Category Archives: Autobiographical

All or part of this work is a truth from my past or present life.

Legend

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By ExoticHippieQueen ©2015

Further revealings of the heart”…….

Like a thick blanket of honey coats a slab of brown bread,

The amber in his voice laid heavy and sweet on my waiting ear.

Yet, I could not hear a word that he said.

~~~~

Butterflies on fire.

~~~~

The oxygen had politely left the room,

Just so that I could breathe in the shimmer and spark of this new fascination.

One kiss would pull me under.

I could see that.

Ribbons of kinetic energy swirling and vibrating around us, high voltage atmosphere.

His eyes, cerulean blue, burned a hole through me

As I stood motionless to gladly receive this beautiful wound.

~~~~

How can his mere physical presence claim an instant ownership of my essence?

The wild horses in my heart, gathered into a stampede.

Running free for too many years,

They cannot, will not, be tamed easily.

Some dreams have been overtaken by vegetation.

Other dreams of ravishing heathens and raging love

Hitchhiked out of town long ago with the last carnival.

~~~~

Does revival exist after the stinging brokenness of loss?

Now, a drunk on crutches could navigate the road of love far better than I.

Superwoman can’t fly anymore.

My soul still longs for, clings to the belief in the beauty of love.

I want to say “goodbye, December heart”,

To know the closed blinds and wrinkled sheets, while the earth quakes around me,

To feel the outglow after the afterglow.

I want to fly first class, buy the tour book

And the cheap souvenirs, to return exhausted with a serious sun burn.

~~~~

Open my floodgates,

Be my cool relief from this dry, red heat,

Be the night rain that soothes the parched plains of my soul,

Be the author of my new story,

Write it on my heart,

My burning heart.

~~~~

Be my legend.

10/15/2015

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Grief, Rivers and Souls

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Mourning the Death of a Close Friend

By ExoticHippieQueen ©2015

At first notice, the gloom crept over me like a dark cloud moving silently overhead through the night, then settling down into my bones, preparing for a long visit.

The darkness had texture, as if it were a fabric, authority as if it were my dungeon master, and a vast weight, as it it were the universe resting on my heart.

Pounding chest, dry mouth, churning insides…depressive, even alarming disturbances took me over in the confrontation of my grief.

Losing someone I love provokes an eruption of my internal volcano, a reminder of my own frailty, and of the quicksand that we all attempt to traverse each day without being suddenly sucked down into the inescapable.

I find my heathenistic lament to be tragically serious.
Yet, seriously unnecessary.

When referring to Ancient Scrolls, fossil records, and especially wind crystals and the remains of atomic fragments, the evidence for the continuity of life is obvious and repetitive, even strangely reassuring.

Truth is, life is a flowing river of pearls, shimmering, winding through the fabric of time, and all of humanity must travel it.

To experience life is to understand that the river is fierce at times, catching us up in the current and slamming us up against rocks and timbers of adversity, as we flail and sputter to stay afloat. At other times, the force slows to a gentler meandering where we can enjoy the scenery, possibly float on a pearl to catch our breath.

River transitions are often sudden, brutal, shocking, or may occur in a beautiful surprise that blesses us.
The mystery of our unknown future sustains us in the every day, keeps life supple and glossy, prevents stagnation, though at a cost that wears on us over a lifetime.

To survive this journey, nurture your soul.

Have lunch at the ocean, with wine and cheese,

Live a genuine life,

Observe flying monkeys and twirling gypsies with calm detachment, a brilliant life lesson,

Enjoy the stardust that falls on your shoulders each evening, instead of brushing it away,

Love deeply and fiercely,

Examine the stream of your soul, what flows with it, into it and from it.

Know this.

Accept that you will be a soul passing through the corridor,

Noticing the fading of the din, the intense drawing towards the beautiful Light,

Acknowledging other souls going before and after you,

Souls from the four corners of the earth,

Souls coming and going,

Souls that can’t be seen, but sensed,

Souls to the left of your shoulder,

Astonished souls,

Souls overwhelmed with awe,

Heaving souls, trembling souls,

Souls moving effortlessly without bodies,

Souls passing through the portal with you,

Souls next to you, so close that you could touch,

Legions of souls, moving in the current,

All flowing with the river, bathing in its peace.

Know yourself.

