Acknowledge, Proclaim

I am Beautiful
Talented, and Worthwhile.
So much more
than the mere parts that
people see, and the
stereotypes
they fit me in.

I am Beautiful
and Strong.
My tears
do not
make me weaker.
Yes, they prove
that I can fall down,
but also that I
learned the lesson,
picked myself up again.

I am Beautiful
and Tenacious.
Though I may not have
reached the peak yet, I will
never give up
aspiring to it
taking steps
toward it
no matter how slow
or painful.

I want my dreams
that badly.

I want them to
abandon
their wispy state.

I want them
to realize their
solid form
sturdy, dependable
Reality.

I am Beautiful
and I Still Believe.

That people
are inherently kind

Truth
always prevails

Good character and
gracious ways
still count for so much

And that
True Love
isn't only
found between
the pages of
faerie-tales,
or
reserved
for the lucky

Salsa Night Two (un-haiku'd)

Watching the smooooth

quick, clever couples

dominate the floor

can only succeed

in making me feel

more the klutz

Would you be amazed

outraged

to find that some men

simply won't ask you to dance

should they deem it worth their time to

assess you

and find you oh-so deficient in skill?

Amusing

but they certainly take time

to play the game of

avoid-eye

with you.

To this nonsense I address the following:

Las Personas Ostentosa y

Arrogante

Cuidado!

I'll remember who you are

Should you change your mind

You know

in that future

where I'll

eventually

get very, very

good at this

Constant practice

begins to wear down

both me and my resolve

but

no matter.

I will master

all the dulce

picante tricks.

I'll just have to remind myself

on the journey to

becoming muy rica

that latin dance is just

as much about attitude

as it is about know-how

The Devil Made Me Do It!

If solely doing good is supposed to give you a sense of accomplishment and purpose, then why does the occasional wee devilish act bring a more potent jolt of excitement, and possibly more satisfaction? I would truly appreciate someone explaining that to me.

True, the release from following rules that are preset for us can be liberating. Who the heck made the rules, anyway? Why do they become so stifling to adhere to (alright, not all, but some)?

I will not be so impetuous as to claim that human nature is to be bad, after all. I am beginning to believe, though, that part of what is innate to human nature (when we provide it with the proper tools) is the infinite questioning, the never ending pilgrimage towards truths. I am also beginning to believe that those truths have to stem first from one's awareness, to become law, to guide rules.

Perhaps our nature does not seek to be either good or bad, but simply seeks to be true to itself.

What a surprise.

That still does not account for the guilt that may sometimes result from being a very, very naughty. Sure, sure-- very naughty by my standards. Don't show off.

That's a discussion for another day, I guess.

Ease into a Fall State of Mind

Three days ago heralded the beginning of September. Does that also mean the beginning of Fall, of a Fall approach to doing, seeing or comprehending things?

Don't try to reach to far to locate where my logic comes from (I honestly am not certain where, either), but I've always found it easier to tie in events or schedules to beginning of seasons. For example, this month, September. I associate it with the arrival of Fall, back-to-school, the introduction of the Fall T.V. season line-up. Or December-- holiday shopping season, a further drop in temperature, men in red velour suits standing at street corners, ringing a bell, time to contemplate (in a big hurry) what gifts to get my son this year, that could top the previous year.

But I veer from my original train of thought. I just believe it to be a neater, niftier package, easier to keep track of, when everything occurs on that one designated day: first of the month. Yeah, yeah, I know, my odd mind at work. I can imagine everyone else just fretting at all the deadlines to be met on that one day.

They could be right. What would one do all the other twenty-seven to thirty days left in that month. Everyone would be antsy.

Plus can you imagine Christmas Day falling on the first of December? People would become positively mutinous.

Hellbent

Must drink 8 glasses a day.
Don't forget today's delivery.
Ah, let's push for 4 and say it was 6.

Lunge. Lunge. Repeat 12 times.
Contest deadline in less than 10 days.
You can make it to the final set!

Find that perfect dress for the reception.
Highschool freshman enrolment-- August 18th.
Screw it. Basic black will do the trick.

Monster Girl

Who is this creature
who cares not what people think
and makes grown men cry?
The legend goes that
once upon a time she wore
her heart on her sleeve.
She believed that love
would lift the curse that turned men
into selfish cads.
Noble sacrifice
she would offer herself up
to this worthy cause.
How was she to know
that when the spell backfired it
would leave her changed?
Now I hear she has
poor chumps for supper and leaves
the rest to go stale.

