Category Archives: FOOL

Lost in LaLa Land


LOST IN LaLa LAND,  A Hollywood memoir 1978’

~~

Sunset Strip lay raw and naked in the early hours

Hollywood had had a bite of my soul in the dark night

Such a quiet unseen brutal take of self-given willingly

Overtaken by the false comfort of drugs and booze

~

The pickup of idle chat moved to hungry lust imbibing

A perfect storm of Ferrari, and handsome bundled up

Danger hung in dripping stalactites over the bed

Yet unruffled as we sat on its edges before the long fall

~

 Carelessly, in Mr. GoodBar style, hunting dark mysteries

Swallowing the soft kiss deeper into my body waking

The edge ever so close for the wild jump risk of life

The tilt of the room, the wonder on his beautiful face

~

The roll of my inner storm, clouds bursting in torrent rain

Every tear that had been unshed flooded the room

Every want and wound soaked the walls, pooled the bed

Drowning was the best way to go as the vortex pull me under

~

Memory has no straight line, no sureness to how tenderness

Found the moment in the gentle arms of a stranger’s hold

Petted like a lost child found with comforting words of

“You’ll be already, You’ll be OK.”  in repeat kindness

~

Sunset Strip lay raw and naked before me as I walked it

Finding my way to my car alone unaided by my request

He gifted me with a gentleness I took to be time now

Soul healing needed a body temple safe and free.

~

I packed the VW bus with my life quaking like this land

Filled it with myself and the surrender to find myself

Taking my salty tears to the ocean to be swallowed by the tides

Barefoot in the sand the land heals the soul of me

~. jeanne adwani. copyrights

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Filed under A Pilgrams Journey, BE HERE NOW, coming of age, EYES WIDE OPEN, FOOL, Geezer Girl, jeanne adwani, Jeanne Beauchamp, MEMOIR

FOOLING HERSELF.


Dark-Red-Lis

day 1 NaPoWriMo

~~~

She wasn’t much for the silly.

There was no pun in her to mention.

A laugh required an awkward moment,

    maybe even a fumbled narrative about

    the courtship of humans in that messiness

    of figuring the ‘Other’ out.

~

That seemed silly to her, all that figuring

    it out, all that otherness, all that fumbling

    around for connection in the pet and grind.

The getting to know you in the stumble of

    words, lingering stares, lips that desire.

She figured that was pretty silly.

~

She figured there was no giggle in any of that

    in her stuttered awkwardness

Her hands twined around her loneliness

Wishing the yearning would dissolve

   out of her heart’s hungry want.

Where was the silly in any of that?

~

She tried to look away

She tried to feel away

She tried to let invisibility

    be the friend it never had been

How ridiculous that would be

    to be seen now, to be in the messy

~

To let the foolishness of lonely,

   of desire, ravage at her singularity

Breaking the resolve that Love was

   a silly thing, a confusing thing, a

   fraught and chaotic thing.

She wasn’t that kind of Fool.

~

The kiss changed all that.

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Filed under FOOL, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, Ypsilanti Poet

SHE JUMPS.


SHE JUMPS

There is no joke to the leap

A Fool

morgan greer deck

might you be laughing.

There is no seriousness to the leap

might you be glib

Maybe it is the jump into

what seems void and empty

that stirs and provokes

~

Maybe what can’t be seen

or held, or appears to not be able

to be stashed, or carried

In the tunic, the sash,

the tight fitting pants,

Or that tattered pouch on a stick

slung aimlessly over the shoulder

holding nothing but stones

and poetry , a sprig of love

and a twig of fear, the sound of

Eternity’s enchantment whispering

~

Might these hold you to the limited belief

that what needs having to leap into Life

Is not had for such emptiness

So much unknown-ness,

So much riskiness

So much fool hardiness

into the boundless void.

~

Ah, for the little dog called Loyal

Faithful innocence of joy and the moment

Instinctual knowing in the

Wisdom of Love unconditional

~

And she listen to the talisman pouch

as it whispers the certainty of what is unseen

in the infinite beyond.

It gives call to the Alchemical

process of the impossible mixed with the

improbable.

~

She Jumps

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Filed under APRIL FOOL, FOOL, Fool's journey, Uncategorized