02/16/15

Bacchus By the Sea

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I can’t make this stuff up. Just a little fun poem, but it’s all true.
Source: Flickr
Sunset in the Florida Keys
Sunset in the Florida Keys

Source: Kevin Johnsen
Source: Flickr
Sunset in Marathon, Florida Keys
Sunset in Marathon, Florida Keys

Source: Kevin Johnsen
Source: Flickr
Source: Flickr

By ExoticHippieQueen ©2011

Way, way back in the olden days, about 1984 when I bartended in the Florida Keys, one of my employers was an older, European Italian man who owned a very nice restaurant called Bacchus By The Sea located down near the Seven Mile Bridge. The front of the restaurant had an Old World feel and was very formal with linen tablecloths and beautifully set tables. But in the back, along  the waterfront, the atmosphere dropped a few degrees. Here, shrimpers who had been out trawling for two weeks at a time came in to shake off the saltwater, find their favorite stool and catch up with their shrimpmates at an open air tiki bar right at the docks. Pelicans perched along the dockposts, and shrimp boats lined up neatly in their port. It was a privilege to enjoy the most beautiful sunsets each evening, and I always tried to savor the fiery ball as it dipped and reached to touch the indigo horizon. Quickly then, it would slip away from sight as dusk settled in and the tiny white lights strung between the posts behind the bar twinkled and shined down on the deeply tanned and weathered faces of fisherman and their girlfriends or wives, ready to blow off some steam on a Friday night. The thump-thump beat of Dire Straits’ Money For Nothin’ sailed out on an invisible current disappearing over the night’s black ocean. There were quite a few characters that hung out there. It has always been said that if you want to disappear or hide, go down to the Keys. I guess that’s why they were all there. Or maybe no one would have them.

Fights often broke out once the beer and rum began flowing. There really was a Mudsucker, Shrimper John and other bizarrely-named shrimpers who frequented the waterfront bar. Near the tiki bar were outdoor dining tables for customers who wanted to enjoy the ocean view with their dinner. Usually the clientele at the restaurant were upscale tourists, as well as the infrequent celebrity such as Ted Turner, who occasionally seemed horrified at the display of obscenities and violence that they may have accidentally sat near, too close to the tiki bar revelry. It was always worth a chuckle or two.

 

Time for me to hit the boondocks,
Step up behind the bar
Time to punch the invisible clock,
I’m the Bacchus night star.

Kamikaze’s and B-52’s
Rum and coke with a lime
Drink it on up, you’ve got nothing to lose
Nothing but money and time.

Shrimpers’ girlfriend, her belly with child
Demands that I give her a drink
She wants the black label straight up
I tell her get lost…why won’t she think?

Mudsucker won’t see the day that he’s 50.
Lewis brings shrimp for my tip
A bushel of extra larges is nifty
Black Jack on the bar for a nip.

Ted Turner brought all 6 of his kids
And wife in to Bacchus for dinner.
They were all rude—put my night on the skids
TBN, to me you’re no winner.

Mudsucker ran his mouth off too far
An argument over some cash.
This guy slid him down to the end of the bar
He slipped off into the trash.

Kamikaze’s and B-52’s
Rum and coke with a lime
Drink it on up, you’ve got nothing to lose
Nothing but money and time.

Just another night at Bacchus By The Sea………………
7/23/11

To the Moon & Back: A Goodbye Letter to a Marriage

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By Exotic Hippie Queen ©2008

Source: Flickr

 

I can’t sleep anymore……………………it’s because of you.

And when I weep anymore…………..it’s because of you.

You’re killing each day

In many sad, little ways

My love that has always been true.

 

A year of talkin’ to the back of your head.

Turnin’ over and over all the things that you’ve said.

Your words still unspoken should be

“Help me, I’m broken”.

But so far, they haven’t been said.

.

You don’t love me the way you did before.

You can’t cover your lies that well anymore.

You don’t seem to know it,

But your ways helped you show it.

Your eyes speak the truth more and more.

 

Can’t say what I think……………..anymore,

Won’t say where I am when I go to the store.

Cuz if you call for a chat

To find out where I’m at

(You’ll take advantage of that) .

Don’t want me to come walkin’ in through that door.

 

How long did you think I’d be able to stay?

How many more of these sad games will we play?

I can’t stop your fun——-

It’s already been done

And you’re still giving your love away.

 

Don’t call me crazy or pat my knee

Or say what I saw, my eyes didn’t see.

How could you do that to me……….

Torment me endlessly?

You say that you love me………..how can that be?

 

Is this really how you want your life?

What a terrible thing to do to your wife.

The many thoughts in your head

Come spilling out on our bed.

They cause me such heartache and strife.

 

I know all the fears that you’d face

if you laid out all your truths———–then the past we’d erase.

Forgiveness runs very deep

When there’s a promise to keep…

God gives us His eternal grace.

 

I don’t know for sure if you’ll want to change.

Living without you would be so strange

My love is on track

To the Moon and Back

But that won’t stop me from pulling the reins.

 

If there’s a future to have, it’s in your hands.

Won’t be giving you anymore big demands.

Do you love me enough

To pull us out of this rough

Or let everything die where it stands?

 

It’s time to start talking to me about what’s true

Or else kiss me goodbye————-what will you do?

Baby, it’s all ……………up to you.

