Fed up with tasteless pastries from the high street baker,
I planned to take a stall in the market
And provide my tried and tested range of pies.
But, though well meant, when I saw the rent,
It was far too high.
My plan was just pie in the sky
(TW Infertility)
My body is built to bear children.
I must stop comparing my body to those
of women who are simply built....
differently than I am.
My stretch marks are an atlas of the
paths I've walked. From adolescence to
womanhood, I have a story. My body
tells, my story.
I'm coming to accept that I will simply
never be that small, and it is not
something to be shameful about.
I'm coming to accept this with little
anecdotes, such as, my body is built to
bear children.
But I still have days, where I feel like I am...
too much.
On those days, I try to make myself smaller on my couch;
but only end up making myself larger
with each handful I shovel to the pit,
in the bottom of my stomach.
What can I use to console myself
when my disappointment in my looks is
all consuming.
So much so that the doubtful light
at the end of the tunnel is more tempting
than the sun.
And what happens...where does my
anecdote go when, the children never come?
When my gynecologist finds similes in words such as 'barren' or 'empty'
My body-was, built to bear children.
Ten years spun into ballooning wear
Keep slipping through tighter fingers,
Fresh year's tries in futility repair
Adamant dents of wasting days.
Naive New Year's Eves pop in and go
In swift succession of dying dreams,
Most astute labors bootless bow;
Giving up more rewarding seems.
No tiny stone now unturned remains,
Yet progress-freezing agues fetid ail;
Stinging more than adder's fang ever sunk
Into most luck-lacking lamb's sleekest tail.
Expressionless Heaven looks on still,
As basest ills and brutish hell as one
Choke to death firmest hope's last ray;
As faith fruitless toils beneath the sun.
Loyalty brings even the fortified few to falter somnambulantly in succession
As if tranced to commit, their convictions are true yet skewed
The blind emotional outburst of bigotry and cynicism conveyed
Is but a microcosm of what pain these individuals likely feel
Something of an atrocity to be used and told when to kneel
Although the accused has seen duress they gladly contride the thoughts of madness itself
I feel that you deny me reproof yet I will not pity that which cannot choose
As sad as it seems to me I see I've held on to honesty gleaning
Were supposedly a friend you said having talks breaking bread
But now that I see that your truth is my lie I know time will determine the test that was cheated
The sad part I'll say and to my dismay is that there wasn't discussion, just conceded
Hope it's enjoyed, misconception eroded have the seat that keeps you yearning and teeted....
Your leaves are fruitless
I hold the root
Your efforts, useless
I taste the fruit
Your bulb is dim
I know the source
Your fish won’t swim
Without your force
I pass as mute
To save your face
This whole dispute
A sad disgrace
to fruitless meandering love
you ask me why
and i told you
now you cry
at what is true
what we wanted
is now in tow
where it’s going
neither of us know
now we moor ourselves
in agony and despair
while all around us
love’s blooming everywhere
seeds of doubt
refuse to comply
new harbors
await us
let’s just kiss goodbye
and end this useless fuss
Lock up tight
Don't dare relent
They'll take delight
To see you bent
Paint your face
Dry your tears
Show only grace
To all your peers
Mask your scars
Distort their view
Don't move these bars
They shelter you
If someone sees
Your blood is red
You'll become a disease
On a viral thread
Trace your steps
Leave a trail
A tainted rep
Won't bond or bail
If you drink
Do so alone
Otherwise you'll sink
Sticks and stones
Your mouth will open
The vomit leaks
Once you've spoken
No need to speak
If you abide
You'll save some face
Confident stride
A fruitless race
What could have been,
Is a fruitless lament.
Because what one has,
Is a daily birthday present.
Life is short,
One hundred at best,
So greet each day,
As if you are nature’s guest.
Life and loves come,
Then they are gone.
Life’s felicity,
Is in the love we are fortunate to spawn.
Right before my eyes
it has begun to wither.
The trust is rotten.
Our lamb has finally flashed his mane.
Crashing through the Bush.
Into the Armageddon plane.
Tail twitching, slashing fangs.
He's going to liberate a people shrouded in our blood.
Clean up those weapons of mass destruction.
Make an oasis out of glass, an oasis theology.
That open palm has turned into a fist...on a dime...on a dollar.
Over the top of a barrel of sweet crude oil.
To prove you're not a ***** like those tea partiers think you are.
You're the lion president, feeding our enemies.
While our children go hungry.
It's been a long, hot summer.
Did you know our schools don't have air conditioning?
But I'm getting off topic....
Fruitless war
your biggest blunder...to date
leaky intelligence
trigger finger
eagle-eyed bombs
charring children
lamb to lion
on a dime
on a dollar.
Over the soul of a barrel of bittersweet crude...
Now I'm probably censored for speaking against your wishes.
I could give a $hit.
Let the truth clear your opaque transparencies...
The pinkies are laughing hysterically.
Tea party, anybody?
retched, a stomach twisting curdle
sour, the bile that rises from malcontent
tearful, yet, tears are futile, a waste of water
understanding seems never to come or come too late
all one can do is suck it up and try to love again
In winter
Fruitless labor of wind
No leaves to blow off.
So many girls broke my heart into pieces
Yet I am yearning for love and sweet kisses
So many times I thought I would rather die
Than going for relentless but fruitless try
So many sad memories now haunt my brain
Like ghosts who can scare me again and again
So many mistakes that I made in the past
Are still destroying my life like iron’s rust
~ Though reeling ~
~ amid the hour ~
~ of my dolor, I ~
~ still could not ~
~ concur with ~
~ those who ~
~ say "Passion ~
~~ is all together ~~
~ fruitless", because ~
~ mindful of this I know ~
~~~ the acrimonious of ~~~
~~ heartalways become the ~~
~ marionette of their abhorrence, ~
and incertitude, as do the passionate
in their yielding to this certain way of
blamelessness and overt position of
~~~~~~~~ promise. ~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I say if it were not for Grace
time would furthermore offend,
but for sheer delight the days
each one run on to the next
while illustrious visions of
the divine they fill each
moment, when I begin
to look for the lowly
reflection of loves
tender purveyance.
Furthering my resolve ...
and shoring up moreover this
truth, advancing he conscious
desire of Gods encouragement
for me, existent in the way of
this ever wholesome movement
and time of my transcendence
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ As its validity moves me in my ~
weary soul deeper and deeper ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ within. ~~~~~~~~~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8CzFVm1Yio
It lies below under linen, feathers, cotton, springs.
Not seen upon it's sow.
A tiny pea without the sun to grow wild and free.
A slight discomfort gnaws away yet timing plays a role each day.
Finally the fruit bursts forth! with quiet whimpers, wears a frown of sorts.
The tiny speck is seen as thriving tree, it's branches reach far past reality
And tear away the margin of the page in which our vision of our world is caged.
Bending down I lift the pea and gaze at dried up skin
Tiny wrinkles create a viral path leading in.
But age is only culprit to be found
I bend again, relinquish my crown
The spoils are but few yet enjoy my hard learned apology and deep humility.
If only pea had been revealed before the mind of others made it old.
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