love and death (father's wedding for me)

Love and Death
Or
Father’s Wedding for Me
By jade rogue

I was asked to sing at one of my beloved friend’s funeral if that should ever occur. The thought of losing him and his death brought my eyes to glisten with tears immediately. Before I got to the last word of his email, tears were running down my face. I pulled out a tissue and sobbed as quietly as I could. I dourly walked to my door and locked it. I didn’t want o be disturbed. What woman does whilst in the middle of a cry?

I’ve decided…I don’t want to cry at funerals anymore. But as it’s always been the case, my heart rules me. Why do I always have to be the survivor? Why does it have to be me picking up the pieces of my broken heart? Why does it have to be me sitting there on a folding chair wearing black, crying? How can I continue closing the wounds? How do I hide the scars? It hurts too much to lose those I love.
***
*Tuesday Poetry Drive by*

I want it to be me first.

I’ve decided. I’m not going to attend my own funeral. Look for me elsewhere. I won’t be in that pretty casket that was purchased to house my physical form. I won't be in that so called final resting place. That pretty casket will not cage me in. No! It won’t hold me.

I 'd rather be with you. I want to be there when you smile and laugh, when you're sad and when you cry. I want to be there when you are too tired to walk, but you dance. I want o be there when you are too tired to talk, but you sing. That is the survivor in you.

I want to be there in your quiet moments that bring you peace. I want to be with you in those moments when you look at the world and know there is something greater at work and you're no longer afraid. I want to be with you when you love.

Don’t look for me in that pretty casket. That box of armor couldn’t cage me in. It couldn’t hold my love in. Smile and laugh when you say my name. Don’t be sad for me…I'll be on the wings of a thousand winds.
***

*Father's Wedding for Me*
by jade rogue

My father was upset with me. Maybe he was ashamed of me but there were times when I was told by my mother that he was very proud of me. One particular time was when I became a police officer. He was disappointed when I quit the force. He never told me. My father was well liked by the neighborhood. When anyone found out I was his daughter. They treated me differently. They were protective of me, they smiled more and they treated me friendlier…as if I was a princess. I didn’t understand why and the fuss. They would tell me stories of him, this man they were proud to know…they told stories of his deeds, his boldness and his kindness. Who was this man they spoke of? It was a person I didn’t know or maybe my father was someone they really didn’t know just thought they did.

I used to think most kids were like me. Richer or poorer I thought we reflected the same light, the same energy.

In the 6th grade I walked past the water fountains where a boy stood with one shoe on the cement and the other flat against the wall as he leaned back against it. I turned my head and looked his way as I walked by. He was staring at me with a sly smile. My right hand balled into a fist, my eyes brows knitted together as my eyes squinted, my jaw clenched. I gave him my mean look. He smiled at me but I didn’t smile back.

I knew the boy. He came from a nice Italian family. His parents were close to my parents. My father had arranged a marriage between us. I thought it was a joke, just adults voicing out loud 'what they would like life to be' thoughts. Our two families would be joined together with the marriage of their son and me. Mother had joked about it and laughed whenever the subject came up. I would not stand for such things. I thought it to be primeval.

In my younger years I recall how my familia gathered to my supposed future father and mother in- law’s house for holiday celebrations. I was nice to the boy when we visited but at school I didn’t associate with him. He had three sisters and one brother, all younger than him. I used to hang out with his sister…we were the same age. She was cute and we got along well.

*Fast forward to my senior high school year*

Father insisted that I marry his friend’s son. mother let him talk but never expected anything of it to materialize. That boy went to a different high school than me. My father was trying to set up a date. I might have gone but I’m a rebel. I don't like being pushed or manipulated. And if there was one thing that could be said about me…I’ll find a way to disappoint you.

“Romero will be here Friday to take you to dinner and a movie. You do what girl’s do, get prettied up.”

“No.” Difiantly but camly said.

“Mija, I insist. I’m doing this for you. He will make a good husband and father and the family is well off.”

What does father know about being a good husband and father? I was tired of this…all of my family accepted the fact that I dated girls...and boys.

“Dad, get me a date with his sister and you have a deal.” I waited for him to slap me, but it wasn't my father's way. My father was many things but one thing I can say of my father, he never beat his kids, ever. He took in a big breath and exhaled slowly.

