A book of Mormon or a lion’s head bowl your dirty old sneakers and a used camisole A camping potty and a broken TV world’s ugliest chair contest-winner and its mate, the settee A tall concrete tiki set or a big rusty clock and bald vroom-vroom tires for the wannabe jock A Loong Foong vintage cookie tin and a scuzzy old toilet or a decrepit old rocker but don’t sit lest you spoil it A pair of leather-like boots or a real-plastic dresser and some moldy old books from a dusty professor An inflatable hot tub and fake-rattan patio chairs or some lightly used razors includes gross chinny-chin-chin hairs Some creepy old doll parts or a bagful of ‘hemp’ seeds all ready to sow and 2 dozen duck eggs though not in a row A box of A & W Mugs and ‘a fake owl to scare birds’ or a disgusting old hamster cage opportunely pre-soiled, comes with used turds An ‘Old-antique’ horse lamp and a ‘dead’ cow rug or some grossly stained mattresses replete with bed bugs A giant Yahtzze set and miniature chairs made of wicker or a pre-cracked ‘antique’ mirror prices are firm, please do not dicker Cement garden pigeons and barbicide for dog groomers or 4 and 6 inch flex hoses for all the DIY boomers These are but some of the ‘treasures’ You want me to buy Steals of a Deal And (crap)Pies in the Sky Thank you but no deal, at the best of times I would pass, but now during COVID I’d like to kick your sad ass. So Fuck-the-Fuck-Off, which means stay-the-fuck-home please stop being a chump re-use and re-cycle up-cycle that thing or WHEN COVID is done with us take your shit to the dump! With all the love I have, ~Marcela: Asking, begging FB Marketplace and local buy/sell/trade groups everywhere, to take the example of Ladysmith BC, and PLEASE shut.it.down, for the duration! These are NOT essential services, but they ARE actively contributing to the problem! No amount of legal-ass-covering-guidelines are going to change the thoughtless actions of STUPID; the OTHER pandemic. April 04, 2020
As I rummage and ruminate, categorize and discard, too many items, and thoughts, long of little utility, to you or I, though stubbornly occupying space, in my physical and internal environments, I am thunderstruck! …with that which we pay lip-service to; as a matter of course, in our excessive, daily rabblings and babblings; but rarely to never, truly abide by… . And of a sudden, nothing matters! Nothing; …with the exception, of how we choose to utilize, This Moment. And of a sudden, in this temporarily, to the outside world obligation-less life, I find freedom. ________________________________________________________ With boundless love, ~Marcela: choosing to live well, in the midst of my own, and our collective, uncertainty. March 24, 2020.
The roar of the culvert spewing forth the runoff, raging like the internal and external storms of the night previous, temporarily assuages my tinnitus and pressure addled brain, with this other, din. I walk on leaving the culvert behind, and, with the relentless vengeance of the intruders in my body, they cut anew; the razor-sharp edges of my current reality and I wonder: why I still choose to live this wounded and broken, life(?). Parker, Dorothy that is, in all her glory and folly calls on me, again, to live another day for while increasingly troublesome, my vision endeavors to see, that “cherry bough gone white with Spring,” and so I walk on, desperately seeking; the next “prettiest, thing.” ~Marcela: not done yet, according to Parker anyway. 02, 02, 2020
My oppositional flailings to the expectation-less relationship you desired, have inadvertently weathered my person into a deepening of spirit, reminiscent of the sea-years etched upon your face dearest Sailor. With the persistence of waves on stone at the seashore, these flailings and failings have smoothed harmful rough edges, jagged bits of a younger, old me no longer useful to anyone. And I am grateful. Not despite, but because of, that which my net failed to capture. ~Marcela: version 57.9 despite myself. June 22, 2019 __________________________ "Let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught." -kahlil Gibran Interestingly enough, I deliberately cast a net a few years ago, and in so doing, despite my oppositional flailings against its very nature, the 'catch' quite inadvertently developed, through a love and friendship unlike any other I have known, into a profound deepening of my spirit, one not unlike what Mr. Gibran speaks of. ~M.Y.M. Kahlil Gibran quote from Google Search Poetry and Image: All Rights Reserved Marcela Mrnka, please share but do attribute. Thank you. ~M.
