replacement parts

*written in October 2007*

wasnt shiny and new...pre used is the term

gassed by a few, prone to some wrong turns

not 22's but kept clean, pride in the upkeep

a smooth ride, able to tread rain, snow and sleet

been thru storms but made it out in 1 piece

cracked windows to the soul, now finally seeing peace

was off the lot, no sale...was considering being a collector's dream

u know...once in a while take it for a spin, back in the garage to secretly gleam

a few laid eyes on the body and just had to have her

promised they'd take pristine care of her whatever the matter

all of them turned down, sign reposted, "NO SALE"

then here comes HIM sauntering in with the gust of a sudden gale

stroked the finish, eyed the shine and sunk into the seats

she's not even ignited, yet she still generated heat

this "buyer" not average...seemed like a perfect fit

so he took it for a stroll said, "I'll be back in a bit"

ride was nice and long, but she was cool...it was all hood

his form meshing with the upholstery of her hold like it should

turned on the sound, loving the tunes being played

set on his favorite station, damn this seems custom made

no one but the 2 riding easy on an abandoned street

til he caught the attention of the bystanders in awe of their offbeat

realizing he was flier than he had been anytime before

he considered well, hell...maybe i should go browsing for more

parked her on a quiet street far from traffics blare

while he test drove different whips loving their rides yet unaware

the rarity of the collector's dream is uncomparable to the average find

now he's possibly missed the chance, the owner changing her mind

now he's riding high for now in a joint rented locally

and the dream is put away for him to 1 day hope to see

if he wasnt sure he should've never driven her off the lot

cuz she hasnt been the same since in dire need of replacement parts

courting love

the moment we meet

you make eyes at me

mine twinkle back

a light to be led by

you saunter into my space

and it just...

...it chills me throughout

your lips part

you speak

i smile

we smile...

knowingly

by my hand

you usher me

to privacy

inter-vested in me

[coals placed...

a flame is struck...

coals lit...

slowly reddening with heated play...

a fire burns...]

as polar ends

draw closer...

so does the vision

of a possiblity

...us down the road

and

as we feed the burn

we agree

to be

here

again...

building meetings

one on top of another

building love

friendship

and future

all part of the others

exchanging energy

involuntarily

unable to dam the confessions of love

life

fears

all parts

dark and light

hidden and evident

we share our air

giving and getting,

not just what we see

but what we are

until nothing is left to do

but be a covenant

of promised love

lived until death

which really doesn't come

for this is 

an eternal

next lifetime

reborn into new forms

loving again and again

type of thing...

making bigger and better

the things average

that we possess alone

becoming a sun's shine

together

blaring with loud rays

of incomparable affection

hearing tunnel sounds

of our own joy

the kind that nudges onlookers

plays muse to romantic dreams

reminds anyone

seated in cynicism

that love IS

and while we're

eye to eye

fingers braided

consumed without thought

we're making

kids giggle

and old cats nod and smile...in pride

at new school

channeling old

yet...

the beautiful part...

is that THIS

is all first glance...

you make eyes at me

 i return it with a twinkle...

a light

that says...GO! 

touching

trapped in a thought

hovering between a

suspension of wake

and a place where my mind's wing span

touches heaven

tip to tip

off on a fantastical cliff

overlooking retrospect

reaching out to crystal images

rippled on fluid

seeing what i want

forgetting what i don't

wading in the pleasantry

of before

i'm wrapped in this thought

like cashmere on cold shoulders

feeling snug

sinking into these memories

smiling at yesterday

feeling the sway

closed eyes

opening my spirit

to the panoramic view

of the bigger picture

damn...

why do i keep forgetting to blink?

to refresh my mind's eye

to wipe away the sting

of tired peeps...

i keep drifting on a memory

neglecting to take note

of the current events

it's pull

and the deep dip

approaching in rolling

thunderous

crests of denial

...not that my memories are less true

never happened

or meant much

but...

they do ripple

in distortion

out of sync

and proportion

not sitting flush

with the conclusion

which is...

that i'm touching

on a memory

with no feelings for me

no love for my lulled senses

no care for my frivolity

casting me away

on memories

that will remain such

and numb to me

...i'm touching

on something

grasping

at something

needing it

whatever it is

to be better than

what's waiting

for the minute

i open my eyes

and see

that i haven't touched

anything at all

A Letter to Love

Dear Love,
    
     Even though you're gone, your rapture left it's indelible mark on me. Your soul-filled touch to my most tender part I still feel...like phantom pain. How you engulfed me with a swirl of haze and laid me down for your taking. Tickling me with principles of pleasure...pleasuring my senses...converting me from cynic to believer. You proposed to my intellect, made love to my creative spark, fathered my life's dreams and reared your ugly head when they imploded. Love, I know you will return to me...for I've let you go. I know you will go outward and spread your seed, sodding the fertile minds of open whores...charmed by the promise of you. I know you will be the seducter of perfected ideas and blurred expectations...sweetly rock a bye with a sly and raised eye. I know you'll give good head and stroke a black hole with gray shades...for mine is sore from the rawness of you. 
     Love, I love you...always have because you always existed. I always will, because you are in me...implanted and grown from the natural source. In the end...love...you were mine. When you were everyone else's and no one's at all. You're my love...the love of me...endlessly.




                                                    Love, Miss Taken

Waiting in the Wings

I've been blogging for about 4yrs now. I have my Kaleidoscope...which is my main place to rant, rave, wax poetic, etc. I genuinely AM doing too much. I have a cooking blog that needs SERIOUS updating, and an erotic poetry page that hasn't seen any eroticism in a few moons. I barely get the chance to blog on my main page...just out of not being a-mused. Life comes in at times and smacks the pen from my hand violently...and I hate it. I'm a shell of a woman when I'm barely writing...not being able to create mental scenes with my words. I want to change that. I want to return to the basics. 


I have allowed outside influences to breech my inspiration. I have allowed myself to get drawn into a vortex of uncertainty about what is important to me. I love to speak on life's issues...especially love, but the truth is...I'm not into social issues/political views as much as one would hope I'd be.  The reason isn't because I'm not capable of the mental jousting that takes place with people who are absorbed by current events...it's because I've been there and done that. Once I've spread the word on a subject that needs to be passed along...I'm done. I can't go on and on over something that I'm not 100% passionate about.


I dare not, idly sit and pontificate on the ways of the governed world...just to hear myself talk, impress softer minds or pretend to be in the know. I'm an observer. I see what is to see, catalog for later...and nod in comprehension at the stories written and expressed daily.  I understand that talk is cheap and a lot of the folks who are consummate talkers...are just that. Where is the movement that goes along with the talk? To "know" is not enough...to know is to apply. Otherwise it's trivial knowledge stored for the purpose of baseless conversation. I've allowed myself in the past...to be taken out of my own groove for the privilege of joining round tables...that simply go round and round. Talking subjects to death all to be able to say, "I get it". 


I'm getting BACK to my own platform. Poetry. Expression of an artistic nature. Touching people at the heart of life and giving people hope with beautiful prose and poetry. Giving people an opportunity to be a part of a love movement of my own...where I love, express my love and pass it on to willing hearts and open spirits. "I just want to write..." is something I'm known for saying. I just want to get out of my head the lines upon lines of poetry stifled in a creative dam. Smothered underneath the layers of every thought in the world...except what I really want to say.


I hope that you get something out of this blog page...if nothing else...that you feel MY love. I hope I get to feel yours...




~The Poetic Butterfly~