...Before You

I won't start imagining
you, where you shouldn't be
a skilled
dart
from one
suppressed
anguish
from the other.

She wouldn't like it. She would be
disgusted.

I won't start imagining
me, where I cannot be
deftly
with one
firmly
with the other.

How do we escape this
when it delves into our thoughts
creeps into
crevices, and

touches?

Only a moment.
No, will not.
Cannot.
Succumb.

Prepared For Battle

Not yours to take. Not yours
to keep.
You treasure these
False Idols
and they crumble
like decayed wood
between my fingers.
Offer them up as
a shield
a ruse
to throw a blanket
over what is
not there
as you continue to
build
your fortress over
the shifting
trembling dirt.

Secondhand Buyers, Beware! (Part I)

Ladies
before you consider
purchasing
this product
would you perhaps
care to listen awhile
about how
I came across it?
Fell in love with it?
It never really
caught my attention
initially
although I had seen it
numerous times.
Cute.
'Just not my type.
Not the right era?
It was diligent though.
Remaining
visible to my eye.
Always front and center.
Beckoning.
It wasn't so much
that it wasn't
appealing to others
it simply
knew at the time
what I
had failed to.
That it was
for my eyes only
made just for me .
Yes
it was at the time
but I eventually learned
the wise truth
that forever
doesn't necessarily
mean for always
and now
what seemed
tailor-made
for me
may find
True Love
in your touch and
scent, too.

"Tending"

You were without roots

to bind you to the

fragrant, open

whole

I provided the

light , the sustenance,

yet here I

lay, unanchored

brittle and

about

to blow

away.

A Lull Can Definitely Be A Good Thing

...especially when you really need to refocus on what direction you wish to take. Pushing, pushing and forcing oneself to go in a certain direction, and get there as fast one can, inevitably leads to burnout. My body (and mind) are most definitely telling me to go relax on the comfy chair, take a deep breath, think about taking up other enjoyable things that I've been neglecting that aren't necessarily associated to writing (what's out there that I can truly enjoy, outside of writing?! Okay, I know there are things I used to enjoy. I just need to remember what). Once I've done that, I can tackle this goal-- writing, getting my writing out there-- with fresh determination.

"My Sister, My Friend, Goodbye"

I can breathe easily
and be free of troublesome thought
now that I've broken off
my piece of our heart.
It was distressing at first
To find it simple to sever
a bond
I believed to be forged
in support, shared tears
triumphs and secrets.
It was plain
that I adored and
admired you
as if our ties were sanguineous,
fiery and genuine.
Sister of my soul and wishes
I loved you fiercely
I knew this with not one doubt.
Shattering the illusion
that those bindings were strong,
everlasting
was a relief, a release.
So now I may finally say the goodbye
I had never truly wished for.

"How The First Counts"

By no means do I think of you any longer.

Not at all.

Usually,
when your name comes up,
it is within the context of a jest.
A tale about past romantic failures,
the lists of inadequacies
astonishing.
Stopping to truly give it thought,
any reason to ever speak of you
is done in passing.
A link to a very good lesson learned:
to not trust sweet, lying words.
Lately though,
dwelling on
le chagrin du moment,
a solitary thought of you had occurred.
Perhaps
because for months and months
I thought of nothing but him
until I could bear it no longer,
as respite
I may have pulled you
out of random memories.
Maybe
I still care enough
to find reasons not to lay even
a bit of blame on him
yet still feel the intense need to lay
the guilt and anger elsewhere--
the more "worthy" the candidate, the better.

You fit the bill to a T.

Brass Ring/ Food Chain

A match? Are you mad?
I chase you, and you chase her.
It's random at best.

You could look this way
but that would be too easy.
A man needs a challenge.

I fare no better.
What's my excuse for pursuit?
Pride? I'm not yet sure.

Where does that leave her?
She, highly-coveted prize.
Unless... she too, seeks?

At 2 A.M., It's A Bit Hard To...

...get images and words out of your head, once they've stuck fast. Usually it's phrases floating in and out of my consciousness, begging to be added to poem. This morning? The lyrics to "Your Eyes" (yes, from the musical, "Rent!"). I guess that's one of my little word demons prodding me to post it here. It is pretty, a bit like how I would structure a poem. Hmm... gives me an idea for a haiku.