“Madre de Dios!” He threw his hand up. “Why do you always fight me?” I didn’t want to fight with him. It just always turned out that way. Maybe we were too different from each other, he was like the coastal beaches and I was the sea.

“Daddy you can’t make me into what you want. I’m going to get married to the one I love, the one I choose.” I never thought I would fall hopelessly in love with a woman. I always thought I would have a big wedding. I would wear a big white dress. (don’t laugh) And my father would give me away in the same Catholic Church my brothers and sisters married. My husband would be wonderful, kind, and handsome. I always knew I would have kids.

“Okay…mija, you win. I just want you happy.”

There I go daddy…I’ve disappointed you again.

**

Hey sweeties, tell me what you think, I'm not a mind reader...and I'd like to hear from some of the silent ones. you know who you are.

Bad Little Boy/Crying Mommy

Lux calme e’t valupte (time that is good)

Maybe not…

I’ve been in a mood lately. It’s depression sinking in again. I’m exhausted lately. I’m drained and have had only 4-5 hours of sleep nightly. My moods swing from a sadness that drives me near to tears and a happiness that makes me want to dance.
****
Bad Little Boy/Crying Mommy
By jade rogue

My little boy will be three in late May and do you know what he said to me last Monday night? I went into his room to tuck him into bed. He said. “Get out of my room! FUCK!”

My mouth fell open and I said. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?” every word he verbalized correctly and with passion in his young mellifluous voice.

He had that ‘Oh shit mommy is pissed’ look on his face. He tried to use that smile that usually melts my heart. But mommy was pissed and there was nothing he could do to make my heart soften and wipe the look of anger from my face. That was what I thought. He ran to me with concern on his face and hugged me. “Sorry mommy…sorry mommy…sorry mommy.” I can’t tell you why I cried, but I did. It was like seeing the innocence of a child suddenly fly away. Did I cry because he said such mean things to me at such a young age or hearing the desperation in his words to make his mommy love him again?

He isn’t allowed to play with his favorite toys or watch his DVDs. He has just in the last week and a half started to even watch television or have the patience to sit and watch a DVD. He kept telling me. “Don’t cry…don’t cry.” I sat down on his bed with slumped shoulders and a bowed head…and I cried. He hugged me and I felt better. But he is just a child. How does he even know such words?

I am his mother and he is my son…we will coalesce the love into the bond we had before. It just hurt me…so much. He’s like me…too much like me. I’m going to have to watch this one closely.

Bubba baby I love you and I know you love me too.

I have to talk with his father and find out who has been using the word FUCK in his presence. He had spent two days at his grandma and grandpa…grandpa is not blood related and is kind of like the cranky old coots you see on television and movies. As
a parent, has anyone had anything like this happen to them?

Later mon cherries, me parler. (talk to me)

I just want to scream.

Tuesday Poetry (twat-dom) Drive- by

Hello sweeties it's Tuesday poetry (twat-dom) Drive by. You have to check out my fellow Tuesday poetry drive by buddies. Go check them out pa-leaze. I promise to give IT up. *wink* if you know what I mean. I want to give a shout out to Fingers who inspired Tuesday Poetry Drive-by.

I'm running late...yes, I know but There are people that belong in jail and some that belong out (moi) and you know it's all about me. tee-hee.

So let the curtain rise. ( in my fave bard stance)

Each Life Has Its Place
By jade rogue

On nights like this
I look up to the pale moon that climbs
Over the star filled sky
Oh, though you are so far away
And the distance between us is so wide
Do you dream of me at night?

I can see the distance between of what will be and what will never be

Kissing you...loving you is something I shouldn't do.

You fuel the fire within...darling

Don't believe what they say, we're not alike

You and I are as different as night and day
You seem so close…tonight

Come with me inside

I read your words and that’s how I got to know you
And you can say I'm hard to hold

But you did

Mother said...each life has its place
Above and under
****
A little starling like you struts on a stage
And the other down under knows

I’m in love
Yes, my heart knows each life has its place
And yours is far from mine
I’m in love
For you...I would die

****
You occupy me
From the rising of the sun that comes roaring like a lion
To the crying of the lamb at night
You occupy me
You’ve taken my heart without resistance
I’m in love in the worst way.

