Month: November 2018

Poetry

Too-Personal Plane Poetry

by Purpose and Prose

TOO-PERSONAL PLANE POETRY

I am currently writing a response to the brave woman who responded to Ask Me Your Questions, Tell Me No Lies.  In the meantime, I’ve got some new poetry to share.  I’ve been on a recent business trip so I’ve been spending the last two days on planes to and from the west to east coast and back again.  Along these travels, I’ve been inspired to write a few new poems.  Surprisingly, for whatever reason the poems arising are a bit salacious in nature and likely too-personal to be writing on a plane (next to strangers).

Alas, when the mood strikes… I hope you all enjoy my first edition of “Too-Personal Plane Poetry.” (Hopefully, while also sitting next to strangers.)

The smell of you…
heavies my hurried heartbeat
and tickles down my spine.
Fingers spellbound to pull you into me,
an invitation I’ve yet to decline.

Dazed by the heat of your breath,
grazing of my lips on your ear.
Change my chemistry,
Raise my frequency,
Oh please, just keep me near.

Breathing is a rhythm now,
suddenly aware of the fullness of my breasts.
Your fingertips ice skate on my skin,
I daydream one will slip under my shirt,
just accidentally, momentarily, but I will let you in.

Can I breath a little deeper?
My lungs overflowing with you.
Melting of my muscles,
while others worship the fevered seduction of you.

Self-Help

Ask me your questions, Tell me no lies

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I woke up at 2:30am quite abruptly this morning.  While I was sitting in the dark, I thought of Purpose and Prose and what I’m really doing writing online.  I love poetry, I love sharing my poetry with others, but under my “about me” section I talk about how I want to help others.  And really, that’s why I feel I’m here, right now, as Emily in this world in 2018.

I went to photography school because I wanted to document humans.  I wanted to share their stories, and live many lives and love everyone with unconditional, limitless vigor.  But, I was raised in an alcoholic home where love was confused.  Learning to love from adults and a sibling who often were angry, hurting or alone was a challenging landscape.  However, I’m now very grateful for the abuse and the spectrum of feelings I’ve had in my life because it has only taught me how to love people out of their own darkness.

Now, I want to help YOU. 

I will be the first to admit that I am not a trained professional.  I have no counseling degree, and I am not a therapist. But, I’ve had 12 years of therapy under my belt and I have read pretty much every self-help book out there.  I’ve been to CBT Therapists, Somatic Therapists, I’ve been to Al-Anon, AA meetings (to understand the Alcoholics perspective), I’ve been to Love and Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings, and I’ve been practicing Buddhism for the past 3 years.  I also was a trained mentor and adviser to young girls and boys in youth homes and spent 2 years assisting them.  Lastly, I’m a human who has seen the darkest of times and who has survived and used those experiences as nutrients to grow into an even better person.  Those are my credentials.

I want to hear about your life, I want to hear where you want clarity.  I want to give you love and support and provide any form of assistance I can – whether that’s just listening, or if you want tangible life suggestions that you can apply to better yourself.  Are you feeling angry too often?  Do you have resentment towards someone?  Do you want to become a better version of yourself?  Are you constantly on a diet and it isn’t working?  Do you feel unhappy in any way?  Tell me about it – in as much or as little detail as you want.

Whoever sends me a comment, or fills out my contact box – I will write a post to answer your question/speak to you directly.  I can keep you completely anonymous.

I will still be writing my poetry, because I enjoy it – but I believe this is the “Purpose” part of “Purpose and Prose.”  I’m so looking forward to hearing from you, whoever you are, I love you already and I’m so proud of you for reaching out.

Poetry

Anchor in Time

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ANCHOR IN TIME

Anchor in Time
We have our own universe;
the space between the lines,
in the breath before the words.
The ethos that connect reality and dreams,
the dusk and dawn
the attraction of night to day.
A magnetic haul that lingers in our ocean.
We hear your heartbeat in my hand.
We are lovers, artists, romantics,
Our intimacy is cinematic.
You are my home in the heavens
and I am grounding to your spaceship.
Sometimes I think you’re too good for me.
Other times I hear, “Well, aren’t you two just the same type.”
Our meditation is an anchor in time.
And my grateful heart now lives in a world previously unseen.
You are so beautiful.

