Monday, September 07, 2009

Visitor - Necromancy

Wrap around me
like silk
passing lightly
sliding soft
over my skin
gone in death
these months
you still distract me
seeking refuge
in the darkness
where only you were allowed
to wander
slamming me to the wall
pinning me
against the bed
in August heat
sweat rolling down
the curve of my back
to the rumpled sheets below
where I lay with you
to all but the gifted
(or cursed)
riding this pain
straddling the pleasure
of certain knowledge
that death
is not the end

Copyright 2009 - Louise ann Godfrey - the Ravenrose

Karl Marx Got It Wrong...the Opium is TV and Radio!

Karl Marx was wrong....religion is not the opium of the's television and radio...get back to the truth of the stories, words and the truth of the music!

Stop thinking in the can...that's that the government's easier to control us that way.

Jim Morrison was right...."break on through to the other side."

You can think universally, but for Christ it on your own terms and no one else's! Question...please can;t learn unless you do and stop relying on someone else to make up your mind for you...take care of have to take care of with whatever God(s) you beleve in. Let nothing or no one come between you and that higher power...that is the truth. Find it!

Friday, September 04, 2009

Still Life

July 2009

Your Scent

You wore the scent of maple leaves crushed under foot in the warm, dusty autumn afternoons. It wasn't a cologne or aftershave, it was your scent...who you were. I smelled it the first time I met you and it clung to me, haunting me as much as your eyes looked into my dreams....told me you were the one. I knew you instinctively through a scent I knew would identify you. I had known it for decades, searched and almost gave up and then suddenly found it in you.

It was the smell of pleasure and something deep, smoldering slowly and spirling up and around me. It calmed me and at the same time made me hunger for that undercurrent that swam below the surface of your voice. I breathed it in as if I were drinking life itself...I could never get enough of you!

Tearing through our closet, I screamed....howled through tears and terror at the scent of you gone. Clothes still hanging, dresser drawer full...I cursed myself for washing the clothes the day before you...oh , OH CHRIST!

My daughter-in-law came in. I whimpered..."I can't smell him!" panic moved on to devastation and I sat down in a messy heap, sobbing hysterically. I found one worn tee shirt, folded it and put it in a zip lock bag to make sure I had the scent somewhere safe for later. Virginia moved me out of the closet and quietly shut the door.

It comes to me at times in odd places...suddenly wafting around me in the open breeze of the rental car last weekend as we crossed the desert going home. No earthly explaination...just suddenly there and gone...caressing me lightly in the afternoon heat. Faint traces at the table last night as you were standing there..unseen...watching me...waiting for an invitation...unnecessary as you unlocked my heart years ago, moved in and never left.

Candles burn for your way home and to my heart. I know you are always there by your scent...the scent of maple leaves in autumn...mingled slightly with the smell of a cigerette freshly smoked when no one else is there.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Entering Dreamtime

To say that I have been a little lazy the last 17 years is to be truthful. You become a bit complacent when you realize that there are two of you to make ends meet instead of just yourself. It had been hard back then before Tony. It will be hard now, although now, unlike then, I do not have a 12 year old to raise. Jon is now 25.

There were important things that I came away with both of the hard times…..when I was younger living vicariously with my grandmother in Daly City, and then again in Fresno after my divorce. I found that I could be both resilient and resourceful. I found that in extreme adversity, I could survive. You get creative living on a shoestring. Extras become special treats instead of everyday commodities. Bisquick, once again, saves the day at suppertime, or lunch or breakfast. The library becomes a free vacation to anywhere in the world whether it is past, present future or fantasy.

There was a simple grace in those days. You relied on what you knew you had. You would use it more judiciously. What you didn’t have, you didn’t want…period. When you could afford it, its appeal had tarnished. You could get other necessities you could really use in the future and put away now. Therefore, you didn’t really want or need it in the first place.

There were mistakes made; many foolish ones. Those same mistakes will not be duplicated due to the lessons learned the first time through. There were certain things I just couldn’t have known as a kid. I had to learn adult mistakes by myself.

Making enough to pay the bills, put food on the table and clothes on are back is more than enough at this point. Some might say it is merely being able to get by. No, it’s more than that. It’s the comfort in knowing that everything else is just icing and glitter. Simple living has so much more substance to it. Amazing how much we, as a society, have forgotten that!

Knowing now that I will not be going to the parties, or dancing, or looking for Mr. Right (due to having found him, married him, and now am his widow) takes the emphasis off what had been supposedly important the first and second times. The fancy clothes, make-up, hair and shoes have been replaced by sensible, necessary and wrinkles. There is a comfort in not being in the “meat market” frenzy. I hadn’t enjoyed it the first time.

The big date has taken on another meaning…a final one. I am rather looking forward to that knock on the door by a healthy, boyish-looking husband to come and take me home to his place once again. I know that once I step through that door, I will be transformed not unlike Cinderella and her pumpkin into the girl I once was. (Boy that will be some hot reunion! Yes, I did go there.)

I don’t want to imply that I intend to let myself go. On the contrary, my interests are being focused in different directions. Classic books that have waited to be read for years are calling to me. Teaching myself and relearning skills I had once had or wanted to attain is now mine to achieve, such as writing, painting and drawing. Solitude is not an enemy.

Since I was the kid that didn’t quite fit in, I learned that being alone and my own best friend wasn’t to be feared. Some of my favorite evenings as a teenager were spent sitting and talking with my grandmother in the cottage in Daly City. We would turn off the radio or t.v., not turning on the lights when it began to become twilight. There we would sit with coffee and maybe cookies she had made that day and she would tell me stories about the family. I remember seeing her turn gradually into a silhouette against the curtain backdrop, slowly fading into the evening. Her voice was soothing and soft. Birds would twitter in the background as they settled down for the night. Gradually, even the noise of the traffic moving down the hill and on Juniper Serra would fade ever so slowly until you could almost hear the ocean 4 miles away.

There was a magic to those evenings. I was aware that the magic was still there over the years, waiting for me to recapture it, and I have. The summer evenings are spent sitting outside on a chair or the front bench, perhaps before the open window of our bedroom.

Wrinkles, middle age spread and strands of grey in my hair are no longer dreaded. They are a testament to the fair share of hell that I have raised in my time. I am thankful to have made it this far alive and in one piece. I’m not telling the stories to an attentive audience, but I am writing them down. It’s my turn now to sit in the soft glow of sunset and recall memories or make new ones.
I have entered dreamtime now....passing into the shadows...