Carpe Diem Summer Challenge 2019 + Tuesday Platform: Coming Full Circle: Not Your Summer Tryst Under the Big Moon

Big Moon copyright Alicia Dunn

no summer love here

hope for a rainstorm to come

far from any beach

on a faraway seashore

as the children gather shells

couple making love

I want a garden

perhaps a small waterfall

spilling over stones

don't want a French kiss

I take tea with sunflower

won't lurk in shadow

~Cie~

Note:

I've never been keen for flings and I don't like being anyone's dirty little secret. Finding a summer love never appealed to me, and I've only been to the beach once in my life. I'd much rather spend my time on mundane activities such as gardening than engaging in an ill-advised mating dance which will only end in heartbreak for me. 

Frankly, in many ways, I'm quite content not to be young anymore. I only wish I had the strength and endurance of my youth. The impulsiveness, stupidity, and desperate lovesick puppy behavior is more than welcome to remain in the past.

Carpe Diem Summer Challenge: Red Sweat

Image by Isabella Quintana from Pixabay

A warning that today's prompt did not invoke in me the feeling it would in a person with a normal history when it comes to sex. I instead ended up having a physical flashback. I have not had good experiences in this area. My work addresses this, and thus I give you the opportunity to leave my work unread.

The late 1990s were extremely difficult. My mental illness would not be properly diagnosed until 2004 when I was closing in on 40 years old. Self-harm became a way of coping when I was in my early teens. When I tried to talk to anyone about what had happened to me, they only tried to push drugs on me in the case of medical "experts" and didn't listen when I told them that the drugs only made my situation worse. I have always had paradoxical responses to drugs such as benzodiazepines, and SSRI's make me manic and psychotic, although I didn't know that was what was happening at the time.

My family's response when I told them what had happened was to tell me that I got over it before and could get over it again. 

I had no support and in swooped another predator who saw his chance of getting something he wanted from a very vulnerable person. I have written horror stories from the time I was quite young, and one might think that I would compare this individual to a vampire. Incorrect. He was a ghoul.

My poem is not about impassioned lovers wrestling as one. It is about a discarded and misunderstood person wrestling with herself. It has taken me more than 20 years to finally begin to forgive her for being so broken and allowing predators to harm her repeatedly.

What happened last year

You capitalized upon

Red sweat on my arms

~Cie~

Carpe Diem Summer Love + The Tuesday Platform: Love is Love on aHot Summer Night

Image Source

Can you tell me why

It troubles you so badly

To see him love him

Perhaps you would do better

To concern you with yourself

~Cie~

Visit the Artist

Ghost Town Grover Sez: "I don't git bothered none with who's zoomin' who. Only thing is I ain't too keen on folks doin' them dang PDAs durin' poker night here at the ole Grover Hotel. I don't care if it's Adam an' Eve or Adam an' Steve or Annie an' Eve. If yer suckin' face is disturbin' my concentration so's I'm losin' every hand to Cactus Clem, I ain't gonna be none too pleased. Git a room, or go out to the swimmin' hole like them fellers in the picture!

Visit the Artist

Cactus Clem Sez: "I'm okay with folks givin' each other a kiss fer luck on poker night, 'cause I usually have a really lucky night when they do. 

Support the Grover Hotel Renovation Project! Visit the Good Stuff from Grover blog to follow the misadventures of Cactus Clem, Ghost Town Grover, the Ornery Old Lady, and their friends and family, plus get updates on the renovation proceedings.

You might also consider trying some of this Cactus Candy. Grover and the Ornery Old Lady recommend it, and Cactus Clem certifies that ain't no Cactus People was harmed in the making of this here candy.

Troiku Challenge 2019: Day 17: Breathing Silence

Image by Radoan Tanvir from Pixabay

alone on the beach

only the cries of seagulls -

breathing silence

alone on the beach

wondering what lies ahead

another sunrise

only the cries of seagulls

if I could understand them

what would they tell me?

breathing silence

trying to calm this feeling

that all is not well

~Chèvrefeuille & Cie~

Notes:

The "sleigh" of this Troiku was created by Chèvrefeuille. The Three Horses of the Apocalypse are my responsibility.

