18 Saturday Feb 2017
She, Valkyrie cradles tattered remnants a slaughtered spirit, in her intrepid care. Goddess vision greets wounded gaze and I beseech her, to choose life, for an oft wounded, heart. To Valhalla for mead, and her. Salve for the psyche, soul and flesh, of gods mythical, and mortal, and their concubines. ~Marcela: beautifully lost, in a real-time myth, of my own creation. February 18, 2017 Image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valkyrie
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, The 'L' Word, Unfettered
12 Sunday Feb 2017
Tags
Limerick
I have crushed on a sailor named Zeke
His ‘Salty’ some havoc did wreak
On pink oh-so-tender
Defenses useless he rendered
With nary a peek or a tweak
Haiku
On a tranquil sea
A salt and pepper Sailor
Quells this raging squall
Cinquain
Let’s sail
said the sailor
my vessel’s safely moored
in the haven of (y)our harbour
moon’n stars
February 12, 2017
Poetry and Photographs: All Rights Reserved.
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
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
22 Wednesday Jun 2016
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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, The 'L' Word, Unfettered
22 Wednesday Jun 2016
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Dandelion burstsPosted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
22 Wednesday Jun 2016
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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
10 Friday Jun 2016
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
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, The 'L' Word, Unfettered
02 Saturday Jan 2016
Derailed, discombobulated
hamster wheel for a brain,
drives my treasonous
heart
that run-amok freight train.
Incessant, the thoughts
constant and circular
brain matter
detonates
fuse lit by vernacular.
Disillusioned, with Life
and other L words,
I question
reality
is flying high for the birds?
Wakeful, I fret
over this, about that,
rue and
regret
engaging with gnats.
Diminished, extinguished?
the yearnings and flames,
all stealth and sneak
fear
stakes a new claim.
Vehement, (m)utterings
implore a but smouldering fire,
(re)torch that heart
woman
get back up on your pyre!
~MyLa: unfettered and spinning, yarns…
(01, 2016)
… t’was a most fitful night… brain ran in circles, how fitting the photo I snapped accidentally on my beloved trail yesterday… and as I coined another fretful ditty, this thought slapped me upside the head: the point is, nothing in my life, ever, has occurred in any sort of logical order, but particularly not in any sort of expected, culturally appropriate, or accepted order or manner. So how could I possibly write about any of it that way? And KaPow, with a random meme about the next 365 days, and a most productive night of wakefulness, the Year of Fly, and the next great thing, is born in the never ending purgastory, that is my 24-7 brain. Stick around and help me feed this baby, give this dragon, (unicorn?) wings. Or don’t. The next level of Unfiltered is coming, either way.
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered
