There is of course the whole financial insecurity thing. Speaking of which I’ve got an apprenticeship in a second hand store. They will be accessing my ability to work. They have many different departments. I chose to work in books. I was assigned to textiles.

I am worried about my daughter whose having a tough time right now, a really tough time.

I am still trying to work out what unconditional love means. What are twinflames?

I want to be painted in the nude by an artist who appreciates my very human figure.

I know I want to love and be loved. I know I am one of those sappy, hopeless romantic sorts. I write poetry so I am really obsessed with words. Rather than grand romantic gestures I prefer humor and small, thoughtful, and yes sometimes idiotic gifts. I don’t want a diamond ring. I’d rather honestly have a bubblegum machine ring. I don’t know why. I think it’s sweeter or simpler or something. I want something playful and fun. They say you get pickier with age. Here’s my list.

I don’t care that much about looks this (includes weight), money, status, or age (to a point obviously I think preference wise I am 25 up to infinity)

A good sense of humor/playful/silly/sweet

Loves me for who I am

A good lister (because I talk a lot)

A willingness to communicate

Honesty/they are real with me

Passionate and yet somehow still chill (this is where I get picky. How can they be passionate, a wee bit obsessive, and have a voracious directed toward me sexual appetite and still be laidback???! How can they be all-consumed with me and not be jealous as hell? See I haven’t worked this bit out at all.)

They reciprocate my feelings and willing to learn about intimacy with me because I am still learning

Stuff like that. Basically I wanted reciprocated love. I am probably not a casual dater and to be fair this has nothing to do with age because I never was one. I am basically like a baby duckling I imprint and so I literally don’t know how to think of anyone but the person I like. Which probably makes me needy and clingy. I can own that. Maybe after I work out these insecurity issues I will be less duckling and more swan.

Basically my current mission is just to learn how to relax and to heal. Also I am tired of pursuing/chasing whatever. I am going to do my best to just be open. To go with the flow. Let the universe decide.

Tale Weaver #51 – Footsteps

approaching footsteps

The mirror gnashes her ambidextrous teeth
whichever way I look, right or left,
I see a croon roaring up behind my eyes.
Perhaps I better track my footsteps instead
where I’ve been surely counts for more
than my fading youth. Vanity is such a tease
never at home in her own skin, always hungry,
never content but my bespattered boots
are weightless, visionaries, with soles
enough to compose and odysseys by the volume.

Photo Challenge #9 “Lotus Song”

003-surreal-art-andrey-bobir

Andrey Bobir

I never gave my heart

The benefit of expression

Compromised every note

With a bedeviled chorus

Under the premise of logic

I outwitted instinct

But was none the wiser

 

Of the faces worn

None are so enduring

As the Godhead

I fashion labyrinths

Of human hair and insulation

Chasing monosyllabic stars

Under the council of sheep

Still bodhichitta remains

Unblemished

 

I left my hands in cement

To harden as if they were

A personalized monument

For a depersonalized farce

I ceased all intrinsic endeavor

Heel toe…heel toe..heel toe

Boots greased by a mercurial skyline

The end was of my own making

Still the beginning follows

 

What have I learned

In the passage of time

In the snarl of sand

As it plummets from

One hemisphere into the next?

To accept yourself

For no other truth fits

*

I am never satisfied with my philosophical poems something I need to work on

Birthday (Audio)

Happy_birthday_to_you_by_complejoCredit: Complejo of DeviantArt

What do I want?

As a child the blanks were easy to fill

There was always some toy, some article

Some vacuous need easily sated

A want was such a simple thing

I think I’ll have a beach ball

A set of pastels, a guitar to recount

The erosion of my innocence

*

I never received anything on my list

You understood my penchant

For poisons all too well mother

Understood that what is truly important

Is not the thought but the perversion

If I get her something

She’s not thought to mention

She will feel all the more relieved

That daughter of mine is so forgetful

Heaven help the poor girl

She cannot possibly know

The persuasions of her heart

That heart which is still so new

Why she’s probably written down

The first thing that’s popped into her head!

*

I resent that question

What do you want?

It’s not about me, this birthday

I’ve no right to celebrate in peace

I must make a spectacle of myself

For the benefit of others

For those younger than myself

Who still look forward

To the freedom of infirmity

*

People take such pleasure

In unnerving one another

If you succumbed to my requests

I wouldn’t be sufficiently surprised

You should have seen her face

When I handed her that pig’s heart!

The squeal of terror delight

Look how she turns it over and over

Her mute, bloody hands tremulous

(of what use it is I cannot imagine)

It’s no approximation dear one

That is a genuine pig’s heart

Strait from the butcher

So fresh it still echoes

With the hysteria of departure!

*

I have written you a note too

Right there beside the quip

About unwanted hair growth

And accelerated weight gain

(looks like you’re right on target!)

