A lady interrupted

Spotted emotions

Heart on the sleeves

Shoulder to cry on

Caring to much about putting on a jacket and getting those teeth brushed.

Boy Interupted

Emotions under the surface

a solid rock of ideas

Arms to wrap in

Working to hard to make sure the heat is on and the bills are paid.

Gender says walk on eggshells for hysterical lady; made furious left in the dark.

Gender says don’t push stubborn boy; made angry put on the spot.

Lady interrupted

Mistrust and dis-respect to be able to handle all the truth.

Boy Interupted

Mistrust and disrespect to be seen as innocent.

Different world sitting in the same conflict.

Lady interrupted must be hysterical while boy has to be stubborn until the field gets leveled

And the blooms come up

Welcoming again the innocence of nothing

Interrupted

I trust the weirdos

the ones not trying to look cool or suave or shaking their swagger at the club

The ones with the Tom Cruise looks and Mel Gibson stature

probably part of a cult or twisted frame of mind that had to buckle under the pressure.

I’m into the strange, awkward disheveled people who are brave enough to bare their souls and trip over every curb with just enough grace to laugh it off without anyone the wiser.

I used to think that the hard body and acoustic guitar would put me into the entourage that my brother made mandatory and my father would give a nod…

but as age settles in and witnessing the alcohol, coke and arrogance taking over a bitter soul,

I find my less than pristine attributes make for an easier life, and less to fear.

I trust the weirdos

the ones who stand alone and crack up at the sound of their own bad habits without the need to play it down.

the ones who don’t shave their legs or freak out at a new wrinkle after a night not slept.

In bed by 9 and tipsy after three, maybe four beers makes for an interesting life in my book.

I’ll pass over the shots of whatever new cosmic concoction invented and pop song on the radio.

I used to think that all would pass me by if I didn’t wear the right thing or have friday night plans made by tuesday, but that shit gets tired and so do I by 9:15.

As long as I have a good man by my side and a cocktail without a catchy name, I’m good, even if my young proteges think me boring.

Leave the trendy to the young and I can impress them better with my recollection of the new album that just dropped on Spotify or iTunes or whatever digital device these kids are into now a-days.

I honor the weirdo.

The ones my sister would never approve of and my mama rolls her eyes at, doing their work and paving their way.

I am that weirdo….

….. and finally time has let me admit it, honor it and embrace it so as to let go of trying to be less awkward in the face of those cool dudes, younger than I…

with so much left to learn..

the cool ones that roll their eyes at me.

I trust the weirdos.

The line of demarcation

separating the creative forces and all the things not supposed to be said

no filter or blurry edges searching for a place to belong

no belonging feels more comfortable to not brush up against spaces of misunderstanding

pushing down a rumbling that doesn’t want to comply at set against enmeshment and possession

this is how i lost you

at hello when all advice tried to keep us in line under the surface of spinning lobes

never thought I could anyway and be an upside down quark of independence

salty sweet

sexy shrew

shy confident

rigid in a flow pushing out one spot of spontaneous luster

deep yet shallow that insecurity will be satisfied by underground

no filter holding energy down with screens and screams to go beyond while staying contained

to meet you

acceptable

affible

peeking quietly at a sense of normalization which appeals to resistance that can be rebelled from

affected

inflicted

allowing

no filter to best its own creation pushing it farther away

setting confusion aside all lanes competing and compiling enough

exposed isolation

struggling to filter out the noise of judgement

at the end

did you get backstage

swim with the sharks

trek through the jungle

or meet your idle

at the end

have you shared all your love

hugged enough babies

or smell every rose

at the end

what city was your favorite

which food was the best

and how much fun did you have

at the end

did you work too much

have no time for your kids

or race through your life

at the end

who was by your side

what will you leave behind

and is there a smile on your face