17 Tuesday Jan 2017
Posted in My World(s), Poetry
It is tragic in its fitting-ness, that the long sought (perfect) light fixture for my beloved cage, is from the Marcel(l)a series, from no less a cultural cage than Home Depot.
The perspicuous view, the vistas upon which I gaze from my current prison, pain me greatly.
~Marcela: quite fettered, and bereft of gilding on the cage.
January 17, 2017.
02 Monday Jan 2017
“Stop,” she said to herself! “Do refrain from accusing the accusers, from negating the Nellies negative, from despising the Debbies downer! And focus, on the freedom that comes with designing, with owning, your feelings, your thoughts, your life and your choices”!
“Know,” she said to herself, “that as long as you are breathing, life will bitch slap you, over and over again! Feel the fury, agonize in the pain, and then stand up to her like the fucking Warrior Woman you are.”
“Love,” she said to herself, “self above all, for it is not an act of ego, rather the only real survival skill you will ever need.”
~Marcela: Moving, at the speed of a woman Too Much!
January 02, 2017
Photograph: My personal collection. All rights reserved.
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
02 Monday Jan 2017
Posted in Poetry, The 'L' Word, Unfettered
And as the New Year tolls its bell silently in this tiny Bay
So my spirit whispers to the never-ending purga(s)tory in this 24/7 brain:
“shhh, we are whole again.”
It is not that I was in need of repair because you broke me, for I was never broken
It is that my voice was lost in the roar of the tsunami that was your disdain for me
And as a new blanket of white refreshes the grime of salt and snowplows
So renewed faith in self cleanses my heart of the detritus you left behind
It is not that I was the dung you believed to simply wipe off your sullied soles
It is the vehemence with which you shoveled your manure onto my person
And as the streetlight on the far shore casts a long glowing ripple across the lake
So another crack opens in my heart to allow the light back in
It is not that you succeeded in extinguishing it with relentless revile
It is that I erected shelter for my very core
And as I turn the plans for this, my most recent incarnation into fruitful reality
So I recognize your singular, constructive contribution to my life:
I choose not to forgive you for the myth of forgiveness as salvation is not my creed
I will, however, put you behind me with nary a thought to our dalliance, beyond these words:
I win. Not despite your efforts to destroy me, but because of them.
And I feel nothing for you.
~Marcela: Newer than this year.
January 01, 2017
Photograph: My personal collection. All Rights Reserved.
01 Sunday Jan 2017
And as the lake reflects nature’s finery back onto herself
So I reflect on the solitude I have come to crave
It is not that I wish to isolate from humanity,
or reject the risk of a new paramour,
It is that I revel in alone-ness with the passion of a new love
for my own cosmos.
And as the stillness of the quiet-season brings peace
to my beloved Bay
So the pain of my most recent faux pas is diminished
in its tranquility
It is not loving one who cannot love that I regret
It is that I am wistful about having snatched up
your well-baited hook of love-lies
And as the snow-laden branches dump their white weight,
and spring to a more contented position
So the Warrior Woman I am exhales to release you
and I find myself here:
I stand well-grounded and know that what you did,
only served to create this:
More big, more bold, more strong, more beautiful, more wise
more too much for some, but most especially,
much more too much, for you.
~Marcela: As is. Only more.
December 27, 2016
Photograph: My personal collection. All Rights Reserved.Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
31 Saturday Dec 2016
I can be Bad-Ass,
quite often Kick-Ass,
with a strong leaning tendency,
toward wild noisy Jack-Ass.
Sadly, more recently
I’ve been a big Dumb-Ass
but rarely to never,
am I a C(r)ass old Tight-Ass.
At 55 plus,
I still have a great Ass,
And in the midst of life’s bitch slaps,
I remain S(assily) yours: mostly to always,
one Wise-Assed fun (L)ass… .
Grammatically incorrect and chomping at the bit for 2017,
and the next bit of Bad-Assery,
~Marcela.
December 31, 2016
Image from: Google Images
16 Friday Sep 2016
Tags
The hardest goodbye... on March 16th of this year, my closest, most loyal, most enduring friend Sue Graves, and David Johnson, experienced every parent's worst nightmare. It is hard to believe that this vibrant young man has been gone for six months, and even harder to scribe the ditty I promised at his send-off on March 24th, as I collected 'Miller-words' from all the folks who loved him so much...