A card just wouldn’t be the same

If you didn’t sacrifice a few tears

*

Birthdays are for sadists

I’d rather spend the day selfishly

Eating gratuitous amounts of sweets

Making love, watching television

Perhaps dinner in the evening

Home-cooked and uninterrupted

By cued, overworked waiters

And their synthetic confections

Uninterrupted by song or applause

Just a simple dinner eaten

Without any concern

Whatsoever for my health

*

This is meant to be sarcastic so I hope you won’t take it seriously. I am making fun of how we like to scare people and make them cry on their birthdays. Personally I like birthdays and still get excited though I prefer to keep them very simple. My actual birthday is November 8th

This is for Poet’s United

Audio can be found here I tried to put a little drama in it but I am not an actress haha

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0p745SXGfxG

2 poems (Entity and Puppy Love)

drawin___a_silhouette_penpal_by_bongobingo

Entity

I have always been

One part demonic and one part angelic

The boundary that separates the two

Is as deep as it is vast

I am not two entities trapped

In one diffident fugue

But one entity which refutes

All consignment

Puppy Love

Two couples stand in the back of the tram

They are not old enough for the intimacy

Their succinct postures compose

Or perhaps it is I who have grown too old

To differentiate between youth and infancy

Prompt 38 Tender Love

manequinportraitThis week’s prompt is “Tender Love” which I don’t think requires an extensive explanation.

Here some examples if you need a little direction or clarification (you are not limited to these examples)

Intimacy and disclosure in romantic relationships

Making love for the first time

Kissing

Sympathizing

Parental love (that beautiful moment when you meet your baby for the first time is the best example I can think of)

Caring for animals, children, the elderly, the infirm, the severely disabled

Gardening

Creating delicate art

Brittle

multiple_personalities_by_schattenkrahe-d3c9o8iArtwork By: schattenkrahe

As a child there must have been a time

When beauty was more state of being

Than degree of starvation

A time when imagination outweighed

Monetary extraction as it ought to do

In any society that professes itself civilized

*

As a teenager

Graphite hearts ran deeper

Than their messy counterparts

And immortality could only

Be extinguished by fire

Which meant, that in order to die,

One had to live impractically first

Mine was a language capable

Of rescinding and reshaping existence

I was a genius because I suffered

The reverse didn’t necessarily apply

*

As an adult I find my resignation

Tempered only by discontent

There is red and yellow tape

Beneath which no treasure lies hidden

All my mirrors appear carnival themed

I don’t like the way aging assumes flesh

I am brittle and inflexible

Like an unsuccessful resolution

*

I wrote this in the bath which is where I find myself whenever I am unable to produce anything suitable on dry land. I have had vertigo for the last 37 hours so if anyone has suggestions I would be grateful.

Sliver (100 Word Story)

stichTremulous fingers pluck the stitches of a crudely attired heart. One false move and the organ will surrender entirely. She proffers up an anemic sliver to the barista at her favorite cafe and another to a man repining at the bar. Weary eyes offer only the staccato apology of dismissal. Night will bring the savage heat of spring. Dawn the garish embellishment of aphotic stars. There is pain in vulnerability, pain in rejection, pain in the migration of lovers to more sanguine models. She is old now and gathered like the pleats of a vintage skirt, still the quest for love remains paramount.

*

The woman in the image is not as old as I intended but the picture felt right. This story is actually for the prompt I am not sure if it provides an adequate hint but there you have it

Senescent

EYE

I slide into black

Into the sleek lines

Of a vintage cocoon

The necrotizing shadows

Cradled between

Ribs and brows

Empty my persona

Of hopeful embellishments

*

Once I was ambrosial

I wore my youth

In tokens of spring

My words were flowers

My eyes primed

With rain and sun

My heart an eager fruit

Given in savage parodies

Of love

*

Once I yearned only

For another day

To celebrate my life

Now I yearn

For poultices and potions

To heal those wounds

Heedlessly obtained

Now I hide

For I fear above all

Change

*

A crone of the Gray Waste

I propagate riddles

Tongue rasping like

Itinerant autumn leaves

I am none the wiser

But my words

Are harder to deflect

For they mean more now

Then they ever did

In courtship

Fossilize (Audio)

conform2

My heart wears an expression of mute terror

The sort of expression that is inherent in all unsuspecting fossils

Your observations pass over me like an avalanche

Every bone-shattering collision helps to soften my rage

Because unlike my morale gravity is infallible

*

“Blood dilutes over time”

My heart is an underfed furnace

When in school they used to shove

Firewood vertically down my throat

Now I sit clucking my splinter free tongue

In search of none negotiable rubbish

*

“Insanity is the display of any emotion

That defies a preexisting ambiance”

Your limp-fisted smile is the height of fashion these days

Like a guitar string that lacks a prerequisite tension

I find your voice cackling in the pursuit of others

When in isolation, I find that your register has risen

One full octave, as if there were a helium leak

In the space directly above your shoulders

*

I wonder if your eyes have any other orientation

Besides open/closed and if given enough time

Will I be able to force a wink out of you

Or at least an honest to goodness frown

*

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0DL144LftTx