The truth is: There is no permanent affliction or injury physical; emotional or psychological, sustained in the day to day sport of human living. The truth is: There are only innings, periods, heats and quarters of battle, endurance, triumph or loss in this game called life. The Truth is: the ether or some mystical inhabitant of it keeps not, (y)our score of wins or losses, deserved and not you and I, solely, are umpire, referee, and judge. The truth is: There is no permanent affliction physical, emotional or psychological only Game Changers permanence and winning are a Lie. So play the game play it well, play it now. ~Marcela. May 03, 2019.
An intruder has taken up squatter’s rights in my body. Whether microbial, myco-toxic, fungal or parasitic (all four?) in nature, it is fucking me up but good: my hair is falling out, there are moments during which I feel like I'm going to have a seizure any minute, I can't feel my limbs half the time and the other half it feels like something is crawling around inside them, or biting me, from the inside out. My kidneys hurt all the time, my vision has taken a beating, it is blurry half the time, my eyes are pinned all the time, and I see floating spots every time I blink. I have a constant 'cold,' I am in physical pain all the time, it ‘travels,’ my ears ring most of the time, I sound like a crack whore, I have had a tooth (molar) removed because my (awesome) dentist and I thought maybe the numbness was because of that, way back in December, when things first started. That hole in my mouth severely impacts my ability to eat certain things and the way I talk. I talk for a living. I have been treated (to the tune of what is adding up to thousands of dollars) by my (awesome) naturopath for (potential) mold/mycotoxin illness and parasites, gotten rid of furniture I can’t afford to replace because potential mycotoxins, taken more (unpaid) time off work, lost too much income, to travel and see the most useless doctor on earth almost weekly for pretty much 5 months (here, have some anti-anxiety meds and/or pain killers… no, thank you anyway…), and everything I have/am experiencing points to Lyme, or some other bacterial/parasitic/fungal thing, but she does ‘not believe’ in that, ‘does not have time’ for 20 different things, symptoms ( but that’s how Lyme, and other less common microbes work in the human body) in one visit or 40, couldn’t be bothered to test for anything outside her limited box, and literally gets (intimidation) uppity when I mention anything I have talked about (including Lyme) with other health care professionals. The list of her endless negligence and tyranny toward me is so big and hurts so bad I can’t even go there. It is safe to say that other than pregnancy when they said I couldn’t, I have never hoped for a ‘positive’ test result from a healthcare professional in my life, until now. The walk-in doc I saw in Nanaimo last week gave me no useful news yesterday, and won’t take me on as a patient because he’s leaving that clinic anyway… but he did give me the name of another doc there, and I managed to get an appointment with her for next week. In keeping with the recurring theme in my life, none of this is straightforward and it might even go way back to something I may have picked up working at the hospital in Duncan about 3 years ago, remember the Hashimotos thyroid thing (?), and I will continue to work with my naturopath, who unlike the ex-GP, is not intimated by other perspectives, mainstream medicine or the folks in it, she believes they should all work in a complimentary and collaborative way. Yeah, me too, but it feels like that is so far away from what we have that it borders on wishful thinking and we all know how I feel about that shit. I am not giving up, while at the same time, working extraordinarily hard not to let my anger and hurt consume me, for it is not productive, harms me more, and attempting to regain some measure of life quality, while working full time (there is very little choice here) in a field and area of said field, which requires my full physical, mental and psychological acuity. I am out of energy, out money and out of credit, but I repeat, more to hear it myself than for your benefit, I am not giving up. She is a brutal fucking bitch at times, this game called life, and she is in a particularly bitch-slappy mood at this juncture. What she doesn’t know however, is that at least in this very moment, right here, right now, so am I. ~Marcela: Battling, unwell, wielding all power toward living, for survival is no longer an option I am inclined to entertain. The Score Illness: 5 (months, maybe years…) Marcela: 1 (tenous) GP: Useless but winning, because safely swathed, in God-like white coat, and unbeknownst to her, fired. PS: Please, oh please, spare me the ‘you got this,’ and any manner of ‘positive energy’ and other platitudes. And please, oh please, respect my beliefs by not, under any circumstances praying for my Atheistic-Realist soul, in the same way I don't atheist all over your posts/struggles/issues/triumphs... for the only defense I have left for this manner of un-helpfulness, is delete and block. No tackle left for bullshit, not a smidge. Comments the likes of ‘this sucks ass,’ are so much more meaningful, as are none at all, if positivity and prayer are all you know how to do to support someone in pain. Thanks. PPS: If I have to 'deal,' with whatever is eating me alive, I will do it wearing cherries and polka-spots...