This poem is part of my Seacliffe Series, in reference to my WIP, The Legend of Seacliffe House. These poems focus on the thoughts of my protagonist, Randal Messana, as he finds himself in a strange new situation after rescuing his mother from the brutal Diamantina Lamb and fleeing the cursed Lambswood Manor. The story is primarily a homage to Edgar Allan Poe and it may or may not ever be published. Either way, I hope some of you enjoy the poetry inspired by the tale!

True Colors Hidden, Beauty Forgotten

Copyright Eli Edward Evangelidis

How can you say that you will show

Your inner truth like blood on snow

When you keep truth hidden inside

Rather than risk hurting your pride

How deep within does your pain go?

What you hide within cannot grow

The light in your soul will not show

Do you know what resides inside

How can you say

Do you think that your love can grow

Not letting your true colors show

Who you are is always denied

What you wish is hidden inside

Is a lie worth getting to know

How can you say

~Cie~

Prompts Used:

Click the banners to find out more about the prompts.

Note:

For tonight's exercise in self-abuse, I have chosen the Rondeau. I don't know about you, but I find this to be a challenging form.

Here is how you form a Rondeau.

(1) A A B B A (2) A A B with refrain: C (3) A A B B A with concluding refrain C. The refrain must be identical with the beginning of the first line.

Christine says that while she encourages pieces that touch on the lived experiences of those who identify as LGBTQ for the Pride Anthem challenge, it isn't a requirement. 

While I for one give not one single rip about anyone's sexual orientation and would ask that others return me the same courtesy, I will disclose that my poem was written from the POV of someone who hid their mental health issues for many years as opposed to someone who felt forced into the closet regarding their sexuality. However, the poem is for anyone who feels as if they have had to hide a key part of themselves in the often closed-minded world in which we live.

Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #86 + Weekend Mini Challenge: A Portrait of Dystopia

Dystopian Portrait

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

Utopia was

Only ever a sad lie

Flawless fallacy

Pretty cars, pretty people

Not a place for those like me

~Cie~

Notes:

Today I found a couple of great prompts and flipped them upside down. 

The Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation prompt asks us to examine the concept of utopia in a Haiku or Tanka. Mine is more a Senryu than a Haiku. I do not question the existence of Utopia, but I postulate that it is more like Metropolis. It exists for a very small percentage of people. Most people are on the outside looking in, and some are completely crushed beneath the boots of the beautiful and careless dwellers of Utopia.

So, what portrait did I paint?

That of one of the people crushed beneath unrealistic expectations of beauty and brilliance and casually cast aside, not worthy of any sort of rescue because they do not adhere to society's standards of prettiness.

The person in the portrait is me. I chose it because I was sitting at a rather dismal-looking bus stop on the day of the 2017 Women's March. I would learn that day that not only had my health deteriorated more than I previously realized, but people are utterly self-absorbed, even the ones who claim to be "progressive" in their approach.

I managed to get through the entire march, which is a miracle in itself considering that I almost stopped several times along the way because I was becoming weak, but I had also become confused enough that I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find my way back to the bus stop. 

When the bus stopped, everyone else shoved on board and the bus driver told me he wouldn't be able to take me. I said I understood, and I understood his position, but I kind of thought all those other people were assholes. I started feeling that wouldn't have happened to me if I was young and pretty.

 I was ravenously hungry. I had a Snickers bar, but I was trying to conserve it for "the right moment." With a lifetime living with ED (stands for Eating Disorder), I had learned to deny myself food up until things became critical. They were critical, but not critical enough.