Your Eyes

As We Said Our Goodbyes

Can't Get Them Out Of My Mind

And I Find I Can't Hide

(From)

Your Eyes

The Ones That Took Me By Surprise

The Night You Came Into My Life

Where There's Moonlight

I See Your Eyes

How'd I Let You Slip Away

When I'm Longing So To Hold You

Now I'd Die For One More Day

'Cause There's Something I Should Have Told You

Yes There's Something I Should Have Told You

When I Looked Into Your Eyes

Why Does Distance Make Us Wise?

You Were The Song All Along

And Before The Song Dies

I Should Tell You, I Should Tell You

I Have Always Loved You

You Can See It In My Eyes...

"Galatea Weeps"

To Stijn, a muse whose inspiration mirrored love's pure purpose: to arrive at the most propituous time, and leave when your blessing has been bestowed.

GALATEA WEEPS

Not every moment

But still often enough

that it clings

incessantly

Your memory

I taste it

with the last flavour of

cinnamon and smoke

In my mouth you dwell

crystalline perfection

Breathe

I hardly dare breathe

lest I flutter even the

corner of recalling you

Lovely man of sun-scorched Days

and briny tang

Even to claim you

for one glimpse

would still be too much

I'm selfish.

I, the Nereid

sultry concoction, birthed

of your longing

cannot compete with

your Mistress

Immortal and Ever-changing.

Getting to know me just a little bit more through my poems.

To reveal a little bit about myself, I'm beginning by posting two of my personal favourites, out of all the poems I've written since 2000.

The first piece, "Her Imperial Majesty, the Czarina of Snoot," is a touch cheeky, a bit like me, in the face of certain annoying, unavoidable situations... and, perhaps, yes, a few annoying, unavoidable people. You just have to laugh these situations and individuals off, and give them the appropriate place in the trashbin of your mind.

The second piece, "Satisfying," gives a glimpse into the end of a love affair, and one party's triumphant attainment of closure, on her own terms. As you'll soon see, much of my poetry centers around the subject of love and its different stages. I thought it would be a little different to start from the end, the heartbreak and closure, than from the beginning, the ecstacy and novelty.

Enjoy.

Her Imperial Majesty, the Czarina of Snoot

Won't look, what a bore!
Oh, my nose is stuck in my
perceived importance.

Over my circle
I think I preside. Queen of
what I say matters.

Can't allow you in.
Won't even pretend I'm nice.
You simply don't count.


So here's my slogan:
"In Exclusivity We
Trust!" Remember it.

Satisfying

How I built you up
to such heroic proportions
I cannot begin to comprehend

When a man
simply a man
if at all one
grew in my mind
to something almost mythical

An honourable and romantic creature.

I was as much blinded
by illusion of what wasn't
as I was intent on feeding my imagination
with my own lies

Right now
with no preamble
Smack-dab in daytime's harsh light

I realize

With not a small amount of glee
your charms
my make-believe
hold me in no thrall
not anymore not ever again

So here you stand
once more
Mere mortal
not even that

Quite reduced is my regard for you

Now that I'm finally seeing clearly

You are
bite-sized
really

This is where I snatch you up
and chew
dwelling on the bitter
unsatisfying taste
of your truth
before I
spit you right back out.

Pleased as punch, to borrow an often-used phrase.

I don't really know what being pleased and the qualities of punch have to do with one another, no matter, I'm still excited and very pleased to finally have a blog to call my own. What would one hope to see here at EchoPsyche2 (EP2)? Hopefully, the same things that people had found (and enjoyed) at EP2's predecessor that bears the same name (hence the "2"). That would pretty much be previews of my highlighted poetry, some commentary, which I fondly called "Echo's Noteworthies" on the previous site, and updates on me-- what writing projects I've been working on recently, and what I've doing to keep myself occupied (OK, not so much on the latter). I intend this to fun, interactive, welcoming to anyone who finds themselves curious, so please be as intellectual, as straightforward, as silly as you please. Serious comments on my work, among other things, are welcome. So are comments simply posted for the purpose of saying "hello." I really hope so begin some stimulating back and forths that could potentially be beneficial to my writing.

Take good care.