#mmbftd

61 posts
  • mmbftd 7w

    Love (notes on my experience)

    Some reasons why I love you and will always love you ❤️

    The way you caught the snake in our backyard, bravely, with no hesitation to protect our little dogs and me. And most importantly, the kind way you drove to a vacant field to release it unharmed. Similarly, the way you trapped the mommy, daddy, and baby rat and drove into the wilderness and released them unharmed, and with some food to start their new lives together.
    The way you look at our first born doggy as if she owns you (which she does). The way you spend money we don't have on a tiny tiny parrot so she will have all the toys, houses and foods and vitamins and vet care she needs. How you lay there patient ly letting her pull and tug your beard hairs as she preens you with adoration.
    The way you help me when my body fails. Bring me ice packs or rub my head, back and neck in absolutely all the right places without me saying where.
    How you let me stay home while you work to support us. This is huge and so selfless of you. The way you stayed with my Abuelita, in her kitchen that year the family was screaming and scaring her. How you held her hand and comforted her and then on top of that, you stood up for me and got me out of harm's way. No one had ever stood up for me before. I will never forget those loving gestures.
    The way you drove me to all my doctor's appointments after I could no longer do it myself.
    How you told me everything was going to be ok, and it was.
    How you used to hold me through the night until your arm fell asleep and still you kept on holding me. How you hugged me and let me cry into your chest after my night terrors took my mind and wouldn't let go of it.
    How you accepted my brokenness, even though you had no understanding of the how's or why's.
    How you called me a rockstar each time I clumsily plunked out a 3 chord song on an out of tune guitar. How you then would faithfully tune my guitar because I refused, stubbornly, to learn. Maybe because I wanted that connection with you.
    How you dance with my son, the rescue pigeon, to the radio and coo at him so he has joy in his day. Or how you tenderly, and carefully trim his beak when it overgrows. Talking to him so he isn't scared. Or how you worked so hard to build him his two giant houses so he could still fly without the hawk taking him.
    How you used to run your warm fingers up and down my back to comfort and love me.
    How you never ever leave without saying you love me. How I never need to worry that you might abandon me. How you tell my insecure mind that you aren't going anywhere, you are here to stay.
    How you used to throw the ball for the puppy in the yard and watch her race to me and then back and forth. How you cared and loved my soulmate dog when we first started dating. How you still love him even though he is long passed. I never thought anyone else could love him as much as I did, but you did. How you lifted him up when he couldn't jump, snuggled him inside your sweatshirt when it was too cold in our rented room with no heat. How you woke early to lift him out the window so he could have his morning pee.
    The way you love the animals I love has made me love you more and more each day.
    The way you forgive me for getting angry sometimes. You forgive so easily. The way you have never screamed at me. You've never raised a hand to me, never once called me a cruel name or even cussed at me.
    You take care of me when I can't care for myself and encourage my creative ideas.
    You keep me surrounded with my animals because you know that is my happiness in this world.
    You listen to me ramble about the jumping spiders I love and look at photos I take and compliment me. Even though I'm aware they all must look the same to you.
    You are kind, gentle and loving.
    You are so strong, smart and handsome. You are a puzzle solver, thinking outside the parameters set by others.
    You are a creator.
    You are a lovely person. I wish we had more time to have adventures in nature. A hike a sunset or stars.
    You bought me a motorhome, my absolute dream. You worked so hard trying to fix it up. It's my bucket list. Without you I never would have been able to get it.
    Thank you, for being yourself. Thank you for sharing parts of you with me.
    I love and appreciate you sharing this life with me for these past 11 years. I could not have survived without your tender care. Thank you, with all the gratitude I have. I love you.
    For M.K.C.
    My partner in this world.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 9w

