Lately, I’ve become a bit obsessed with listening to slam poetry. So… I thought I’d try my own.

Linked to the post is a video I uploaded onto Facebook. I was trying to use poetry to contribute to the dialogue surrounding domestic violence. I will add that I placed a trigger warning on this. Please watch at your own discretion.

If this moves you, feel free to share, or leave a comment.

APPLE

 

If I could love in words

I’d write a sestina

As long as her legs,

filter it in sepia

silk sheets shrouded in a vignette.

She is a maze

I need to understand,

again,

before I breathe.  

Her body,

lines of iambic pentameter

rhyming in my head.

I gasp

in complete stanzas.

 I want

her hair,

tangled metaphors lost in

ornate vines,

splayed on my pillow.

Her eyes,

drops of moonlight

painted by angels,

encased in gold.

Her body’s a sonnet

I want to wrap around me

while I spew pathetic

poetry,

                                                unfit

to

                                              touch

her.

Hey Folks!

The title is true. I recently joined a gym and it serves free Tootsie Rolls and I think that’s absolutely majestic.

Where have I been besides the gym? Writing. Editing. Revising. Aaaaand that is the reason for the tumbleweeds rolling across my blog.

Although, if you follow my author page on Facebook, you’ll see some updated posts every now and then.

Anyhoo, just came on to post a new trailer because I’m working on Part 5 of the Chronicles of Ashzaria: Soras and it’ll be out sometime Monday! (Hopefully in the morning).

Will Misa marry Doran? What if she falls in love with him while her soul is in Ashzaria and Saros is on Earth? Staaaaaay Tuned!

The music in the trailer is ‘Take me to Church’ by Hozier. Enjoy!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

mommywars

The carpool line– hands down the bane of my existence. And it was one of those days I was sitting in the unwavering string of cars coupled with drivers who mistake the procurement of children for social hour at a nightclub, my phone dinged. A friend had sent me an article she said I should read because it was sure to make me mad, not that my friends purposely set out to ‘make me mad’. But in all fairness, I was the one complaining of boredom.

The article she sent was written by Janie who chose to be submissive to her husband. Notice I linked the word ‘article’. I did that so you’d read it, that way you can follow along and what I’m about to write will make more sense.

It’s okay, I’ll wait…

(more…)

words-12

From childhood I was taught the mantra: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” From as early as I can remember, I was picked on; teased at school and had very few friends (but for those who were, I remain thankful), I would come home and cry, beggining to move, “somewhere, anywhere.” My desperate request, always met with the aforementioned saying and the scolding that I should not allow what others say to,”get to me and bother me.”

However, this advice was fallacious as words are extremely powerful particularly when the one speaking them has agency; whether spoken or written, words have built and destroyed nations: inspired and decimated.

As human beings we want to invest emotionally in people, to not make that investment in at least a few could render one a socio-path who has no sense of humanity or empathy. Our emotional investment is what allows us to form lasting relationships.

Sure, there are certain people who I do not know or couldn’t care less about knowing and they can say whatever they would like about me and I would be more preoccupied with how often my neighbor picks his butt after exiting his car from his evening commute than their slander, but if my husband came home and said, “I’ve been thinking and you’re a real bitch.” I would be torn to pieces.

And that is because I have given his words agency in my life.

In my first marriage, I did the same, obviously because I was married and I loved him and he not only abused me, but he abused the trust and love that I had given him. When the verbal abuse started, I was very hurt and saddened that he would feel like I was just a, “nasty, useless, whore that couldn’t do anything right.” Some of the things that he said to me and about me were very hard to swallow and process and somewhere in his horrific orations, I began to buy into what he was saying.

When people think of abuse or domestic violence, they jump straight to the physical aspect: broken bones, black eyes, or tremendous bruising. They don’t understand the emotional and verbal aspects when it really is not that complicated of a subject. They tend to think that if there is no apparent physical violence then the victim was not really abused.

They are so very wrong.

Bruises go away and when treated properly, broken bones heal as well. The most exhausting aspect of an abusive relationship is the verbal and emotional abuse that is suffered by the victim. Those words become grenades that leave permanent holes which never quite heal, breaking more than mere bones. After a day of severe verbal abuse, I remember looking in the mirror and not even recognizing my own face. The deep lines under my eyes formed scars that were far worse than any black eye he could have given me; the swelling in my face worse than the harshest slap, and the exhaustion more far-reaching than any could fathom.

If he had caused physical harm, I could have called the police and received medical treatment. What he did, caused me to suffer  alone, and in silence.

I have been told throughout my life to, “Toughen up,” or, “grow thicker skin,” and to some extent I have; but, I refuse to completely harden up and stop emotionally investing in people.

“When you’re drowning you don’t think, I would be incredibly pleased if someone would notice I’m drowning and come and rescue me. You just scream.”
― John Lennon