Pandora's Silver Box

North Carolina's Generations

2013-04-23T00:23:00.002-04:00

2-22-2002

9:40 AM

What does this say about our nation, our state?

North Carolina …

When I was a little girl

- I remember the smell of a spring morning – rich with the scent of freshly turned earth.

- I remember walking barefoot through dew-covered moss & feeling the warm sun on my cheek (even as a brisk wind tried to chill my soft skin).

So maybe, in 5 years or so, another generation is so visibly altered from my own & created too quickly.

Shouldn’t there be 10-15 years between generations (didn’t it used to be 20)?

Shouldn’t there be some sort of collective consciousness that we can all claim a piece of?

... my grammatical sense fades as I become more enraged …

How is it that a person 3-4 years my junior has never picked an apple from an apple tree?

- Are they not from my state, the figment of an old man’s presumption?

- Or – do things really change that rapidly?

God help us / Goddess save us from this constant state of flux & departure from beauty & innocence.

Give us strength to remember …

Girl Products

2013-04-22T00:29:00.001-04:00

I can't tell all about it

Just yet I've discovered my place

Far behind in the woods

An echo restless calls

I can't stand when

I'm weary

Can't hunger when

I don't care about substance

Lingering visions of more important tears

Not for me but her

The one that can't speak

She's locked in a little place

Never been given water

can't grow

Mindless AND conniving

But really just a child

Interior blues don't fade

like my eyes with my moods

The stones aren't set

The time passes

BUT SLOWLY

daughter of misery

Do you want to play?

GO AWAY

come back

I can't help but misunderstand

When that's all that anyone's ever done.

don't know how to be "just right"

Just my mama's excuse

everyone else's "not quite good enough."

Mdawn (01/27/1995)

Diary of My Days

2013-04-22T00:26:00.001-04:00

Little blue book

Opening to my touch

need you so much

Shh ... it's a secret

but my head must crack

for a minute or two

I turn to you

You understand

don't say a word

Writing with a fever

and I don't know

WHY? You won't tell

I understand myself

My private little hell inside

a book

it dwells day by day

my thoughts collapse on a pen

Jumbled and careless

THEY FALL

But then my book sweeps them up with her worn fingers

And reminds me of

A Grandparent I never knew

A father I never had

A mother that left

A brother's death

A sister - CAME CLOSE

A love - will it last?

My DIARY knows.

Mdawn (circa 1996)

Give Me Your Sleeve

2013-04-22T00:24:00.002-04:00

You think I'm too dreary

Wanting things to be just right?

Trees sigh as I walk by

The leaves waving in reply

My eyes are full of insight

The starlight shines so very bright

Moonrise over poppy fields

The sun flowers in the dawn - flowers in her hair

Get so high on ideas and emotions

I think I can fly off your roof

Will you catch me if I fall and love me when I cry?

I need you join my soul

Teardrops in the rain

in a purple sky

And grey enfolds me Then I wonder why

Rainy days intrigue me

Maybe the tears burn my eyes

Mingle with the night

Blue-black river of hope

Indecisive at the turns

and then

rushing up the bank

Wanders aimlessly

ANSWER ME

Need an answer

for forever

Occurrences of the past

startle my creativity

Blanket of Fear

Please go away

But I got to wipe my eyes

ON WHAT?

give me your sleeve.

Mdawn (circa 1995)

Beyond Limits

2013-01-27T22:43:00.000-05:00

As for me, I cannot do much …

I used to feel like No One, then I realized that

I am not just Some One …

I am Every One.

I am the Consciousness that will not consolidate on its own;

I am the sea that cannot be formed because all the rivers

Persist,

And Resist,

And Meander …

I am the Voice of the Abused Child,

The Cry of Women who endure;

The Mother who Plays Father, and

The One Who Envisions how much better it could be.

And all I can do is write:

It is the least expensive,

Most passionate thing of

Which I am capable.

And, through all our recent hardships, I have realized

That I am more than capable of this,

So, all I ask is that YOU LISTEN.

Listen, and then see what you can do, what WE can do, as a People, to fix our World.

Please.

The Phoenix (Still a work in progress ...)

