My Inner Woman has PMS, My Inner Child is Teething, and My Inner Voice Has Laryngitis

plus a million other things that give me a headache.

The Waist Land October 28, 2009

A Shout out to my friend T.S. – Fellow Cat Lover!

I have seen with my own eyes the Sibyl hanging in a jar, and when the boys asked her “What do you want?” She answered, “I want to die.”

April was the cruelest month for breeding

And May left me in dismay, desire a memory stirring

No more.

Winter fat left on the bone,

Bloated without

Purpose, forgotten snow, no feeding

Little life, dried tubes.

Summer rained its showers and I could

Not wear bikini in the sunlight,

Bloated indoors

And drank coffee and talked for hours to

Kein Lieblings, kein mere.

Where were children on sled?

I was frightened.

He said fight.

In the mountains there you are free.

I looked to breasts and said, How-

Out of this stony rubbish?

The roots that clutched,

The branches that grew

Were snatched and torn

And I could feel nothing but the sun beats,

No cricket, no relief, no waters left to

Pour out of the red rock.

Not even the shadow of the red rock.

And just the shadow rising to meet me,

Fear in a handful of lust.

You gave me daisies a year ago,

When I was known to be the unwisest woman in Europe,

Living with a wicked bunch of cards.

I see crowds of people, walking round a ring.

Thank you.

One must be more careful these days.

London Bridge fell down, fell down, fell down

And Bethlehem and Elysium went down with it,

And I was left a crowded flower

Spent.

I had not thought death could undo so many,

With my nails I would have

Dug out his hollow eyes!

And still I cried, and still the world pursued,

The words pursued, jug jug, to experienced ears and

I was found wanting when I was tried.

You said remember those were pearls.

Their eyes.

Nothing.

Their lips.

Nothing.

No rose, only thorns.

Good night, angels, good night, sweet angels, good night, good night.

By the waters of Silver I sat down and wept,

By the waters of Seinne I sat down and wept,

By the waters of Duero I sat down and wept,

By the waters of Elbe I sat down and wept,

By the waters of Liffey I sat down and wept,

Dragging my slimy belly on the bank.

Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Unreal World

Under the red fog of a winter’s moon.

Hardly aware of my departure,

My brain allowing half-formed thoughts to pass:

‘Well now that’s that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.’

Smoothing hair with automatic hand,

Music playing on my iPhone,

‘This music crept by me upon the waters’

And the waters spilled upon the banks,

Out out damn spot.

He promised “a new start.”

What should I resent?

Who can connect nothing with nothing.

Left only with broken fingernails on manicured hands,

My people haughty people who express

Nothing.

To Copenhagen I came

Burning burning burning burning

as the final judgement was passed

Burning

O Lord Thou pluckest them out

O Lord Thou pluckest

Water

A deep sewn well is the very

Profit and Loss

As I rose and Fell

Passing the stages of age and youth

Lost in the whirlpool

Turning the wheel that looks inward

You picked my bones

As I rose and fell

Then there was red on frosty gardens

Agony in flowery places

Shouting and Crying

Palaces a prision

And reverberation of thunder

In my Spring over distant mountains

She who was dead is living

With a little patience and a little

Water

Spring

Pool

Summer

Drip drop drip

Water

Who is the third that walks beside us

When I look there are only you and I together

But there are footsteps beside ours

Ah the Murmur of maternal lamentation

Over endless pains, and stumbling on cracked earth.

Da

Dada

Dada Dayadhvam

Each in our prison

We have lost the keys

Each in our prison

At nightfall

Revived for a moment broken Aerolas

The hand expert

You see calm

Your heart responded Gaily,

When invited by controlling hands.

I sat upon the shore.

Shall I at least set my lands in order?

falling down falling down falling down

My fair lady

Don’t rain on my parade and

Leave me singing in the rain

Of men

Hallelujah

Hello Dolly

These fragments I have shored against my ruins.

Why then I’ll fill you,

Erogenous mad again.

Datta. Dayadhvam.  Damyata.

Shantih shantih, Chianti

 

Are you there God? It’s me, Penny. October 18, 2009

In honor of the woman my mother wouldn’t let me read for fear I might figure out periods and commas! No flower can bloom without a dose of Blume. (You can bet this rebel with a cause was reading it in secret anyway so there mom :-p)


My body is changing and I don’t know how to manage it.  I’m not thin like I was before.  Weight just seems to show up each morning from nowhere, no matter what I eat. OK, you see all, you see me nibble on chocolate.  But c’mon!  It’s not any more than I usually ate?  OK, it’s more, but c’mon!  I just lost my job..I..just lost my business for heaven’s sake, and now you want me to start over without a chocolate high to keep me sane!?  You’d better send me a sign.  You did it for Moses.  You did it for Sarah.  Why not for Penny?  It wouldn’t have to be a big sign either.  No parting of seas or great bolts of lightning.  Nothing scary.  I am freaked out enough as it is.

Tell me what to do with my hair.  That would work.  For a start.  Is long hair really not the thing to do at 40?  Hubby likes it.  Or so he says, but you know him.  He’s so sweet.  He says everything is perfect, even when we both know it’s not.  Should I get a perm?  Will that cheer me up?  Highlights?  My hair has gone dull dishwater blond again.  What a horrible name for a hair color.  Who the heck came up with that?  Hairstylists wanting to push Highlights, that’s who.  “Ooooooh, you have such an interesting shade of blond.” they coo, “It’s pretty.  Dishwater Blond, but very rich.  It could be nicer with some highlights, of  course…”  Boom! Sold.  You know me.  I’m very open to suggestions.

I don’t know why I get up in the morning.  I used to get up at the crack of dawn, knowing I was Queen of the World, Empress of my Domain, you remember?  Yes, with the Power Suits and the PowerBook, armed and ready to Divide and Conquer my Territory.  If I wasn’t supposed to have gone into the sales thing, why didn’t you tell me sooner?  If I was supposed to be a homemaker like mom, why didn’t you just shoot me down when I first started.  I would have taken the hint?  You let me rise to the top, and then be thrown off a cliff.  That was just plain mean.

OK.  Sorry.  Not really your fault.  Free-Will and all that.  Fine.  My fault.  But what now?  What comes next?  You have got to send me a sign. How about using Twitter? I’m on Twitter…are you?  Yep.  I have become a Twit.  Or is it Twitterer..I don’t know yet.  Just getting to know this stuff.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to start again?  I guess you do, with the Great Flood and all that.

So, I’ve been loyal and faithful and good and kind, and done what I was supposed to do, so could you possibly find a minute to let me know what comes next?  I realize it’s a big universe, and I am only a tiny spec, but could you please, pleeeeeeaaaaassse, take a second for little ol’ Penny, and tell me for starters, do I get the perm and the highlights or just cut the whole thing off?