To be brave
Or will it be overcoming a fear
It has been some years
To be kissed there, I had, on the first
Leg of this journey
My leg, on the inside, up to, and then
I had forgotten all about it
Never gave a thought to it
Where one might kiss or lick
I am not shy, but the absence of heat has
Made shyness a pair of panties, that
I, with quick pulse, will clumsily pull them
Off
I look at my face every day, and know it well
Exposed and fearless, my face, to onlookers
To be looked again, there, where I have not given me
A thought or a look, I wonder, if I will look good,
Or, taste good, I involuntarily cross my legs
Strange pangs of dread mixed with tingles of,
What delicious ideas my imagination brings
I imagine the mixing of he and I, while my shyness
Becomes damp and warm
I offer my shyness, to him, in exchange for his
Boldness, so that I may become brave again

"What Feeling is This?"

I do not know what I feel today, but I will know it when I feel it
Is this the feeling of peace, or exhaustion? This blankness of my mind
I am lethargic and my mind cannot decide if I feel as if I am
Sinking or floating, but my heart has an idling feeling, as if at a stop light
Or Train crossing, and I close my eyes and listen to my heavy train
Ca clack upon the tracks, it's rumble settling the stomach that has been
Stirring and twisting these past years
I close my eyes and allow myself, my breathing, my beating to join
The humble rhythm of my favorite beast, running
As I wish I could run, even if restricted to a track
My track would take me somewhere, taking me from here
I feel a certain peace today, something I cannot explain
So I will welcome this exhaustion that, for today, wears the mask of Calm
I am calm, I will not fret or worry today, only grab hold of the last car
Of my beautiful train, and it will pull me through this
It's humble rhythm, ca clack, ca clack holds hands with my heart's beat
The wind in my face, I close my eyes, and smile
Not so many more miles
Not so many more miles

Christopher John Mazey

Leigh,
you are a beautiful person.

I always said i would go back
To places I have been, and made a connection
To places that touched me, and called me by name
I said I would go back, revisit the past, to live my present

I am coming to see you, the man I have never visited before
To a place I have never visited before, a place I want to call my home
The home with roots not yet grown, but for this friendship
I am coming to see you, the man I have never kissed

To kiss again, to see again, because
I have been with you before, in woods on water on lonely roads
I have been with you exploring countries, and places in hearts only open
To travelers like us

You are my Adare, a safe place to rest and love, and forgive
Rocky Mountains, where I was at home, more at home with the wild
You are my New England of old, my first journey alone that brought me to you
Beloved Man, my place is with you, where ever that is

This is a simple writing because, this love is not complicated
Finding this man who is my heart's resting place, found simply
I am going back to a man I had promised decades ago, my Irish Adare
My comforting red sweater, my Christopher

thank you so much ladies. I won't quit writing what I feel. I know I am not alone with these feelings <3

thank you Pam <3

My wings, they are new, unclipped

I had another pair, but the growth was stunted

Finally, plucked to bare skin, my pale skin

I hopped along, looking up at what was


My cage door was left ajar, it's fine filigree escorted me

To the outside, were two hands, cupped to hold me

Two hands, warm and assuring

I sat upon them and absorbed their heat


With tender stroking, my head, made sad eyes smile

I began to sing, I sang a song I had forgotten long ago

A song with words the owner of these hands did know

My bare skin stretched and arched into bows, covered with petals

Feathers were my past


In eyes I could see him with mine

I saw myself in liquid sky

I made great fan blades and began to fly

These hands may not be meant for me to hold, but I can wish

His love is gold

Thank you Leigh and others. it has been a bad few days. my poetry and videos have come under fire with social services and they are watching me for child endangerment because of disturbing content. i really cannot believe this. i have been sober for almost 6 months. i get to work on time. i keep the children fed and get her off to school. i have done nothing wrong. i write the truth.

The corn field maze led me, or drew me

In different directions

It was only corn, and if I felt like it

I could have just cut through the stalks

But I stick to the maze, and go this way and that

I back track, I lose track of time, of names, of places

It is just a corn field maze

Designed to challenge me, to see if I will cheat, or

Keep trying, try to find the way around, if not out

I will keep trying because I know no other way

The way around this maze, made of something once alive like me

I could cheat, but less turns bring less possibilities

Around corners, less chance to make choices that might be good

To walk the maze without direction, without cheating

Maybe I will find my way

Thank you Dear Leigh

"Us"

I am walking a windswept ledge
My hair blows before my eyes and dries my tears
My lashes have no use for them, my tears become
Part of the sky
I look down from the ledge, it is a long way down

My dress billows and fills with warm air, your breath, I think
My feet teeter here and there on the narrow edge of this windswept ledge
My eyes blinded by blond hair, and dried tears, it is a long way down
Not so far to you, closer still, as I step along, heel to toe, cloth bellows
My tiny shadow far, far below

You stand on a crystalline formation, sharp and clear as my warm tears
You stand firmly on branches of glittery crystal fingers that point in my direction
You hold fast your form, holding a glowing, lantern, held by gentle hand, the other
You extend, palm up, you bare your soft hand, fingertips brush my
Filling skirt, with this touch of yours, turns this dress to wings

You are close enough, we can blend our bodys' heat, and we do
My tiny shadow joins yours, and they disappear
My windswept ledge falls away and you catch hold of my wrist, your thumb on my pulse
I look at you as great clouds gather us up and push us into each other, as great oceans waves would do

All we have is us, all we need is us Christopher John Mazey

What could get done, doesn't get done
What should get done, gets done but not
For the right reasons
I am stubborn, and refuse to do anything,
Do not want to be played, again

I sit here, look around and assess the mess
The mess of my life that has unraveled like a
Loosely knit sweater, the kinks still in the yarn,
My yarns still colorful, and action-packed

Things will get in order, but not by any orders
I will take no orders from anyone, I am done
The cart I pull is full, and I cannot pull it any more
I am stopped, I will not go further, on an other's words

What could get done, will get done
When I am ready, and the house is clean of any mean
What I get done will be thorough and it will be top to bottom
Strenuous efforts bring heavy sleep, and sound pounding of alive hearts
When what needs to get done gets done

I love you <3

Thank you very much.
I love you.

