Transformation 2

Life is always changing and oddly enough so is this blog.

What started out as a health venture quickly changed to an avenue in which I decided that I would release my inner poet. With the shocking news of a new bundle of joy to grace the world......I guess its changing again!

MOTHERHOOD!!!! AHHHHHHHH (I'd continue but after a while it'd just be redundant) there have been so many thoughts dying to escape my cranium these last few months that I honestly have no idea where to begin. I don't know where the thoughts begin or end or when life will make sense again. So I decided that I will do what I do when life doesn't make sense. Write. At least jot random emotions into the universe until there is room for my sanity again.

But I've been scouring the web looking for answers to questions I don't know exist and still came up empty, so maybe my heart is simply on overload and doesn't know what ask.

So here is my petition to the universe of moms and moms-to-be.....Where do I go from here?

Nothing

I’ve run out of words.
I sit and look at nothingness.
I look at my heart and there is nothing…
There is nothing.

Everything that I could have said has already been said before.
Everything that I should have written has been written.
There is “nothing new under the sun.”
The sun has eclipsed the moon and left me sitting in front of a blank page.
Sitting in front of a blank page.

I wait for the right words to hit me. For the pen gods to smile favorably on my hands and create some poetic **** that shakes me back to life.

So I sit waiting.
Typing.
Writing nothing.

You said “you can get anywhere
from anywhere.”
Why am I still here?
Why am I still empty?
Why won’t the right words come?
Why can’t I write?

There is nothing sitting in front of a blank page writing nothing.

Faceless

The woman without a face in a sea of people fighting to be seen, wanting only her voice to be heard. Silent tears decorate a pretty face written by a common perception of what's supposed to be. Adorned in the garmets of royalty yet feelings of worthlessness shout songs of woe. Opening her mouth she begins to speak with her hands but no one seems to understand. Lost in a world where looks can kill and words tell a story she will never hear...their lies a woman whose words must be heard through a man who yet lives a story he can only half see spoken through the eyes of a woman in a sea of people fighting to be seen with beauty etched in those who choose to see the faceless woman inside of me.

Silence

*My First Poem*

No one is speakingNot a thing can be heardNo echoes or childrenMutter a wordLife's always so busyNever once been this wayI can't get used to the silenceNot everydayBut for a long timeThings have been this wayI haven't heard a thingAnd I can't take this, todayMy mother looks worried She won't say it but it shows in her faceShe's getting down on her kneesI think she's praying for graceI'm tired of the silenceIts driving me wildI can't take this anymore I'm only a childMy mother finally speaksNot the conventional wayAnd the words that she writesHave blown me awayI read the paper much to my unbeliefI can't believe what I seeIt's not the world that went silentBut rather it's me

Dissipation

Sensation generating like a stalled motor beginning to purr or a roast simmering to tenderized perfection. The initial inception of what began as two and merged into one grows less intense as the seconds chase the minutes and the minutes follow the hours. As the hours transfuse the day and days turn into night and nights into weeks, the weeks confront the years and what began in euphoria slowly digressed into ambivalence. To possess disdain as low as the bottom of the titanic and experience nostalgic withdrawls; the utterance of your name renders me dependent on whats left of our present state of dissipation.

Love Circle

Wordless exploration of a love lived Where kisses cause amnesia Hugs stop time Touch elicits utopia And sex transcends the human bodys realm of consciousness Igniting senses yet to b discovered classified or named Creating a cathartic experience indigenous to the gods A love where physical connection is a suppressed desire And cerebral stimulation excites the mind and sends the vertebrae lining my spin into analeptic shock Where the spiritual being can manifest and revel in the God of another and one can push the other to go deeper by growing deeper in their relationship with God thus strengthening their relationship with one another A love where the beginning is the end so we sleep to wake up just to do it all over again.

The Induction

Adrenaline rushing through the openings of the veins. Oxygen struggling to enter and leave the body with each passing breath. Cerebellum engaged as penetration occurs and looses thoughts previously bound by obligation. Obligations that don’t fit the situation or the expectation and cause single party rulers to employ celebration. Celebration that was unexpected but not regretted in honor of a cause that one cannot identify. While temperature steadily rises and the wind speed increases and then slows. Generating perspiration that condescends and creates an unparallel oxymoronic environment in which cold sweat thrives. Striving to reach the level of elation that words cannot portray creating an inner fulfillment that only the soul knew existed. Igniting requests that unconsciously longed to be obtained and now because of silence undoubtedly remain.