I got on the next bus about a half hour later and had to stand. I was wobbling all over and my eyes were rolling back in my head. Exactly nobody gave any fucks. In fact, one spectacular dudebro about my age chortled and said: "I had to stand all the way there, now it's your turn."

Despite the fact that my eyes were glazed over, I managed a withering glare and said in a steely if somewhat shaky voice: "Buddy, I had to stand the whole way there too. Don't even try to pull that crap on me!"

He turned away and noticed a confused-looking young woman holding a bus schedule. He grinned and invited her to sit down in his seat. She didn't speak much English. He leaned in close to her in order to better "help" her, I suppose, because he was just a helpful kind of guy, at least if the person in need of help was a pretty young woman.

When a seat finally opened up, I scooted my ass into it as quickly as I could and scarfed the Snickers bar as if I hadn't eaten in a year. By the time I got off the bus, my feet were swollen and aching so badly I could hardly walk. This time, however, an angel appeared in the form of a very sweet Latina lady in her late 30's or early 40's who offered me a ride. I thanked her profusely. After the callousness I'd just experienced, her generosity brought tears to my eyes.

I knew at that point that I could no longer take part in events such as marches because I was no longer strong enough to do so physically.

I lost my job a couple months later because I became extremely ill and was pushed to keep working by my supervisor in spite of having a serious respiratory infection. I had a small stroke while working one night and ended up getting fired. Once my savings were gone, which happened reasonably quickly, I ended up living in poverty and have been there ever since. If it weren't for my son allowing me to couch-surf, I'd be sleeping in my car.

Utopia exists for a very small percentage of people. I used to dream of being something wonderful, of being a star, but over the years I've come to see that often those dreams end as nightmares.

So, you have a portrait of the kind of person that society doesn't want to acknowledge even though there are a lot more of us than most people care to think, and my skepticism that Utopia exists for anyone but the well-heeled in anyplace but dreams.

Tanka Splendor: Sea Shells

Image Copyright D Sisson

Seashells on the shore

I'd like to crawl inside them

Hide myself away

Safe inside where the hard world

Cannot hurt me anymore

~Cie~

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 30 + Poems in April 2019 Day 30: Thank You Jimi

Copyright Nico van der Stam

I want to thank you

For some much-needed wisdom

Across many years

~Cie~

Notes:

I watched the Jimi Hendrix documentary, Voodoo Child, this evening. 

I didn't really become a Jimi Hendrix fan until I was in my teens. He died when I was only five years old. I saw a documentary about him when I was eighteen or nineteen, and it was good, but this documentary reveals more of his personal thoughts. He was brilliant and he left a lot of wisdom for the world. 

The wisdom he imparted to me today is to stop looking for adulation and approval from others. This is something that I've struggled with my entire life.

When asked how it felt to receive so many compliments about his work, Jimi said that he really didn't care about compliments, in fact, he found that they distracted him from what was important: creation.

I think that's what it really means to be secure in oneself. Not so much thinking that one is flawless, but to be able to see the worth of one's goals and actions regardless of the opinions of the masses. 

Lots of views and comments stroke the needy ego of the insecure and wounded child that remains within the crusty, curmudgeonly, and likely not at all tasty exterior shell which houses my soul. 

This becomes a distraction to the creator. I start wanting to please my visitors rather than express myself through my words.

Next time I get stuck in that unharmonious groove, I need to remember Jimi's wise thoughts on the matter.

I will always be a fan of Jimi Hendrix the musician. 

Perhaps most people won't understand this, but that doesn't matter.

I also appreciate Jimi Hendrix the philosopher, and I'm grateful for the wisdom and works that he left behind.

(Don't move: this has been a Haibun!)

