Everything so far...

So, I thought I'd add a Blogger blog to the canon of blogs. I am posting everything so far in three postings and then will add on from there.

The Button Maker

by hot mess, Feb 21, 2008
The beautiful button maker and her unusual beau.

She was beautiful but scared
There were birds swooping down to perch on her brow.
She swatted at them with her left hand;
Which just so happened to be larger than the right.
The townspeople watched and the eldest of them all helped most.
“she's peculiar but a damn fine button maker”.
The townspeople replied rather passionately,
“no thanks, we'll focus on her peculiarity with clear minds”
Soon the button maker and the old man were keeping each other company.
They dwelled beneath the tree in the town's square making buttons.
The children playing on the playground there would see them from time to time.
At this important time, the parents passed down the story of the odd pair.
Then the children learned to thank them for their beautiful buttons.
A person with even hands could never have crafted such magnificent pieces.





Can I Come Pick You Up?

by hot mess, Feb 20, 2008
A traveling mess of a story.

"Can I come pick you up?"
we can just talk. I know your situation.
why do you just naturally put your hand down my shirt?
"You are irresistible in your shirt, so delicate and pretty."
We'll just go to this new farm.
"It is all so very alluring out here with you."
See, there is a little cabin and so much land for playing.
Thank goodness your car has a front, middle seat.
"I'm glad the moon is bright. You're a sight I've missed."
Why does this feel so right, anytime, after everything?
"Shhh. Can you hear the coyotes?"
There is little I can do to stop it now.
The decision makers are unanimous now.
"There's fire in those precious seer gems tonight!"
Should we share the credit?
Stop smiling like this should be love.
"I can't believe we fought this for so long!"
Where was my fight?
You knew it could have been the subject of what you fancy.
"God, you look absolutely stunning in moonlight."
I am afraid of passing cars hitting us.
Let's get out and lie in the midnight grass.
"So many nights we spent like this, didn't we cher?"
Yes, and still waiting for the purpose when you already know the ending.
"I guess we are still doing this then. Did you think we would?"
I guess the bitter wine is so sweet that we do keep running back for more.
"It's just like your first song went, it's easier to pretend."
If I could tell you how I truly felt, you might run away. So I don't.
"It's your move, Smalls. You're killing me with you and without you."
Without is worse for me.
"I do see you running back for more. I guess it all draws you in"
Just like me.
"How about some coffee, peanut head?"
Coffee could be the substitute warmth I need now.
"I think for the rest of my life, I will take coffee just like you"
Three sugars and two heavy pours of cream.
"It's funny Cher, I can't have coffee any other way since that first morning"
That first night together really changed me too, my little Popeye.
"You know, the fluorescents don't scathe you either"
They make your teeth glisten when you show them so eagerly to me.
"God, it's good to see you. To feel you. And look at you. Really look at you."
Please be careful with touching me. Your body knows enough already tonite.
You are imprisoning me with the way you lean your magnificent head towards me.
"I'm lost in this you know. I wish we could just figure it out."
And then tell the rest of anyone who cares to go away from us.
We can be on your farm together.
"Is that M.B.?"
We should go, so as to not give any false hope to anyone.
Including us.
"Get in! Get in! It's starting to rain!"
That was almost everything I wanted.
I should go home and get some rest.
"I'll come in with you, so we can find harmony in this mess."
Here we are again.
Your smell is my favorite part of this chaos.
"There is nothing I want more than to wake up and pretend that this turmoil never happened."
Let's see what we can do.
Get some rest. You've really outdone yourself this evening.


How Dare You Not Change

by hot mess, Feb 19, 2008
Change love's lost.

How dare you not change.
How dare you wear that same jacket and carry the same bag.
How dare you live your life exactly the same except without me in it.
How dare you not move and get a different job.
How dare you keep the same friends and go to the same places.
How dare you not dye your hair and change your wardrobe so I don't recognize you as easily.
How dare you still be as handsome as ever and as charismatic as anyone ever was.
How dare you not lose your charm and your attractiveness.
How dare you sit with a girl that is not me or even your girlfriend.
How dare you scowl at me for touching your friend.
How dare you say, “it's so great with you.”
How dare I care to a point of writing this shit down.



Crazy

by hot mess, Feb 13, 2008
You call it a song, I call it a poem.

I saw you on the riverbank, setting up for a gig. Your silhouette was unmistakable and lean. I found your eyes even blinded by water of sunset. I called to see if you'd come up to the bricks to see me. You made me meet you half way on the stairs. In your signature charming way, you mentioned that you would like to catch up but that you had to get ready for the gig. A single motion for me to come along and I physically walked back in time.

Thankfully your address had changed, though the street was the same. Good ol' Second Street. This time you were further from the church and the graveyard, in many ways, we were both further away. We talked to catch up. We'd both moved on, on the surface. But here on Second Street in your apartment, we found ourselves preserved. Her sandals were on your floor, but I kicked them under the couch without your knowledge.

