The Rainy Days

Sometimes I long for the rainy days. 

The melancholy days. 

The stay in your pjs all day and drink tea days. 

The I have an excuse to do absolutely nothing days. 
The rain and clouds outside my window clear the fog from my brain.

 Making space for other things. 

Things unseen. 

The things that usually go unheard in the din of my racing thoughts. 

The quieter, timid thoughts and feelings. 

The kids that don’t raise their hands in class. Not because they have nothing to say, but because they don’t think anyone will understand it. 

The insightful ones. 

The dreamers. 
The rain makes the seedlings of creativity blossom.  

Thursday Morning Love Poem

I always smile when I clean my glasses 

Wiping away the smudges left by your face when you kissed me 

An imprint of longing 

A remnant of tenderness 

A tiny reminder of yesterday’s joy 

And something to look forward to 

Excitement for the next time you pull me close and my glasses get smudged 

A Poem For The Wild Women Who Are Not To Be Fucked With

They tell me I’m wild

Unruly

Unrefined, stubborn, and mad

Imply I need shaping

Polishing, Lacing, Smoothing

As if I’m a thing made of porcelain

They whisper, smile, and hint

That I should be fragile and exist only to be seen

That my limbs should be lengthened

My curves should be straightened

My hair should be washed,combed, and pinned                                                                        

                                                                                      

But I am not a doll

I do not exist for your games

And I will not be tamed

My fire will not be smothered, calmed or snuffed                                                                    

                                                                                      

I am a wild woman

Mountain girl

Born, bred and raised to run through this world barefoot

Untethered

Covered in dirt

To let the wildfires within me burn until my whole being ignites                                        

                                                                                                                                                   

Love me if you dare

But proceed with caution

Don’t stand too close

Or you might be consumed                              

                                                                                      

                          

Love me please

But don’t try to tame me

Don’t try to change me

Or you may go blind from the same glow that draws you in

Like a moth burnt to a crisp

Nothing left but the stench of charred carcass and dreams

Destroyed by the one thing he loved the most but could never understand                  

                                                                                     

Don’t try to shape me or fix me

I don’t need sutures and I’ll rend you from your seams                                                  

                                                                                     

Because I like being flawed                              

                                                                                    

I treasure the cracks in my porcelain

And I long to

Taste every taste

See every sight

Fight if I must fight

And stare in awe at the beauty and the horror of this world we call home                  

                                                                                    

                               

I like needles in me

And kissing strangers in the dark

And jumping off cliffs

And I don’t have a religion

God left us alone a long time ago

And my moral code is loose at best though I do attempt to not consciously fuck anyone over

Still I can’t say there aren’t a few carcasses of hearts left for the buzzards along the intercontinental highway of my life

And I love making people tell me their deepest darkest fears and perversions

And I crave life!

I want  to take it all in

Good

Evil

And everything in between and leave my mark no matter how black

On this universe                                                  

                                                                                     

                                                                                     

And

I long to

Tease you, taunt you,and fuck you if I damn well please

And if I love you

Oh how I’ll love you

Like you have never been nor will ever be loved again                                                            

                                                                                                                        

My wildness

Makes me

So don’t ever try to fucking tame me

You can love me

Please go ahead and love me

I might even love you back

But you’re not the first and you most likely won’t be the last

Cause I fall easily

And I tend to love with insane, reckless abandon

And this usually results in a broken heart

But I treasure that too

Because scars are interesting

They give us stories to tell

And I want to tell stories no matter how sad

So yes I certainly am wild and maybe a little bit bad

And sometimes I’m lonely and just want to be held

But not by the bondage we deem polite

My corset is purple not pale like the hands of a man or a doctrine to keep me in line

And my hair might be messy

My skin a bit pale

My hips a bit curvy a little extra to grab

But I’m a free woman

Not just a slab

Of meat for your consumption

Nor a doll for your shelf

Nor affirmation for your self loathing

And if you try to break me I’ll put up a fight

So if that doesn’t suit you

I bid you sir, good night                                    

                                                                                     

                                                                                     

Hear it here : https://youtu.be/1MvxJ5IHmxM

What Is This Word Happy?

In honor of National Poetry Month here is one poem from me and one from my cowriter Joe Reese on “The elusive nature of happiness.”