I am only here to have met you.

Poetry, Self-Reflection

Be here now.

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FindingYourLightFromWithin

It could be from my husband’s absence (he’s a touring musician and has been gone for the past 6 months), it could be from my father’s passing, it could be from our recent move, our recent wedding, or any other living, breathing thing – but right now I’m floating.

Before therapy, a time like this would have me spinning.  I feel the impulse to have a head full of questions.  I used to beg the universe for answers.  I wanted so badly to understand why I was hurting, why I was shown so many paths in life if I was “stuck” on only one.  I used to bury myself so deep in fantasy versions of my life, the visions of timelines not yet lived, and other worlds I created that I would be so far removed from the present.  But not now. And I gotta say, it’s refreshing as hell.

Yeah, I’m confused.  I’m taken aback by my circumstances.  I wonder why my husband has lost his faith, I worry on how to talk to him about my heart aches with loving kindness, over the years I’ve felt tired and alone in my pursuit to feel joy, and I am uncertain about the future and what it holds – but isn’t all of this the best part?  Isn’t the unpredictability, the riskiness, the absurd and spirit of inquiry just so human?

Last night, the first primitive nuclei divided and created a new and separate nucleus.  No one knows how the first nuclei was formed, there have been many theories, but to my knowledge, there hasn’t been a definitive answer and last night, I witnessed the creation of the secondary universal nuclei.  The world split right in front of me – and in its beauty, and in its rapture, I was present.  My eyes were swollen with tears, my lungs overwhelmed with mist and my hands were sparking with magic.

We all have the answers, every answer, to every question ever asked.  I am floating in the translation of the word simplicity. I feel it in my fingertips, it sends shivers down my spine and causes goosebumps on my flesh.  I am human, I am here.

Titleless 
She was the only witness.
Only she heard my hunger.

And if it was that easy, she answered,
“Just you wait.”

Without hope, without need,
She drenched me in wonder.

Still frames projected behind my eyelids,
waves, the harmonic motion, stirring my source.

A lifetime with your touch, a life without your touch,
We danced with the line of collapsing time.

 

Poetry

I Know You

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skin

I Know You
I pulse with you under my skin.
Delicate hair stands up as I quiver when you think of me.
In secret, I have felt your wanting.
Left momentarily mad with desire,
my body engulfed in wildfire.
My fingertips write love letters on your neck,
my lips leave rose petals on your eyelids.
I am forgetful of everything but the tilt of your smile.
Will you hold me for two more minutes?

Philosophy, Self-Reflection

Rock Bottoms

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It’s hard watching other people hurt.  I was in Al-Anon for 5 years, a 12-step program to help friends and family members of Alcoholics, and while I was attending meetings I heard so many rock bottoms.  Every story is unique to the person. To one, it could sound as mundane as just losing a job, while others could make you question how a human could degrade themselves so severely.  In all of my years of hearing the hurt of rock bottoms, one thing I’ve learned is that they all feel the same.

A person is standing in front of you; broken, shattered and feeling unfixable.  Their pain is palpable.  Tiredness is heard in every breath.  On-lookers can see lifetimes of sleepless nights, restless days and impossible amounts of solutionless problem solving happening behind their eyes. They are beaten and they appear to have lost any resilience or faith they once had.

My husband is in his rock bottom and my heart is breaking for him. While I’ve been confessing my pain about my father here on these posts, I’ve been witnessing the slow and yet so steady debasement of my husband’s once uncompromising joy for life.  There are so many things I want to say to him.

There is a moment in our lives when we get introduced to ourselves.  It could be the moment you won an award for a Science Fair project, the time you played too loudly over the jazz band, when you finally gained enough courage to leave your abusive boyfriend, or when you – for the first time – danced naked in your kitchen while eating a pie you baked just for yourself.

Or, when you hit your rock bottom.