Your Loving Wife,

〈Eventually, I gave up, and we divorced in March, 2009.〉

 

 

Created & Owned by ExoticHippieQueen 2008

 

SHE WALKS a JaGgEd LiNe

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By Exotic Hippie Queen ©2012
 
Chains that hold us to each other…………
 
Chains that hold us to each other............
 

she walks a jagged line

than runs from hell to here

and drags her past behind

on chains of terrorizing fear.

 

the chain then circles both my hands,

extends in all directions:

imprisons me in crazy land

with

chaos >

grief >

rejection.

 

she’s gonna smash a room

she’ll break the glass

and leave.

 

for me, because i love her,

i bleed,

i hurt,

i grieve.

 

each place she terror trashes,

she tears it all apart.

and like the rooms she smashes,

she

demo-wrecks

my heart.

 

i want to smash a room

i want to break the glass,

and leave,

 

instead, i swallow all her pain.

i’m left with………….

……………..nothing

…………..to believe.

 

nothing

to hold to me so close

though her baby clings to me,

this isn’t how the story goes,

how it’s supposed to be.

 

the chains that bind me now

they hold the baby, too.

we all are hell-bound captives

in

a

room

that

has

no

view.

 

where does it end

or will it ever?

don’t answer that,

i know.

the answer is no………..

never.

 

 it seems like never.

 

 

Heather In the Magic Time

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By Exotic Hippie Queen ©2011

My little Cairn Terrier had been through 10 homes by the time she was offered to me. I only had her a short time…..she died in a tragic accident. My heart still grieves for her.

Abandoned.

She was unwanted.

Approaching every passing stranger expectantly

She had no real sense of belonging,

Only gestures of questioning…

Do I belong to you?

I understand this………..I am adopted.

 

Months of applied love, seasoned patience, consistent presence

Blossomed into a knowing that she finally belonged somewhere,

To someone.

She was deeply loved.

 

My constant companion, night and day,

Toto in my basket, and a baby in my belly, tanned legs pumping ambitiously, but effortlessly.

Flying past scenery, ribbons of wind streaming through my golden hair, her baby Cairn fur………..feathered.

On the island road to Oz. In another world.

In the constant white heat.

A Magic Time. The Only Time. The Best Time.

Where Tangerine Ball melts into Liquid Blue beyond the 7 Mile Bridge.

It was then, there that she learned how to trust.

And so did I.

 

Left behind at the bus stop in the after-school frenzy,

I found her sitting patiently atop a large pile of rocks in the searing heat of a summer island afternoon, waiting, confident……….

Certain of my return.

Heather Feather.

Trust.

In the Magic Time.

……………………….i  r e m e m b e r…………………………………….

 

By ExoticHippieQueen 6/18/11 ©2011

Running String of Unslept Nights

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Sleep…sleep…sleep, blissful sleep.

By ExoticHippieQueen ©2012

 

 

 

Just before the grainy darkness thickens

Into a tangible presence of texture and

Weight, depth and gauzy mass, the voice

Of stillness whispers me dead awake to observe.

 

Raw puzzles (unsolved and invisible by day)

Dangle, suspended from anchored darkpoints

In a vague wildnerness of black pixels. Recalling

That I missed the evening stars‘ call to light even

Now in the world of in-between makes me

Melancholy.

 

Running strings of unslept nights fueled by an

Unswept mind drive me into a collapse of

Artificial madness. Clowns rule, furthering

The question of my own sanity, now as

Uncertain as the promise of a drunken gypsy.

Brief dreamstorms rage in brawling, fitful bursts:

 

I’m sick, I’m six, and my pillow transforms

Into my mother’s arms as she rocks me…

Shooting bowling pins, one by one, with

Murderous intent…

Negotiating flyways and windfields at high

Speeds to the music of the ocean

Disturbing reflections on the rough beauty

Of broken whores…

Imminent watery deaths of animals, parents,

Lovers, whose survival depends solely on my

Swimming and flying abilities…

An empty shell of my childhood home where love

Once fed me, ghostly stirrings moving through hollow

Walls and zigzag halls…

 

After studying the geneaology of ancestral sleep-

Watchers, I see that underground blueprints are

Mentioned, but seldom used. Instead, bedrolling

Tangles the in to up, the down to out in counterfeit

Sleep. Lumps and bumps litter the mattress like so

Much rock candy. It’s so hard to turn the corner…

 

Sleep is more a luring, moody seduction than a choice,

A soft siren voice that whispers release from the

Vigilance of my human-ness through a veiled process

Of memoirs, much like hearing the faint rustle of silk as

A geisha passes near.

 

Rolling over into a comforting fade, the figment of a

Cherub sleeping, as serene as a slow minute, pulls me

To the way of white angels.

 

Blocks away, a dog barks.