Mentally Streaking

Time

2011-05-21T06:20:00.000-07:00

When there is nothing left to communicate
And the reasons why I miss you, don’t seem to matter....

Hands are tied, emotions are loose
Can’t undo what is without looking like more of a fool
Anger is of no use for this particular shade of blue

Good intentions seem pointless in the present moment
But what I’m trying to prove, to myself and you
Is that my care for both is greater than what currently seems true

And I wait
For it to feel like reality
Or history
With a future

2009-07-10T19:11:00.000-07:00

After what seemed like an endless, bitter and isolated Winter,
she stepped out to face the sun.
Tilting her head slightly to the left, she waited for the warm breath of Spring to lightly blow her hair and that small chip off of her shoulder.
The result was about as satisfying as an icy glass of lemonade with not quite enough sugar but it was definitely better than nothing at all.
She vowed to continuously try to improve upon the recipe for all things refreshing; which seemed of even greater importance for passing along to the next generation than for her own, or so she told herself.

2008-10-02T18:51:00.000-07:00

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

A little girl on a porch swing
Listens to a baseball game
From the high school’s loud speaker
The surroundings are meager
But each neighbor known by name
A small town yet wealthy all the same
And due respect is given
When the bells of St. Michael’s ring

She plays with Rose of Sharon blooms
That become dolls with the pull of a petal
And prickly gum balls that confuse
Are they seeds, pods or thistles
Ponders the cruelty versus the beauty
Of a lightning bug ring

A dove coos for her lover
Will she preen him
Or turn away while fluffing her feathers

The train whistle cries for another
Are the rails burdened
Or does the train glide along weightlessly

The sun passes like a pendulum
Through a stretch of trees
As an orchestra of katydids begin to hum
Round robin style until the crescendo is deafening
And after the climax, there is boredom

Childhood memories
Interrupted by grown-up dreams
Conversion of innocence
By assigning meaning
That distorts the simplicity of existence

Thank God for the sigh of relief
As I now stand under this Georgia Double Dogwood
A dove is a bird
Trains carry cargo
Katydids sing by rubbing their wings
And these pink powder puff covered branches
As a whole, look like a stick of cotton candy
It is simply, a beautiful thing

Mmmmmm…cotton candy

Monica Brown
4/24/08

2008-10-02T18:49:00.000-07:00

Color on a Different Page Please

Collect your past experiences
And arrange them in your head
Like pictures in a story book
Color the lifeless pages with
Blue, black and red
Scribble the images gone
Dart outside the dreaded lines
Press so hard it breaks
And leaves a gaping hole
Big enough to see through
Alas, torn by the force
Of frustration’s manic hand
Rip the ugly, blotched depictions
From the spine
Tear them to shreds
Eat them if you must
Start over again
Clear the wrinkles from your brow
You’ve lived it once
It’s not who you are
Or who I am now

Monica Brown
6/18/08

2008-10-02T18:47:00.000-07:00

Case Closed

I said “how are you?”.
You replied “same shit different day,
I don’t know why you always ask”.
Your words punched me in the chest,
Especially when I heard you, not ten feet away,
telling another all about what happened at work,
planning your weekend, which didn’t include me.
I was hurt, angry and lowered my head .
What should I say?
It’s not worth another fight;
Not worth fighting about or to keep.
My refuge is sleep.

I said, “this is what I think, you?”.
You didn’t agree but does that make me stupid?
My mood was then a bit grey, I was just blue.
So why did you have to call me a bitch?
Unable to comprehend the things you said and did,
I looked at you with confusion.
My heart fell and cracked my ribs on the way down.
I doubled over and gasped for a breath,
The look on your face shouldn’t have been placid.
You still wanted to fight
But you didn’t even know what it was about.
“It didn’t happen over night“, I shout.

I said, “what’s important to you?”
“What do you want to see happen in the years ahead?”.
Your response was all about material things
that you could collect and exhibit.
There was no mention of us or the emptiness in our bed.
I sat there dazed, my eyes blackened
Because they were shriveled, lifeless and disillusioned.
How could I have been so wrong?
No signs of life, our love is dead.
You won the fight.
I can’t live this life of uncertainty.
I’ve lost the real me.

Monica Brown
2007

2008-09-29T16:45:00.001-07:00

van Gogh and I

I imagined it to be more
as I lazed in the darkness
therefore it is so…
the beauty of art

Step into my painting
As a sapphire sky falls
Onto a legend's cobbled streets
Edged with cafes and yellow canopies
Stars hanging on walls…
…And flames licking at heaven
Willowy shadows barely dancing
On a half moon's smooth surface
Fountain pools reflecting eyes that beckon
His arm cradled to hold her
Lips that part, graze and repeat
Breath so warm, whispers become condensate
The night envelopes them like a silk sheet
Dissolving pretense and fear of fate
As a gardenia cool breeze
Carries from the curve of her shoulder
The loose, damp strands from her tress
He follows their decent and slips to his knees
Laying his humble, impassioned face
Against the bodice of her angelic cloth dress
Only touching her thigh, her hip, her hand; doesn't hold
Thought as sensual as the deed is bold

Monica Brown
January 2008

2008-09-29T16:43:00.000-07:00

Just a thought...

we miss the ones we care about
and try to believe that the connection was genuine
call upon every source of power
for answers to questions that we dream up
so that we can maintain faith in what we feel
when what we really need is to let it go
it's not giving up
it's just being real

