Well, I'm in beautiful Chicago and I think I'm in Love.
Years ago, the woman who hired me for my first position in banking, told me that Chicago was a lot like New York City. In fact, she said it was the only city that had enough tall buildings to compete with NY and real heart and soul like NY too.
This is my first visit to Chi-town and I feel like I'm at home. Although the names are all wrong - like Wabash (??) the energy really is the same. I keep seeing familiar scenes; it looked like Park Ave was plopped right in the middle of Chicago as our taxi passed along one street.
Tomorrow I want to walk down by the water - it's one thing I miss while living inland, as I do.
NOW, I know when you take on a new Lover you are not supposed to keep gushing about how much they remind you of the one you left. But, I'm not ashamed to say I miss NYC sometimes - miss the smell, the rhythm and the look of my hometown.
Yep, I'm in Love with a new city - Chicago. But, New York will always be my first...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
A Little Life Music...
It's 1:20 am, I am sitting in a beautiful hotel room on the Universal Studios, Orlando Florida property; an Italian village mock-up with a lake and warm breezes. I am in Love with Life, at this very moment. Here is a trip I didn't not anticipate or plan for; time away from home that feels like complete joy.
I just rode back to my hotel room on a small ferry after spending the late afternoon and evening at the Universal Park. The rides were loads of fun. But the best part was the live band at the Bob Marley restaurant and nightclub. If I didn't have to present in the morning, I would have closed the joint down!
The band was made up of 5 young and talented men - an amazing guitarist (whom I am sure is really a blues man earning his bread as a reggae performer), a bass player whose fingers were thick and nimble (I've always had fantasies about bass players - not sure why, just something very cool and hot about them), the drummer and keyboard players were low keyed but each worked out on their instrument, when it was called for. Lastly, was the lead singer. A hottie, though I didn't really think he was a good singer until he began to improvise soca style. He tore it up and took me back to my family roots!
For those of you who don't know, soca comes from Trinidad/Tobago and when you wind-up to it, you work your hips like they are the only part of your body worth moving. I learned the dance when I was very young, watching my mother and her sisters. I mastered it as a young adult at Caribbean parties, complete with blue lights, patties, coco bread and scotch.
There is nothing like being brought to a state of feeling young, sexy and at one with the music! I danced for 3 straight hours tonight and only stopped because I had to get up in the morning.
I feel gifted and appreciative of Life. I wish for you the same.
I just rode back to my hotel room on a small ferry after spending the late afternoon and evening at the Universal Park. The rides were loads of fun. But the best part was the live band at the Bob Marley restaurant and nightclub. If I didn't have to present in the morning, I would have closed the joint down!
The band was made up of 5 young and talented men - an amazing guitarist (whom I am sure is really a blues man earning his bread as a reggae performer), a bass player whose fingers were thick and nimble (I've always had fantasies about bass players - not sure why, just something very cool and hot about them), the drummer and keyboard players were low keyed but each worked out on their instrument, when it was called for. Lastly, was the lead singer. A hottie, though I didn't really think he was a good singer until he began to improvise soca style. He tore it up and took me back to my family roots!
For those of you who don't know, soca comes from Trinidad/Tobago and when you wind-up to it, you work your hips like they are the only part of your body worth moving. I learned the dance when I was very young, watching my mother and her sisters. I mastered it as a young adult at Caribbean parties, complete with blue lights, patties, coco bread and scotch.
There is nothing like being brought to a state of feeling young, sexy and at one with the music! I danced for 3 straight hours tonight and only stopped because I had to get up in the morning.
I feel gifted and appreciative of Life. I wish for you the same.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head
Slipping out the back door
onto the greying wooden deck;
watchful,
cautious,
feeling just a bit wanton,
she lets the towel fall to her feet
and stands
naked
as the rain storms around and upon her.
"This is freedom", she thinks;
even though it comes with 18 years left on the mortgage
and the fear (she can't seem to shake)
of getting struck by lightening.
She is free,
in this moment,
watching the rain slide along her full breasts
cascading off her erect nipples-
she imagines molecular-sized men
on a water slide,
hands in the air
having the ride of their lives.
Taking in the sounds
of water;
whole ponds traveling through the roof's gutters and
gushing onto the ground,
she is awed by the beauty of green tree tops
against such a black-grey sky.
In direct contradiction to her surroundings
she becomes sun salutation;
all her jiggly parts jiggle mightily
but
she does not care;
there are no witnesses to her body's glory and,
if some peeper should insert his gaze into her frolic
she hopes he is made happy.
He deserves it;
as he flatters her middle-aged mind.
Her left leg slides forward
as she prepares to exit the pose
and, within a fraction of a second,
her mind registers the beam of wood
that has inserted itself into her foot.
Hopping back into the kitchen
hoping there isn't a river of blood and water
trailing across the floor,
she plops onto the nearest chair
and, realizes,
then and there,
an ultimate truth;
Nothing is free.
Not even freedom.
And she smiles.