                             “Sneaky”

                         By Serrana Gay 
Happiness is a sneaky bitch 

She creeps up on you when you aren’t looking 

And slips away in the night just as silently 

She teases 

And taunts you 

Always leaving you wanting more 

And we blame her 

Slut shame her 

Call her a whore 

Like we do to all the girls who don’t love us

But maybe we should ask ourselves 

What made her leave?

Because in reality 

We make our own 

And maybe just maybe 

We didn’t want her as much as we believed

Cause if we truly did

We would have treated her better 

Given her reason to stay 

Not been out drinking quite so late

Not kept working at jobs we hate

Tended the garden where she lived 

Smiled more 

Surrounded her with more people who cared for her 

Maybe then she would have stayed 

Not flitted off to flirt with someone more enticing 

Leaving us empty and alone 

Maybe if we appreciate her when she is here

Say thank you 

Tell her she’s beautiful 

Practice gratitude every single day 

Maybe happiness will stay 

For more than a day

Week 

Month 

Or year 

Maybe if we notice her 

Her mysteries 

Will become clear                                                   

                                                                                    

                                                                                              

                          “Untitled” 

           By Joseph Reese Anderson
Happiness rises in the air like smoke 

Reach for its twisting tendrils 

Grasp at it’s curling whips 

You cannot hold it 

You cannot own it 

You can only be enveloped by it 

Breathe it 

Soak it into your clothes

Happiness sometimes lingers when it’s gone 

Hangs in pockets and crevices  

You can pry into them in nostalgic moments 

Be gentle around the smoke of happiness 

Greedy inhales may choke you 

And smoke disburses in the reckless cough

Perfect

  
His eyes widen as he looks at me 

My body bared before him 

“You are perfect” he whispers 

Perfect eyes 

Perfect lips 

Perfect laugh 

Perfect smile 

Perfect hips 

Perfect tits 

The manifestation of womanhood 

The image of beauty 

Like no one else he’s met 

Flawless 

Inspiring 

A dream 

And he really truly thinks 

That this is complimentary 

This praise of my physique 

That it makes me feel good 

Special

Unique 

But what they all fail to grasp 

Is that being seen this way 

As a supernatural being 

An image of perfection 

Leaves little room for being human 

For mistakes 

And fears 

And insecurity 

Morbidity 

And cellulite 

Hatred 

And zits 

And jealousy 

And madness 

And even love 

Because with the expectation of perfection comes dehumanization 

And though they mean well 

Mean only to praise 

They never seem to see 

That I am not a goddess 

I am flesh and blood 

And anger 

And awe 

And desire 

And flawed 

Whole and broken and real 

Perfect is a fantasy 

And perfect is not what I want to be

I just 

For once 

Want someone 

To really see 

me

Tonight

  

Just be mine tonight 

For a moment or two 

Illuminated only by the light 

Creeping in from the street 

Through the crack in the curtains 

Skin glistening in the glow 

No need to worry about tomorrow 

Just breathe me in 

Let go of what lies 

Behind or ahead

And let me lay my head 

On your chest tonight 

Inspired by The Decemberists “All Arise”  http://youtu.be/4bYnj_wW-nQ

Morning

Morning again I feel like it is always morning 

Like no matter how much I try to cling to 

Night 

She eludes me 

A lover who strays with the dawn 

Creeping out my window and down my fire escape as the sun cracks the horizon 

Turning grey blue haze into glistening morning 

Darkness merely a fading memory of her soft caress

Impressions

  

Scratch marks on an otherwise clean blank surface 

An imprint of pressure 

An impression

Lingering 

Just as your fingers linger in the Indentations on the small of my back Where you clutched me, tender yet firm 

Fading now 

Soon to be as faint as the scars on your shoulder where my fingernails slashed your flawless skin               

Secret marks visible only to those who know they’re there 

Invisible ink meant solely for the encoded language of lovers                                                   

The Wise Men Tell Us

The wise men tell us to live life in the moment Because every second counts 

But these days my moments keep slipping 

I’m here one moment there the next 
Serenaded by the plunking of a piano 

Just a bit too loud 

The notes carry me 

Through air conditioned day dreams 

Onward towards the end 
Like an amnesiac I fight to recall 

The chunks of time that have been gouged out 

Forgotten 

Sacrificed to the gods of the day job for blood money 

Self sacrifice 

Because after all it is my life that is slipping 

 

Monotony For Money

Waiting in line at the bank My life ticks away in air conditioned seconds