Imogene Bitty

Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Thu, 23 Sep 2021 15:27:00 +0000

And I why he me all. He is hard one love. Does know him I do? I continue, my heart any more? heart has retreated . I this somehow. am back the safekeeping my true arms.

I got new content

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Mon, 02 Jun 2014 07:55:00 +0000

the light is on a dimming

down

and I almost made it, strong

three days is not four

but still more than two and one

safety in numbers,

he said

he always says, math

polymath!

amorous

is my love

there are things I never mentioned to you

maybe

I don't remember, if you were listening

oh it doesn't matter

I think I am beginning

to have an

understanding

it's

because

you see me as your mother ?

laughter

I am not!

But I could be

anyone's mother

because I am one

I'm so happy you love her

Sketches

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 16 Aug 2013 07:16:00 +0000

5. The night sleeps, pulled every living thing under its cover.

I am not dead. Unless you consider my devotion a tomb. Mind, once fluid, now a rock in preservation of your memory.

Imagination held down, nowhere to go, without you.

I realize you hate this sort of expression. I'm searching for more to say. The games prove too harsh an environment for my fragile ego.

Sketches

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 14 Jun 2013 15:02:00 +0000

4. The faraway noise of children's television, a sensibility hammering hammering hammering away, it's own private voice, not easily quieted, in the stereophonic mind, the mailman drives past in his old jeep, the sun softly teases at the blinds, pulsing again to the throb of a life, tired from mental labor and physical hours, a drift, an immense and dreamless sleep

Sketches

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 13:13:00 +0000

The world is still a beautiful place.

I see the trees softly blanketed in the morning fog.

His limbs warm around my womanly thighs.

The last minutes bundled in snuggle.

Soft breaths and cloudy sleep.

Sketches

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 24 May 2013 21:59:00 +0000

Vacant Mind
Dead Air Stare
Space So Spacious
Between Here And There
Not Too Much

I forget

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Wed, 08 May 2013 22:01:00 +0000

He is tired of the word games, he is tired of it all.
We can watch cartoons and laugh like carefree children.
Or get toasty and chain-smoke, discussing music and life. He might go away and become a monk. There's a monastery in southeast China that accepts white people.
I tell him that they better or I'll kick their asses.
He is pissed about being under appreciated or broke or sex-less.
And suddenly,
I forget how to open up.

Rememory of all

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sun, 05 May 2013 15:44:00 +0000

Rememory of all that he taught and now to obscure what long ago should have been spotlighted.
My heart weakens in memory and my breath deepens to prevent collapse.
Amazing how effective the breath.

Steady Waters

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 11:23:00 +0000

You have a new love, my love. You are smiling again. Nothing left to say. Our ship never sailed, it sits in the harbour.

Retreat

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sat, 09 Feb 2013 13:15:00 +0000

The endless commentary on the shortcomings of human nature.
The perpetual breathless desperation of the loveless.
The mad rants and excitatory ravings of common lunatics.
The pretty picture posts of the natural world. Pretty picture posts period.
An entire subversive culture of sexual addiction, pornography, domination, handing over of power...
Erotica.
Mundane writings. Odd writings. Interesting and curious perspectives.
The man I think I love.
And why I must retreat.

...

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 11:13:00 +0000

He is the image of the dark
A tall bare tree growing bark, hard for protection
Against all elements of nature that would rage to destroy him
She clings to his branches
She swings, a tight rope
Wishing on tender buds that flower
Listening to bird calls and seeing the owl's watching eye

..

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 11:12:00 +0000

The wind stirs around my head and his spirit whispers to me words in another language
But I think I recognize this haunting voice

Because you asked me

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 11:10:00 +0000

I'm gonna write you a love poem.
It's gonna trip you out of your mundane reality. There will be no flowers but .... Birds. If I had a singer's voice, a talent with melody, my poem for you would translate more easily. A love song. I can only hope that your ears, heart, and sensitive body tune in...to mine. I'm gonna write you a love poem. Maybe two, who knows-where this new adventure goes. You fill my spirit with excitement, with hope and for what? I don't exactly know. It's more than just your masculine form that puts me on edge. It goes beyond the seduction in your eyes, your voice. It's probably all that AND the words you would whisper, the love you speak, the probing personal concerns and the understanding you show. Can I hold your hand? Can I touch your heart? You're so very hard to read, a complex book, sometimes open, often hiding ... something ....
I'm already jealous of other women. You make me feel that special.
I'm gonna write you a love poem. Because its the One thing you asked of me. And you seemed so upset. And I shiver when you are close. Although you've made your motives for me pretty clear, I want you to know, I have my own. So...I'm gonna write you a love poem. The ideas are formulating right now. I'm gonna write you a love poem and this is not it.

