Tag Archives: #heart

Stop thinking it’s all about you,

or your lover, because as much as it resembles others, it is just the imaginings in my head. This is my absolute truth:

Man Less of Me: http://wp.me/p57Qci-2p

It was written long before I even knew the name of any particular anyone who might think it’s all about them. I know haters are gonna hate, but I will just try my best to send out love, and my honest truth, as I wouldn’t want anything, for anyone(even haters), any other way.  I love to write, to straighten out my head, imaginations, subconscious, flaws and all, spilling into new realizations, for myself – Not anyone else.

Love, ME




Feel me

Do you feel me that

a earthquake damn break rivers

rushing hot breathing

deeply moons phasing curling

toes fingers grasping

need more


Do you feel me in

your every step waking

in the rain misting pouring

on my skin dripping

damp your pours need me


falling catching pitching us

now hurry slowly touch too

rain ending sunshine

coming up now night happy


Hear me singing my

breath your name in me for eve

of dawn is coming stop it

let me stay forever more

Her, Insanity


Insanity logically thought she could meet him

both knew it would be the end of things

pain, muse, deep inside he was

afterall aloof batted for the other team

how cute fun gay friend not

nice to feed me either

taking off my pitchers mask

allowing me to unrobe

cry on safe shoulders aren’t nice either

ya know whats more efficient

kinder gentler real, convincing words tell more

move more mountains slide debris

new morning pounding rains down sleep

each day a little cleaner

dawn of never ending drought

the truth! and have some morals iphone friends

kind Not the One friend

that goes for you too

please delete me from all those data bases

cause really You shouldve known better

clear those your cobwebs from my head and

get out of my computer savvy

a be not pain but kind

like water

The Art of Making WINE

In Santa Barbara

There I was, talking to my dream man, elbow up to the wine bar, listening enraptured to his story of helping others, all his good deeds. He is tall and lean, toe-headed like my first love, but good-incarnate. His heart is always in the right place and he knows how to use it, if you know what I mean. Our kids would look the same. I could fall so hard for him, I don’t think I would recover. He is one of the good guys, i hope, so I am sure my heart would be in good hands; All heart and hands, he is, my dream man, touching me softly, holding me firmly.


From now on I am only talking to the good guys, my guy, one I would be willing to call my own. Don’t assume it’s you. I am realizing, just now in my life, that I know who you are. And sometimes I fear my husband has plotted with his mother to knock me off; get off my fucking rocker, right? Like how did I know it was you, I still don’t, but I have already started morning my sanity. I’ve found myself though, and I am on guard and kicking him out of the bed tonight. Back to his room he goes with his mother and father on the plane. So, if you are one of those bad guys, stop reading right now. Go back to counting your money, plotting your extractions, dealing in blood.


I have met the bad guys

and I fear he is one of them

all that matters is money

but the problem is, it’s not only my husband

it’s the people who are elbowing out the scientists to be afraid of

are you listening because i need somebody to love and do and be just with

they use us all

that inside of us thing

whose name i won’t say

to justify anything


So there is this dreamy man to be cast

beside my body, my dream

head of the richest foundation but he lives that not

they only give to all the left hand free

causes of my heart

so it would seem


but what if he had a secret

and it was in the wine of Santa Barbara alone

I could write it, you see

and another man, too, i think you know who

an epic of sexual puns and affairs of the heart

broken and sad, but a comedy about my home, divorce, love actually

real meaning and sadness and life and death and sex and shit is what i write about, love

love and wine and women and men

you cooking for me

in every room of the house

doing whatever it is we do


They can justify anything, I fear, in the name of god. And by anything, i mean just that. They might use the hands of others, the hands of gods handle life and death matters, of course you know; But it would be just they would say, claim, pay you to think. It’s black friday and all.

Really I would ask you if we could touch and breathe into our hearts together as one. It is so bright in here, i need to hear your words to know the truth.


Instant Winemaker Needed

I have just aquired an unexpected lot of fruit and want to start making wine with it right away before you spoil, see the Emergency Guide on page 173.


I am just a woman, Chumash, and men from the ships always need help. It could be old school like that, the wine-making, love, or just the comedy.



Before it spoils, I mean. Are you an enologist, internationally known? Then i think you can help with the paddle, push down, reach deep, rhubarb wine recipe on page 69.

Wine narrowly defined means only the fermented juice of the vinafera grape, but like Dionysus is Bacchus, love is wine, wine making love, love making wine.


p.s. Sometimes when I write You, I mean Me, my intuition, my heart, my love, if you know what i mean, you can keep reading, love me.


p.s.s. I need a good pro bono divorce attorney, please.

just touch me

Jamaica? The Theory of Everything is Love, or Probability or Time.


What is the probability, he asks, upon the second chance. Our meeting was too brief, yet it encompassed all time, our history. In your eyes I saw everything, in us is all knowing, the creator from where we come and will go, the universe an iris. Once just a twinkle, now they walk and talk and continue our living.

The Theory of Everything is love, or is it sex he asks, smiling then throwing his head back laughing, joy.

Let’s research;) I say, I just need you to touch me please, I am saying you can do that again; catch me from falling. Be at my back before I know your need and find my hand always there for you searching. Come up from behind me, in this place where I am unsure,  just brush up to me a tiny finger, a shoulder to rest on. Breathe me in your words, in my mind I can feel them.

Everything is going to be okay, I said to my son, but the uncertain feeling is coming up through my spine from the gut. Tell me, my love, your words I needs to hear. How will it be okay, how will I find your hands holding me.

The problem is with Time, the equation of yours and mine. Is it Love plus Sex equals Life, but of course, tho the question is unclear. Life=Time? Love=Time? Life and love is in the end just hope. Death then equals light, or is it darkness I see in your eyes, a sadness I recognize? I find it most amazing the whole of life, Earth, Everything is seen in the eyes, black holes to another’s heart. We are all one body a universe, but I just want you, here beside me.

Laying in bed I don’t want to leave, move, eat or drink just you here with me. Reading the news, yours glasses sliding down your nose just below where smile wrinkles form when i kiss it, then your mouth. We laugh as the children come in screaming, crawling all over us. You scold with a warm embrace, a good morning ruffle, back out you go; let’s lock the door we say together with no words.

The problem is with Time, I keep coming back to it. We can swim around in our bubble, move all within our sphere gooey, but we cannot go back. Sideways works, I think it is the secret, the answer in the research. I’ll say it next time I see you, “What is the probability?” and you will look at me like the stranger I am, for we’ve forgotten. Then I will say I know you, I’m a time traveler you know me, looking into your eyes firm, your hold on me will soon be. You will just put both hands to my face, and tilt my head opposite to yours, bringing our lips together for the first kiss lasting, seeing, feeling forever in your eyes, in your words alone.


Or you can just pour me a glass of something really thoughtful and we can talk all sexy to each other, about the probability of it all, finding you again and again in my dreams.


“Jamaica?” I say looking deep into your eyes. Hoping for a smile, a smirk, something that tells me I am not totally insane. The voice in my head has got to be right about something, “Does that mean anything to you, Jamaica?” because Jamaican me crazy, I laugh to myself but really I am afraid of your answer. For I can’t keep going so deep inside my head without your help, your hand, your words telling me. More than just a singh, give me something real to know, words more direct, better yet your eyes on mine, touch me w some truth, you know too.