Tag Archives: beauty

Poem: Penning

13 Jul

Penning

I don’t know how they do it,
those strangers who find my soul.
They do not know me.
They do not even write to me,
but there, somewhere in the echoes
of the story they were telling
or the thoughts they were thinking
or the love they were feeling slip from their bodies,
I find myself.
In the dust you only see in the streak of sun
from the skylight,
little ephemera dancing there in the silence
near your upper rafters,
little cosmic ballerinas you would not have noticed
if you hadn’t been bored and staring at nothing.
They find the rafters in me,
and strike an organ that resonates and shakes me a bit,
all that memory.
The words were not written for me.
But what’s written is me,
in a way.
I wonder how they do it,
the strangers that trace me with their pen
and yet do not even know that they’ve found my shadow.
I wish they perhaps knew what they’ve caught on their line,
though I am grateful –
I feel a might less invisible, otherwise.

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Magick

2 May

 

Magic

I want a world where there are dragons.

I want a world with traveling circuses at night.

I want a world with flying carpets, mermaids, selkies –

where colds, flu, and heartache can be magicked away

with nothing more complicated than some herbs in a pot

and the right words, already written down in a book for you.

In this world of pragmatism,

it’s too hard to know the right words to say.

I want a world with beasts and beauties

requiring no photoshop to recognize,

where illusion makes you think about what life is

instead of trying to convince you the other way around.

I want unicorns,

phoenixes that can rise from ashes and second chances that really matter.

I want the impossible.

I want something more than indeterministic fate.

I want a way to cats-cradle the strings of the universe together

into something better than what it handed me to start with.

I want not the power but the plausible hope

of a world where your will could actually change things.

Where try hard enough and you can succeed,

instead of just the lie they feed you about that here.

I want a world with beautiful rules

and even more beautiful exceptions,

instead of just the shit stochastic

we all give our breath and brains and beatings to.

I want a world where words can fight fists

and win in the moment, there and then.

Words can already bruise people beyond belief

but at least with magic they could provide real safety too.

I want a world with fewer bruises.

I wish more people just hid flowers up their sleeves.

I want a world where more hearts could roar

when they hear that uttered, muttered phrase –

Here be dragons.

I want a world that will offer me greater possibility than this world has to offer

where the only magic that people can ever know –

love, hope, faith, dreaming, a kiss –

is more often that not mere slight of hand and even the best of pixie dust

will end up dead.

 

The Imperfection of the Stars

27 Feb

Perhaps a bit melancholy, but then again, it is Thursday.

 

stars

The Imperfection of the Stars

I wished to be a beautiful creature

but found I was covered in scars.

But the sky, it pulled me aside and said

my dear, have you seen the stars?

They burn and crack and shoot off rage –

not so different from those lines

you seem to think a falsehood make –

my dear, do you know what lies

are really there? Smooth, flawless skin

is not a truth hood here.

My dear, the beauty of life you see

is in this thing called tragedy

and we are all but beautiful disasters

and intertwined to chaos make.

This world was not created by perfection –

no, all this was created by a snake.

And so we are not doomed but dared

to show our roughness and our edge,

those imperfections that now define

what is our beauty in every line

and every wrinkle and every crease –

we live because our imperfections never cease

and deviation does not evil mean,

so go ahead, my dear. Please show your seams.

a couple of poems about flowers

13 Jan

flowers

 

Clarity, Inebriation

I want to get the world drunk on flowers,

high on the intoxicating air of a clear spring day

when the scent of a world starting again

out of the rubble of winter

inundates you with the triumph of a million

petals opening up from their buds

and waving at you as the breeze bounces by.

I want smiles to bloom and blossom

and heads to spin from the beauty of it all.

 

Poem for a Lover

Bring me a bouquet of wildflowers,

for then I will know

that you have gone and seen the world.

Haiku for Profanity

8 Jan

Here’s a blip of a poem (also known as a haiku) for a pleasant bump as you roll through hump day:

credit to some wonderful artist out there whom I could only find a mention of as "Lauren the cartoon goddess"

credit to some wonderful artist out there whom I could only find a mention of as “Lauren the cartoon goddess”

A Haiku in Defense of Profanity

Can there be beauty

in this grunge disgruntlement?

Dirty, not unclean.

Why This Is Still Not Okay

9 Aug

I’ve gotten on my soap box about eating disorders and beauty and feminism and whatnot before. I’ve ranted about today’s standard of skinny, raged about how for women, apparently beauty is now inversely correlated with the number of inches in your waistline. That spiel is nothing new.

Then today I found this:

Or more completely, I found a whole website: http://www.functionalps.com/blog/2013/04/20/women-vintage-weight-gain-ads/

Now, my split-second reaction to this was to think “Wow, I thought we were supposed to have progressed since the 50’s. If only we could go back to the good ol’ days when a women’s body was actually appreciated!”

