I will love you, again

The Thing Is

 

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

~Ellen Bass

the crunch

This poem is a lot different from my usual selection, but I love Charles Bukowski . This poem really speaks to me these days. His words can be dark and harsh but somethings need to be said. And he says them beautifully, in a way that truly speaks to my soul.

                                                                           

too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don’t ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
though of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
“no.”

Charles Bukowsk

http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/charles-bukowski/the-crunch/

Love Will Find You Out

Love Will Find You Out

 

It’s okay to fall apart.
You don’t have to know the answers.
All those pieces you’ve been holding for so long while you raced around your life looking for the last roll of scotch tape, go ahead, let them fall.
Let them fall.
Every last piece.

It’s okay to scramble.
You don’t have to be calm now.
 All those plans you’ve been stringing together like a macaroni necklace in kindergarten
  every last one is beautiful, so beautiful, so go ahead.
Keep grabbing at everything you ever wanted and always feared you’d never have.
Every last beautiful dream.

It’s okay to hope against hope.
This is not a time to be reasonable or rational.
Run, run as fast as you can against the tide that is crashing down now.
When the last wave sweeps over you
and every hope has been dashed
You will still be here, right here
and you will not be sorry you tried to make all your sorrows disappear.

It’s okay to cry.
Even if you are a man. Even if you are a mother. Even if you feel each tear
as an accusation against your strength, your resolve, your natural equilibrium.
Cry in the car. Cry in the shower.
Cry in bed when no one is listening or looking.
Cry when you kiss the kids goodbye for school.
Cry when you do the dishes.
Berate yourself for not being able to get it together
and then cry anyway.
How else will you know you lived, if not for these tears
reminding you were not made of metal, wood or steel
after all?

It’s okay to be lost.
Throw away the map. Leave the keys in the car.
Get out and walk.
Forget about everything you ever knew.
Crumple up those directions and move now from memory
The memory of your heart
The memory of your breath
The memory of that one time you laughed so hard you cried
The memory of that one kiss, the one that left you longing
to be loved for ever and ever.

At the end of your unraveling,
  you will look down and see your own feet
that have carried you so, so far
and you will decide for once that it is okay
to sit down
to rest
to hold out your hands
to lift up your head
to open your heart
to the possibility that you were never alone after all
not for one minute

That Love was right there
in her terrible silence
not quite sure how to say it so you would believe her
that you were a thing of rare beauty on the earth
That She still has your macaroni necklace
That She’s been following you around,
making maps of all the places you’ve been lost,
so you’d know how to get back when the time came
to put it all to rest.

Go ahead, be disappointed.
Nothing turned out how you hoped.
Sit under a tree and tell me the whole of it
and I won’t say a word.
I won’t say a single word.

This is the secret nobody knows.
All these days Love carried my heart in her heart.
I was her favorite, even as I cried,
and now I am sitting under her tree
listening to you
  the way she listened to me
while I swore she was never ever there.

It’s okay to feel lonely.
At the end of your wanderings
when there is no more scotch tape
and you can’t find your macaroni necklace of dreams anywhere
your heart will trace an unpredictable path
to this place and you will have just enough courage
to let Love tell you the terrible beautiful truth
of how loved you were
and how even now, at the end of everything
it’s not too late.

-Jen Lemen

 

http://jenlemen.com/blog/

 

Lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless

This video features a really wonderful poem by an artist named Tanya Davis. It really puts things into perspective for me, the importance of how I spend my time. I used to love being alone. The time I would spend wandering the streets of New York were amazing. I loved exploring parts of the city I hadn’t yet known and revisiting my favorite places. It was the time I used to clear my head, to find myself, to get away from the craziness of my world. I need to go on more adventures. Explore more of Los Angeles. I miss having lunch alone in a new cafe. Seeing new art exhibits at the museums. Wandering the streets with no destination. Maybe I’ll spend a day reading on the beach. Taking pictures of the world around me as it passes by. I’ve been reminded of how much I miss my own company. So  clearly it’s time for another solo adventure. But where to?

you are more

On this lovely leap day, a poem of inspiration and self-love. Courtesy of You, Me, and Charlie and Danielle Leporte. Enjoy the extra day the universe has given us and remember you are more.

you are more (a poem. a prayer.)

you are more than your name

your frame

your DNA

more plenty than all that you have

given birth

to

big big wishes

you are even bigger

imagine that

(imagine anything)

and you are more

you are gone gone gone beyond

the beyond of what

started This All

I pray you

desire temples of peace

and benevolent tsunamis of love

and that you realize your size in relatedness to the Yes

you are the that and the and

the core and the more

that is ever expanding

http://www.daniellelaporte.com/inspiration-spirituality-articles/you-are-more-a-poem-a-prayer/

http://youmeandcharlie.com/page-turners/you-are-more/