    Migraine

    Today is a new day
    The day after
    The bombs were dropped
    Inside my head
    I felt a fissure there
    Deep in my skull
    Though no one else could see it
    And as I became twisted
    Wreckage of human
    Caught up in sweaty
    Uncomfortable blankets
    Suddenly too rough on my skin
    I begged all forces unseen
    To release me from my anguish
    Even death was a welcome
    Suitor
    The throb of my eyes
    With every weak heartbeat
    Smashed my face
    With such force
    Tears poured out of me
    But crying made it worse
    So I detached into a wiggle
    Back and forth
    As I lay on the couch
    No comfort in that either
    Only a way to mark time
    In front of me.
    Time, the only elixir for this
    Evil malady
    I tried everything over these years
    Yet nothing helped but time
    Darkness, noiseless, smell-less
    Void.
    No pills, shots, meditation, vitamin, nor amount of positive vibes could cure this.
    And so I suffer and endure
    One, two, three days on the calendar
    Two maybe three times a month
    And I lose those days
    So I am extra grateful for the ones I get, without my skull demon riding me.
    And there are so many hardships out in this world. My issue is so miniscule, and this I know.
    But in my bubble of existing, I only think of myself at those times, and simotaneously trying to survive and yet welcoming death should he appear to take me.
    And so today is the day after
    My pain is gone enough to stand
    Gone enough to sip water and see this light blaring into me.
    But my mind is not sharp, not quick. I am a dumbed down version of my normal self.
    Cognitive function very dim.
    A few more days of this now.
    I bend my knee and spout gratitude into the air around me and farther, into the universe.
    My tears now in gratitude instead of pain.
    I've survived again. As we are all trying to do.
    Now what shall I do with this new precious time?
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 9w

    Winter(or notes on a Fish)

    It was winter
    When I stopped sleeping.
    A switch
    A change in my body
    Kept my mind racing
    Magnetic waves
    Strewn about from our sun
    Reached me
    Without my notice
    Without an announcement
    And so here I was
    Upright in the dark room
    Listening to the sounds of night
    Fishtank bubbles
    In their patterns
    And then none at all
    The fish himself
    Who liked to jump at night
    And splash through the surface
    With such force.
    He is a fast fish
    Bright yellow
    With faint black stripes
    Vertical on his strong body
    That darken when he gets
    Excited.
    I've had this fish; Coupe
    Since he was tiny like my thumb
    And a bright flash
    Of electric blue
    He was so beautiful and small
    But always alert
    And friendly
    To me at least.
    He ate every other fish
    He was ever housed with-
    Even his sisters.
    A brother and a Chinese Algae
    eater, a Plecostemus, an aquatic frog, assorted snails, two goldfish, and probably a few others I can no longer recall.
    Trust me when I say, this fish wants to be alone!
    He was so aggressive that once we thought we'd put him outside in our tiny pond to live free and have the chance to swim with bigger fish. Our once tiny goldfish, purchased as food for our Red-Eared Slider Turtle, had grown into 8 year old giant and beautiful want-to-be Koi.
    When I gently set Coupe down into the pond so he could get adjusted to his new freedom, he would not swim away from me. He stayed at my side, me with my hand in the water for his comfort.
    And he refused to go. In the end my heart was breaking that I had put him in the pond. I sat there petting this beautiful yellow bully of a fish and was in wonderment that he seemed to enjoy this.
    I brought him back inside and returned him to his tank. That was years ago, and I can't remember how many years we have been together now? Seems like at least 5. I talk to him every day, sing to him, kiss him through the glass, wave from across the room, and feed him. I look forward to seeing him each morning and have grown accustomed to his splashy night sounds.
    He builds elaborate nests of gravel, moving each pebble in his mouth and spitting it out with all the precision of an architect. There are vast hills and valleys in there, and ever few months he rearranges it all again. Recently he pulled part of the filter tube off ( it is about his size, 5inches) and pulled it to the bottom of the tank, into his nest, where he sleeps with it next to him. He confounds me. Is he lonely? Or not?
    Well, I am lonely, and he makes me less lonely, so there's that.
    I have such compassion for this fish. For all fish. I've always loved fish but he is the first I call my friend.
    Ah, and now here is daylight in through my window. Night has gone, and I see the yellow flash of Coupe waking up. A gleam of quick -yellow zipping and zapping about. His day begins. I wave. He looks, straight on at me, staying still but for the gently wagging of his tail to suspend him. We aknowledge one and other.
    And so it goes. An old woman and her solitary fish. A tale of two creatures co-existing. He is an African Cichlid fish, for those who got this far reading me random babblings on my precious Coupe. May you meet and befriend s fish someday. It can absolutely happen. I wish you well!
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 9w

