Perfect

What is perfect?

I was having a conversation with a friend about this, about being perfect.

She said, “I have a problem with wanting to be perfect.”

I said, “There’s no such thing, my friend.”

There isn’t. There is only degrees of not sucking and what actually makes you happy.

I am not perfect. I have never been, nor will I ever be whatever this thing is known as perfect. I understand this and I also respect it. The idea of Perfect is as fictitious as Santa and the Easter Bunny. It is an unreachable goal created by our subconscious to constantly remind ourselves that low self-esteem is a way of life.

It’s not.

The land of perfect is a mirage, wrapped in wavy lines, sitting on a bed of sole searing sand. You’re feet will blister and peel–but you’ll never reach it.

There is great, beautiful, lovely, heart wrenching, mind blowing, pure ecstasy–but no perfect. There is success and failure–but still, no perfect.

Wonky, weird, strange, off-beat, eccentric, high strung, loud, quiet, shy, fat, skinny, tall, and short–that is the essence of what should be. Unique, that is perfect. Perfectly you.

Life is too short for unreachable goals.

Multi

I haven’t written a poem in over a year. I think it’s been a year…I haven’t checked.

It’s weird. I won’t pretend it’s not. Poetry crept up on me, like other parts of my life, but I supposed it also slipped away.

It slipped away because I begged it to. There are only so many hours in the day, week, month–decade. Choosing wisely can make or break everything (me). Before I lumped it all together.

“They” did it like. Those. Them, the people who were’t me. Those who will never be.

I can’t be like that–like them.

It’s one malfunction after the other, until I found my footing. The “my” and “me” that fit my life. Less is more. Flexibility and patience. Slow and steady–all the good ones.

The prescription for me is:

  • read
  • write
  • journal
  • again

Multitasking works with dinner prep and homework, but not with words.

Is that how it is for you?

Champion

champion

 

In the house

There is a pony

A stuffed pony

Named champion

& on that pony

Is a boy

Who will one day

Be grown

& on that day

I’ll look back

To that stuffed pony

& wonder

How time went

By so fast

& the house

Won’t be this one

& the pony

Will be gone

& I will be

Someone I’m not now

But for now

In this house

There is a pony

& a boy

Riding him

Beyond

windingroad-romeo66

Beyond

there is a life

beyond these walls

a world

a song

a light, so bright

it will blind us all

with one glace

but we hide

in the darkness

of mundane

hoping for change

wishing for it

but never wanting to

break the smallest sweat

there is a life beyond this one

& it waits in the city

& it waits in the pastures

& it waits in the gutter

on the side of the road

choices – all of them

even the ones

we pretend we never

had to make

they cry out in the night

and in the day

all hours

if only we would

stop & listen

out there

& it is not defined

by the shadow we

refuse to release

or the melodies that

illuminate favorite moments

it is pure

it is true

it is the person you forgot

you were always meant

to be

harmoniously, you

in all the glitter

and gold

there is

peace

There is a life

beyond this one

waiting, patiently

like you never knew

someone could wait

because it wants you

it wants you there

so let go of the anchors

& swim into

the abyss

always remember

that every moment is life

when you are grateful

you are free

Once upon a time… a poem

once-upon-a-time

 

[Once upon a time

is over played

we shouldn’t say it

or use it

ever

yet still...]

 

Once upon a time

there was a girl

who thought

too much

she was sure

sometimes

but the doubt

over turned

the truth

so she hide

in the recesses

of her imaginary world

inside her head

shadows

choked the light

ominous music

misheard comments

 

lies

hate…

loathing…

 

fear

Fear

FEAR

that if she

did it

“IT”

the big I-T

the scary thing

if she did…

the world would judge

and she would

fall

 

 

Once upon a time

there was a young woman

who moved past

all that

she “helped” anyone

she “helped”everyone

near or far

close enough &out of reach

it distract her

and nothing

changed

shadows morphed

music swelled

voices clamor

growing so LOUD

sleep. never. comes

awake

 

lies

hate…

loathing…

 

fear

Fear

FEAR

It’s better to

not

be seen

ever, ever

never

ever, ever

ever

no

because…

 

Once upon a time

she grew older

a woman, I guess

she conquered it all

except…

for that thing

she refused to notice

feel

      see

               touch

                                    allow near her

until she was tired

unless she was drunk

depressed

alone

 

… alone …

 

the darkness

encompassing

the voices

butchery

she lay dead

because it is

it is..

it

 

the fear…

part of her…

lies…

hate…

loathing…

 

too late.

it is

what it

always was

how do you

change?

how do you

stop?

make it

stop.

Stop..

STOP…

 

Once upon a time

there was me

and I had to admit

to myself

what was wrong

and I had to

move out of the

shadows

stop listening to

the voices

and look myself

SQUARE

in the face.

 

I had to say:

 

SHUT UP!

