A covert spy,
a covert narcissist?
Sometimes they act the same.
Both, at ease with lying,
down their noses at you with
their non-dilated gaze.
They’ll twirl their words
wearing their poker face.
They maneuver you and their ass-
across a dance floor waxed
with love that lasts,
or so they say.
A fine performance, indeed.
Distracted, Fractioned, Shattered
Does your gaze meet your lover’s eyes?
Or do you meet your own,
in the shiny screens of distraction?
Don’t break your heart on your own scattered attention.
Maybe it’s your smile
that’s so familiar.
Or, maybe it’s your face that I’ve always known.
Our connection transcends
time and space.
We’ll keep meeting in no specific earthly place.
Maybe I’ll see you in our dreams,
or spinning in the heavens and cosmos ,
or some funny place between
technology and electric communication
beeps and dings.
However we meet, know you always have my heart
without any strings.
Successes, yes, acknowledge them.
But notice how much applause you need for them.
Maybe you only need your own,
clap, clap, clap,
clap, clap, clap, claps
of hundreds in unison.
Because that noise,
your heart beats
Seeing the bench marking your ass
from sitting down and getting
goals done –
for someone else,
it wore, but didn’t hurt.
Don’t stress about those bench, or bitch-marks,
because that won’t help your dreams hitch.
Pitch your dream to God, the Universe,
it’ll get tossed back to you.
Maybe not how you imagined,
but bigger than that.
A rolling shimmery ball,
like those iridescent soap bubbles you blew with the wind
way back when.
it’s so big and radiant,
You can’t put your arms around it,
or break it.
It’s yours –
I am one of the lucky ones that age slower than your average human being (Thanks, Mom – and your genes). Despite this, as I’ve entered my 40s, I’ve noticed that certain body parts aren’t well, as firm.
I’m vain, but not so much so I’d go under the knife to alter what’s happening. I may be more accepting about the aging process if the gritty details of aging – sagging muscles, age lines actually served a purpose.
Some of you may argue – well, it has a purpose; it’s the slow decomposition of our bodies.
Duh! I’m alive and feeling vibrant. I’d like those decomposing details to DO something. Am I asking too much of human evolution?
What do I mean by DO something?
- Well, what if our smile lines and crows feet acted as new additional receptors for our memories, or better yet, increased our intuitive knowing?
- What if our gluteus maximus remembered to support us – literally! This is an issue that is REAL – our butt loses muscle memory as we age. But what if it did actually do one better than remember to support us structurally – and actually sent us encouraging voice-messages to our brain when we stuck to a work out schedule, or showed support to others?
- What if our ‘chicken wing’ arm flab could be voice-activated to ‘turbo slap’ an approaching assailant?
I think that commercial media as usual, simplifies our wants. Yes, looking youthful is aesthetically appealing, but maybe we just don’t want aesthetics, maybe we want more purpose, too. So, yes, the points above ask for too much, but remind me that while looking lovely is nice, living with more purpose, multi-purposes is most important to me.