Category: parenthood

Poof* Take MY water

https://youtu.be/eg2Kw1jIXOw

Tags #protests, #rock, #roevwade, #science #heaven, #scotus, #society #afterlife, #villainny, 1984, 1995 Japanese subway gas attack, 2012, 2013 World Series, 21st century girls, 4th of July, 5th Avenue, 80's children, A & P, a good bending over, A Midsummer Night's Dream, A Wrinkle in Time, AA, abnormal psychology, Abortion, Abraham Lincoln, Abraham Maslow, absence, Absurdity, academia, accents, acceptance, accordions, activism, Addiction, adultery, advocating, affection, Afghanistan, Afterlife, aftermath, agriculture, air mail, Airplane, airports, Akron, Alcoholism, Alfred Hitchcock, Alice B. Toklas, Alicia in Wonderland, Alicia Young, Allen Ginsberg, alternative rock, Altoid Mints, American Culture, american history, American Indians, Americana, Amtrak, amulets, Anatomy, Ancestry, ancient history, and more fucking, Andy Warhol, Andy Warhol Bridge, anemia, angels, Animals, Anne Boleyn, anniversaries, anthologies, anti-social personality disorder, antibodies, Antigua, antiques, antiseptic ointment, apartments, apocalypse, apologies, Appalachia, Apples, April, arachnids, Aralee Strange, arbor day, Archery, architecture, Argentina, Arkansas, armageddon, Belief, death, humanity, Music, Punk, Society

Americana cinema civility coffee comfort dance death desserts destruction divinity domestic violence ecology electoral process English fairy tales family forensics fucking funerals geneology government and a lack thereof horror human behavior humanity humor iconography infidelity insects Jazz journalism kindness kinetics life literature local color love love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary science mourning non-fiction ornithology painting pandemics parenthood Paris performance photography physics poetic theory poetry pop culture psychology publishing punk reading relationship studies rituals romance science science writing self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice waste weddings womens studies words writing

Paris in the rain

a woman’s life

is too tenuous

delicate

billowy

spider web

close call on I-75

in preterm labor

on the way to the

Paris airport

in the rain

fragile

beautiful

precious

sacrosanct

finite

for bad friends

bad family

bad coffee

bad shoes

bad mattresses

bad jobs

bad husbands

bad debt

and bad dick

learn this by 30 for maximum

enjoyment

future

female

conquerors

of a dying planet

activism Americana analysis art baseball writing battle behavior belief cemeteries childhood chronology civility comfort corsets crime criminal behavior dance death destruction deviance divinity ecology education electoral process Europe fairy tales family feminism fiction fucking furniture geneology geography government government and a lack thereof happiness Hell history horror human behavior humanity humor iconography journalism Kentucky kindness kinetics literature local color love medicine mortuary science mourning muse museums Music mythology nature nightmares non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood Paris performance physics poetry politics pop culture psychology

of thee I sing

the true measure

of a civilized society

are the rumors

told by its ghosts

Americana art books comfort family food furniture happiness history holidays life love muse Ohio painting parenthood poetry psychology rituals sex traditions Uncategorized war weddings writing

this house has a history

i put on some water for tea

then decided to mop the floors

of our new little nest

before the furniture gets carried in

before the rest of our lives happen

Murphy’s Oil Soap

water and sunshine into a bucket

carried through the echoing emptiness

of what will be

over original hardwood

placed there in 1941

i love to clean

the ritual of it

i write in my thoughts as i work

images painting themselves

into spaces around my gentle humming

spreading wet across the grain

seeing hands that mopped this floor

before me

wives husbands

fathers mothers

lovers and

put-upon teenagers

oh this house

has a history

built the year

the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor

it’s all still there

nailed down memories

layers of time entombed in wax

someone stood in that living room and heard

we dropped the bomb

we landed at Normandy

of a flag raised in Iwo-Jima

Kennedy was dead

Vietnam was a lost cause only good

for folded flags being handed to weeping mothers

Nixon was a crook

Reagan and John Lennon had been shot

the Berlin wall had fallen

i heard first steps

crying babies

crying widows

joyous laughter

say cheese

wine glasses clinking together

realizing with a smile

this floor is mine

the foundation of a family

and i will love it

then

the teapot

began to whistle

Tags Americana, cleaning, family, history, houses, joy, love, Ohio, soap, Tea, War, writing

