‘Grace in Age’

Competing with that young you when you get older is the worse thing you can do. Men…those not healed…that’s all they see. They don’t know the truth…at ALL!

Note: The photograph of myself taken in November is just to remind you that women in the 50s are not dead. Men make us seem that way because those of us with brains don’t stand by and accept the sins of men. Men, who aren’t of the Lord, don’t like that very much. They too much like their sins. I often told myself in the past that I wasn’t going to be single in my golden years, but, in the back of my mind, I knew I would be. A lot of the world’s men want a woman to be quiet and accept. Sorry, that’s not what God wants of me. I’m told I’m still young and that my day is coming. I trust. I still have faith that God is going to reveal to me what true love looks like. When He does, I’m going to boast in ways you never knew possible. At 50 years old, soon to be 51, when you see that boast, you’ll know God sent me a man who sees my heart and not a piece of ass. That there…that’s real!

Grace in Age
 
tightness of skin...loosens
as hands travel along...adding flavor
character...cleverness in soften
 
lines gather around eyes
tiny moments around lips
a woman's saddened endeavor
as makeup creeps in deep
it becomes a hopeless feat
bringing about smiles in laughing

'why go so hard to try?
this heart is better to see
than color-painted eyes'

 
a body struggling in thin
for a man's touch
a sexual needing rush
'why bother'...she laughs in sigh
boys will boys–
always seeking youthful toys
always wanting to see
something delightful, pretty
instead of looking in deep
where truth, real, maturity
really does seep
 
age comes in...no where to hide
accept all those lines
even if alone you lie
–a toy you'd rather not
a woman in truth...instead of deny
a better way to live your life
 
a gentleman will someday see
your aged look...enough...pretty
enough...sitting, talking with maturity
than a toying sexuality
 
those who left you behind
them, too...gain those lines
lost in a memory's time
of what 'use to be mine'

(December 12, 2019)—Growing old together. That’s what it is meant by a two. Seems so much has been forgotten by so many folks. A woman shouldn’t have to worry about being alone in her golden years, but man seems to have forgotten the most about what it means to be a two. Man has forgotten who God is.

Why is this? What happened to faith? ‘Grace in Age’…it shouldn’t be hard. Trust and forgiveness should be the solid foundation with Jesus and God at the head. I’m so tired sometimes of writing the same thing over and over again. I shouldn’t have to. But reading the Book of Isaiah tells me we haven’t much changed. The only way to get to God’s idea of utopia is to understand His process. Maybe, just maybe, more folks then will understand that growing old together is a joy and should be delighted in.

All you men who look at women as pieces of meat to be devoured then tossed aside, you aren’t going to fair very well when your body sleeps. I heard somewhere that it takes a good woman to get a man into heaven. I wonder: Who determines what a good woman is? In all that I’ve experienced, men see a good woman as one who makes him feel good about himself. Wrong! In so many ways. A good woman is the one who challenges your demons and makes you look at the man in the mirror. Maybe when you finally realize this, you’ll stop running from woman to woman, or stop seeking a woman, of any color, to take care of you.

The maturity part…that is what a good woman is looking for. You, who are more worried about your life, talking about your imagined childhood, talking about your imagined successes…that’s not what a good woman is looking for. She’s looking for a man who loves her just the way she is. When she gets that, she wants…wants…to be a better person because he’s shown her that he wants to be a better person for her. Love is hard. Didn’t you get the memo? And God wants us to love…oh, that Jesus love is sweet…but word to the wise, that Jesus love is hard love…that which makes you look at self in ways you never dreamed. And that good woman…Jesus sent her!

‘Channel’

Don’t change your independent self because of another person.

 Channel
 
a bird flies when its free
it stagnates
in captivity
its colors blossom
in variety
fading in ambiguity
‒plucking them out
in atrocity
 
in nature...the act in free
all the same
in its facility
a trapping technicality
‒being free has its complexity
 
as a woman
in her diplomacy
giving true
to her effeminacy
when treated
with significancy
 
when she's satisfied
in her sexuality
she falls into compliancy
even in another's complacency
giving up her self-sufficiency
even her style in flossy
being, at first
blissful in buoyancy
 
as it goes...comes the decadency
becoming aware
of the deficiency
–a broken down fallacy
as she meets each exigency
 