 

Because the voice

is my own

and the shadows

I created

and the fear

is unfounded

UNFOUNDED

mendaciously

created by weakness

failure to see

me

as

me

 

and then I

realize

that

once upon a time

hasn’t even begun

…yet…

 

 

 

naked b/c I want too

Picture 257

naked doldrums

as winter winds

strip what’s left

of nothing

& I sit

naked, because

I want to, while

belts of calm

drift around

me, feathery

& light

as the sun sets

& rises & then

sets again

& I sit

naked, because

I want to, as

the world keeps

spinning, because

I can’t stop it

not that I’d

even want to

but it’s nice to

know you have

control

over everything

over nothing

& I stand

naked, because

I want to, before

I walk forward,

alone, & even

further into, everything

alone

we make promises

& we pass them

on to the next

like a proverbial fruitcake

chalked with nuts

& holes

a sanatorium wrapped

in decorative foil

& I stand

naked, because

I want to

carry me forward

please, carry me on

past the shadows

& the dust

into what everything

nothing

should have even

been / is

& join me

naked in front

of the world

accept the doldrums

& the calms

& the crazies

& the storms

that keep the world

spinning

as we pass by

as we pass on

exposed

Beyond – poem

Les Alpilles, a mountain landscape near Saint-Remy by Van Gogh

Beyond

There is a life

beyond these walls

a world

a song

a light, so bright

it will blind us all

with one glace

but we hide

in the darkness

of mundane

hoping for change

wishing for it

but never wanting to

break the smallest sweat

There is a life beyond this one

& it waits in the city

& it waits in the pastures

& it waits in the gutter

on the side of the road

choices – all of them

even the ones

we pretend we never

really had to make

they cry out in the night

and in the day

all hours

if only we would

stop & listen

out there

& it is not defined

by the shadow we

refuse to release

or the melodies that

illuminate favorite moments

it is pure

it is true

it is the person you forgot

you were always meant

to be

harmoniously, you

in all the glitter

and gold

there is

peace

There is a life

beyond this one

waiting, patiently

like you never knew

someone could wait

because it wants you

it wants you there

so let go of the anchors

& swim into

the abyss

Always remember

that every moment is life

when you are grateful

you are free

Hysterical

tumblr_lurce7rMwX1qggdq1

Hysterical

Don’t get pulled under

Don’t fall back

Don’t get tripped up

In the nest laid out

Intended to snag you

Don’t stop moving

Don’t think of any of it

Don’t wait & wait & wait

For whatever told you to wait

            It’s not coming back

& don’t look at me like that

don’t look at anything

don’t breath

            please

because you can’t

            & you won’t

            & I told you so

Because I knew

            & I said it

            & you didn’t listen

You never do

Don’t be surprised

Don’t act like you didn’t know

Don’t be so serious

            We all die in the end

Don’t laugh so much

Don’t cry too often

Don’t get pulled under

            It’s all a mess

Hysteria

Hysterical

Just…

Just don’t

1-Up

 

 

cathycracks-704850

It’s all a game, isn’t it… this life we have.

Waking up, running until we drop; taking a moment here and there, wondering how we got this old;

How this became the life we have.

Not that it’s a bad life.

It’s not.

But repetition can agitated even the quietest souls.

I look out the window and see this big old world,

And my heart is still so very young and I want, and I want, and I want,

All the dreams I’ve always wanted.

Let it begin – my mind screams,

Let it all begin, and let the world swirl around my feet,

Lifting my hair, a tornado above my head – a human bullet.

But my feet are firmly planted,

And I keep moving forward, following this stream I chose a while back,

Hoping it is the right one, knowing I should doubt myself less.

Seriously, it’s annoying.

The doubting doubters and the negative thought process.

There’s a band name for you.

Life keeps coming, and moving, and passing by;

And I watch people fade into memory.

Time almost forgotten, save for a few laughs that look more like a movie clip, than my past.

So, this is this life.

The world I now live.

Knowing, it will also pass by, pushing me to the next level of the game.

Life, with it’s beauty and disease – hopes and fears.

Life, with it’s music and it’s words.

Life – and we dance.

Around the stagnation;

Past, and over the potholes;

Under everything else, as we play, and play, and play some more.

Frustration lost in the lyrical movements of time.

Time, that eases the fingers of doubt free.

Freedom that brings the perspective we need to get past ourselves.

We set the traps subconsciously.

Shuffle, ball, change.

Hoping we won’t trip, and if we do, that we will get back up and keep going.

Because that’s what is all is, what it means, what we need to do –

Keep moving

Because death isn’t when we die – we die when we stop playing.

Leaving us to sit in perdition,

With a goose egg, when all we really ever wanted,

Was 1-up.

 

 

 

Poetry

Moon Wishes

I think that life will find you how it wants to, and while you may have these grand plans, sometimes they fall apart and lead you to something even more beautiful. My grand plans have always included science fiction and/or fantasy novels – and it still does – but at some point my writing world peek it’s little head down a branch covered path, and I was lead to poetry.

Poetry has been part of my life since I was a little girl. I have memories of writing (terrible) poems as I sat on the top bunk, in the room I shared with my sister. I’m happy to know those poems have long been disposed of (terrible and not very nice, some of them), but I am happy they happened. Looking back at them, I know they helped me move towards this new path in my writing life, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

One day, all those other plans will make their way out there. Its just one of those things I can feel, and I know – in my heart – if I don’t give up, it will be.

If you’re interested in reading any of my poems, I’ve had two published in  the Free Venice Beachhead. Once in December and the other in January. And I hope I’ll have more links to post on here soon.

Happy writing, living, love, and everything!

Aryn