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Marcela: Unfiltered

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Marcela: Unfiltered

Monthly Archives: June 2016

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I Am My Own Life-Raft

28 Tuesday Jun 2016

Tags

</3, Love, Pain, Relationships

Like so many of the warrior women I know and love, my life has been rich with experience. Seemingly unattainable goals accomplished, despite (or because of) immense barriers and roadblocks. And it has been fraught with battles of my own and others’ making, many from which I did not emerge victorious, was deeply wounded, and left for dead. There have been times during which I was so broken that I was dispossessed of the capacity to enjoy anything or anyone I love. There have been times during which my pain coloured everything muddy, dark, like when all the water colours on a painting run together. The past was a dirty brush which tainted my present and future. To love someone to the core, and be loved by them, to the core, knowing that the only decision remaining is for us to travel alone, for a while, or for longer, is the epitome of bittersweet. This pain is like no other pain I have ever felt. To feel it at this stage of my human evolution is like no other experience I have ever had. I have no guide, I have no barometer, I have nothing but self, as it should be. This pain is clear, its edges are sharp, and it is single-minded in purpose, in that it is bereft of all that does not belong to it. And it is ever-present. The difference between those muddy, dark times and now, is that while this pain is unrelenting, and at times the wave is fierce, so am I, and I know I will not drown, that the tears will subside again, and until the next wave, I will glide on smoother waters, enjoying the view, in all its clarity and sharpness, from the life raft I am.
~Marcela: </3

June 28, 2016

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under The 'L' Word

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Craizy-Daizy…

22 Wednesday Jun 2016

Tags

Fear, Love, Personal Power, Poetry

So I sat there making daisy-chains

while you played with the hand grenade

that detonated in my heart

their yellow-white all innocence

belying your true impotence

and the rage of disappointment

a wildflower in captivity

held in the thinly veiled depravity

of the ancient ruse called love

but this here flow’ring maiden

less lackadais(y)cal than brazen

weathers this next storm

~Marcela: standing ground, because it’s not all sunshine’n daisies in here…

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Dandelion – Haiku

22 Wednesday Jun 2016

Tags

haiku, Personal Power, Poetry, Truth

Dandelion bursts

stoically through asphalt,

staking out her claim.

~Marcela: (pain)staking claims… June 22, 2016

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Call me Chamomile…

22 Wednesday Jun 2016

Tags

Life, Personal Power, Poetry, Self

Scotch Broom

invasive, unrelenting bully,

has nothing

on Chamomile’s quiet crusade

to propagate and grow,

where no Broom

has dared vomit,

its noxious seed.

Call me Chamomile,

growing, unapologetic

and oh so inconveniently,

right in the middle of the damn road!

~Marcela: Unapologetically inconveniencing, you?

June 22, 2016

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Disheveled…

19 Sunday Jun 2016

Tags

Poetry, Self, Truth

Disheveled…

True to form,

unhinged, and

in(complete)

and utter disarray,

she turns inwardly

to scream,

at the demons.

~Myla: true to form…

June 19, 2016

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Cancerian Side-Step

10 Friday Jun 2016

Tags

Love, Poetry

Crab-Walker

A cancerian side-step
on the mountain like Otep
Shamaya, that is…
infernal screaming
salt-rivers streaming
crevasses and gorges
eye’s-blood forges
lava lines on a face
botox not to erase
triumphant tall tales
as well the fails
of proportions epic, that is…
stories rife
furious life
noisy this silence
obscuring the violence
mind gone wild
untamed adult-child
mutters insanities
trapped in banalities
of one’s own choosing, that is…
inaudible plea
no chutzpah to flee
this bird-cage un-gilded
wings flapping bewildered
red smear on a white page
reading lines on a stage
one so prudently set
best not forget
designer and choreograph
of this story’s epitaph
she/herself and yours truly
ever most duly
contrary in diction
this life of non-fiction, mine, that is…
dance of cancerian side-steps
while ludicrous forceps
tear out the part
once resembled a heart
and that bitch called love
bleeds on the floor
resembles the whore
that I am…
fuck
me, no,
you.
~Marcela: unapologetically yours.
June 10, 2016

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