2013-01-01T19:19:00.000-05:00

The damaged still arises from the ash

as a Phoenix, invincible and fiery

To reap vengeance upon those who caused her most recent demise?

Surely, not – the Phoenix needs renewal, not revenge!

When she rises, chameleon shimmering wings outstretched,

High above the trampled ground,

Blinding those – who would dare to stare –

at her presence, now reborn of method profound.

When they whispered behind her back as she was burning,

She felt, for a moment the searing of her flesh, and

Harmony with the clamor of voices and thoughts, even Earth’s turning.

Could these people ever really see or understand?

As she pondered the prior death knells,

She soared high into the upper atmosphere –

and she saw much more than the celestial sphere.

She encountered the vastness of the mind

Which, never shaken, was inclined

To search and find

Her own kind …

Then, she continued to follow the breeze and rise above

The stifling din of the noisy, motley crowd

On the ground

Messy and loud

Far too round

To ignorance, avowed

By frailty, bound

Fortunate, yet not proud

Saved, but not found

Would they ever see their potential allowed?

How many more times must this cycle go ‘round?

As these questions plagued her mind,

The Phoenix remembered another time,

a time before this one, or even the last

a period unwritten, unlike the last dozen or so pasts,

when humanity did not separate from nature so fast,

Before the invention of computers, cars, or masts,

At the time when the environment was different and human species, vast.

What of these prehistoric people and their time?

Was there a missing link that would clarify the rhyme?

As she probed deeper into that collective mind,

To discover the secrets so long enshrined

In the pit of men’s souls, she thought she sensed an answer.

The Phoenix considered the plight

Of man, so trapped in his little flight

Journeying through in human form

On impressive though caging sphere

Soul fumbling to make sense of mortal fear

With mistakes & regrets always bringing up the rear

Never quite sure of the similarity between far and near

And confused as to the difference between foreign and “dear”

Man must have care in this journey, should his aims be sublime.

The Finale

2012-10-09T18:48:00.003-04:00

You played me

Like a fiddle.

Like a spider plays a drum … or its last meal.

You took an optimism as yet unmatched

And gave it cause to doubt.

The remnants of happiness,

No longer found in the scrap bin,

Have been thrown out with the trash.

You’ve placed me, far from the smilies of my past,

Into a daily desire to simply post, “FML.”

Normalcy has left the building,

Triggers past elicit no outbreak of expression on this face.

Smiles are fleeting, and infrequent.

Mainly due to the absence of trust or hope,

But, also because of the slipping familiarity.

You’ve taken the assurances of my past and laid them bare;

My days are empty.

My nights feel numbered,

And dreams elude my memory when I wake.

And what to do now that all hope is lost?

Feel nothing. Be no one. Reside nowhere.

Your platitudes belie themselves, your attempts fail, and you stagger.

What would you have me do for you?

Are you now on the same path you created for me?

But, TRUTH …

My future was always so marred

You are not the first,

Though I sincerely hope, the last …

To torture my existence, yet again, with your games.

Games that are selfish, and hurtful,

Contests already cheated and corruptly won …

Games have no place in the atmosphere of ONE.

The One of Salvation, Christians may call Him thus,

One God to save all of us.

The One of Nature, when male And female meet;

She is much more harsh and Her challenges not so sweet.

The One of Love – if such exists …

The one duality we all pretend at, but miss …

If all the world is a stage,

And we merely play in the acts

At what point do the backdrops matter,

Or the painstakingly designed costumes and set?

I cannot live in a world so colored

That people are merely 2D characters with scripts prewritten.

The Death of Perpetual Optimism

2012-07-10T11:54:00.000-04:00

You realize that you are at your lowest point

When there is no need to consult anyone for advice or comfort

Because either no one can or will help you.

You figure out that empathy does you no good,

If people allow you to fall flat on your face

AND

Expressed regret is useless as well,

If people will continue to make the same mistakes.

Truth belies Platitudes.

Nine Dark Stanzas

2012-06-14T16:56:00.002-04:00

I am that dark, slowly moving mass that follows you in the sky,
     Guaranteed to cover your celebrations as I pass by ...

With me, I carry bucketfuls of pain and tears,
     Sure to douse your hopes and flood your mind with fears.