I cast myself out, a bottle with a message
I spill ink, I spill nerves, I stain my fingers
My pen is not dry, and my paper is not filled
My bottle is not empty, riding the currents, my eyes to the sky
My back to the sea, can any one see me, hear me?

It does not matter, if I am understood
I asked the shell I found at the lake, how old it is
It said, "It does not matter"
It does not matter, the age of the shell, the age of the question
It does not matter, the age of me, only that there is me

I wondered, today, why it is so bad to smell of what we love
To smell of dogs, to smell of earth, to smell of water and wet leaves
I wondered, today, why we wash such things off
The things we love, that season us, make us ripe, make us lovely
We wash our love off and smell like empty boxes of soap

I lay down on the dock and closed my eyes
A nose sniffed my nose and whiskers tickled my cheeks
A paw stepped on my chest, my arms out stretched
I am a banner, do you see me Sky? Can you read me, Birds?

I am a bottle, and I cast myself out to the world
I have news, a message, a picture for you
I bring what I see and feel to you.
Can you open me, can you add to my story?

I make a break for it
I will make an attempt to run for my life
I have a plan, I must be patient, I must sit tight
I must act as if nothing is going on

So much is going on
So much to do, to get in order
In order to line things up, like the outline to a story
The story of me, of me and them of me and him

I have a time line related to a dead line
A dead line that is my finish line, the end of the line
For this old life of living as the living dead
I have little time to find the means to do what means

Most to me, most of all, most wonderful, life
I run for my life, I write for my life, I sell for my life I love
For my life, I won't lie for my life, I won't lie down for
What I believe is good and true, and good for me

I run for my life
I run from the bad
I run towards the good
I am running to him, My Christopher John Mazey

I sometimes feel like I am coming apart
I worry and gasp for air and grab hold of something
Again and again I have felt this
The feeling of coming apart while underwater

It is such a strange feeling
Like cotton in my hearing canals
Like Vaseline over optic lenses
Like the even pressure all around me

imploding and exploding at the same time?
Is it possible? nothing is impossible if
Love is indestructible
Love fan folds, unfolds, flows immeasurably

I thought this feeling was bad
The loss of control, the lost of equilibrium
An imbalance, not caused by alcohol
A waking dream-like state of being, thinking of him

I know I am awake
The dishes are not done and my hair is un- brushed
Leftovers, yet to put away, I am wearing a night dress
the sun is going down, but it is not dark yet, this strange feeling

I feel like I am coming apart, and closing like a reverse
Flower's bloom, in slow motion
I motion with the wind and it takes me out
My heart buds sails and skips across oceans

My world so confused, to mistake evil for good
I have lived wrong as if right
Don't draw what you think is there
Draw what is there, what is here, you are here

G
I did really see a white man, white dog and gulls on my walk.
thank you for your praise

I went on a housewife walkabout

It was not intended to be so, a simple get out of the house

Off the couch, sober up from afternoon sleepiness and late summer heat

I clipped the leash to Oskar and set out in the breeze

More casual than usual, I neglected the sunglasses, hair tie and bra

This was my suburban walkabout



I have been living in a very house, that looked like all the other very houses

I am married to a person who looks very much like the other very men

And I had been working a very job, that was very respectable and very, very

And I thought I lived a life that was very, very, normal

Very, very, safe and very, very comfortable

I had made a fine bed of nails, comfortable



The husband is gone, by ways not of me, and I begin feeling this bed of nails

I begin feeling all kinds of things, so I put on my Teva's and stand up from a squat

I tie my men's shirt and take a walkabout

I am not dreaming but it feels the same, and I pay attention to the small details

Things that may mean something else, and my hair blows in swirls around my head



I hear the sea gulls calling, they are calling my name, and I acknowledge, they are my totem, my talisman, my icon, watching over me, my dirty angels

My gulls far from home, the home of where I am from, a place I have not found

The place where I belong

They fly above in swirls, and my hair fallows, and I lose my balance watching

Them watching over me



The wind brought us to the shore, where the shore welcomed us

There was a rush to us, as we walked to the shore, waves of wind and water and sound

Oskar and I stood while life swirled all around us, on our suburban walkabout

It made me think, how so much different is the same, the energies of living things



We sat at the end of the dock, and Oskar leaned in as I leaned to him and we

Spoke without words and we watched the white man and the white dog, like ghosts, they were, and they walked to us

So calm, Oskar was, and I sat still, still enough to welcome the nose and two brown eyes of the Eskimo White



White gulls, white man and white dog, circled us

On this walkabout, and we, Oskar and I parted ways without parting and joined The living today

It occurred to me that the living is an energy that transcends time and space

What was once my horse's steps are now Oskar's what was once an Aspen leaf now tumbles as an oak's



My steps are the same steps I took so long ago

I am on this walkabout, discovering what has been locked away

Retracing steps taken without any thought at all

To live without any thought of all

Where the next step should be taken, knowing that the same energy

Welcomes me, in white swirls around us, on our walkabout

G,there's always something talking. it feels very good to know that people like my writings. it feels very good to know I am not alone in my feelings.