Having just explained that much of my recent poetry is not inspired by my Life, I offer this actual Life snippet to you. We had the most wonderful rain on Sunday and I took advantage of being home alone...
onto the greying wooden deck;
watchful,
cautious,
feeling just a bit wanton,
she lets the towel fall to her feet
and stands
naked
as the rain storms around and upon her.
"This is freedom", she thinks;
even though it comes with 18 years left on the mortgage
and the fear (she can't seem to shake)
of getting struck by lightening.
She is free,
in this moment,
watching the rain slide along her full breasts
cascading off her erect nipples-
she imagines molecular-sized men
on a water slide,
hands in the air
having the ride of their lives.
Taking in the sounds
of water;
whole ponds traveling through the roof's gutters and
gushing onto the ground,
she is awed by the beauty of green tree tops
against such a black-grey sky.
In direct contradiction to her surroundings
she becomes sun salutation;
all her jiggly parts jiggle mightily
but
she does not care;
there are no witnesses to her body's glory and,
if some peeper should insert his gaze into her frolic
she hopes he is made happy.
He deserves it;
as he flatters her middle-aged mind.
Her left leg slides forward
as she prepares to exit the pose
and, within a fraction of a second,
her mind registers the beam of wood
that has inserted itself into her foot.
Hopping back into the kitchen
hoping there isn't a river of blood and water
trailing across the floor,
she plops onto the nearest chair
and, realizes,
then and there,
an ultimate truth;
Nothing is free.
Not even freedom.
And she smiles.
Having just explained that much of my recent poetry is not inspired by my Life, I offer this actual Life snippet to you. We had the most wonderful rain on Sunday and I took advantage of being home alone...
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Everyday Stuff
First off, let me thank TechnoBabe and Jorge for their comments on the previous post. It feels good to be cared for but, I am fine. I know this blog usually paints a picture of my Life so, it was probably inconsistent of me to start posting writing that was not reflective of what was going on in the moment.
My poetry has taken on a Life of its own. It demands to be written and it does so loudly. The piece, Woman Speak, was written after reading "Snowflower and the Secret Fan"; a beautifully written book about Life in 19th century China as seen through the eyes of a girl-child who grows into a woman. It evoked very strong emotions in me about the condition of women, the oppression of women, the survival of women. I thought about the reality of Life for many women, especially poor women, in the 21st century. And the poem created itself.
I just wanted you all to know that for the past couple of months the majority of my poetry has not been about my current Life situation. I am not suffering; to the contrary, I'm pretty happy these days.
This way of writing is very new for me as poetry in my younger years was all about my own angst, anger, pain or romantic joys. These days, it seems, I make a connection that allows me to see through the eyes of others and then, poetry comes. If that poetry feels powerful, I will share it here. And, I do apologize for not clarifying that sooner.
Other Happenings
1. The girl-child who sleeps under my roof is taking dance lessons with a professional company and struggling. She was so distraught the first week and begged me not to make her go back. She has not taken a lesson in the 6 years prior to this summer and is more than a bit embarrassed by her performance.
Needless to say, I am happy to know she is working hard at something that she likes. So many things come easily to her; this was a nice opportunity to help her understand the benefits of digging in and overcoming. She won't be a ballerina but, maybe she'll create a wonderful performance piece while she's in high school/college/a middle-aged woman in community theater!
2. Our friends from England are coming to visit and we are overjoyed at the prospect! Lots of fun things planned to cram into 2 days. You know, all those hometown things you rarely do because you can do them at anytime and then, suddenly, out-of-town guests appear and you try to do everything so they can get the best of the place in which you live. When we put them on the plane to NYC (ummm, lucky ducks, they get to visit my first hometown, too) I promise you they will be tired, excited and satisfied with/by Atlanta.
3. I'm working on a presentation for my job interviews (yes, plural) which will be coming up soon. I think this piece of analysis will be considered cutting edge for my organization. We'll see, but, I'm excited by the work and by the possibility of fully emerging from this personal economic downturn that I've been suffering for the past 7 years.
So, all things are well. May it be the same for you and yours...
My poetry has taken on a Life of its own. It demands to be written and it does so loudly. The piece, Woman Speak, was written after reading "Snowflower and the Secret Fan"; a beautifully written book about Life in 19th century China as seen through the eyes of a girl-child who grows into a woman. It evoked very strong emotions in me about the condition of women, the oppression of women, the survival of women. I thought about the reality of Life for many women, especially poor women, in the 21st century. And the poem created itself.
I just wanted you all to know that for the past couple of months the majority of my poetry has not been about my current Life situation. I am not suffering; to the contrary, I'm pretty happy these days.
This way of writing is very new for me as poetry in my younger years was all about my own angst, anger, pain or romantic joys. These days, it seems, I make a connection that allows me to see through the eyes of others and then, poetry comes. If that poetry feels powerful, I will share it here. And, I do apologize for not clarifying that sooner.
Other Happenings
1. The girl-child who sleeps under my roof is taking dance lessons with a professional company and struggling. She was so distraught the first week and begged me not to make her go back. She has not taken a lesson in the 6 years prior to this summer and is more than a bit embarrassed by her performance.