It’s a love that can’t be washed away
Take me...in your arms

under the water
Your hands cleanses my skin
Your lips baptize my soul

Salvation...salvation I get with each kiss
You take...every breath I take
I drown...in the emerald bay

That reflects the color of your eyes
You are my religion

You are my heaven...you are my hell

Oh...is this why I cry?
****
And while I’m in a conversation with myself
I turn another page
Oh…but right now, I only want to hold you
I want to be in your arms…kissing you
In a kiss that is
Like the rising of the sun on a desert sea
You burn my skin

You say…you don’t know any more
Oh…the pain in words we sometimes spill
A pocketful of truths can change life
Oh…is this why

I sometimes I cry
****

Sweeties my bud Bama Trav will begin posting poetry on Tuesday poetry Driver by next Tuesday but today let me post his poem. So give him a shout out here...y'all.

BamaTrav said...
Lash before my eye

Living on a bottom apartment floor
Or sitting in your cave
Annoying footstep above
Trod your ceiling
Floor to them

I often wondered
If those before us
The human plant
In our gardens of stone
Felt the same
Wrapped in their sarcophagus

Ciao sweetie. I have two videos one with my lady...Lady Gaga and Elton John in a fabulous performance and the second is with Pink...I'm talking hot pink. And you all know how much I love pink. So have vote...tell me which one you love the best. You have to see them...they're performances from the Grammy awards this past Sunday.

Pink...woo.

Bad Romance or Freak Bitch

Bad Romance
or
Freak Bitch (from the archives)
by jade rogue

Someone reminded me of this event recent and not so recent. From the archives, he emerges. Guess who I saw at the grocery store. Anyone remember right after I had my little guy (Vince junior) my girlfriend and I were going to break up but we didn't cause she loved me and I loved her. Anyway I (we) were a mess back then. My girl had my world turned upside down. . We reconciled. We're meant to always be together. I truly believe that.

Anyway we bumped into Frankie (not his real name) ex b/f lawyer guy at the grocery store. Fuck me...and I'm with my girl. It was kind of awkward for me though she has no idea who he is or how we knew each other. But he was a gentleman, he was charming, he was kind. When we had said all that we had to say, which was very little he hugged me and whispered that he missed me and wished things would have turned out differently.

I skittered away looking for my girl who had gone to the deli department. I saw her and I relaxed, I feel so safe with her.

Around 2 and a half years ago.
He called, asking to see me. He wanted to make love to me. He wanted me to come to him. I said. “No. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want to ever again.” He pleads, but I hold firm…”No.” I try to tell him nicely. “It’s over, baby. She loves me and my life now has calm. Please understand…I don’t love you. I love her.” He tried to use words to bring him close. He thinks he knows my weakness…sex. I laugh at his attempts to gather me to him and to his will. “No” I replied to my one time lover. “Just remember those wonderful times we had together. We had fun, they‘re wonderful memories to hold on to.”
************
I was at work on a Saturday night. He came in and waited till after I danced. I didn’t notice him at first but eventually he let his presence known. I was unaffected by his presence. I could see he was not a happy camper. This one customer…a young guy in his late twenties was with some of his friends and they were tipping me plenty. My attention was spent with him and his friends. A gal goes where the money is spent freely. The young ones drool more than the older ones. I love that about them. I kept eye contact with Mr. Big-Tipper and gave him my best flirtatious magazine smile. I made small noises, like when I am making love, aroused, and very hot. He tipped me about three hundred dollars.

Anyway, after I danced and had collected my…um, donations, my ex-boyfriend Frankie waves me over. I blew out a breath of air to blow my hair away from my face. I was at the end of my tether and anger followed. I went to the back and got into something less revealing. I whisked by and took him by the arm and walked him out to the parking lot. He is slightly upset and angry.

He wants me to come over to his place after work…to talk things out. It was cold, I was sitting in his car with the door open, my feet just touching the pavement, He stands there looking down to me, my hair was free with the chilling breeze. “No Frankie (not his real name…BTW, he is a lawyer) I have her back…I love her and I want her. I never gave you the impression that I loved you.”

“You’re nothing but a slut, aren’t you? You fucking venomous bitch.” His hand balls into a fist as his jaw clinched, his eyes revealing his fierce anger. I was calm but frightened.