Then my brain kicked in.

Screeeeeech! Hang on a second. Let’s back up here. This advertising scheme – it’s not really any different from the infestation of diet commercials and “slimming secret” ads that we’re bombarded with nowadays. Sure, the ads may be touting a body form that’s closer to average, but the message behind these weight-gain ads is exactly the same as today’s weight-loss ones.

“Don’t look like this? Then you are not good enough. You are less desirable. If you use this product then it will fix you.”

Hell, these weight-gain ads are even more aggressive in their body-shaming than most of today’s propaganda. Take the ad I pictured above. Let’s tease out some of its messages:

1. If you are skinny, then you have no sex appeal.

2. Apparently it’s okay to use two stereotypically-bodied males demeaning a female passerby as a marketing technique. And according to the ad, it’s the woman’s fault for being “too skinny,” not the males’ faults for being a couple of assholes who talk out of their dicks and reverse cat-call at women who haven’t asked for their opinion.

3. Woman-to-woman support comes in the form of woman A telling woman B how to “fix” herself in order to conform better to society’s body ideal, rather than reaffirming woman B’s intrinsic worthy and beauty or – better yet – going out and punching our two assholes for treating a woman as nothing more than a sex object.

Ugh. And those are just the top three things I noticed right away.

And while that particular advertisements features a couple of empty-headed Romeos in its cast, guys weren’t safe from this pounds-equal-pleasure campaign either:

Poor guys. Seems they’ve had to deal with the biggerbetterstronger deluge for even longer than a lot of us realized. More brawn! More biceps! More abs!

Are you hitting your head against the desk yet? I have the urge to do so. Repeatedly.

Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that all these advertisements happen within a heterosexual paradigm. The ads are all about making women desirable to men and men desirable to women. Forget any of the other flavors of sexual attraction. I mean, I guess this was the 50’s after all. I’m not sure their dictionaries even included the word “lesbian” yet.

So, some of you may now be shaking your heads at me in bemusement wondering, “between thin-shaming and fat-shaming, is there any way to win with you? What do you want us to look like then?”

But that’s the point. I don’t want you or them or her to look like anything in particular. Nobody need give a damn about what my ascetic preferences are, and I frankly am the only one whose opinion of how I look matters. Well, I might give my boyfriend’s opinion some sway, but that’s a freely given concession, and in the end, I am the one who has the final say.

Between thin-shaming and fat-shaming… can we just cut out the shame? Can we stop with product-pushing that tells us that no matter what we look like, our bodies are not good enough? No matter what we do, there will always be another pound to lose or pound to gain, another wrinkle to smooth, another lash to make luscious, another patch of cellulite to laser away. No matter how close to “good” you are, there will always be something more.

Because guess what? Our bodies weren’t fucking supposed to look like they got mind-jizzed out of photoshop! Wrinkles and cellulite and fatterness and skinnierness have always been there! Nature or God or whomever you assign creative power apparently didn’t think it was a problem. Seeing how, you know, through years of evolution and biological selection and wraths of God it’s all still here.

Society, usually the patriarchal sector, was the one that decided all these things were apparently a “problem.”

Yeah. Turns out that’s all bullshit. They’re not.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t celebrate beauty. But molding our economy around a sales line of pandemic insufficiency is NOT in any way a celebration of beauty. Prettiness and handsomeness and sexiness and ugliness are subjective. They change with the decade and with the person. If you see something you like in someone – and this goes beyond their assets at the dermal layer – then please, go ahead and tell them. But make sure you are praising someone for what is there, instead of criticizing them for what is not.

The Unseen Strength of Women

14 Feb

unseen strength of woman

The unseen strength of woman,

A child on her hips and a husband on her mind,

With dinner to cook

And a PTA meeting to organize,

It doesn’t even cross her mind,

Those words, “thank you.”

 

The unseen strength of woman,

Five-inch-heels so sharp

They should really be called a spike,

Matching step for step

The confident stride of

The tailored pant legs around her.

Stumbling is not an option.

 

The unseen strength of woman,

Bearing the slow insult

Of one gray hair,

Knowing that soon she’ll have to add

Dye to the collection

Of tint and color and paint,

Because the men stop paying

Once youth checks out.

 

The unseen strength of woman,

With an eye for cloth swaths

And a penchant for fabric

And hands that know another language

Stitched silently across the hem line.

The unspoken sacrifice.

 

The unseen strength of woman,

Buried beneath a waistline of toil

Or the perfection scraped by

In a perfectly plucked eyebrow;

They pass each other in the street and

One nods to the other,

And both vow

Never to betray the other –

Weary.