outward...comes her adamancy
as gone goes her sexy
–an inward building pudency
her usual controlled diplomacy
loses its bearing
to rampancy
 
as goes the controlling austerity
saving-money hostility
‒slowly caving
in her impetuosity
 
attention...gone its notoriety
even her newly shaped nudity
once praised with delicacy
gone...with looks
words in vulgarity
stripping
all her sexy naughty
–leaving vagueness
in commonality
 
lack of interest
opens a familiarity
once ignoring
so much secrecy
once ignoring the mendacity
pulling forward
all its perfidy
as gone...all her sensuality
understanding
its diverted generosity
she becomes lost
in recalcitrancy
–the precious kitty lost
to lunacy
 
all for giving her free
to submissive captivity
for the awakening
of her sexuality!
Continue reading “‘Channel’”

‘Shouldering Damage’

You deal and accept the physical damage caused by narcissism’s carelessness

 
Shouldering Damage
 
upon her shoulders
carries the weight–
shouldering damage
from those who couldn't stay
–a go-getter
they couldn't take
she...never wanting‒
any kinda hate
‒that was never
her intended fate
‒she let love lead the way
ending in heavy price's
to pay
 
only in moments
she lived in sedate
all them medical doctors
had to medicate
she just needed room‒
a bit of space
to grasp the idea
of her body ache
never using it as an escape
‒it hurt...and she was its bait
 
she knows she gave it all
she wasn't some pity rage doll–
standing somewhere in stall
she answered a simple call
–but others led her to fall
not caring the damage at all
 
upon her shoulders‒
she wears the cape
an anti-depressant to mask
a different kinda ache
–emotional chains
she couldn't tolerate
a burning heart
left in saturate
mixed with anger
lust and hate
screaming
without intentional berate
from love
that just couldn't stay
 
then again‒
she let love be her mate
a heart damaged‒
in too many ways
–again...a turn in obliterate
a brain burned in uncultivate
all that damage‒
on her shoulders
in blissful weight
men who couldn't bear
the cape
of her physical‒
being in waste
 
she knows she gave it all
she wasn't some pity rage doll–
standing somewhere in stall
she answered a simple call
–but others led her to fall
not caring the damage at all
 
she now wears‒
a suit of armor
from love's mate
as the heavy scars from fake–
I can't stay
you...I could only tolerate
builds her face
straight to a destiny's fate–
the writer in massive create
 
she...to never deny God
in whatever she faced
so she shoulders damage
left behind–
by carelessness
and self hate
building her rose‒
from a destroyer's
intentional state
 
she knows‒
she gave it all
she wasn't some pity rage doll–
standing somewhere in stall
she answered a simple call
–others led her to fall
not caring
the damage at all
 
oh! how
she can stand tall–
she picked herself up
from the fall
using the rest of her life
in God's hall
lost to true love's
missed call
she knows‒
she gave it her all
–it was not her
that caused
the fall!
Continue reading “‘Shouldering Damage’”

‘Unconditional Terms’

‘Unconditional’ Fades When Another Takes Your Place!

A sample from Book 12

(July 25, 2018 [Didn’t post on Facebook.])—When toxicity takes its toll, there’s nothing to say or do.

A weak heart turns to go, finds a new heart to rip apart. A strong heart cries alone, struggling to regain ground, move on. You don’t lose to cheating. You lose to betrayal. That’s why those who don’t marry, stay single. They can just hang it up, move on to another. The faithful one can’t do this.

Continue reading “‘Unconditional Terms’”

‘Do Your Thing’

When they’re paving the way for another ‘thing’!

A sample from Book 12

  'Do Your Thing'
 
standing still, so rigid
memories return, so rapid  
do your thing
words that seem splendid
once before, becoming frigid
leaving me in stupid
 
words that shouldn't‒
but still stick
like a repeated lick
too afraid to admit‒
concentrating on self's wick
leaves doors open for the slick
 
that's just not it
it's that aged-old skit
played out...without a script
 
distance begins the slit
less hugging, more anger
words constantly in twist
‒making the mind constantly flip
 
there should not be panic
when felt before
this tactic
 
flip, flip, flip
skippy, skip, skip
 
the past's certain mimic
leaves only you in chaotic
breaking your spirit
turning to God for guidance
 
less comes the kisses
every ounce of erotic
disappears in a lick
‒the body is just an it
you become invalid!
time with you, the omit
things get drastic
leaving pure conflict
and you are the reason for it
 
how to be so quiet
when affection‒
you can't even solicit
pushed away...again and again
leaving you frigid
a body drowning
in an unhealthy orbit
 
taking you're the reason
for it
you're not pretty enough
you're too fat, too sad
when...in truth's logic
their argument, distance‒
all part of the already written
transcript
‒no need
to repeat it!
Continue reading “‘Do Your Thing’”

‘Troubled Soul’

Other people’s issues are not yours!

