boredom
condescending
to myself
chasing the sun
on a shorter day
than yesterday

Bus out of town

I talk too much
and get beat down
with silence
a foolish pollyanna
a sucker for a kind word

from someone who can’t be bothered
with the emotional side of things
some women
are built for speed–
I was built for empathy

all fine and good at 20
with big plans
idealism anyone–
certain it would pan out
at some point

but giving up feels good
at this moment
forgetting dreams–
I can’t give you something
you won’t take

and you can’t accept what you see
as no more than a token
the love it represented
beat up and taking the bus
to warmer climates

Monday Random–thankful

• I am glad I did NaNoWriMo this year. I was considering quitting it because I don’t need the impetus to write every day anymore, as I already do that now
• But I need other things, like interaction. Input. Inspiration.
• There is definitely more there than just a gimmick, or a crutch as some see it
• But I know it’s not for everyone
• I got reacquainted with a couple of people from other Nano’s and met a couple of new people I will potentially write with again
• They have positive attitudes and a spirit of fun that has been very attractive to my grumpy, sometimes pessimistic spirit

it was

just cause for the big cry I had
waterfalls of injustices
(for an hour)
until it was out of my system
and raining red over the day
that which we never talk about

(the elephant in the room)
the cycle of the month that
runs ragged my psyche
(and my mate)
shall we not be ashamed
to speak of anything
that needs be said

shall we not care what others think
if we voted with our conscience
if that is unpopular
(and that is why we are still here)
waving a flag and joyously
telling you all of this

that a lady is still a lady
no matter what is said
(whatever the opinion)
there are dreams and fancies
that must not be ignored
and not until every dream is fulfilled
should we be quiet

light ’em up

last winter when the hoarfrost came to visit
when we were celebrating Christmas alone for the first time
without the other birds in the nest, flown to more moderate climes
and oh how the mist rolled in as the temperatures rose and fell, rose and fell, like a cheap whore
not knowing one day to the next which coat to wear
and the monsters that used to dwell under our childrens’ beds
stayed in the light then
cheeky and brazen, breathing on the windows
icing them up until we could not see the yard
chilling the rooms until we knew there was no denying
we would be at war with the forces of darkness
the depressions and over-eating and long listed regrets
taking over the empty space under the Christmas tree
and all our hopes danced on the ceiling, knowing with just a word
we could banish the lot of ’em