Its Fall!

Its fall! I have been a busy bee enjoying the changing of the leaf colors (well, as much as one can in California, I suppose) as well as treats, not many tricks. Hanging around my 'hood & working, although not as much on my book as I would like, but some new thoughts came to me that are still brewng in my head & that need to become concrete on paper. When they do, I may share 'em with anyone who is interested....you, maybe? Hopefully?
The big news lately sems to be that McRib is back! I don't eat meat, so for me this time of year means.....Ghirardelli Pepperment Bark Chocolate is BACK! Woooot. Already got 2 bars for 2 bucks at Wal Greens. Sweet. Literally!;-)
Til next time....check out my new picture from halloween!!!! xo, Mary

But if its all just the same then will you say my name?

I have been lazy at posting any of my own work. I am too busy getting moved to tears while having my heart ripped out of me watching geniuses like this lassie. This song moves me as if my life is flashing before my eyes......



from the top of the flight
of the wide, white stairs
through the rest of my life
do you wait for me there?

there's a bell in my ears
there's a wide white roar
drop a bell down the stairs
hear it fall forevermore

drop a bell off of the dock
blot it out in the sea
drowning mute as a rock;
sounding mutiny

there's a light in the wings, hits this system of strings
from the side while they swing;
see the wires, the wires, the wires

and the articulation
in our elbows and knees
makes us buckle as we couple in endless increase
as the audience admires milkymoon

and the little white dove
made with love, made with love:
made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers

swings a low sickle arc
from its perch in the dark:
settle down
settle down my desire

and the moment I slept I was swept up in a terrible tremor
though no longer bereft, how I shook! and I couldn't remember

then the furthermost shake drove a murdering stake in
and cleft me right down through my center
and I shouldn't say so, but I know that it was then, or never

push me back into a tree
bind my buttons with salt
fill my long ears with bees
praying: please, please, please,
love, you ought not!
no you ought not!

then the system of strings tugs on the tip of my wings
(cut from cardboard and old magazines)
makes me warble and rise like a sparrow
and in the place where I stood, there is a circle of wood
a cord or two, which you chop and you stack in your barrow

it is terribly good to carry water and chop wood
streaked with soot, heavy booted and wild-eyed;
as I crash through the rafters
and the ropes and pulleys trail after
and the holiest belfry burns sky-high

then the slow lip of fire moves across the prairie with precision
while, somewhere, with your pliers and glue you make your first incision
and in a moment of almost-unbearable vision
doubled over with the hunger of lions
'hold me close', cooed the dove
who was stuffed, now, with sawdust and diamonds

I wanted to say: why the long face?
sparrow, perch and play songs of long face
burro, buck and bray songs of long face!
sing: I will swallow your sadness and eat your cold clay
just to lift your long face

and though it may be madness, I will take to the grave
your precious longface
and though our bones they may break, and our souls separate
- why the long face? milkymoon
and though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil
- why the long face?

in the trough of the waves
which are pawing like dogs
pitch we, pale-faced and grave,
as I write in my log

then I hear a noise from the hull
seven days out to sea
and it is the damnable bell!

and it tolls - well, I believe, that it tolls - for me!
it tolls for me!

though my wrists and my waist seemed so easy to break
still, my dear, I would have walked you to the very edge of the water
and they will recognise all the lines of your face
in the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter

darling, we will be fine, but what was yours and mine
appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes
but if it's all just the same, then will you say my name:
say my name in the morning, so I know when the wave breaks?

I wasn't born of a whistle or milked from a thistle at twilight
no, I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright
so: enough of this terror
we deserve to know light
and grow evermore lighter and lighter
you would have seen me through
but I could not undo that desire

oh-oh, oh-oh-oh desire
oh-oh, oh-oh-oh desire
oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh desire milkymoon

from the top of the flight
of the wide, white stairs
through the rest of my life
do you wait for me there?

I Guess on Days Like This You Know Who Your Friends Are...

I am seeing Taxi Ride in a new, personal light. Scarlet is in that taxi driving away from people who were never her friends to begin with. She has known all along they could give a fuck but by finally encountering true friends in her life that "are on her side" she is able to see "who her friends are". This is where I am at in my life and I have never felt better knowing who is on my side.

So, dear ones, my release date will not be the same as my favorite writer women as previously thought. I have priorities with my money this month (ahem--rent, gas, electric, the good stuff) but this dream will be my reality by end of September. No fucking excuses.
In the meantime, let me pay homage to Tori Amos, who is 47 today & Dorothy Parker, who would have been quite old (haha) today, also.

Release Date

I know I have been talking about publishing a book forever now, and I feel like when it finally is out there, anyone who comes across it may be like, "THIS little thing is what Mary has been so into?!" but, hey, at-least it will be MY little thing!!;-) So, it is coming along well. I am thinking about wheather or not to try for a little more material, or just keep it short and simple and get it DONE to just finally be able to say to myself, "I published some of my poems!" Afew of the ones I was going to include I have taken out; some are very personal to me and I am not ready to share them....ones that make me cry remembering why I wrote them, that is my clue I should not have them out there. Instead, even while the chosen are personal to me, they have a bit more of characters to them (Boy From The Darkside, Ode To A Witch, to name two) and are more like itty bitty stories to me.

Aaand, I have a release date idea in mind!!! I would like to have the book available beginning August 22nd. That is the birth date of two of my most favorite writers/poets....I have wanted to sort of keep my influences to myself as I hate labels put on artists and that seems to occur once they share who they admire....so, what am I doing? Announcing my release date be the same as birthdays of writers I love, LOL. I won't say who they are yet, but anyone who knows me may be able to take a guess, especially with one!

