Thursday, August 15, 2013

Dr. Collision

poetry & mystery


I want to write about food.  And murder.  And why I haven't used the word "loquacious" in a sentence yet.  But not today.  Today, I'm tired, exhausted by a week of laborious de-cluttering.  And moved, at the same time, by this sense of space that has emerged in my head----some spell of newness.  Do you know that everyone has a hidden rap star inside of them?  In the fall, when the leaves turn sepia, I become an anthropologist.  I listen to the babble-jabber-chatter of singer-songwriters who know how to deliver the placebo effect.  I do not elect to read post-modern verse.  A few days ago, throwing out shirts I once thought defined me, I realized I am ready for a make-over.  Before, now, before, after.  Click, click.  Somehow it matters.  Even after meditation, I reach for my lipstick.  I like being a girl, and I like being irreverent.  Against who or what? The villain is always in flux.  But we need villains to lead a meaningful life, and I'm just coming to understand this.  Human verses self, human verses human, human verses nature.  Conflict is the wise of life.  So I thread words together to understand this, toss out books and dresses that heckle me, waiting for the temperature to plummet.  Each year, I fixate on a new summit.  Remember everyone is tortured by something, be it a headache or an unwanted rumor.  So I've decided to take more risks.  I'll title my album "Dr. Collision", each track an ode to a different villain.  I wonder if animals use swear words, pray, and balk at their own foolishness?  Sometimes in meditation class, I imagine hugging each jagged thought.

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