• Home
  • About

Marcela: Unfiltered

~ living out loud…

Marcela: Unfiltered

Tag Archives: Unrealistic Expectationsm

Image

Runaway: The Decade Long Amok, of an Acutely Human Queen

23 Friday May 2014

Tags

Humanity, Life, Personal Power, Self, The Marketed 'Dream.', Unrealistic Expectationsm

 

...go on, splash a(muck) on the Nellies...

go on, splash (a)muck on the Nellies

Several pretty penny porches
now mere remnants in memory
the Queen remorselessly
ruminates on these;
the veritable vestiges
of a domain,
duly disheveled
by her perilous pursuit
of the marketed realities,
called success
and
the dream.

Many years many roads,
a number of princes
unveiled
as wart-toads,
the Queen throws an eye backward
wistfully winces
at the folly,
that may well have been
her final undoing,
or was it,
that?

She lowers ear to her heart,
unearths a new truth
owns her sizeable part
with measured grace,
and some couth:
Eyes wide shut to the pain
agendas pursued
with worrisome might;
full throttle, warp speed
hellish highways of fright;
she collected Queendoms and letters
behind her inadequate(?) names,
blindly but deftly
she excelled in the games;
sold to her and the masses
by the predators
of peace,
preachers of pink
glasses
bamboozle the brainwaves
about life’s short-term lease…
the reality
‘tis no more than the blinking
of sightless glass eyes
the pursuit of happiness
sold in the guise
of more, better,
bigger,
fluff and stuff
with which to;
kill the pain
kill the pain
kill the pain.

Pernicious perverts
had her
chasing the dragon
the dream an imposter
the trickster,
approval a need
love an elixir
a name on a deed…
self-deception
false buy-in
the seed,
of her
very own,
personal,
undone-ness.

Hunters of humanity
fished for her favor
left her bereft
of power to savor
the very Queendoms and royalties,
she had spent the years chasing
bird-dogging banalities
mind-body-heart
constantly racing
toward a non-existent,
finish line.

The place called success
look at me look at me
she was finally worthy
of their ilk
and decree
that she had arrived,
Broken.
Again.
</3

Jonathan Rebel Seagull
(perfect aerialist and relentless odd ungod)
swoops into her cloud
ruffles her feathers
always stern, never loud:
thought you lost me hey Missy?
Nice try
epic fail,
with you ever and always,
while they stood still
watched you,
flail.

Look neither hind Missy,
nor fore to the morrow
take only the lessons
step away from the sorrow!
Keep that which you need
to live free of their voices,
succumb only
to more resilient choices
than the greed,
widely accepted,
as normal.

Blow up the boxes
of success and their dream
each day every moment
hear the voice of (y)our soul,
not that of their scream.
For you intuit the truth
it soundlessly waits
to show you
to guide you
in a more even gait.
Walk do not run
for you are likely to miss,
the kiss of the Dragon-Knight
hard-fought and won battle,
of and for,
your own
bliss.

You are the Queen of your life
this we know to be true
as said the other odd ungod,
‘no-one’s you-er than you.’
So go out and be You,
truer than true
this ain’t your first rodeo
so please,
no boo-hoo!
Life is a mud puddle
so pull on the Wellies,
go splash about
spray (a)muck on the
Nellies (negative that is).

(M. 2014)

Image from: http://lawnfix.co.nz/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/gumboots-splash.jpg

Share this:

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)

Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

On: The Hero in all of us…

23 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by ~MyLa in The 'L' Word

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Family, Heros, Humanity, Love, Unrealistic Expectationsm

The untold story of my hero

I want to tell you this story. It is the evolving story of a hero, who through the process of me growing up, had to be seen, by me, as human, before he could be my hero, for real-for real. He was my first and biological father, Tomáš Mrnka. He was born in the country formerly known as Czechoslovakia on October 24th 1935, and died, under extremely curious circumstances, in a mine shaft in Stewart BC, on July 7th, 1971. It was 12 days before my 10th birthday. He was 36 years old, and when he died, everything I ever hoped for, and dreamed of, died with him. For a while, a long while.

For too many years after his death, I held him on a topple-worthy-pedestal of my own making, and only ever thought about him, told stories about him, in terms of heroic actions: his undeserved imprisonment in the old country for a democratic cause, his valiant battle to get us, his beloved children and wife, out of the clutches of communism following the Soviet Invasion of our beloved land, and into the country that he wanted more than anything, to provide us a life in. I knew this story so well I could recite it at the hint of his name, and expound at great length on his virtues and sacrifices; for his beloved country, for his beloved family. The parts I left out of the story, the human bits, are as important a contributor to the true nature of his hero-status as his me-created perfection.