As I pass, the lightning crashes into your happiest of places;
     It falls primarily on the unTrue, but illuminates all dark spaces.

This dark cloud, does it have purpose beyond devastation?
     Are there really aspects wherein so many place admiration?

Who wants the ominous intruder that makes most shudder?
     What friends or lovers find any solace under its cover?

And then, a realization creeps along, just as the dark cloud wanders in ...
     The shadows offer comfort on hot days - when the bright Sun is mercilessly shining.

For as wet with sorrow as those tears may be,
     They are necessary for all the life that we are privileged to see.

And as scary as the lightning that illuminates our devious deeds,
     Without it, we would never know of the greatness that could be.

So, dark clouds, even as the Sun, have their place:
     In Truth, rather than Wonder ... that is the mark of their eternal grace.

S L E E P

2011-09-04T09:56:00.000-04:00

Sleeping ...

Awake ...

In opposing states.

... sleeping ... Sleeping ... SLEEPING ...

Day begins ...

But sleeping, yet to end,

Makes mice of mighty men.

STILL sleeping ... slEEPing, SLeeping, SLEEPING!

My fickle friends - night and day ...

Keeping company where the Sun holds no sway,

Dreaming the day completely away,

The goals we had for the day, betrayed ...

FOR SLEEP. Sleep deeply, sleep quietly, yet sleep quickly, for sleep is tricky.

It enraptures and keeps you still sleeping,

even when Dawn is breaking and picky

about which souls she makes delighted or weeping ...

The dreams racing in night made too quickly

to be sustained after waking, so sleeping ...

Sleeping you will remain.

Sleeping exposes my pain.

Sleep, causing fantasies yet unmet,

Sleep - producing nightmares and regret,

As sleeping babes, each man

sleeps his life into oblivion.

Awake witches sleep little still,

As their sleeping yields little that is real.

So of SLEEPING, as I have ALWAYS said ...

I will SLEEP when I'm DEAD.

MdC

One Feeling

2011-07-14T12:16:00.000-04:00

I don't make sense.

I'm simple and complex

all at

the same

Time.

I love with a Fire that Consumes

but can retreat

into Coldness

more biting than

Frosty Steel Rails.

I am independent and ambitious,

but terribly naive

and Timid

especially beyond

Brick Walls.

I want to know your story and share mine,

but the Truth haunts me and bends me

to Misery.

And I say that I'd rather be

Miserably Aware

than Blissfully Ignorant,

But following my Passions often leads to

Less Awareness,

not More.

And in this whirlwind of Complication,

your presence is as a candle Flame,

Constant and

Unassailed by Doubt.

But what if that is merely an Illusion?

And Flickering is just beyond

the Horizon,

Preparing to Commence Again?

I don't Know how to tell you to keep the Candle alight,

only Promise you that my Passion,

once ignited,

Rages without Trepidation

Into the long Night.

Scared to say how I feel?

Maybe.

more terrified to Feel it,

and in It,

be Lost ...

With no Recourse!

... Other than to Trust You ...

and trust is running from me

faster than I can catch Her ...

never had the Wings to fly in the face of Truth,

And see Trust as Neverending.

To me It appears a Phantom,

Something I may never catch,

or stare in the Face,

Or even Embrace.

You want Truth of Feeling?

Well, here it IS:

* I only have one

*It's been trampled upon

*I miss you every night, every morning, and every interminable day

*It breaks my Heart when you are Away

*I want your arms around me when I fall asleep at night

*I want you to stay

*My fragile Trust thinks that everything about you is Right

*I want you to act as a Knight, virtuous and right, and, for me, fight

In ALL of these things,

I am sure ...

If this feeling Continues,

Love will Always Endure.

MY Beauty

2011-07-13T13:50:00.000-04:00

My beauty is for myself ...

I cannot give it away

Nor can it be contained

or caged in any way

My beauty is unbidden

I do not bring it to the surface or into the light

It wells up like a tear in a well-controlled eye.

My beauty is possessive

It wraps and twists around every

little

inch of you

It does not let go - and entraps the most fortified wills.

My beauty suffers

But only by the hands of others.

who warp and miss the simplest

the simplest

Of dreams, until they are just floating

like dandelion bits in the wind.