Southern Nights

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 11:08:00 +0000

Balmy Southern nights. Walking around town in my prettiest dress. Smiling and laughing with the people we meet. Holding hands at the bar. Kissing in a booth and drinking margaritas off the topmost shelf. He tells me I'm the prettiest woman around. I smile and squeeze his thigh. Music live. I get up and dance. He can if he wants to.

Works in Exhibition

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 17:14:00 +0000

•spirit impersonators
•mythic images
•zoomorphic entities
•modern mythic figures
•theater of nature
•found form
•concealed powers
•invisible art
•transformation masks
•visual puns
•inherent contradictions
•coexistence of contraries
•identical opposites
•magical objects
•a world elsewhere
•miniature models
•visual dissection and reassembly
•theater of light
•drawings by psychotics
•souvenirs and fakes
•unworldly sounds
•print sources
•metamorphosis
•surrealist art
•sex
•chance encounters

Sarah not Terror

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 22:56:00 +0000

She is a neon blur moving over the concrete.
Her legs push on and on, while her face takes in the wind.
There is no measure of her speed nor distance, as there is no competition in everywhere.
She is all glitter and giggle.
Dimpled with smile.

Quiet

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 12:50:00 +0000

The mind chatters itself into a delerium
He loves chaos
Security blanket me with your love your arms your legs your passion and all that you do, my love
My balance my binding my soft touch my gentleman
He is the calm pocket in which I place my shaking hands
Love knows better
The One is Trust

Post Void

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Tue, 11 Sep 2012 04:12:00 +0000

They really dig the void, the abyss they call it, and lament its coldness with dark sarcasm.
They dig it, it seems all their mouths-shovels, to go on and on with their moving over dirt.
We have long left the ground breaking event.
But still... no bottom, no shattering surface below, no prime course except downward.
Some reach across, stretching an arm, a vocal chord to get to the farthest side of the open space.
Some just teeter at the edge, peering in, squinting eyes and biting a lip.
And then that brave one, that fearless and brazen beauty of a beast, the one who shakes it all off and takes a dive.

Light Afire

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Tue, 11 Sep 2012 03:36:00 +0000

To the sunnaway, run.
He breathes a vision into souls, he lights a long burning wood match and I suck the sulfuric odor into my tasting mouth.
Flaring nostrils for the faded pungeancy, widening eyes to the toss of flame into the beautiful chilly night campfire.
I gathered and placed the cracky sticks and dry leaves.
He nods a genteel smile and his eyes seem to wink.
We turn to face the warmth, listening to the after dark world of home crickets, restless dogs, sirens, and traffic.
Moments pass. A log crackles and dips its black-orange ember glow into the fire and ash.

Metal Lizard

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Tue, 11 Sep 2012 03:29:00 +0000

on the days of her unbecoming she snatches the metal lizard from the wall and sings to him an opera-esque ballad of woe and deflation.
her voice lands haunting melodious melancholia about the jagged edges of a brief and dissatisfied existence, to which a perpetually bent brass gecko should surely relate on the deepest most intimate surface level of a playing field.
his snaggy not suction claws being the most loud indicator of crafted futility, his dull ungleaming demeanor-a mirror opposite a soul of hammered and hammered and cut up cut up brass.

they fall silent.

they fall. silent.

they fall.

Coaching 101

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 24 Aug 2012 08:36:00 +0000

http://www.sportscoachingbrain.com/101-coaching-tips/
http://www.swish22.com/assets/coaching101.html
http://www.coachingsoccer101.com/

distaste and titles

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 22:38:00 +0000

Baby girl gone barefoot in the jungle
Big bugs land to suck blood
The strength of ancients crumbles with the dust
I laugh in consideration of modern
rituals
I shrink in a comfort zone
And knowing how he would shrug,
thinking it all a waste and a pushing of a stone wheel up a hill
The only funny thing I see is me here
And it makes me smile to know we create this life for little ones and I just filled my gas tank to the brim
And you might think it's all literal
And surely, it might be, but for the grace of a clod

Old Manuscripts trnsltd

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Sun, 13 May 2012 22:49:00 +0000

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nowell_Codex

http://www.gradesaver.com/beowulf/

http://www.eskimo.com/~lhowell/bcp1662/apocrypha/judith.html

Mama's Wheel

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 07:19:00 +0000

Mama's wheel exploring
White washed wagon
Beat down by the sun
Baby's standing at the counter
Wondering how to stir in mama's eyes
Mama has a mind on rocks and metals,
But the warm wind washes through
Her business casual and a passing cart
Pulls all attention

Hello Bridgette

noreply@blogger.com (Imogene Bitty) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 06:15:00 +0000

I'm here in Hollywood with your autographed throw pillow. Since I love to travel in my birth control boobs. Could be a real A cup, but now with Edgy meets Classy, my lovelies and my Chewbacca faux fur jacket. In Karmic Distraction, I will be your real estate goose, pouring out Victorian pink icing, if you will please lick my fingers while wearing 3D Xray Specs and see that I lie inside my solar pools.