MJ blathers

dark poet who loves to laugh

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a litle pain of the soul
an ache, really
but it gnaws daily
nibbles at the spirit through the night
drains the body’s defenses
until it is difficult
to work, to do even what must be done
impossible to remember, or believe
there ever was joy


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lost in now

whose house is this
she asks, and ten minutes later
again, whose house is this

yet she tells in great detail
of the young bronc rider
of decades ago
who was her first date

strange how separate
are short
and long-term memory

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thanking yang

after reading YIN by Paulann Petersen

the sheer joy of free-fall
the exhilaration of hell-bent
in many ways has been bought
for us by the myth of male superiority
if we women are weak, petty, dependent or failures
it was only to be expected
only a man is destined to be a masterly success
uppity women, strong within themselves,
are the exceptions
the freedom, if you are strong, bold, brave,
to plunge over the falls
that is a mostly unacknowledged gift
from boys bound into the rock
are pressured to believe defines them
oh, to have that freedom
the growing heritage
of every growing child

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wellspring of joy

to stay near
means discipline
i know what drives
me away
busy-ness, pique
envy, anger
i am required
to quiet my soul
‘be still and know’
that i am not god
i need to laugh
at my pretentious ego
to regain perspective
to reach out
in love