A sample from Book 9

  Troubled Soul
 
your mixed personality
doesn't blend with reality
 
your verbal kindness
doesn't add to
your stalking rudeness
 
returning to reality
‒stripping all vulnerability
takes...taking responsibility‒
actions of self
before experiencing life...truly
 
changing personalities
doesn't insure securities
needed‒
to strengthen possibilities
 
living in denial
mile after mile‒
brings the mind
to crash
heading south‒
once there
‒getting there
you can only ask...how
 
take a look inside
your round and round ride
‒a mind in hide
never subsides
'til you stop for a while
sink in like a child‒
all your wounds...untie
 
open that book
given by God†
look deep...deep into your I
write down your whys
all that pain
bringing you to hide‒
all those cries
 
all those ancient words‒
so many have heard
let them be your guide
it takes time
 
people won't untie‒
all those knots inside
‒admittance...of self
the help of only God†‒
your only needed drive
way...way deep inside
‒then He'll† show you
how to fly
without you‒
having to ask why
Continue reading “‘Troubled Soul’”

‘Traces in Forgive’

The Lie: Destroys. Steals. Kills. You decide!

A sample from Book 9

 Traces in Forgive
 
she felt its trace
sweet word's lace
soft-spoken based
deep inside-
yes...she felt its trace
 
sneaking up inside
like a burning desire

give it
let it live

as her sixth sense
stood the fence
 
no, no, no
it's all a show
 
face after face
encountering
same's constant date
lies, deception, betray
nothing real
stands behind
words in say
 
she bows her head
thinking of words said
 
why this careless play
why not just go away
 
then tears cry
not for self
as in her bed
she lies
–but for souls
behind her tries
–their coming day
served on a self-made
imagined silver-lined tray
 
karma
its coming arena
choices in free-will
consequences-
already sealed
 
in her bowed stance
she dances her dance
–for them
solemn in pray
nothing more to say
for truth
all they had to do–
say it
-her total
 
I forgive you
 
washing it
all away
 
now...just in self
to give
forgive
without them ever knowing
–her never willing
in showing
her forever hiding
her deepness
in always loving
as they live
in the continue of dying
 
as she moves
forward in free
 
even if she meets
the Lord first
 
in her bowed stance
knowing truth
they'll still be in fool
drooling in thirst
seeking free
without ever
having the joy of it
in see
 
Continue reading “‘Traces in Forgive’”

‘Reality’s Unjust’

Dating Sites Lead You To Unjust Fantasy!

A sample from Book 7

 Reality's Unjust
(Sweet Man)

it wasn't long ago
in our heads
lost
picture of perfect
ideals...exactness
without flaws
dreamers
pulled from reality
 
something
before
private
 
then that sudden chance
that perfect
we meet–
in imperfect form
 
at first
we disengage
–a mere friend
someone we know
 
that imbalance
slowly transforms
two people collide
imperfect provisions–
dislikes...likes
there's just something
–no finger to place
drawing you close
 
the lease expected
becomes the one
 
it takes time
'a constant union–
the irritating
the friend-like balance
the missing of presence
–wanting to be
then I can't do without
 
there's no formula
no bodily temptation
it's in a smile
–a certain look
the way words
fall from the lips
 
imbalanced
becomes balanced

time spent
time wanted
time needed

something
before
private

something
now
reality's unjust
 
forcing of chance
through pictures on a screen
blankness
breeding false hopes
texting...chatting
lost in our heads
searching for perfect
imbalance–
not giving time
 
instant decision
instant irritation
instant befriend
 
ending
before
its beginning
 
freezing hearts
too many encounters
lost–
getting to know
without
bodies to show
 
lost–
the small imperfections
leading to
innocent flirtations
summing up life
–complete satisfaction
 
instead–
wanting
instant gratification
instant perfection
in another
we don't truly know
in a world
designed
just for show
Continue reading “‘Reality’s Unjust’”

”Secret’ No More!’