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 29+ Poems in April Day 29: Asking Questions With Eyes Rolled Back

Image by Tumisu from Pixabay

Annoying content warning:

Poem contains profanity

If you have a problem with that, don't read it

Were you born to ramble

Or do you just run when things get serious

Do you read Baudelaire

Or do you just claim to do whatever makes you seem educated

Are you the kind who has to go and shoot your rockets everywhere

Do you know how many of your kind I've known

Do you know that you bore me to death

Do you know that you aren't nearly as slick as you think you are

Do you know that I'm sick of driving around with my eyes closed

Do you know that I can smell your bullshit from a mile away

Do you know I already know that this feeling doesn't go both ways, no matter what you say

Do you know how utterly fucking transparent you are

Do you know that I got sick of guys like you a long time ago

Do you know that I no longer waste my time on time wasters

Do you know that I don't abide liars

Why don't you crawl back under the rock that you crawled out from in the first place

Do you know that you seem like a creep rather than a suave, smooth sheik

Do you know that I'm sick of guys like you who think they can crawl into a woman's heart and tear it apart without a second thought for what they've done

Did you know I'm done

Did you know I'm long past done

Did you know I'm already gone

~Cie~

Notes:

NaPoWriMo asked for a poem which reflects in a calm way on a subject that is generally emotionally charged.

Poems in April asked for a poem made up of questions.

In my younger days, I constantly berated myself, wondering what I did wrong to draw only the worst kind of guys to me.

The fact of the matter is, these guys were predators and clowns. 

They were the kind of guys who deliberately seek out someone with low self-esteem because they think they will have an easier chance of getting laid with someone who is insecure.

A joker of this caliber isn't worth anybody's time. 

I can reflect on it calmly now because I despise the whole dating/mating dance and refuse to play that game anymore.

It hurt me a lot back then. But from my current vantage point, I can honestly say, it wasn't me, it was them.

Song References:

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 28 + Poems in April 2019 Day 28: Major Changes

Greetings from Grover, Colorado

Guess we're making an offer on a place that is

Really in the middle of nowhere

On the outskirts of the outskirts

Very far back in the backwater

Everything in the past leading us to this

Rural hotel in a very tiny town

Can't imagine that most folks would want to

Own a place that's such a 

Long way from everything

Out on the Northeastern plains

Rippling grasses and whispering winds

Accentuate the solitude

Dreary it may seem to most

Only the broken dream of such a view

~Cie~

Notes:

A daunting move filled with possibilities.

This place appears in the dictionary next to the phrase "fixer-upper" and the word "boonies."

It is zoned as a multi-use property and has given new life to my dead dreams.

This may be the most important move I will ever make.

NaPoWriMo 2019: Day 26 + Poems in April 2019 Day 26: Creatures of Colorado

 Copyright Karin Gustafson

Surely there will be

Birds in north Colorado

Maybe some red ones

Copyright Karin Gustafson

Maybe there will be

Bears in north Colorado

I hope not too close

Copyright Karin Gustafson

Maybe a ghost will

Haunt northern Colorado

That ghost will be me

~Cie~

Notes:

Will wonders never cease, I think I actually fulfilled the criteria for both prompts.

The NaPoWriMo prompt asked for repetition.

The Poems in April asked for writing about rebirth.

If my son and I do move to the small town mentioned in the previous poem, it will be a rebirth.

You see, even stopped clock is right twice a day.

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 22 + Poems in April Day 22: My Vicious Villanelle: 1000% Done

At this stage of the game, I'm done with rules

I'm tired of word counts and prompts of the day

I've decided that rules are for fools

I could write about my family jewels

But they're all plastic anyway

At this stage of the game, I'm done with rules

I could create something with power tools

With drills and chain saws I could play

I've decided that rules are for fools

I could see about going back to school

But I'd probably just cut class anyway

At this stage of the game, I'm done with rules

I don't want to be so mean and cruel

But I must say, for the end of prompts I pray

I've decided that rules are for fools

The calendar says that the end is in sight

So though I wish I could quit I guess I'll stay

At this stage of the game, I'm done with rules

I've decided that rules are for fools

~Cie~

Notes:

I've always said that I write two kinds of poems: dark and silly.

I'm a despicable liar.