“The Artist is no other than [s]he who unlearns what [s]he has learned, in order to know [her]himself.”
The longer I write, create anything, the more I get this on a level so profound it hurts; and it hurts so good that at some point it stops hurting, and serves to validate, that, which I have always known, self.
The less I care about what you or anyone think, of anything I create, written or otherwise, the more I unlearn about all you and they have inured me with: false concepts and ideas, of who and how to be.
The more I unlearn about these things you have gifted me with, the less I need your, and their validation for my art; or anything, pertaining to me, any little thing at all.
And the less I need your validation, the more forth-rightly I can inform you, when you have mis-read me, again, and care little, if at all, about what you do with that. This is a freedom, an intelligence of self, I have not known, here-to-fore.
February 26, 2019.
The roar of a trusty steel steed, beneath a lead foot, masks the rolling thunder of a cascade, down a tear-stained cheek. And for but a split second, a mortally wounded, though upright warrior, considers swerving self and her metal mount, into the final oblivion. Parker, Dorothy that is, in all her glory and folly, calls on me to live another day. And so I resume, and re-revise, this life's resumé. ~Marcela: consumed enough to resume. August 18, 2018 Photographs and Writing All Rights Reserved. RESUME by Dorothy Parker: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44835/resume-56d224150522
Remnants Like an old (Czech) flag in the wind, tattered remnants of fear, flap relentlessly, in the recesses of my heart and mind; denounce and decry my worthiness of, the unorthodox life I crave. Whispers the fearless wild-child inside, “…burn the flag woman, burn the damned flag.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With thoughts of my maternal grandmother, Žofie Schlosser Ševčíková, June 06, 1911 – November 17, 1995. She was inordinately dignified and quite literally worked her fingers to the bone for my mother and her. She did it while standing up to, and then leaving (unheard of at that time), a violently abusive, alcoholic husband. She did it during a time in war-torn Eastern Europe most of us cannot fathom, no matter how many history books we profess to have read. She was profoundly gifted in languages,and well-read. She toiled with her tiny body and life-worn hands,in a way we, of more recent generations cannot know. One of the things I remember most about her is the importance to her, of quality, in everything. And I wonder, knowing what I know about the drudgery, the losses, the sacrifices that were the bulk of her life, I wonder, given the opportunity to ask her about what she would have done differently, had she the chance to be anyone,to do anything,she desired,what that would have been. I am anxious this day,and she came to my mind. She was born 107 years ago. A mere blip on the radar of our Universe, not known to most, but remembered well, by me and my mama,her daughter, this day. ~Marcela: tattered in the process of (more, always more,) unfurling. Writing: All Rights Reserved / Image: Google Search June 06, 2018
I saw a great cloud, out my kitchen window, and I yearned to share it with you. I was going to run, down to the dock, to snap a photo for you. I remembered wise words, on the age of the immediate, pervasive and constant, visual. I considered my love for images, created by a sharp mind, when we read other’s words. I do not wish to rob you, of an opportunity to exercise, your own imaginative psyche. I saw a great cloud, out my kitchen window, a colossal rectangle! I saw a great cloud, out my kitchen window, quilted, in a perfectly recurring motif! I saw a great cloud, out my kitchen window, a bouncy strato-cumulus sky-duvet! I saw a duck, out my kitchen window, as if landing, on its (eider)downy surface! I laughed at the irony, of the (duck)down duvet, and what we may have missed, had I run, to snap a photo, in my desire, to share this experience, with you. ~Marcela: introspective; on all the things social media could take away from me... March 30, 2018 Poetry and writing: All Rights Reserved