My beauty outshines

That of all those around me

until tormented, they hate

And abuse, and slither away.

It seems they can not take the contest

with the grain of salt through which

they see the rest of the world.

My beauty captivates

the animal - whether human or other creature,

male or female,

of lesser or greater mind.

It spars with their senses

until they give way

to the rapture that follows

Unity.

My beauty does not allow me

to see through rose-colored glasses

or taste the bitterness all around me.

It allows no censure of the sounds permeating

the soft atmosphere that tactile exploration affords me.

Regardless of the dirt existing in every crevice,

my beauty allows no clutter of the mind,

because though there be thorns,

the roses that I forge smell quite lovely.

The Fairy Key

2011-05-24T01:31:00.000-04:00

Avoidance, he's a tidy little trick

That dupes the Heart into leaving the protection of her cage.

His ally, Indifference, sets his sights on skin

And instead,

Shreds aorta upon opening the iron gate.

When brick walls no longer suffice,

The Heart, she buries herself deep underground,

For no more majesty, beauty, or virtue are to be found

In the absence of Love.

Love flies about as a fleeting Fairy,

Choosing to alight here or there ...

So beware!

The viper pounces on unguarded Hearts,

Lost in Love's mysterious bite,

Who refuse to see the gossamer wings,

Or acknowledge their forsaken plight.

But, lo, when one spies the Fairy devoted and true,

Working feverishly on the latch of ONE gate,

With neverending persistence ...

It is then that One Heart

Has found One Love

To keep Avoidance and

Indifference at bay.

Unrequited Love

2011-04-29T01:36:00.000-04:00

I miss you like clouds miss water …

Your soothing voice resonating in bittersweet memory

Low and almost guttural, your speech calls to me

Almost as much as your touch – devilish and tender –

All at once

These memories turn thoughts to fire once again

Fire that was never quenched by your water

Never dulled by your intense presence or soft words

But those same words set you adrift, floating away

On the lake

Nearly as smooth as your words

But too glassy to accommodate your stare

And when you stared into my blue eyes

with those golden flecked earthen discs

I melted.

Like snow under sudden heat

Like peach vanilla from my Papa’s ice cream mixer

Your voice’s trembling was matched

By the tremors of my frame as I followed your gaze.

So now – what to do?

The will is weak

No more patience to seek

Every relationship incomplete

Twisty vortex to everyone that I meet

My mind searches for escape in alternate realities

As twisted tyrants and gossips distort my eventualities

Until one day, when maybe, no longer seeking your presence, I will find

Some way to cope with the reality, never rosy in my sphere, towards love once again inclined.

Not Whole: A Poem About Numbers

2011-04-19T16:11:00.001-04:00

Not whole,

Misunderstood,

Embattled,

Controlled,

Wasting away …

In this series

Of fives

Behind which

The two through eights

Play.

What to do

But try to fix?

And meddle

And TWIST

And subvert

And move

The ‘immovable’ from Five to Six …

Seven Tethered to the Eight

Because she cannot

Climb very easily alone;

She rolls.

She comes in on horseback

Or her highness, the eight,

must be ROLLED up the hill.

And, as always,

Almost against her will

The Nine shows up

To a spectacle of

Numbers gone wrong

Through sloth and waste,

Inefficiency and haste

She sweeps the ashes, still combustible,

And jars them, till numbers become capable.

Metamorphosis Shiver

2011-03-28T07:03:00.000-04:00

Waiting, shaking, heart palpitating …

Shivers crawling up the central nervous system may indicate

Butterflies or demons,

Even butterflies that go on to transform a second time …

Metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly being insufficient –

bright-winged messengers, unable to maintain contentment

Veer from their primary purpose as they transform into demons …

Demons known by the particular shiver they produce

Induce retreats behind brick walls and make anxious bedfellows

That distort meaning,

And fail to reincarnate butterfly-soft feeling.

The shiver of the winged nymph creates a ripple yet unmatched –

Hatched deep within the passions of first meeting

Becomes fleeting with the passage of time …

And the METAMORPHOSIS of butterflies into demons.

...

2011-03-08T16:02:00.000-05:00

‘People watching’ is less fun than before;

Animals seem far less a raging bore.