Later, Mary

Somewhere Faraway

I keep a song on my sleeve on my way

to somewhere faraway

a ticket to the moon I was given

so little was explained as I do not want to go

but must now that i've excepted this unwanted invite

to somewhere faraway.

Are those cathedral bells I can hear circling like mad,

were a couple wed or is someone dead against their will?

Shivers run through me as I pass by moments of tragedy

moments of love gone far away, a child's cry, tears and eyes red

where does all our hurt go?

I keep a song on my sleeve on my way faraway

a ticket to the moon I was handed but nothing was explained

as I did not intend to go but now must since I excepted the invite

to somewhere faraway.

Are those the laughs of children making me smile like mad?

"Anything happy is all inside, nothing is anymore"

the person in another seat says

I ask if theres a fortune teller in the house

but silence remains, I wish I could get answers

Am I living in an imaginary world? should I never smile

at an evil face again? should I not let my heart be used

like a marionette, toyed with ever so softly?

I keep a song on my sleeve on my way faraway

a ticket to the moon I was given but little was I told

I don't wish to go and now must as I excepted

this un-wanted invite.

Book Title???

I have had many moments in my life that have unknowingly been four shadowings. That is, something occured at 1 time, then later on in my life, it happened again or an object or something appeared to me again. I LOVE when that has gone on, so therefore I am thinking of naming my book either 'Four Shadowings' or 'Four Shadows'. Before this, I was leaning towards choosing the name from a poem title, like 'If The Moon Bled' or 'Drowning in Desire'.

Thoughts?

Beads of Color

I count the stars on this hot young night

To commemorate my country's birthday

Even though I don't know if I have met her

Doesn't matter anyway the day has been pimped down

And all that is left is how do you like your burger

Who is the most wasted and where is the best B-B-Q.


But I feel so enlightened and rejuvenated

As beads of color begin to light up a dark sky.


I count the stars on the flag

Five rows of ten make fifty

I watch conservative town folk become reckless

Before my eyes as the beer cooler becomes empty

New found desire makes the pre-teens find a spot

Behind the bushes.


But I continue to feel so enlightened and rejuvenated

As beads of color light up a dark sky.


I quit attempting to count the countless stars above me

There are enough here on earth to fill the streets

People are going down to never get up again

"In our name"

(Would you repeat that please?)

In the name of oil deals and checks being written.


But the beads of color will still go on

Lighting up a dark sky.

Untitled

He moves on and gravitates to all in the other world

Leaving behind someone who could be the only loner

Who ever gave a damn

But he is just too blind to see truth behind pure eyes

And rather would go to the safe clingers

In his cold circle all while deciding on the cruel path

For those who don't apologize for the true heart

Within their bleeding souls.

Playbill

My life is a masquerade ball before the guests arrive

I sit alone in my room planning for things that may never be

With my mask over who I really am or could become.

I cannot take the risk of what others might see in the mirror

If I pulled the armor down.

So up and on the coverage remains

Then an hour turns into two with no guests ringing in.

More time turning into history with nothing explored.


My life is a play with no intermission.

I portray a studied version of myself that better fits the playbill

I smile when I am sad

I shed a tear if somebody tells me something tragic

My life always must go on so I hide who I really am

Or could become.

Yet I still always get bad reviews.


My life could be my auto-biography

Nobody lies if you want to be under the "Non-Fiction" shelf

So maybe my next mask should be none and my next role

I'll audition to be me.

But just who is that?

I guess I am way beyond the pale.....

DOUGHNUT SONG by TORI AMOS

had me a trick and a kick and your message
well you'll never gain weight from a doughnut hole
then thought that i could decipher your message
there's no one here dear
no one at all

and if i'm wasting all your time
this time
maybe you never learned to take
and if i'm hanging on to your shade
i guess i'm way beyond the pale

and southern men can grow gold
can grow pertty
blood can be pertty
like a delicate man
copper to steel to a hinge that is faltered
that let's you in let's you in let's you in
something's just keeping you numb

you told me last night
you were a sun now with your very own

devoted satellite
happy for you
and i am sure that i hate you
too sons too many too many able fires

and if i'm wasting all your time
this time
i think you never learned to take
and if i'm hanging on to your shade
i guess i'm way beyond the pale

No Title....Just came across this.....

For years I have waited

For someone to find and rescue me

But then just when I think

Maybe I have been found

I sadly discover

Someone else has received that good fortune

Before me

And three is always a crowd

Leaving me to continue wandering

Lost and never found

In the underground

Lost and always alone

Won't someone please claim me?

Ode To A Witch

My itch its getting out of hand again

Must be a nervous habit

The burning of the witch is inching closer

But what if the good bitch is the one to melt away

Shes done Shes done trying Shes giving a fuck

Shes done no harm

You mortals fail to see shes done nothing wrong

Only tried to give a voice to the voiceless

Oh so shes not hanging with the 'it' crowd

Boil enough to sink her as you invite her for tea

Then off with her head but you fools have yet to see

Shes dead anyway

Since her first horror

You cracked his shell you tick-tocked away the clock

She came in handy when you want a date with the roommate in pink

Then no more

Go away pea soup No luck of the irish today

If The Moon Bled

Another day has turned to dust

No more sparkles only rust

Another night alone in bed

Oh christ what a bore

I wish I were dead.


How drab life can be

Hailing a cab that only stops

For he and she

All the strife an hour can bring

Oh God isn't spring over rated.


With its posies and tulips

Bright red fields for the privileged

To mosey on through

With gold payments due

Paid in full.


Another night with a moon so bright

I would like to stab

Have you ever seen the moon bleed?

You might just tonight.


The world would mourn

The sun would burn

Red the oceans would turn

I wouldn't give a damn

But my heart would continue to yearn.