Their Play Is All the Same!

A sample from Book 9

 'Secret' No More!
 
the cat's out the bag
 
on the surface‒
I no longer scratch
‒don't want to sound
like a hag
not even a nag
but I'm done
playing this little game
of tag
 
I no longer want
the jab‒
that sneaky, sly syntax
keeping me in a corner
my existence entrapped
secrets over nightcaps
 
for so long
at it
I merely laughed
playing along‒
this hidden
out-of-sight craft
 
for so long
I fell into its path
to feel barely half
of a lover's swag
 
not any more
do these eyes sag
I now see
the repeated red flags
 
here they are‒
if you want to keep track
here they are‒
if your eyes
are stuck in lack:
 
away from public view‒
begins
the slow, gentle snatch
 
text this, text that

a hi here
a hey there
even the wyd flair
 
then the ignore
playing-with-the-mind anthrax's
added-on little snap
 
maybe a phone call or two‒
avoiding a bit of snag
 
(the now understood common trap)
 
oh! how texting does that
 
‒just a tiny dab
the get-what-they-want hatch
 
turning texting to sexting
in a flash
 
then sit back...relax
as she falls in the trap
her mind...now attacked
with a little zap‒
man-ego-driven
mind-boggling witchcraft
sealed and wrapped‒
one-sided—playing-out wrath
 
sexting‒
the perfect-controlling telegraph
 
then comes
the moving-on slow raft
to get that big splash
‒adding to their stash
images behind
a monitored glass
 
a little skin
in flash
with some sexy sass
 
the building in pizzazz
wanting more
of that flabbergast
 
building, building
téte-a-téte
 
then veiled in a masque‒
when questions invade
the on-and-off going chitchat‒
 
a quickened spat
back to the ignoring splat‒
ego...alive and well
in combat
 
'til comes that final blast
flesh to unmask
an act in diplomat
making her feel all that‒
the sexy little kitty cat
 
‒the play in chat
becomes
an in-the-flesh transact
 
good or bad‒
putting her in abstract
continued words on a pad‒
her mind to distract
rather hijacked
from their away-from-her
reality fact‒
 
she's not the only lass‒
their on-going sexting hack
blatant ways in acrobat‒
that and this
this and that
 
'til her avoided questions
forces a react‒
 
why not spend time with me
why the constant disappearing act

 
she innocently asks
wanting beyond
the sexual wrap‒
wanting out of secret's
hidden tap
 
the continued avoiding lap
puts her mind
in wondering's rasp
 
all-stop...hold
goes the lit glass‒
with no returned téte-a-téte
or to-the-door dash
or a together attach
nor explanations to patch
or synchronizing photographs
not even a social-media match
 
her mind opens up‒
I've seen all that
recognizing perfectly
the plotted graph
 
experience, experience
the exact-patterned zigzag
she's once again caught
knowings in fact‒
 
their intentions
won't go
any further than that
 
for her unanswered questions
suspicions‒
her experiences in reasoning
reality's opened-up rap‒
 
she's just one of many cats
in their secret's rattrap
 
‒with all these red flags
no need for a polygraph
I don't even need an ax
or a wiretap
not even some mindless booby-trap
 
just a sentence or two‒
seeing through the claptrap
then sit back
watch the unwrap‒
 
innocence offers a laugh
 
let's fix this hash
to you...I want to holdfast
let's have a blast
out in the open

'let's make our splash
 
guilt opens up the wrath
 
a shutting-down fast
placing-blame lash
social-media delete
the final smash‒
the secret
given the shaft
 
no longer do I fly half-mast
no longer am I the secret
in stash
 
yes, the red flags
seen in perfect format
 
I'm no spoiled brat
not even
lost in over-react
 
this kitty cat
just knows where it's at
 
I'm more than just a paragraph‒
a secret in scraps
 
I'm all or nothing
an out-in-the-open en masse
willing to adapt
with another walking
the same path
Continue reading “”Secret’ No More!’”

When His Next Best Thing Comes Along!

This one sergeant in my Army days in Germany called me Marie Laveau…lol…another one bites the dust! One of them will be strong enough to handle my energy some day. If they can let go of their pride long enough. I’ve had enough of man-ego-pride to last a life time.

Continue reading “When His Next Best Thing Comes Along!”