Humans are not immortal, but hell, we have a remarkably strong will to survive. I am consistently in awe of our strength, perseverance and this basic human instinct that is so deep-rooted in our genetic makeup that it has kept our species alive for roughly 200,000 years.  If when we feel weak, may we find the sliver of energy remaining to access this gift of fire that burns from our ancestral roots.  Then feed it with your tenacity.

Meet yourself; the naked, vulnerable, and bruised warrior that has been living in your skin since the dawn of time and hear the lesson that has been whispering in your ear since you were born:  You are love.

Poetry, Self-Reflection

A Color Darker Than Black

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Sky

These last 14 days without my father have been the hardest days I’ve experienced in a long time.  I’ve been a witness to death before, but this one is a new breed of aching.  It’s a depression that strikes at any moment.  It takes my breath away and then fills my burning eyes with salty tears that I thought were dried up. My thoughts are consistently scattered and I am leaping from one feeling to the next, like bullfrogs on lily pads, careful not to fall into the water.

There is so much comfort in my world that there have been moments where I feel like I could become a lighthouse directing all around me to the beacon of love itself.  And then almost instantly, my heart collapses and I feel cold metal sludging through my veins, fearful I will be numb forever.

My faith is unwavering though and I know that I have seen darker hours.  And even if I hadn’t, I realize my purpose is to be a vessel for the universe to use as she wishes.  I am a constant student, unlearning everything all day long so that I can become empty for her to fill me up again and again. Bring me pain, bring me beauty, lead me where you need me.

My dad is a cloud and he turned into snow – he continued on to his next and newest form.  A form that is unbeknownst to me. But in my reflections of him, I feel his peace, his lightness of heart, his youth and above all – his love.  As a friend recently said to me, “…there would be no day at all without love. There’d certainly be no night. Or any other infinite thing.”

My human mind can’t comprehend why pain is necessary, why “bad things happen to good people” or why there can be so much savagery in the world – but I do understand balance. I see the pendulum. I’ve swung from one extreme into love and light. Everything is temporary, and so is this hurt. I have a choice to live well and love through the ache and I will always side with love and allow the brilliant universe to continue to show me the way.

A Color Darker Than Black
I dreamed of driving alone in the desert
taking pictures of shadows.
I never expected to know people.
Loneliness felt like enough until it wasn’t.
I was enough until I wasn’t.
I am not weak in my worship, oh world.
My eyes are simply weighted and my body does not feel of my own.
Lead me, use me and I will grow vibrantly like a wild tiger lily.
No explanations required.
Venus has had fewer men than I.
Speaking their words, fueling their desire with my primal fire.
Still, the empty hollow in my chest begs
Whimpering and broken I plead for peace
Not yet ready, there is a color darker than black.
Clawing and grasping for breath this darling girl has resilience.
You see, I am a time traveler.
I can see all of the parallel universes, the past expressions,
the future is not unknown – it is written.
This blackness does not hurt me
it wets my appetite and forgetfully reveals the opposite side of the spectrum –
the blinding, effervescent light.
A kaleidoscope of color – timeless, limitless.
Will you feel it all with me?
Sit by my fireside,
and read the most elegant love letter ever written.

Poetry

Primordial Artist

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Primordial Artist
The Macrocosm, my Mother.
She bore us and sang to us as children.
Her reminiscent and nostalgic wind still guides me home.
She is a true creature of creation.
The primordial artist.
Her imagination, the DNA,
Within every consciousness.
I want to love in a way that makes my Mother proud.
My muse, my maker,
I see your untranslatable scribes etched into my walls.
I hear your bird’s song.
Voiceless and wordless I impatiently await your lectures.
Show me your allegiance to life.

Poetry

Radio Stations

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Moonlit Skies

Radio Stations
I can feel your dreams and breath so heavy
like a child on a teeter-totter.
Trying to balance but the sway from floor to sky keeps beckoning.
Skin humming from the day,
sunshine still glowing in the warmth of your long, raven hair.
Muscles give way to the weight of the room,
A room filled with unease, unrest…
A love abounding with innocence,
wistfulness and all-encompassing.
Enough to blanket the starry ceiling
flickering around me like a shaken snow globe.
A familiar and frequent reverie.
You’re my favorite radio station.