Bet

The time has come, and it's out of control

the hand was weak, but I'm not ready to fold

Not ready to lay down my arms and needs

Not ready to give in to the defeat of my dreams

I tell you, I'm standing with my flag in the air

I'm the first Lunar landing, stopping time on a dare

Taking up the gauntlets of the women before me

Letting my girls know that it's not who adores me

It's the ghosts of the blood that races my veins

It's the shrieks of joy and sorrow and pain

and digging the earth for the Irish potatoes,

and forgiving the causes for so many betrayals

and knowing this zit, that tit, this fat

This freckle, this dimple, this ratatatat

This drumbeat of the ancients that courses it's way

and the patience of patients who won't see another day...

Is the work of a master blaster of the highest degree

The genius on the shoulders of a mammoth dummy.

I'm taking the bet, I'm pulling my brows,

I'm letting you think that you know the low down

I've pushed all my chips and am playing the game

It's not what I win, or even the fame I'm pursuing

It's just doing it, and living it, and being it, and feeling it,

and knowing I may be, different, I may be

Less feminine than you think I should,

Less In constraints that a Southern girl should

Less pretty pretty mealy mouthed

Less inclined to keep quiet when everyone shouts

Less ready to let you manipulate the odds

Less ready to fold when the game's not the cards.

I'm not going to call, not going to fold

I'm going to be what I am. Bold.

Pornographic Priestess

There was this complete funeral dirge for my sensuality not too long ago. I'd been in a decades long relationship that frittered away slowly, like the ocean chipping at the seashore, eroding the banks of my interest, and suddenly it was reawakened. I'd found that I loved it, it wasn't a chore, it wasn't something to get over with as soon as possible, and I did not consider what was on TV that I'd rather be watching. All I considered was every nerve ending was hype to this person, and he to mine.

Unfortunately, that's not the only thing to be had amongst two individuals, and I am not in possession of myself enough to separate sex and relationships, so it has ended, and I'm back to where I had been before. Shuffling along, toting the carcass of a powerful Id, draped in a sheer cloth and lit with a string of blue lights. Like any energy, I'm sure it's still there, still waiting to evolve and bring me back into mindhouse of a pornographic priestess, those spinners and weavers of intimacy that is a freely given sacrifice unto the stars, to the gods who surely must be voyeurs, and to the completion of my own spirit. I just will not nullify any single part of myself to gratify any other part. I will be worshipped holistically as I will worship holistically and thus. This priestess is now celibate, to nourish all the dry ground that was neglected, to bring stability into the corners of my world. It's not that important, even though it's on the baseline, of Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs...Food, Water, Shelter, Air, and Sex. My need to nurture is calling stronger right now, and I get most pleasure in simply giving of myself to others. To holding their hands, and making them laugh, to expanding my own consciousness by listening, and expanding others...also by listening. Spring is drawing to a close, and summer in all it's decadent heat is waiting to incinerate my cogitations and labile libations, and in the meanwhile. I will be my own lover, in every sense. It just feels right, for now.