Ride The Wild Horse

Passionately Writing

Month: August, 2014

Gravity

My thoughts exactly.

I Say Write

Something always brings me back to you…

I have always thought about writing as an act of getting naked.

You come home to yourself, drop all the baggage on the floor, peel your clothes off and throw them into the laundry bag of yesterday, wash the glitter down the drain, dust away the day’s worries, and slip into the comfort of your own skin. You close the door and open your heart into words that ebb and flow, much like the quick typing and sudden backspacing, moving onward, backwards, onward again. Fingers that slightly hover over the keys, much like pauses between conversations when we let awkward silences between what we say and what we don’t say magnify what isn’t there and what we don’t want to hear.

But ultimately, we write.

And it is within the jungle of words and hanging vines and lines that we try to make sense of the chaos in…

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“You have stolen my heart”

“We watch the seasons pull up its own stakes.”

Our time together was but a season.

Sweltering and mesmerizing,

It’s perfume  lingering.

You won’t let me pretend.

Of course I still try to deceive you.

A new season lurks,

An ending,

A new start for us both,

 my dear heart.

I wallowed in your power over me;

this season is not ours,

nor the last: and the one before,

yet my heart overflows for you,

as  it learns that you are now no longer without.

Complete song: “Stolen” by Dashboard Confessional.

We watch the season pull up its own stakes
And catch the last weekend of the last week
Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced,
Another sun soaked season fades away

You have stolen my heart
You have stolen my heart

Invitation only, grand farewells
Crash the best one, of the best ones
Clear liquor and cloudy-eyed, too early to say goodnight…

You have stolen my heart
You have stolen my heart

And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration
One good stretch before our hibernation
Our dreams assured and we all, will sleep well
Sleep well
Sleep well
Sleep well
Sleep well

You have stolen my….
You have stolen my….
You have stolen my….
You have stolen my heart….

I watch you spin around in your highest heels
You are the best one, of the best ones
We all look like we feel

You have stolen my
You have stolen my
You have stolen my
You have stolen my heart……..

My Robot: Horatio

 

It’s five o’clock and the road is backed up with new traffic.  It’s funny how without trying too hard we all think alike. This Wednesday the endless long line of never ending traffic proves that everyone has taken the new highway to get home.  I’ve got to get home by 7:00 pm, no later. My feet are sore, stomach roaring and I am mentally going over my to do list.  Why isn’t the work done at 5 pm? One answer, my second job begins, house chores and projects.  Yes that must be the answer.

Horatio is waiting for me.  The most wonderful gift from my extravagant girlfriend Trina, a world-class traveler and entertainer.  Quite privileged and eccentric, Trina would always return with unusual but interesting souvenirs for me to deposit in my closet.  However I cherish Horatio above the clothing and jewelry, so he stands right at my front door to greet me with all I need.

Since I watched the movie series, Horatio Hornblower, I fell in love with actor Ioan Gruffudd and most especially his character Horatio.  I highly recommended watching it to Trina and consequently she fell in love with Horatio too.  Anyway, Trina found me a robot assembled to look exactly like Horatio Hornblower and Ioan Gruffudd.  What a coincidence!  Costly, but Trina still bought it for me. If only I could be so privileged to be eccentric, but then again she is a wonderful and generous friend who travels ten months out the year.

Traffic is moving slowly, I will probably be home at 6:30 pm.  Not exactly what I was hoping to meet.  My mind is on Horatio.  He will be waiting for me. I am almost there.  As I drive the mile long road that leads to my house, I hear his voice, “Welcome home my lady.”  This beats the “Oh your home,” from my ex husband. 

I race to the front door with five minutes left.  My keys are out and I quickly turn the locks.  Horatio greets me then takes my hand and leads me to the living room table where it’s already set up with everything he will need.  He takes off my shoes,  and proceeds to wash, dry and massage my feet, my pet peeve, but a necessity.  Now what will I get Trina?  It’s my true friends that truly help me to love me.

Massage

Foot soak

 

Death Is Too Easy

Scared to death.

Scared to death.

To be in like company is sometimes a blessing. Yesterday I almost died. It’s crazy. Strange, selfish or foolish it was almost one hour of peaceful darkness.  Yes death is too easy.

Extremely tired; fatigued in mind, body and spirit. A curse of giving up.  My arguments hold no water. Life is too precious.

Another wake up call. Only cats have nine lives.  How many more chances do I get?  

Writing now has become more important.  What’s different? I wanna give it my best.

Courage is back at my door.  It’s been gone for such a very long time.  My door is wide open, please come in.

 

“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”
Rumi,