He was the first man of too many, to hit me and tell me he loves me in the same moment. He did not do this because he was evil, he did it because that is how children were disciplined; it is what he learned in the environment and culture he grew up in. He was unfaithful to his beloved wife, my beloved mother, and considered somewhat of a Casanova. He was a catch: he had one of the few motorcycles in the country at the time, and a full set of leathers, a rebel with a chip on his shoulder, but he had a cause. He had the inimitable grin, wit and charm of Rhett Butler, and all the girls wanted him. My mother got him, and forgave him, over and over, to keep him. She had endless discord and conflict with her beloved mother because of him. He was not only imprisoned for voicing his political beliefs against the status quo, he was imprisoned for shooting at a law officer. I tell you all of this not to mar his memory or to diminish his heroic nature; I tell you this to illustrate the full context of his humanity, he was so imperfect, so human but still a hero. He worked very hard to redeem himself when he brought us here, to make it right, to atone, to take responsibility.

I tell you this because we all have a dark side, a side that requires constant work and effort to keep in check, to make certain that it is not given more priority than the hero, in all of us. The dark side makes poor decisions based on fear rather than the belief that we will get what we need if we act accordingly; that side is driven by the external, all the world’s influences, as they are marketed to us, rather than the internal, the core of our humanness, our hearts and souls. The darkness ignores our innate intuition, even when the warning bells scream like the sirens in a big city, ignores, the hero in all of us. That piece, which knows love and abuse cannot co-exist, do not, cannot by nature, live in the same environment. The piece that informs every act of kindness and compassion we have ever given freely, without expectation of reward or need for recognition, because that is what gives us the most true happiness. The piece that would die for the people we love, and sometimes for those we don’t even know, but feel true human empathy for. That piece is the one we must nurture, nourish, and encourage to grow and empower.

I could not see my father, Tomáš Mrnka, as the authentic hero he was and is, until I could see the full extent of his humanity, without judgment, or the childish notions I carried about the perfection of a hero. I tell you this story because I have experience with imperfection and humanity, and because I miss my hero today. Rest in peace dad, and know that the lessons of your life, your perfectly imperfect humanity, and your true heroism, have watched over me, followed me, taught me, led me, sometimes astray, but always back, to the hero in me.  More than four decades ago on July 7th, my life and world changed in a way that I spent too many years trying to numb, to feel, to figure out, to forget, to remember; and more than four decades later I come full circle to face my own imperfection and humanity, again. Thank you, dad, for the lessons. You did well; and although my dark side comes out to wreak havoc periodically, I believe that my hero always triumphs in the end. I miss your person every day, but I feel your presence, every second.

M.Y.F.M. July 05, 2012

Image

Share this:

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • February 2022
  • September 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • March 2016
  • January 2016
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • May 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013

Categories

  • 30 Days 30 Poems
  • Commentaries: On what matters to me
  • In the Service of Other Humans
  • Life Lessons & Stories
  • My World(s)
  • Poetry
  • Rants & Other Musings: Unfiltered-Raw
  • Tales out of School
  • The 'L' Word
  • The Other 'L' Word
  • Unfettered

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in

Recent Posts

  • What I know, the only thing I know for sure…
  • Was there a different, more unifying solution?
  • Gag Me With the Decapitated Head of a Martyr… or Two… The Origins of Valentine’s Day…
  • ‘Petrie,’ and other Saturday Musings…
  • Good bye my friend…
  • Tomáš Mrnka – October 24, 1935 – July 07, 1971
  • Mindset / Personality: Fixed? Not in my world…
  • Because I have known…
  • For the 215 Indigenous Children found in a mass grave in Kamloops… and those in all the world’s unmarked graves…
  • Eight Thousand Four Hundred and One, Days…

Archives

  • February 2022
  • September 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • March 2016
  • January 2016
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • May 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013

Follow Us

  • Facebook

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Follow Marcela: Unfiltered on WordPress.com

Start a Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • Marcela: Unfiltered
    • Join 117 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Marcela: Unfiltered
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    loading Cancel
    Post was not sent - check your email addresses!
    Email check failed, please try again
    Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.