People, filled with much less of God than they assume,

Their lofty images of themselves lead them to presume

That somehow they are entitled to their arrogance

In this gigantic universe that our Creator gave substance.

Were we made in His image? Hers?

How do you know?

Were the animals just parts of nothingness then?

How can it be so?

ALL of this CREATED by years of evolution, dear,

God’s part to start the breath of life, free and clear

Further than it seems, yet always close enough for the moment, mine

Therefore, each thing that breathes that life has beauty,

Not just you, with your hope of being a graven image of the divine.

Omniscient though? I also hope to be, and the truth, see.

Yet I am aware of one thing

That each being

Perhaps unseeing

Hears a ring

Of a distant bell

That may foretell

Of grove and well

Woodland dell

& A secret spell

That conjures a watery trance

Two stars with the same glance

A full moonlight dance

An unforgettable romance

Avoidance and rants

a forsaken chance

that given intention,

not merely sways decision,

but operates for ultimate precision

of purpose and vision,

and truth the mission

it rests upon intervention

of the intuition

which can not be caged,

Lest it become enraged

Passions unassuaged

Sentiments outraged

Brick walls engaged

Motivations regauged

New bets waged

The game restaged.

And now, we are back to nine

The number, divine

The moment, mine

The only prime

Needed for the time

Is the stars that shine

On my body arched and supine

And thoughts clandestine

Of a superior bloodline

Penetrate my mind

Offer omniscience

Of the loftiest kind

As I escape into subconscious.

Hmm ... ;-P

2011-03-02T13:46:00.000-05:00

Searching for no one

there you were

Each of you probing me with your eyes

long before the consummation of the intention

You never realized that there were diamonds

in my coal and steel stare

I saw your confusion and walked away

left you unaware

Until the next time you see a glare

and unprepared

without a care

have moments unfair

And wonder how long you must bare

- your soul - to remember

recognize

reaffirm

react

reacquire

and reawaken My stare.

Humble Ego

2011-02-23T14:08:00.000-05:00

Is my ego so massive

it must be contained

restrained

blamed

molested or chained?

Tipping the scales of my heart

for good or ill

no matter the will

skill

pretense or frill

ignites fire

It is all fire ...

my ego

my heart

my passion

even my loyalty

You all burn

and I watch in disbelief

almost complete

with relief

as sheep

convince me that I should sleep.

But I can not ever sleep

then I may remember a dream

faces, unseen

want the pristine

develop a meme

make people scream

and all for a day that turns into another night.

So perhaps, for now, I will just

listen to the wind in the wee hours

feel the sunrise power

delight in morning showers

find sentiments that don't sour

climb old trees like ancient towers

& search for your face as I cower

huddling in the dark waiting for the flame to present itself.

Mdawn ;-P

Parental Discretion Advised

2011-01-18T20:20:00.000-05:00

Maybe I just won't speak

I've tried not eating

I've tried doing Everything

AND Nothing.

I've tried believing that

I was the Cause

I was the Problem

But that's fucked up

It's not me

It's you ...

You people living in mediocrity

Satisfied with the shit you can see

The way it is - is supposed to be -

The way it HAS to be?

Never been a status-quo junkie

Though a little quid pro quo is alright with me

There can be no Justice without Truth

And the Truth you all just refuse to see

Instead you say it's all me ...

So maybe I'll just take a vow of Silence

Let you all live in your Ignorance

And keep my mouth shut - let's see -

If I really want it to be easier for me ...

I suppose I would let all you fuckers be

Drowning in your sea of blissful Ignorance

Refusing to see the Truth

Right in front of your face ...

The problem is that the silence

only causes more noise in my head:

All the things you people could be

All the potential you assholes refuse to see

And though I think it might be best

To let you all drown in your misery

For some reason I want to save you all from

The Truth that is coming so soon ...

So, for now, sit back on your sofas

Watch your reality TV

Act like Nature will not make you

Reap what you sow

The Universe is sick of your shit

This place will come to a close -

If you cannot open up your eyes ...

wake up - Wake up - WAKE up ... WAKE UP!

