Candy Coated

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Revisiting this blog’s first post, September 2011.

Samantha Moore's avatarGratitude and Curses

A Damned-Girl can't catch a break
          Sugar oozes from her pores
upsetting the delicate balance
             of good versus evil
   Confused onlookers cry in fear or awe
No one is certain ..........
                 what it is they behold
           or why they feel so ........
                            Angry ..
                    and ..
           In Love ..
The arrival of clergy and paramedics
                  seals the deal
This is a demise
A Damned-Girl ambles the course alone
         Assaulted by eyes
Bequeathing chocolate roses and dimples
muttering under her breath
Gratitude and Curses

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Twisted

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clean.

My mind is clean but twisted

Like my face

after a swim, recalling the long-ago taste of urgent forgetfulness

 

Lean days are not short on Love

— if you listen

and

“Blind” is no longer an excuse, but a challenge

ever since we made a start at Remembering

.

.

Believe It

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photo by S.M.

photo by S.M.

 

It is my time,
they keep telling me.
For too long, have I kept myself small,
asked for too little,
expected no greatness.

I need only grasp it,
they say.
I am primed and prepped,
washed clean by tears of suffering and joy,
ready to receive.

What hesitation is this,
what fear that holds me back —
one foot mired in muck,
the other swimming freely in the clean, clear,
flowing river?

Feet be where they may,
The Wind, she whispers to me always,
if I listen,
that I am the goddess, the temple priestess, the healer, the sage,
daughter/mother/crone.

Receive to give, they say
(I thought it went the other way!).
I am the earth beneath me, the sky above.
All Love and healing flows through me
and this is my divine right

So I am told.

Embodiment

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(A SEASONAL LAMENT)

justlikethat

.

Lambs and lions frolic on my crown

teasing, taunting

promising, punishing

.

Even so, it is time to Remember

Fickle or not, she will be loved

rooting down

sprouting out

blushing Spring

.

Alive

.

Seer

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photo bu S.M.

photo by S.M.

.

I am too high and far to rest now

though

I’ll take plenty of Space

and kiss every inch of it with red-stained lips

or die trying

.

If this is some test

I’m just Love

though

needy and lacking plausible deniability or social graces

.

The plain truth sometimes is greener through rose glass

or none at all —

I can’t say

I can’t say I look with my eyes

.

Heartbreaker

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heartbreaker
.
I am not presenting myself for debate
I am but fact,
in fact
Greedy and selfish
tending my own affairs
Deconstructing the repository of admiration
and breaking your heart
My Siren’s Song mingled in the exultation
of so many Lost-In-Time voices on the wind
dealt one final blow in the name of Love
And risen in Joy

.

Untitled

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IMG_20130911_192954

.

With sandy feet

From desert to sea

We trudge, gallop, dance, meander

To the un-rhythmic melody

Of broken hearts and hands

Seeking and crafting too much Nothing

.

Rippling bodies

Of water

Overrun one another and each of us in a desperate desire

To cleanse our sin

And quench us with the simplest Fact

.

What hardship is this, now imagined

Which curving hip set a-swaying

To Love’s rightful song cannot banish?

None, should we rise

And set

In cobalt Truth

.

.

Last Hoorah

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by S.M.

by S.M.

This house in the trees is constructed of aching wood and
the woodpeckers are foraging for brunch
With a subconscious tap, tap, tap
On the right hemisphere of my brain and in the upper left chamber of my heart

I’ve been desiring Light
But refusing to open my eyes for so long
That I taught myself to re-imagine Vision
Not knowing the Light poured from me all the while

I will surrender to Hope and Salvation, of course
Once I’ve ridden-out the Dread
and my Dream has dragged me most of the way toward fruition
Kicking and screaming and singing and feeling Everything

.

.