Monica Brown
January 2008

2008-09-29T16:40:00.002-07:00

touch this scar, see that flaw
love me whole
or not at all

take the bow, break the seal
I'm an open book
it's a package deal

Monica Brown
January 2008

2008-09-29T16:40:00.001-07:00

When I can’t sleep...
dreams are stuck in time
like a river wide
always in the same place
but ever changing
it erodes my brain
and bends my mind
thoughts rush like a sonic train
in a secret underground
what was my crime
feelin' chained and dystopia bound

Monica Brown
December 2007

2008-09-29T16:38:00.001-07:00

Time Travel vs. Teleportation

If just once
The moment was right
The feeling was mutual
My mind was as clear as the sky after a storm
Then maybe time would stop
And so would I
To watch all of the particles fall into place

Monica Brown
6/1/08

2008-09-29T16:35:00.000-07:00

The Last of Its Breed

Do not hunt me
For you cannot capture
What you cannot see
Cannot grasp
What must be free
Cannot trap
Ambush, taunt or tease
Open your hand
Catch and release
Love is kind
It awaits patiently
Not for one
That behaves greedily
But for two souls
That intertwine willingly
And gently

Monica Brown
4/24/08

2008-09-29T16:32:00.000-07:00

He didn't stop me.
only peered around the corner of the door
as I tried to leave
with dignity

Finally outside
I stopped, turned and drank in the whole scene
not wanting an end
to the dream

Etched the memories on my heart
the right way
as they were already burned in my mind
the wrong way

It was really an excuse
hoping
he would follow
knowing
he wouldn't
wondering
even now
does he wish for me
understand my sorrow

Like the tree on the corner
the one with the roots
that have busted through the concrete
I think about it still
feel just as knotted
twisted and hollow
He didn't stop me.

Monica Brown
2008

2008-09-19T18:06:00.000-07:00

Wanderlust

She tip toes around a maze of partitions that could just as easily house mice
hoping that the drone of the air conditioning muffles her steps as she bolts for the door,
presses the emergency button and escapes to put out her own fires
instead of the ones that travel from desk to desk and are touched more than twice.

Drawing a deep breath that fills her with the joy of Summer’s sweetness
she sprints across heated pavement, takes a leap of faith, and lands on a featherbed of cool clouds.
The same current of desire that lifted, now pushes and she allows it to wash over her
ruffling the hem of her skirt, billowing through the spaces between the buttons of her blouse,
kissing her face, stroking her hair as she sighs outloud.

Frolicking, fumbling, tossing, turning, tumbling and sliding down a stream of humidity
she lands on powder pink mimosa treetops and laughs herself blind
left to feel her way across each limb like a vine clinging for life until she finds the trunk
and climbs her way down to blossom in the lushness of the fertile floor of nature‘s beauty.

Monica Brown
8/10/08

2008-07-31T20:10:00.000-07:00

The Weather Girl
Forecast for a place in South Central…

Feeling stormy and full of crashing thunder
I imagine you parting my clouds
And unleashing a downpour of warm, wet wonder
Rising temperatures, changing the trade winds from your North to my South
Lightning bolts making me arch and scream out loud
You reign down on me and I melt like sugar crystals in your mouth

Monica Brown
July 2007

2008-07-31T19:47:00.000-07:00

Battle of Wills
anxieties clash
like fists against flesh
and your insanity makes
me question my own
dark absent eyes
of a person removed
you try to possess me
and I look furiously
to find the key that
unlocks my soul
before I turn
into you

Monica Brown
2007

2008-07-31T19:42:00.000-07:00

That'll be 5 Cents Please...
Yesterday you said you hated everything
you said you once loved.
Today might be the same;
full of self-loathing
and everyone’s to blame.
But you’ve got to stop.
Stop seething and start healing.
Don’t relive your past.
It’s ruling your present
and nullifying your future.
Surrender yourself upon your descent
to begin each day anew
and learn from its virtue.
Don’t dwell in your cold, cinder darkness.
Let people love and care for you.
It’s contagious-open up, stop the blindness.
Give yourself a break.
You are deserving.
Acknowledge small victories, miniscule even.
Accept, empathize, care for little or no reason.
Start with yourself
and life won’t be so unnerving.

Monica Brown
2007

Euphoric Stupor

2008-07-28T19:04:00.001-07:00

Walk me through the valley of pleasure
And deliver me unto a state of catatonic, righteous bliss
Brought forth by a spiritually humane experience
That is forgivable and unforbidden

Monica Brown
2008

Always an Open Book

2008-07-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

Prologue

Tell me a story
I’ll listen with care
Grip your pain
Taste your salt
Breathe your air

Resurrect each memory
That makes you feel insane
Stare each intangible victim in the face
And call them by name
Make peace once and for all
Then we’ll bury them together
Set them assail forever
Watch them drift away from your shore
Like souls in heaven who mourn no more

Next Chapter

When a child or friend comes to you
You’ll have understanding
You’ll know what to do
Because you were there
But now you’re here
Breathing their air
Gripping their pain
Catching their tear
Listening with care

Epilogue

The moral you were looking for…
There is no story book ending
Or happily ever after
That’s why it’s so enchanting
But a tale once told
Many times over can be shared
Because the pages of life are infinite
Climactic and universally intimate
Earmarked, weathered and old
Their words bleed with meaning
Leaving impressions and reseeding
Waiting for a heart to grow
From the lessons it has sown

Note to the Reader

What you keep bottled up inside
Dry, covered in darkness
Serves no purpose
No one benefits
No one learns
Especially
You

Monica Brown
2007