art behavior books civility literature local color non-fiction parenthood poetry psychology punk relationship studies sociology Uncategorized writing

through the magic door

sitting in a cushioned chair

aptly described

as a post modern

orange violating teal

nightmare

i become distracted

looking away from

sir arthur conan doyle

by denizens of the library

an old man too cheap

to subscribe to

the new york times

reading cover to cover

perhaps he simply needs a place to be

a salesman hiding from his

pharmaceutical route

blue tooth whispers in his ear

pretending to be

on his way there

a japanese man

studying intensely with his tutor

for a citizenship exam

a mother with wailing

four year old twin girls

in matching coats

looking as if she is one bell jar away

from sticking her head in an oven

the merry widow

with a fake perpetual smile

in peacock glasses

reading ladies home journal

as if any of it matters

and the couple

both wearing wedding bands

all but penetrating orifices

in roman history

who are clearly not married

to each other

stealing a moment together

behind rows of books where

their spouses wouldn’t dare look

irony not to be

lost on me

there on my lap

rests a copy of

through the magic door

sir arthur conan doyle is right

such a divine portal

wonders to be uncovered

searching spines

in a library

Tags adultry, Alicia Young, Books, libraries, poetry, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sociology

addiction Americana analysis art behavior biology books civility ecology education family happiness history human behavior literature local color nature non-fiction parenthood physics poetry psychology publishing punk relationship studies religion rituals science society sociology Southern Gothic thanatology the arts war writing

to spit or to swallow

the patience and wisdom

coming with age

are fast becoming

my favorite shoes to wear

as my own horseshit

and the shenanigans of others

become less excusable

with each passing day

every birthday candle wished upon and blown

there comes a point

when you’ve been told

you know better

repeated behaviors are either psychosis

or selfish forms of masturbation

such as the poets who write

their daily vengeance poem

scribbled in shit and crayon

on unsuspecting

psych ward facebook walls

god

grant me the serenity

to zip my lips when called for

to know when to spit

and when to swallow

but mostly

when to say

fuck off

dipshit

Tags aging, chronology, Human Behavior, poetry, Psychology, Punk, Sociology, wisdom, writing

Americana art behavior books cinema Europe family festivities film happiness holidays Jazz literature local color love Music nature parenthood poetry punk relationship studies rituals sociology Southern Gothic traditions travel Urban Legends writing

my tinsel heart

the twenty-seventh day of december

in a year

we did not share together

afterglow of christmas beaming

from the tree

through my scotch-taped-back-together soul

tis the season to ache infinitely

driving through light strands

of red and yellow traffic

to the art museum upon the hill

with the little park beside it

where the son we will never have

took his first wobbly

bear dripping honey grinning steps

into your arms as i watched filming

jumping and cooing the way a mother does

over the littlest triumphs

but we never were, darling

our lips never touched

our breathy kissed love affair

ether white wedding by the sea

raven haired children

are nothing

but a shared

far away dream

an assorted pile of glistening

christmas presents

never to be wrapped

accumulating beneath

my tinsel heart

Tags family, fiction, Holidays, love, nostalgia, poetry, The Cincinnati Art Museum

family literature parenthood poetry theatre travel

2,202 miles

i am 2,202 miles

away

from where my twin sons

rest their ash blonde heads

at night

and while los angeles

has been

lovely

gracious to me

i would trade the vast pacific ocean

for the cobalt blue

of their eyes

( mama misses you, darling boys, I love you both…more than the sky)

Tags Cincinnati, homesickness, Los Angeles, love, poetry, sons, travel

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