Americans in a Word (According to Several Sources)

2010-10-17T16:56:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, a schizophrenic, obese, bigot was strolling along an aesthetically divided street, contemplating democracy, when he found himself falling into a great big pothole! The man thought to himself, “FUBAR” … because there was no way that he could make it to McDonald’snow before they closed, and his corporate-owned hunger pangs taunted him mercilessly. Then, he realized that he was not just under the street, but in a beautiful cave, and he had the freedom to explore quite far. As he rounded a corner several feet away from his irresponsible entrance into the cave, he happened upon a strange, little grey-bearded man. The man, muttering something about revolution and lost republics, seemed surprisingly coherent despite his animation. The bigot leaned in to listen more intently, and the old man turned around to face him and exclaimed, “You always have a choice … Apathy –BEGONE!” He then realized that the old man had turned him into aphoenix, and he could now fly out of the dark cave. After his ascension to the surface, the phoenix burst into flames and left behind a much thinner, less ethnocentric, intellectually stable young man with a passion for liberty.

THE END. ;-P

Use of Words 'Murklins' and 'Obacerate' in a Spontaneous Rhyme

2010-09-05T17:12:00.000-04:00

Have you ever envisioned My side?

Curves apparent even murklins, without a single spark!

Can you imagine My thighs?

Nations have arisen from the ashes to fight anew for less ...

Have your dreams held the curve of My breasts?

Causing men to obacerate and even holding them in death, Their rise and fall puts empires to shame!

Man fights wars and derives glory from battle,

But Woman controls the field and drives them like cattle!

Parental Ramblings

2008-08-16T14:11:00.000-04:00

We all have selfish needs as parents sometimes, as much as we hate to admit it; we crave things that are solely adult.

The selfish nature of the mother with her head deep in a bucket of chocolate ice cream is no different than the couple who locks the bedroom door, or the woman who steps outside & smokes cigarettes eight times a day, or the father who'd rather have many nights "with the guys" instead of tucking rugrats in. Yes, even the computer geeks who play endless games in front of a screen, the bookworms who get sucked into pages upon pages of tales, the movie-goers who let sitters pay hide & seek and Candyland with their children, who, all the while … are just standing in the shadows making statements like my Alex, who said, "Mama? I wish I could make a metal machine that could make a copy machine that could make a copy of you, so that you could have more time to play with me." (8/16/2008: Or Kaitlyn, who pleads with me before her nap, "Mommy can you sing sunshine?" and when I hesitate – because there is always so much to do – "I've been a good girl.") We are all selfish, but so are our children, who want all of us, all the time. We must find the solution in temperance, and above all, putting our children's needs (though not always their wants) first.

MdC

Our Freedoms

2007-03-15T15:31:00.000-04:00

Beautiful and sacred, shining as a beacon for all those who live in Darkness,

Our Freedoms store hope and potential, never-ending optimism, in the power of the human spirit and its conscionable nature.

Sometimes Our Freedoms are not understood, are debated at length, or are used against us.

We can counter-react with excessive violence or extreme bleeding-heart liberalism, but neither seems to bring us closer to Our Truth:

We hold Our Freedoms to be self-evident,

Created from the moment of our birth, along with the first breath that is granted to us in this World …

We stand in a common human condition, unaccountable to each other in regard to our private decisions, individual desires and regrets, and fortress of our property,

Excepting only the sacred realm of life and property, that which is undeniably ours, which we have endowed the State to protect on our behalf.

When Our Freedoms are dampened by debate, misunderstanding, or vulnerability in their design,

We must not falter, we must not cave into the desire to control everything, but we MUST shine the bright white light of Our Freedoms and Our Tolerance,

So that Others may come to lift themselves out of Their Darkness.

No Web

2006-06-20T14:00:00.000-04:00

Everyone wants to hear you’re fine, and no one really wants to know.

If your web is non-existent, you have nowhere else to go.

“Ombutzman” is an odd-sounding word, it comes from the mouths of teachers who haven’t really learned

A lot

About the harshness of the world emanating from their mouths,

Either.

It is not that there is not always someone who has suffered

Somewhat

And sometimes

VERY MUCH WORSE,

It’s just that it can be a very cold place when there is little warmth in it for you.

Mdc