I Bet Nobody Reads This

I've learned something....even the most normal people are messed up. Messed up in some way. No one is perfect. It's even better when you find people to talk to that are open enough to admit we're all messed up, and nobody wants to change anyone....Just let us all "BE" who we are. Just "be" people....Just "be"...and listen when listening needs to be done, and give advice when advice is asked for. You don't need to "fix" anyone, but "fix" yourself if you feel the need. But do it for you, not for them. Those who know me don't ever really "tell me" what to do anyway. March to the beat of your own drummer, I'm not listening to your drummer. So keep marching. I might not be what you expect, or what you're expecting. Maybe you shouldn't have sent expectations in the wrong field. I'm going for the path that's not so walked on, where it's quiet. Be kind, be compassionate, be sensitive, don't expect me to be anything else. Nobody made me this way, I made myself. And flaws and all, you know what? I like me. Anyone else's opinion does't matter. I've been through some shit. I have. A lot of it most of you don't have any idea, and you all have been through things, and I have no idea, but that is what makes us awesome. That is what sets us apart from someone else. Or even brings us together with someone who we'd never imaging actually knows what it's like to walk in our shoes. Our filthy, dirty, worn-out, disgusting, yet loved and well-worn shoes. They're comfortable, keep wearing them. I don't expect you to understand this, I don't expect you to care, I don't even expect you to understand poetry if it jumped up and bit you in the ass but this is mine. And this is my poem. For all of us crazies, the dreamers, the poets, the musicians, the art-makers, the lovers, the ones who "get it" out there.....this is for you.

We are kin sisters-sisters of the same arts... Woven from the same cloth our souls are the same. The dark, it looms-creates and hangs. Like a pleasant dark shadow. Overplayed by a smile and a wink. Hidden as one may assume frailty...Then lash out! No strength in comparison! Break through the chains in our dungeons to drag our ways into the light-the moonlit night...So quiet and serene. A midnite night on serpents wings-of gloss and black scales. Fire eyes, she understands. Fierce beasts our friends...our hearts beat fierce and free! And the night...the night is where many good things hide-in wait. Wait for the inspire. To create once more. The calligraphy of the darkened soul. Whispers...You hear nothing. But I hear music. My sister and I. We are kin and kin with the nighttime. JJC 8/15/2012