The Contents of My Heart

Vacant...Timewasters, Lurkers and Malingerers need not apply

How can I describe the contents of my heart……

There used to be a ghost of a chance in there for a while but he seems to have wandered off.

There were some romantic notions.. when they stop bleeding from the stab wounds I’ll bury them out back in the wasted ground.

The splinter of ice that Graham Greene gave me is still there fortunately, I’m rather fond of that[1].

There are some rose tinted glasses and some scales that fell from my eyes last night, might have to sweep those under the carpet. That’s Embarrassment you can hear in the kitchen; she’s hoping I don’t know she’s there.
As you can see the place is littered with metaphors and those are the sticky fingerprints of desire and longing, it’s amazing how difficult they are to get rid of.
That’s a painting I did not too long ago called “Past Experience” I’d forgotten about that.

Upstairs, that’s someone else’s apartment; works a lot of overtime; paints pretty pictures, half blind and half drunk on their own opinion most of the time but ok if you take everything they say with a dose of reality…. . they are very plausible but I won’t be getting any more recommendations for tenants from up there.

There’s a lot of baggage in the corner that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of. And of course there is the ubiquitous STD; not what you think; Sexually Transmitted Distrust but nearly everyone’s got that these days

The Bastard Detector is always here, but she’s too sensitive at present; wants to torture anything in trousers, her twin The Minx is in the spare bedroom at present. Awesome duo to watch, one lures the poor sods and the other one despatches them in ways that make me think I should introduce them to Stephen King…. personality disorder…..no, no I just think they are passionate about what they do.. and they nearly always clean up after themselves. Who, Guilt…… no Guilt doesn’t live here anymore the twins threw rocks at her till she moved out.

That, over there in the shrine surrounded by candles and incense is the Song of Truth it’s a sort of signpost or map….its how I’ll know that I’ve found the perfect tenant; it’s a lighthouse in the sea of loneliness…which song is it? …This Kiss from the soundtrack of Practical Magic. When a tenant makes me feel the way that song does I’ll put the twins in therapy, unless he’s a psychologist and he’ll know what to do with them himself.

[1] Graham Greene said that novelists have a splinter of ice in their hearts that allows them to look at their own and other people’s pain and write about it.

I should be so lucky...

Every Day You Play

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
Ath go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Pablo Neruda

Tis Me

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Summer Dancing

Sunlight through branches,
Pooling light of dappled shade,
Summer's dancing here.

Iambic Conceit

Squirming measured words

Caught upon the weighted line

Iambic fish.

Random Haiku

Jasmine haunts the air,
Gentle rain, sandpiper calls,
Perfect day off.

Lush Therapy, Treasure Trove and Finding Freya

Training at work was scary, surprising but rewarding. Roisin demonstrated massage on me using a Therapy bar. Her technique was firm and I was amazed how much I enjoyed it. My skin is still wonderfully soft.
I had the opportunity to demonstrate on a couple of customers later in the afternoon. Their responses were positive, which was magic for me as I’ve been struggling at work since I returned. I think I expected to been on the same form I had at the end of the Christmas season. Being out of work (amongst other things) had obviously stompled on my self confidence. The experience today is a foundation I can build on. It’s funny but not so surprising that the thought of physical contact with the customers was giving me concern...my British reserve.
Found a wonderful site today by accident, Plurk threw up someone from Cumbria - my old stomping ground – and she has this awesome jewellery for sale. I knew the site was special when I saw the name of one of the rings – Freya. It’s a wrapped wire ring with a central clear stone, I’m in love. I know what I’m saving up for now... I’m postponing saving for my Lakes holiday just a little while so I can have that ring. Freya has always been special to me....
I miss my amber necklace – I had to leave it back in England – it was 3 fishing lines of small polished amber stones. The fishing line was almost invisible so the stones seemed to float round my neck; this was my Freya necklace – As the tale goes – Freya was free with her affections with four dwarves to get the necklace....jewellery can do that to a girl. The site for the jewellery is provided:- http://www.wirewrappedjewellery.co.uk/