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Sunday, 25 August 2013

Cigarette Lingers

I wrote this poem many years ago, but it's one of my favourites.

The smell of cigarettes and sex lingers
In my head, bed sheets, sweat
Instantly I regret
Not saying what I should have said
But there was no need to speak
The room wreaked
Of unspoken words
Scars and hurts
And who did it first
Who entered who?
I entered you
Yes through your head and sweat
The stench of silence,
You cant forget
You entered me physically mentally
Fast but gently
you pushed and pulled
Too hot, too cold
All but a memory now
Yet I feel it somehow
The smell of cigarettes and sex lingers
Your sweat was on me
Clinging stinging seeping through my skin
Deeper and deeper in
So loud,
In the moment
Handed you my life to be left open
Serenaded by your kiss on my chest
Emptiness, you took the rest
And yet the cigarette lingers...

Saturday, 24 August 2013

Breathing Colours

Moments pass and I find myself staring off. I'm seeing but I'm not looking, for my eyes don't focus on anything. But they blur colours and shapes all into one. Memories race like the images in a window of a moving car, and suddenly I feel guilty for not giving each of them the time they deserve.

It is in these moments that I remind myself to be aware of my surroundings. I remind myself that I'm breathing and as I inhale, first my stomach, and then my chest begin to slowly rise. I close my eyes and I imagine myself sitting as I am. With each inhale, I imagine a stream of colours going through my nostrils, down my throat. As they fill up my lungs, I feel my heart pumping the colourful stream into every inch of my body. I am filled with colour. And so I exhale.

First my chest, and then my stomach begin to descend as the colour exits through my mouth, surrounding and embarrassing my skin. I open my eyes and I see that colours, and shapes are no longer blurred all into one, but each of them have their own place. I no longer think of memories for my mind is still. I am simply happy to be aware and to feel the love of a rhythm, energy, vibration, connection greater than my own. It is the rhythm, energy, vibration, and connection of everyone combined into one, and I know that I am lucky to be a part of it.

Choose or Lose

In the depths of my soul
I know I can't let go
Of the past that was
I'm so wrapped up
And tangled up
You must know
How I feel
The need to peel
Away the weight
Of memories
That come too late
In the night
In the core of my being
I look but I'm not seeing
That I've trapped myself
In the deepest hell
I was told to let go
But I cling on
To nothing
Slowly rotting
And I'm growing restless
Can but then can't help this
Feeling of loss
But I must
Take it slow
I know you know
How hard it can be
You're the one who told me
To make a choice
That I have to chose
Or else I lose
Everything that's in the depths of my soul
I know the time's come for me to let go.

Friday, 23 August 2013

Stronger Girls, Sensitive Boys

I've been thinking a lot about the way people raise or want to raise their children. So often I've heard my own peers talk about the way their treatment of their child would differ if they had a girl versus a boy, and sometimes I find it breaking my heart. In their remarks, there lies a subtle double standard that I'm not sure they always realize is there. Or even more astonishing is that sometimes they do realize it but accept it as a part of life; it is what it is and it can't be helped. Girls are more difficult to have because they are fragile and so easily hurt and taken advantage of, and so must be protected. On the other hand, boys are simple because they are not emotionally as complex, and therefore are not hard to understand or deal with. Both of these opinions trouble me a great deal because I find myself asking: What kind of people do we want to raise? And are we aware that our thoughts about raising girls versus boys can impact the way they view themselves and their own limitations and abilities?

It's always been my thinking that girls shouldn't be treated as fragile creatures that are at risk of having their virginity stolen. A girl should grow up with the understanding that she needs to protect her own body, but that taking certain risks and sometimes getting hurt are also a part of growing up. Recently I read a blogger's letter to his daughter, and I loved the sentiment of the letter because it was about setting a girl free to discover her sexuality and to understand that, no, she is not a victim to other people's sexual desires simply because she has a vagina. The idea of constantly watching over girls, pampering them, setting stricter rules and curfews is ridiculous to me. If it's a tough world out there, then a girl deserves to experience it and learn from it just as much as a boy. This builds character, confidence, and a sense of control. It's also always bothered me that when two heterosexual teenagers engage in a sexual act, we view the girl as the one who is being taken advantage of. How are you so sure that she isn't also taking advantage of him? Why is it not viewed as a learning experience for the both of them? The boy is getting what he wants, and the girl is oblivious and too naive to understand what is going on. *rolling my eyes*

This is the solution: Just mix them all up
in a genderless pot.
On the flip side, the double standard created between girls and boys isn't fair for boys either. It's insulting to think that a person is incapable of being emotionally complex simply because he has a penis. I understand that sometimes, due to hormonal changes, males and females have different reactions to situations, especially as teenagers. I simply mean to highlight that the way we view them to be that extremely different from birth also has an impact on how they will react and grow. "Oh a boy needs to be toughened up" Sometimes yes, as I have argued that this is equally necessary for girls, but sometimes no. A boy also needs to learn to be sensitive and to respect the importance of communication in a relationship. These are tools that are extremely important for his future when he decides to engage in a more intimate relationship with a partner(s). I don't think fathers and sons have enough heart to heart conversations. "Boys don't do that" But why? Communication and being in tune with your emotions is a part of being an adult because that's the only way that most problems can be solved in a mature and civilized way.

I suppose it all comes down to balance. I understand that it's easy to have an opinion about such things when you're not a parent, but these thoughts are important to me. If I do ever become a parent I want to have a girl who knows that she is strong, and whose strength I can see in the way that she stands and looks people in the eye. I want a boy who is able to be sensitive and nurturing when it's important, a boy who knows how to share his feelings at a time when his partner needs to hear it most. But most of all, I want to have children who know who they are, and do not feel limited by their physical appearances, understanding that a person's anatomy will never determine what they can and cannot accomplish.

Monday, 5 August 2013

One Moment

I have written so many drafts about different topics, but haven't published them because I've gotten it into my head again that I have nothing worth writing about. The truth is that none of us have anything new to contribute to the world. I think the answers are all out there, but it's the information we choose to take in, highlight in our lives, and arrange in combinations that make our need to create unique. So no I have nothing new to contribute to anybody's mind, and certainly not to my own, but writing makes me feel better and I have a way of expressing my thoughts that seems to be somewhat interesting for some people.

However, since I'm quite bored of my own opinion and haven't been reading enough to be motivated to write about anything, I will once again take the easy way out and share another poem. This is an old poem I wrote at least six or seven years ago. I wanted to make a tongue twister, or something like that. I wrote it at the place I used to work (Casa Loma represent!) Enjoy, or don't.

Patty ponders and wonders
How much longer her lover
Will linger onto her finger
Like a string or a bee's stinger?
Wickedly waiting for the delicate destiny
of her final fantasy.
His luscious, delicious and viciously gracious lips locked around
Patty's pouting and wounding and rounding mouth.
Together they are completely obscene and insane
In the most loving way.
Patty's puzzle fits exactly with his lips
And the kiss.. ever lasting, ever grasping, both reflecting

"Nothing's better than this"