I looked into his eyes then suddenly wasn’t so afraid. The rebel in me is always ready for a fight. “Oh, that’s a really smart way to win me back, calling me a slut…venomous bitch. You are such a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

“You’re so fucking immature.”

He came closer, between the open door and the car. “You’re nothing but trash. You use people. You’re a user and you don’t give a fucking damn about anyone. You pretended to love me. I should just…”

"You should just what!"

I’m getting really angry now. “I never said I loved you…you know that. Even when you said you loved me…did I ever say it back? NO…I didn’t! I didn’t...because I don’t love you, I couldn’t love you.”


He put his hands on my throat softly at first. I looked up at him, into his eyes. I was not going to be afraid. My glare practically dared him. He tightened his hold on my throat as he looked down into my eyes. He had that defeated look about him. Ha...I’ve walked dangerous streets and I’ve associated with guys and girls much more dangerous than him. Could he stand to see what my eyes have seen? Could he go through some of things I’ve been through? Like the actress that takes her place on the stage with lines to read. I smiled then it slid off as the coldness in my heart came rushing out to greet him.

“You fool! TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME, NOW!”

He doesn’t move but loosens his grip that lacked strength or conviction. I pushed him away with my hand. He is surprised and off balance and stumbles 4-5 steps back. I was cold from the chilling breeze now and I wasn’t going to be nice anymore. “You mother fucker. I don’t want you calling me. I don’t want to see you and don’t you ever come near me again.”

“I will hurt you, Frankie.”

I was standing and wrapped my leather coat around me. My legs were freezing cold and I was angrier that he hand tried to bully me, force me to be with him. He just stood there watching me walk away. I turned to see if he was going to follow me, but he just stood there, watching me. I walked in and told the manager, who sent security out there. They told him to hit the bricks...scram.

Jeez…how many times do you have to tell a person...It’s over?
***
Have you ever been caught in a bad Romance? Fess up sweeties, tell Spiky all the details.

Oh and Good luck to my girl...Lady Gaga on the Grammy Awards Sunday. My fingers are crossed baby, I want you to win.

Yes, sweeties I know what you're thinking and I agree...I'm a freak bitch baby. Ciao.

A Miasma of Doubt and Alcohol

A Miasma of Doubt and Alcohol
by jade rogue

She sits there on the patio chair with no lights on. In the ethereal dusk her long cigarette glows dim like a lantern in the fog. Silence looms. I could hear the moist parting of her lips as she removes the cigarette. Blowing out a breath, she stood up, I stiffened in my posture. I could not see her face, so gauging her mood was close to impossible. I wondered if she was please to see my lack of confidence, though I’ve always lacked confidence when it came to her, surely she could sense it, see it, feel it. I had a borderline naïve faith in my own prodigious ability to change the course of someone’s life, hopefully for the better. But now this ability lay withered into stubborn perfunctory, numbness and tired discomfort, I walk by with no remark.

One thing has always been said of me. “Toni, you are a bold one.” This is one moment I would again turn from what is safe and forge forward in an act of temerity. Others would say it is her way, be prepared, she is a truth seeker and she can see it in your eyes. There are moments I know you and other times when I feel as if I've just met you, but always I have felt the attraction to you, lucky to be in your orbit...

Does she love me as I love her…desperately? Or is this thing between us, fiction created by us both?

“I’m not going to leave you...I won't...I can't ”

Why am I not surprised? Is it because I somehow hold you to me with invisible chains, as you do to me? I can sometimes feel the tug from you as you try to pull away? Who would I be without you? Who am I without someone like you to adore me? My coterie of admirers in my workplace, do not have the same effect as you do.

“I would be sad and I would miss you desperately if you left. Please don’t even think it’s what I want.”

She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. Her body relaxed and slumped slightly in surrender. She turned from me and she began to cry softly. "I love you. please believe that. I didn't cheat on you."

You haven’t seen her cry so you don’t know how I felt at that moment. It breaks my heart each and every time she has ever cried. I can only conclude that my heart is attached to hers by those invisible chains that hold us to each other. She turned back towards me and I wiped the tears that fell from her eyes with gentle swipes of my fingers, but the tears continued to fall.