Needless to say, I am happy to know she is working hard at something that she likes. So many things come easily to her; this was a nice opportunity to help her understand the benefits of digging in and overcoming. She won't be a ballerina but, maybe she'll create a wonderful performance piece while she's in high school/college/a middle-aged woman in community theater!
2. Our friends from England are coming to visit and we are overjoyed at the prospect! Lots of fun things planned to cram into 2 days. You know, all those hometown things you rarely do because you can do them at anytime and then, suddenly, out-of-town guests appear and you try to do everything so they can get the best of the place in which you live. When we put them on the plane to NYC (ummm, lucky ducks, they get to visit my first hometown, too) I promise you they will be tired, excited and satisfied with/by Atlanta.
3. I'm working on a presentation for my job interviews (yes, plural) which will be coming up soon. I think this piece of analysis will be considered cutting edge for my organization. We'll see, but, I'm excited by the work and by the possibility of fully emerging from this personal economic downturn that I've been suffering for the past 7 years.
So, all things are well. May it be the same for you and yours...
Friday, July 11, 2008
Woman Speak
I was raised to look on the bright side;
to believe that EVERYTHING works out
the way it should
in the end.
My mother told me that real beauty lives within
and wisdom is a way of Life.
At the knee of my grandmother
I was taught that Love has more value
takes more courage
and brings more joy
than anything.
I was brought up in the language of women
but,
no one told me it was a code.
No worries,
the world around me was
happy to provide instruction.
Mature now,
code deciphered,
I have taken my lessons to heart
and left the woman-speak behind.
Now I know that
"everything works out in the end"
really means
Life is hard and confusing
and you will survive its chaotic harshness
until you die.
The outer world doesn't give a rat's ass
for inner beauty;
it's what's outside that counts
and gets paid.
Wisdom has no value,
but knowledge is marketed to the masses;
bottled and sold,
on tv, in public schools,
by preachers and portfolio managers.
It will even show up in your e-mailbox
with the subject header
"Make it bigger for her and she'll beg for more".
"She'll beg for more",
which, in the language of women, means
please,
stop your banging and poking
and give me something more
give me more than your limp bravado
or the back of your hand when you have run out of words,
more than short-term serial monogamy
or a ride in a fast car,
more than this swollen belly
filled with your growing seed
and a story to explain your absence.
Can you give more than an impulse?
more than a car note payment left on the dresser in the morning?
more than HIV/herpes/gonorrhea/syphilis/chlamydia or
the human papillomavirus?
more than a grumble when I can do something
some
one
thing
better than you?
Is there more than drunken Friday nights that bring you home
on Saturday morning
with the smell of a barmaid's thighs still on your lips?
more than how I need to understand about your wife and kid
and your baby mama?
more than your highs
more than your lows
more than the circumference of the small little world
that spins around you?
Can you
give me
what my Nana promised,
in the language of women -
a courageous and priceless Love?
I have come to believe,
that Nana meant
Love is woman's hope;
a hope that endures
and stands
in this world of men.
to believe that EVERYTHING works out
the way it should
in the end.
My mother told me that real beauty lives within
and wisdom is a way of Life.
At the knee of my grandmother
I was taught that Love has more value
takes more courage
and brings more joy
than anything.
I was brought up in the language of women
but,
no one told me it was a code.
No worries,
the world around me was
happy to provide instruction.
Mature now,
code deciphered,
I have taken my lessons to heart
and left the woman-speak behind.
Now I know that
"everything works out in the end"
really means
Life is hard and confusing
and you will survive its chaotic harshness
until you die.
The outer world doesn't give a rat's ass
for inner beauty;
it's what's outside that counts
and gets paid.
Wisdom has no value,
but knowledge is marketed to the masses;
bottled and sold,
on tv, in public schools,
by preachers and portfolio managers.
It will even show up in your e-mailbox
with the subject header
"Make it bigger for her and she'll beg for more".
"She'll beg for more",
which, in the language of women, means
please,
stop your banging and poking
and give me something more
give me more than your limp bravado
or the back of your hand when you have run out of words,
more than short-term serial monogamy
or a ride in a fast car,
more than this swollen belly
filled with your growing seed
and a story to explain your absence.
Can you give more than an impulse?
more than a car note payment left on the dresser in the morning?
more than HIV/herpes/gonorrhea/syphilis/chlamydia or
the human papillomavirus?
more than a grumble when I can do something
some
one
thing
better than you?
Is there more than drunken Friday nights that bring you home
on Saturday morning
with the smell of a barmaid's thighs still on your lips?
more than how I need to understand about your wife and kid
and your baby mama?
more than your highs
more than your lows
more than the circumference of the small little world
that spins around you?
Can you
give me
what my Nana promised,
in the language of women -
a courageous and priceless Love?
I have come to believe,
that Nana meant
Love is woman's hope;
a hope that endures
and stands
in this world of men.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
2 hi ku 4 u
1. Before
lie in bed alone
naked, healing, eyes open;
incite poetry
2. After
lie in your made bed
alone, naked, eyes open;
mislaid poetry
lie in bed alone
naked, healing, eyes open;
incite poetry
2. After
lie in your made bed
alone, naked, eyes open;
mislaid poetry
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