The More than a blurt thread, prose, poetry and manic tirades

Gi_Venus

Loving Heart
Joined
Nov 19, 2005
Posts
11,550
Hello everyone, it is my hope that people will pop in here to conceive thought, write prose, if they want poetry. Truly I start it for selfish reasons, I have threads scattered all over for various topics and here I can do much of it in one spot without have to jump around. Yes I am lazy.
No need to stay on topic and it does not have to be about me.....I would love it if others used this thread as a vehicle for expression.

And one of my computers deserves the junkyard.....well all of them do....damn dinosaurs... :) Whoops! Where did that blurt come from? * accumulated aggravations....mental imagery of trashing the contraption throwing it on the floor and saying....Take That! and that! and TTTTTHHHHhaaaaaT! kicking it vigoriously delivering the last with a poignant boot.* Pant...pant....pant..... now that would feel good....:)

This morning brought a beehive of thought as I walked my mile.

Impressions: a Purple Martin flying high in it's graceful flight caught by the morning sun, where do they go in the winter? South to the tropics for they are insectivores, there is not enough for them to eat here in the winter.

A hawk flies across the road in front of me....I do not get a good view but experience tells me it is a Coopers Hawk from the cat like call it gives, a mewing sound that is unique to it. This is a boon to us birders, a Coopers Hawk will not sound like a Red shouldered Hawk, and a Red- tailed Hawk will not sound like a Bald Eagle. There are birds that mimic though, Mockingbirds have an amazing capacity to imitate even imitating creaking gates. Blue-Jays will imitate a Red-shouldered Hawk, their imitation call is identical but for one thing, The volume, if the volume is weak.....lacks resonance you can tell it is a blue jay. A Hawk's call is much more powerful.
DSCN6758aresized.jpg

A patch of bermuda grass growing in a crack along the roadside, it is richly green and lushly growing, fluffy. I want to stop and run my hands through it and smell it's fragrances....it is damp with the morning dew.

The morning sun is bright on my face, bringing a feeling of life after my dark ruminations of the past few days. Those days were illuminated by my loving friends who worry for me. I love them all. :kiss:
Gianna:rose:
 
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Death, life, it has been much on my mind. Mortality stalking us, becoming more inevitable as we advance in the years. We see those disappear that hold our resolution of ourselves intact, those that affirm and hold testament to our nature who know us. That old person you see has had a world of experiences of beautiful things, they have seen the bright days full of flowers, the sorrow of all they have loved disappear. It is still there, preserved in their memories....all like vintage paintings hanging in an old museum, dusty yet full of color and richness. But too often we discard them as "old", useless artifacts of a time not real to us for we have our own memories and beautiful dreams. Really it is not all that different, we love, we cherish our young, we all have been lovers. Some experiences are timeless and transcend us all young and old.

Death can take us all, it is often unexpected, with premeditation, the knowledge you are about to die, what would you do? Live through your stored memories and dreams? Or create something to endure, a last beautiful act to sound through the cosmos, a culmination of all your good expended in one great gesture? A painting? A work of words? A musical score to strike a chord through the ages?
Personally, I think positive gestures no matter how small resonate mightily, even if unobserved they set off a vibration, a beautiful contagion of the heart.....gentleness lacking in a world that needs it so greatly.

A friend of mine died this week, his nature was that of a rascal, I should say he used to be a friend but of recent years he had become a vexation to me, he was an alcoholic and drug user, I believe God/the Universe uses such people to mold us, the wet stone that hones us to our edge. It is not pleasant, but jesters do serve a purpose, their job is to question, or make us question, to stir up the mixture so that it does not stagnate. If we have an ideal society full of ideal people where would creativity come from? Sorrow, agitation, darkness all contrast the light bringing the muse into play. The jesters as unpleasant as they may be are an intergal part of the world.

My own angst and anguish is that of unresolved fear, the terror of the unknown, what is common to most becomes an exercise of torment in me, I tire of my battles with myself. I cannot blame my parents, or the world but have to deal with who I am.....sigh! Having lived a lie as a male persona gives such falseness to my life, it is insignificant and selfish. Caught in my web of self I twist in the wind it is at such times where I cannot see the end of it that I want to die. I have a beautiful child that keeps me here. But for years I have thought of the various ways to end my life, there are many and in my dark dreams I have passed through that door countless times wishing an end to my hurt. Yet at the same time what pulls me back are the beautiful souls I find, and the unattainable potential I feel in myself.....I am not done, not yet, I have to be the true person of Gianna and live the life that I fear so much. The painting is unfinished.