“Please don't cry…please...stop.”

“I want you to know I never slept with her. I didn’t know she felt that way about me. I thought we were just friends. She surprised me when she kissed me…and you walked in. It never happened before. I thought she was straight all this time. Please believe me.”

I strangled down a giggle. How funny that sounded. You don’t know just how very charming you can be. You have no idea how easily it is to fall in love with you, do you? I said nothing. These thoughts were mine to keep. I couldn’t part my lips to let my thoughts out. It was as if my words were caged. I then wiped the tears that had fallen from my eyes. It was as if the clouds had nothing else to give. The rain had stopped. I foolishly tried to smile, but failed...I was just tired.

“Then you walked out and left before I could explain.”

Who was I to judge? I hate myself for the things I've done. I was tired and tipsy from too much wine. We were now inside and in the family room. I sat on the couch and still…I said nothing. I was too tired, too drained, too drunk to think of anything to say. There was no lurking anger disguised in a miasma of doubt and alcohol. She sat by me and put her head on my shoulder and I held her to me as I looked out the big window that faces east. I closed my eyes as morning light began to chase away the darkness. Where had the night gone?

Ciao sweeties. I feel so much better. That sadness just emptied out of me like buttermilk from a jug. *sigh*

okay so lets shake that thing...skinny bones.

An Actress Like You (Tuesday poetry twat-dom)

An Actress like you

by jade rogue

I've struggled to post these past few weeks. I'm not inspired and it seems the muses are on an extended vacation. except for the muse Calliope who assisted me in the Poetry Drive-by below.

I've wondered if I am at the end of the Blog Road. I though still come back here as if I'm pulled by invisible chains. Why does it hold me. I need release. I still seek the quiet of space but water would do. I seek the ache and exhaustion of swimming for long periods of time. I want to swim beneath the still water where the chopping of the water is the only noise I hear. I'm drowning in this want.

I'm watching the world go by...everyday. I need to get back out there...on the stage. I want dance. It's what brings pleasure to my heart. Will I ever be satisfied?

***

It's Tuesday poetry twat-dom drive-by. Sorry. It's only residue from a thought that came to me 3 years ago.

I'm only doing this because I know just how much Fingers http://whineguide.blogspot.com/ loves my poetry. He didn't ask, but what the hell, I'm lucky to have the ability (years of study) at translating dead ancient languages into English. Those years at the digs has also given me the talent to read between the lines.

Examples:

Fingers said. "He hates it and its amateurish." What he really means is...he loves it more than his luggage and it's better than the works of the masters.

Fingers said. "Don't ever write poetry again or I'll kill you!" But he really means...don't stop...EVER! It inspires him to fuc... um, er, it inspires him to make love to me. In other words...keep writing, it makes him horny.

So...without further ado...

The curtain rises, I'm in my best bard stance. (revised)

An Actress like You
By jade rogue
You fantasize; you’re in a dream
Pretending you’re on a ship miles up in the sky
It’s early as you try to get the sleep out of your eyes
Blow us your kisses and give us your Hollywood smile
You think you’re like the Pyramids, interesting
I wish I could see through your eyes and see the world inside.
Will it answer the many questions you don’t share?
Do you even exist?
The bible in your hand insists
But how am I suppose to believe
Tell me how…every time I feel alone, tell me how…

Walking in a maze, so alone, in your hand you hold a rose
With the weight…you bring me down…

I’ll buckle underneath the weight
You find you can’t wait to breathe the air of the night

You don’t want to be alone...no
Close your wounds, bury the fear that no one cares
All your desires have fallen like biblical rain

And I blame you

Feeling...like my life’s just an interview
In an empty room
I died for you
You can at least open your eyes
You’re the star of the play

With sultry eyes…you pose, smoking your long cigarettes
What does the next scene have in store for you?

Memorized lines will come through for you
It’s all about you.
Don’t know who’s in your bed, don’t really care.

Miss Jones
We’re ready to take your picture now.
You’re an actress with the painted-on magazine smile
Selling yourself, reading your script, waiting for your cue
Turn up the lights
Don’t know why, there’s darkness in the fires inside
Your eyes show you’re feeling lost and despair, can't ignore it
You know it’s true, you can’t hide it.
Not even an actress like you

****

Ciao sweeties. I feel like some one's psycho girlfriend, so here's the best song for that.