I actually write three kinds of poems.

Dark, silly, and snarky.

Guess which kind this is.

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 19 + Poems in April Day 1 & 19: Aprils Ago

Per Ohlin

17 January 1969 - 8 April 1991

Death by a self-inflicted gunshot wound

Aprils ago a

Broken spirit

Chose

Death

Empathy

Found me

Grieving

His passing

Impotently

Just thinking

Kind thoughts and holding

Love in my heart

Made

No difference

Protecting a soul

Quite so

Raw and

Sad was

Terribly

Unlikely

Vain regretting

While wishing that

Xolotl would guide

You to the spirit world by a gentle

Zephyr

~Cie~

Prompt 1

Prompt 19

Notes:

Seldom have I encountered a more troubled soul than Per Ohlin. As my lovely friend, the late Walt Cessna would have said, he was fukt 2 start wit. 

(This was the title of Walt's autobiography. He said that I inspired him to actually sit down and write it. I have always treasured this knowledge. Walt died from complications of AIDS.)

I sometimes become overwhelmed and try to bury my empathic nature. It doesn't stay buried for long. Maybe a minute, maybe an hour, rarely more than a day, and then, as Per once wrote, up from the tomb it comes. I can't ignore the soul calls for long.

I wish I had known about the phenomenon of soul calls when I was younger. It could have saved me a lot of grief, but it's too late now. Anyone who is of a metaphysical mind is welcome to read about this issue here. For anyone who is not of a metaphysical mind, do us both a favor and don't bother. This isn't the high school debate team, I'm tired, and I have no desire to bend anyone to my own particular set of beliefs. 

I am utilizing the Poems in April prompts again, but I am not joining up with the Linky in order to prevent another barney from brewing. Instead, I will comment on a few poems from people who have been kind and supportive along the way. Bit of a shame as I was getting a kick out of having so many visitors, but I find confrontation stressful, so best to keep that gate shut, I think.

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 15 + Poems in April 2019 Day 4 & 15: The Haibun Ballad of Cie

My Eyes Have Seen Version 4

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

(Yes, that's my big, ugly, Neanderthal forehead)

So, you want to know about me.

My truth will make you uncomfortable. You may end up thinking that I’m lying because surely in modern society, nobody could be allowed to fall through the cracks that much. But you asked, and so I’ll answer as briefly as possible.

I was born in 1965 in Denver, Colorado to a doctoral student in literature who had once wished to travel the country like his hero, Jack Kerouac, and his wife, a former nurse with a degree in fine arts.

My parents had abandoned the church but returned to it when I was seven years old. My then-three-year-old brother and I were baptized and became Catholic.

My bipolar disorder onset when I hit puberty, and I was always misunderstood.

I am fifty-four years old and live in poverty.

If you are broken

If you are damaged or odd

You will be cast out

~Cie~

(Telling it like it is)

Prompt #4

Prompt #15

Notes:

By the way, I do write flash fictions in Haibun form because I like to.

Come at me!

The ending verse was inspired by a quote from the character John River, portrayed by the brilliant Swedish actor Stellan Skarsgard.

In this world, no-one can be different or strange or damaged, or they lock you up.

--John River

NaPoWriMo 2019: Day 14 + Poems in April Day 14 & 3: Late Night in Lakewood

Image copyright The Real Cie

Late at night in Lakewood

As the snow is falling

Keeping the snowplows working

Every hour they drive by

While I, up late as usual

Once in a while look out the sliding door

Out into the world white and cold

Dreaming of a day when life is not so difficult

~Cie~

Prompt #3

Prompt #14

Notes:

I broke my pattern with the catch-up game on the Poems in April challenge. It should have been 14 and 5, but the day 5 prompt didn't work as well with the day 14 prompt.

I didn't follow the NaPoWriMo prompt today at all.

The poem form is an acrostic or name poem.

I am so pleased with everyone's kind comments! I will try to catch up with all of you soon.