Gianna:rose:
 
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sigh! I am indulging this morning, first a wonderful peach from South Carolina graces my taste buds....sweet, juicy and voluptuous.....a bit of heaven.
I have time to myself, my camera finds its way into my walking, snapping images of things that have been catching my eye on the walks....a live oak,
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a cabbage palm,
an old cedar..
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..flowers jump out saying take pictures of me...me! *grin* well they catch my eye anyway.
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...a long needled pinetree whose luxurious textured green needles carressed my eyes. Arriving home brings me to my guitar, Aralyn(meaning with music or song), who I have been neglecting all week. At first I worry that I cannot play, will my muse leave me one night? Not this time...joyfully the music flows through me. Textures of sound, variations of rhythms, soft flowing notes, dancing melodies. My songs are craving lyrics, I am silent and cannot bring forth the words I feel, caught in my throat by hurt and emotion. I can write poetry, I can write prose, why cannot I not write the lyrics to a song? Dumb I sit, they are there....maybe one day soon. Sigh!
 
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I've been thinking of this lately as well.

Spaces added by me to savor the feeling:
Gi_Venus said:
Death, life, it has been much on my mind. Mortality stalking us, becoming more inevitable as we advance in the years.
We see those disappear that hold our resolution of ourselves intact, those that affirm and hold testament to our nature who know us.

That old person you see has had a world of experiences of beautiful things, they have seen the bright days full of flowers, the sorrow of all they have loved disappear.
It is still there, preserved in their memories....all like vintage paintings hanging in an old museum, dusty yet full of color and richness.

But too often we discard them as "old", useless artifacts of a time not real to us for we have our own memories and beautiful dreams. Really it is not all that different, we love, we cherish our young, we all have been lovers.
Some experiences are timeless and transcend us all young and old.
Lovely. And quite damned true. :rose:
 
Oh the coy look of flirtatious eyes,
passion smoldering with
open invitation, a lover desired.
The air tense with a dance of intimacy.
A touch, a breathe, a swooning heart,
there is no uncertainty, eyes held in seething heat.
A kick, a caress, held in a warm embrace
tis tango and moonlight and white feathered lace.
 
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The words roiling around in my head catch at me,
Wonder, Gentle people with gentle songs,
They urge me on, out of my dark shelter of self,
a fledgling examining the wonders of flight,
sensing the air currents and the exotic scents
wafting, enticing, a longing for freedom from the heavy chains
of self imposed bondage. Heaven awaits, wonder abounds
for beauty is there in an unlimited spectacle of life. :rose:
 
it is dark, I hurt and am lonely.
do I long for my innocence?
the time when I was pure?
The time when I gazed upon the world in wonder?
Why does joy elude me?
Why do I feel like all heart has been stripped away?
prostrateresized.jpg

Time and again I prostrate myself to the altar of life
yet it turns me away. Am I unworthy?
The kingdom is there yet with my outstretched hands
I am grasping for stars. Unrealized my future lies immobile.
Stagnant in my aching breast.
 
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When you weren’t looking

Was I afraid ?
Arms and legs
Sprawled
floating prone

Water,
Where there should have been air.

Still,
here I am
wading through memories
as if under water,
clarity threatens
my innermost safety

cold
surrounding
my body

no air
left
for me to breathe

only water
where there shouldn't be

And Knowing it
Was not you who rescued me
I drown
A little,
Anyway
 
mismused said:
Sweetie, I am really going to get upset with you. Oh, okay, maybe not. :D

You may be hurt, and you're no doubt lonely, but your innocence is still there, and from your pics, you still gaze on the world in wonder, and a beautiful wonder it is. You have brought much joy to many here. Do we bring you any joy. *Grrr!* You better answer right, right? ;)

Life has never turned you away, and it never will. You just have to get into the habit of listening properly, and forget those who made you beieve otherwise.

And grasping for stars? Goodness, girl, you are stars! We all are, sweetie.

Now leave that "aching" breast alone for it is doing just fine. Now, the big question is: Do you believe me, or those who messed you up? *tapping foot impatiently* :D

You know I wish you peace, and I wish you love always. :rose: Nite, sweetie.

m
eep! *grin* *hug* Of course you bring me joy, many do here :kiss: I would not be here, I mean zilch dead, but for the loving souls at this place.:heart:
Thank you lovely m :rose:
 
Nirvanadragones said:
When you weren’t looking

Was I afraid ?
Arms and legs
Sprawled
floating prone

Water,
Where there should have been air.