You played a song for me. It was new you said. A new release anyway, but written a long time ago, when we belonged to one another. As it played, we never interrupted our gaze. I said it was perfect. Summed us up completely. I mentioned how your songs about us always had a common theme, not letting each other know. We both knew it was too late to tell each other now, though we had spent the last year the same, wanting to. Here is the song.

aren't i the lucky one.
even if she's just having fun.
maybe this is all a lie,
i don't care.
i'll take it.

aren't i the lucky one.
just to catch her eye or
see her sleeping there, oh she moves me.

crazy. she says i drive her crazy.
if she only knew the way i felt about her,
she'd think i was the crazy one.

crazy. she drives me so crazy.
if she only knew the things she did to me,
she'd know i was the crazy one.

oh the sweetest thing.
see her dancing there.
barefeet in the grass, lovely angel.
oh the sweetest thing, the sweetest thing.
she's had too much to drink again.
colored smiled, i'll drink to that.
oh i love it.

crazy, she says i drive her crazy.
if she only knew the way i felt about her,
she'd think i was the crazy one.

crazy, she drives me so crazy.
if she only knew the things she did to me,
she'd know i was the crazy one.

this is becoming something more than me.
this is becoming something so unreal.
just a little while is all i need.
just another smile is all i need.

crazy. she says i drive her crazy.
if she only knew the way i felt about her,
she'd think i was the crazy one.
crazy. she drives me so crazy.
if she only knew the things she did to me.
she'd know i was the crazy one.



Hear the song here



Fit Me in

by hot mess, Feb 12, 2008
Try to make time for me in your busy schedule.

I could be the trinket on your shelf that you value too much to dismantle and amuse you daily.
I could be that rubber band around your wrist and be with you always.
I could fit inside the pocket of that jacket you love so much and keep your hands warm eternally.
I could rest in your sock drawer to ensure you always have matching pairs.
I could nestle myself within the chip in your favorite wine glass so that I could meet your lips even briefly with every sip.
There are places in your life where you could fit me in. If you let me, I could bend.


So Much Touching

by hot mess, Jan 31, 2008
One of the greatest nights.

So much touching. Fear of never feeling it again matches this intensity. Starving for it in fact. Rumpled sheets and a growing glow from the outside sky. As the light grows, there are more and more shadows for us to explore. Best stop writing and get busy!


Sing Sing

by hot mess, Jan 4, 2008
There was a time for me, when the smell of cloves, expensive Men's cologne and Irish Spring soap prompted me to want to be near something so badly that it's all I wanted to do.

There was a time for me, when the smell of cloves, expensive Men's cologne and Irish Spring soap prompted me to to want to be near something so badly that it's all I wanted to do. In the middle of the night, I'd be beckoned out of bed and drive myself out to the house of the one that personified those smells. He was a talent. Not just talented, but a talent in his whole being, his body was only sinew and talent. The smell intoxicated me as I entered, only to find my other senses kissed into the awakened state that I was looking for. He smelled of all of these things, all at once. Little did I know, that long after the songs had ended and his piano fell silent, that those same scents that brought me so much joy, would later bring equal sadness.

He sang and I played witness to the invigorating motion of his lips and the penetrating sounds made with them. He sang out, freely and without self-consciousness and I felt envious of such a feat. I listened patiently and passionately while I pictured his lips of music meeting mine with the same intent in which he sang. He made music with all four parts of him and that's how he made love, he uses his hands, his heart, his lips and his mind. All notable creations and creators. When the moon is out and no one else is, we made our move to the church. We passed the graveyard and the old creaking houses dimly lit beneath the old trees. We watched the sidewalk as we feared tripping on the aging brick. Sometimes we just walked in the middle of the street to avoid such occurrences. The air was damp and cool with the ever-present clove smoke filled air. When we enter the church, it chillingly does not feel as empty as it should, though no person is about. The church is dark. There are few streaks of light on the worn wooden floor. Some of the light came in through the stained glass in the south wall from the streetlight on the other side. The rest of the light flowed from out of the prayer chapel while the Virgin Mary looked on. I tried to avoid her knowing stare amidst my passionate spell.

The smell of the church was an even mixture of incense and old wood, which created an atmosphere of something too beautiful and perfect to be real. My catholic upbringing made me feel guilty about what we were doing, but I could not bring myself to care. I was too occupied with my emotions and the awareness of all of my senses and my body to notice anything else. His hand then slid out of mine and there he was. Right in the middle of the pool of prayer candle light, he sat at the piano. His slender fingers stroked the keys as though they were partnered war heroes, and in a way, I guess they were. The church was horrifically quiet, but just as I began to notice, the sound from the piano filled the room. He was in his favorite place. He knew as well as I did that when he played he could do anything he wanted. So he played, with a clear desire in both of our minds. I sat in the last pew, legs crossed and my own fingers caressing my lips or twirling my hair. My eyes never leaving him. He would look at me momentarily and then the music would take him away again so I'd wait until the end of each song for the next interaction. I felt so awake listening to him play there. Unusually aware of my youth and appreciative that I was enjoying it. That's how he made me feel. After a few hours of this intimate show, we start, arm in arm, back to his house.

The morning is already breaking through the once black sky and I am surprisingly full of energy. Once inside the desire that we felt in the church is now taking human form in each other. We fall into his bed and it becomes unearthly mind-altering. Our clothes make for a haphazard mess on the floor and the sun breaking through the curtains makes me want to hold on even more. I turn my eyes to his, only to find that he is already looking at mine. He makes some comment about how they look like wood grain and how I drive him crazy. I'm crazy about him, and he knows it. With one long, hard kiss, it's over and he collapses on top of me. His dampened skin melds with my own and he kisses my shoulders and neck. He begins to sing to me, and tells me about what he wants to do in life, and I giggle because I can see it all happening for him. I turn onto my stomach and he hums and caresses my back until I fall asleep for a few hours before it's time to face the day. I wake him up with a few kisses and entice him to join me for a shower before I have to go. He sleepily, yet comically follows me and the shower is sweet and full of laughter. We go to Shipley's for a coffee and then I can start my day. I know that it is only a matter of hours before I get to do it all over again, and I'm filled with excitement.