Flirting...again

Visit with Mom and Pop
or
Flirting
by jade rogue

Moochi, moochi…peeps. That’s Japanese for 'hola.' I’m having a good weekend. It was a beautiful day yesterday.

First off I need to say…Happy Birthday 'baby.' You don’t read me but I just had to scream it out silently within me and in this missive. I love you…I love you…I love you. I wish words would not flee from my lips, unspoken but deeply felt. ..but you do that to me. You take me to a place in my thoughts where there is only you.

Okay back to the post. Moi and my Bonita girlfriend decided to just have girls out day. Just throw into the mix, a few more wacky gals and fuck off day in Los Angeles area is set. We had nothing planned really. We just got in the SUV and went. I did have this one thing I wanted to do. We stopped off at Forrest Lawn to visit my parent’s grave site. Yeah, I watered up. I always do. I walked off away from the girls for little bit to gather myself. It’s a mixture of feelings that swirl through me…deep sadness because I miss them and anger that they have died. You know what I love about my peeps. How they can make me smile even though my heart is breaking.

We went to Brittany Murphy’s grave site and placed a rose there. She has no head stone yet but we know where it is. My peeps can track down a squirrel’s turd in a forest.

We stopped in Glendale to eat at Damon’s and have a mai-tai or two. Fuck they’re strong but after the second sip…mmm, just right. After two drinks we all were pretty loose except of course for ‘D’…she didn’t booze it up. She was after all the designated driver.

These guys were about two tables from us. They were buff looking…guys that worked out for sure. But then I saw a pack of cigarettes. Hard to see the two together, I can just imagine one of them lifting weights with a lit cigarette dangling from his lip.

I walked over…I stumbled slightly but gathered myself. I looked down at the carpet to imply that the carpet was responsible for my stumble and not the two mai-tais. I said the drinks were strong didn’t I? I walked over and they looked up to me …first their eyes were on my kegs then gradually up to my face. I began with. “Hi…I'm Toni and I was wondering…”

I was interrupted by all four voices. “Have a seat.”

I smiled and slightly giggled. I’m used to having it my way. I know what the sway of my hips and a soft smile can do. “No I can’t I’m with my friends. I was just wondering if I could have one of your cigarettes…please.”

Julian introduced himself and pulled out two cigarettes from his pack of Marlboro reds pack. I opened my hand and he put them in my palm and closed my fingers over them. He patted my closed hand. He just wanted to touch me, I guess. I wasn’t wearing my wedding rings (the ones Vince had proposed and given me) which I usually wear when we are out...unless I'm hunting, which I wasn't or am. He asked me for my telephone number. I don’t give it out…but didn't mention the jealous girlfriend and all…so I asked him for his. He wrote it on the back of a coaster. I thanked him/them with a smile and went back to my table. Yes, I swayed my hips a tad more than normal. Payment for the cigs, you know. I put the cigs by my girl. She’s the only smoker at the table and the coaster I put by ‘D’ cause she thought he was cute and she had the hots for him. What a slut huh? And I know she’ll call him one day when she’s had a drink or two too many one evening.

My girl said to me. “You can’t help it huh?” “Help what?” I purred. “Flirting!” She tried to say it with a serious tone in her voice. My girl smiles with her eyes though she tries to hide her heart but I see all it reflects. My girl sometimes calls me toots. She put the cigarettes in her purse, winked and said. "Thanks toots." Then gave me that dreamy smile of hers. She makes me feel like a 1930’s gangster’s girlfriend. My gal pals said…get a fucking room, bitches.

We skipped to the bakery next door for something sweet. And then it was time to get going. We were going out to the clubs. But I’ll have to finish the rest of this story some other day…pssst; we went to the clubs at…Zero cost. Not a penny spent. The only cost was the size (degree) of the hang-over we each might feel the next morning. Free usually makes a person drink more, which we did.

Contrary to popular opinions the very best things in life are for free…through a practice that I call donations…I (we) can get the things I (we) want quite easily…Weeeeeeeeee!
***
Later sweetie pies, how was your weekend? Come on spill it babes.My gal Lady Gaga sings...so lets dance, keep in step babe.