Still,
here I am
wading through memories
as if under water,
clarity threatens
my innermost safety

cold
surrounding
my body

no air
left
for me to breathe

only water
where there shouldn't be

And Knowing it
Was not you who rescued me
I drown
A little,
Anyway
*hug* :heart: :rose:
 
Writing a dear friend of mine who is so provocative in the genesis of ideas and thought....lol....

.we all see what we will see...or sometimes what we can bare to see....or we see our mythical monsters....our fears
filling our eyes, tainting reality with false imagery.....a hazy fog of perception, unreal and projected.
That is when life gets lost in a haze of residual hurt and projected agony. It is when living in the moment becomes a most healing thing and all past and future a false ruse of ego.
Truly the only thing real is the breath we each breathe in each given moment, but really is life an illusion too? Are these bodies just costumes, of immortal life that passes play after play in an endless procession of acts each an epiphany of realization of self.....all different. Who writes the play?
 
It stands there, a monument to pain.
wind blown, and contorted by life
It clings to existence, gnarly barked
rough, bleached by the sun
metaphor of my heart
 
Impressions today: Introspection.....the expression of feminine self....an afront to those who knew me in my male facade....confrontation.....a sister's voicing of sorrow of a brother lost....I am not gone...just better and more me.....a mother's rejection and articulation of hate towards the essence of who I am. She will never see me....I have been there all along but in her world I am something to be hated.....she says she loves me as her child but malefeance in her words shows our age old conflict...I am a teenager again hurt and confused....gently my therapist tells me that it does not matter....the reality is that any outward expression of my transexuality will bring an afront to someone....most of his "girls" have a hard time with this...so...my hair must be shorn, my earrings and makeup put away and I must be quiet and allow the physical and mental changes to occur with as much tranquility as possible.

I want peace, I want the candle that does not flicker within the winds of the hurricane. I want to be the love I feel to be a part of the world.
 
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Hello Venus, I've read some of your helpful posts on other threads. Thanks for sharing your journey. But...I'll be looking for the sun and flowers in your prose and poetry as well. I know it's there. :)
 
jomar said:
Hello Venus, I've read some of your helpful posts on other threads. Thanks for sharing your journey. But...I'll be looking for the sun and flowers in your prose and poetry as well. I know it's there. :)
:kiss: Thank you jomar:rose:. Lol, I will seek it and bask in it. If perception is but a projection of thought why not? Sorrow should be but an ephemeral shadow across the sun.....a brief pause....not a lingering eclipse of the heart. Light is there for us all.
Gianna:rose:
 
Gi_Venus said:
:kiss: Thank you jomar:rose:. Lol, I will seek it and bask in it. If perception is but a projection of thought why not? Sorrow should be but an ephemeral shadow across the sun.....a brief pause....not a lingering eclipse of the heart. Light is there for us all.
Gianna:rose:

Yes. Though at times one has to pay closer attention to notice the happiness and beauty. :rose:
 
to be with my lover
the music of her voice on my ears
to carress her soft silken skin
to laugh and be glad with her.
to see her smile and her eyes shining with light for me
to be one with her,wrapped in her flower of love
to dream with her, to hold her in spent passion
to listen to the breathe of her sleep
 
Gi_Venus said:
to be with my lover
the music of her voice on my ears
to carress her soft silken skin
to laugh and be glad with her.
to see her smile and her eyes shining with light for me
to be one with her,wrapped in her flower of love
to dream with her, to hold her in spent passion
to listen to the breathe of her sleep

:) :rose: :)
 
Memories pull at me
lovers seen, fill me with yearning
of the times when all was you
my world was nothing but the beauty of your grace
nothing could darken us in that happy place
timeless it seemed, we held each other in the night
and as the morning slowly showed, your alabaster skin aglow
curves and fullness, filled with light you my love, my hearts delight
 
The madness of the world has caught me,
consumed by shadows I sit and count the ways
by which I can pass from this place.
The insanity of being able to take such joy
and then plunge into such a night
Perhaps it is not world that is mad
is it right to be parted of happiness in such a black way?
why does this happen? I can see the dream so well
then it fades to a tiny distant apparition....clouded by tears.
take this heart and bury it, it lives no more, an automaton I will be,
cold like the others...no warmth, no love, oblivious to the dance of intimacy
 
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