MILLERESQUE Dear Miller Robert Clayton Johnson, in March we gathered on that day our sorrow-laden hearts were heavy, but we had some shit to say! ‘I had to stay alive to raise him,’ said your mama Sue – ‘no other ever would or could, what else was I to do’?!? You were a handful Millsie, unconventional and true, and then there was that awkward story, of when you had to poo… It went rollin down your pant leg, then you gave that shit a toss said ‘I, don’t need no old-man toilets,’ my kid still thinks, you’re the Boss! Your shenanigans were legendary hell on wheels and cars off roads, same goes for your vocabulary bitches assholes motherfuckers, shitty faggot-toads! Your delivery was impeccable, the timing most inglorious but with a heart the size of Texas, for THIS you were notorious! Ryan Scotty Garret, said you’d give your shirt for anyone, they just had to say they need it many walked with so much more, Millerish won out, where brain and logic ceded. Solid, stand-up and insatiable, an explosive combination hilarious ridiculosity, a most Milleresqe conglomeration! Loving, kind and house-trained, we got the real-life scoop Chantelle sang high your chef-ly praises, yeah, Wiener Water Soup! And then there was your name-sake Jay Miller, Boston Bruins Handsome devil just like you Left girls’ hearts in ruins </3 So as today marks 6 whole months since that darkest day, I finally scribe this ditty my heart in utter disarray. I went to sit with other dead, earlier this week, thought about your parents tears still rolling down their cheeks. And then there’s all the sibs, Robin Kevin Haleigh, spouses Kat Salena Steven their hearts too are breaking daily footing's still uneven... For we're all uncertain, how to navigate this most unwelcome path, and our feelings often vacillate between broken pain and wrath. And though our hearts will but grow scars never truly heal, know that you, your life, your damned departure, are one BigFuckingDeal! ~Marcela, </3 September 16, 2016.
07 Wednesday Sep 2016
Tags
Life, Love, Personal Power, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Truth
As is…
And as the mist obscures the scars of clear cuts on the hillside
so the steam from my tea obscures the ache in my bleeding heart
It bleeds not because it is over between you and I
it bleeds because against my best intuition, I allowed you and I
And as the sound of the rain drowns the drone of regret
so the heat of simple soup soothes my temporarily ravaged spirit
It is ravaged not because you found it Too Much
it is ravaged because I knew your opinion should not matter
And as dusk falls on the tiny Bay I call my (44th?) home
so solitude brightens the darkness in my psyche
It is dark not because you dulled the diamond I am
it is dull because you painted it with brushes of critique and counsel
And as I will always remember our time with bewilderment at self,
so introspection brings me here:
In this one thing you are correct: I am too much. For you.
Never, for those who love me. And self.
~Marcela, as is, not as you need(ed) me to be.
September 7, 2016Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, The 'L' Word
13 Saturday Aug 2016
Tags
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Rants & Other Musings: Unfiltered-Raw, The 'L' Word
06 Saturday Aug 2016
As I pack my favourite cookware
remember meals you thought were swell
I fall into this sad reverie
of broken-hearted hell…
I will miss the fervor of your appetite
for the food I pleased you with
and cannot help but question
was the whole thing but a myth…
Did I just imagine you
as my version of the fable
the one in which I serve it all
put that shit out on the table…?
~MyLa: undernourished, craving the new, craving more
August, 06, 2016Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, The 'L' Word
29 Friday Jul 2016
Tags
Petulant and querulous,
you are perilously close
to me losing my fucking shit,
all over (y)our pristine(?) white shirt!
Whinging, whiining
incessant pining
for what is not,
while with exuberance and great fervor
you choose to neglect
the magnificence
before (y)our sightless eyes!
Clean up on aisle M!
Next!
Marcela: Quite done with this bit.
Image: courtesy of google image search: https://thumbs.dreamstime.com/x/mop-bucket-caution-wet-floor-11546638.jpg
14 Thursday Jul 2016
Tags
1
Wild, wanton even
anxiety, wreaks havoc
runs amok, this day.
~Marcela: anxious. Stop, revise: fucking anxious.
2
Unruffled, tranquil
faith, acceptance, don red cape
whisper: fly. Higher!
~Marcela: Cape firmly in place, next…
Image: courtesy of google image search: https://www.google.ca/search?biw=1366&bih=657&tbm=isch&sa=1&btnG=Search&q=get+cape+wear+cape+fly
22 Wednesday Jun 2016
Tags
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, The 'L' Word, Unfettered
22 Wednesday Jun 2016
Tags
Dandelion burstsPosted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
22 Wednesday Jun 2016
Tags
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
19 Sunday Jun 2016
Marcela: Unfiltered 