    Enormous Wings

    Enormous Wings
    As in, a Very old Man With-
    Was a story that stuck with me over the years.
    I re-read it countless times
    To myself
    Or others
    As we lay in summer beds
    Soothing our beach skin
    And drinking tea
    With tiny chips of ice nearly
    Gone away melted.
    I empathized with that poor old man, sympathized, and wept for him.
    I understood as strangers tried to size him up
    He; dirtied and frazzled in the chicken coop.
    As the people tried to make him something he wasn't.
    Something they desperately wanted him to be.
    They tried to mold him, prod him, poke him, hurt him, bend him into what they thought they needed.
    Yet still he remained himself.
    I respected that so much.
    When I was younger, I wondered how he managed to do that?
    How could he be so resilient in his being?
    As I grew old I understood more, how it is always best to stay yourself regardless of how others try to sway or force you into being something else.
    Wether we have wings to spread or simply feet to put one in front of the other, it is best to make a quick escape from those who would see you captured up in their snares.
    It is dark morning here now, as I am up far too early, before the sun I hold so dear. And a very old man with enormous wings comes back to me from the past. He is a messenger for me, or perhaps I am making him into something he is not? Just like the rest?
    I dust off my book, creak it open, smell the age of it, the importance of it. I feel the textured pages with my fingertips. How I cherish these physical books. How permenant I once thought they were. But time changes and degrades things and people.
    The message I find in these pages changes too through my years. Different messages for different phases of my life. And though my eyes see blurry now, I read again and listen, for my message, my epiphany.
    My empathy has never wavered for the old man, although now I understand the mean-ness and cruelty of the people a little more. Life let's you experience both sides the longer you go at it.
    I sit with the story. Let it resonate like some ancient tuning fork picking up my frequency. I need adjusting. To find my way back to a more authentic me, without influence of others on my truth.
    I sip my now cold coffee. I once loved it sweet but now prefer it bitter. Time spins me into new iterations of what I once was.
    I close my cherished book. I wonder how sad it must be for someone to never have had such a tactile experience with words.
    I fold my tattered wings, curl up in my blankets and try to catch a dream again before the sunrise.
    And that old man, he smiles at me, from a past I used to know. Goodnight old man. I love you.

    ,
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 14w

    Nest

    What makes a nest?
    Is it fear?
    The need for comfort?
    A warm blanket
    Connected to thin cold skin
    In the night?
    Twigs and sticks
    Constructed by miraculous
    Birds as the frenzy to complete the task overtakes them?
    Ignoring dangers
    Hunger pangs
    One singular mission
    To complete on time
    Before the sacred eggs
    Join this world.
    Nests are needed now and then
    A step into a life often dangerous and overwhelming.
    What makes a nest?
    The care given in it's planning?
    In it's very architecture?
    The Jumping Spider creates
    In perfect timing
    Her nursery nest
    With a secondary smaller version not far from the first, a small step away from home for her brood of teeny babies.
    Her construction may look haphazard to those who've never had time to watch the process from beginning to end. But it never ends for the mother spider, she is in constant movement, modifying and improving her nest. It is pliable but steely strong. She moves her abdomen back and forth, back and forth, a dance of the universe. A movement she has known since she was born. Her white reflective lines of web deposited with the comfort of repeated motions; like the brick layer on the street, one brick on mortar and again, and so it goes.
    Her web catches and refracts the light. It makes beautiful rainbows at just the right angles. And yet this nest has no angles. No hard corners, no theory of buildings here. And yet this is a caring nest. After a few days she feels it will protect her and her future, so she lays her eggs and they are in a ball like structure of golden yellow hung just right at the top of the nest, the most North it can be.
    She will tend to hundreds of tiny spidelettes. She will care about them, guard them with her life and nurture them with foods she has spent weeks collecting and depositing around the inside and outside of the nest. Her brood will not starve. They will feel safe and know no fear for these first weeks of their lives. And mother's careful eyes will be on them at all times. As she restructures this nest to accommodate their growth. Pushing her body up and down to widen the structure for the growing brood so they have room to move around inside.
    I watch in awe, tiny black shadows inside the nest, undulating like waves of life as she sits guarding, a larger black shadow beneath them, also inside.
    She keeps the 3 doors of her nursery nest sealed up, and exits only to feed and collect food for them. She is a lovely and caring creature.
    And what makes a nest?
    Four walls and a crib?
    Two arms and full breasts?
    A womb pulsing with two heartbeats. Hot blood whooshing as a lullaby?
    Twigs and sticks, buildings and bricks, webs and slits. Feathers and fluff to cushion the bed.
    A nest is needed. It is required. For us to all become.
    And we yearn for such safety still, even as time makes us big.
    I want to build a nest. For myself but also for you. I will use my love for it's base and my careful eye for it's walls. I will use my compassion for it's size, it must be big enough to comfort everyone.
    And though I've never been a mother, I will use the templates set out by nature. Whether nurture or that. It's all around us. This primal information passed down in instinct. I hope we don't forget how to build nests for each other.
    What makes a nest?
    Love.
    Let me start with that alone.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 25w

    August Was
    August Is


    Well
    October is coming
    Now is the month
    July reminds me
    And here is August.
    August was a fury.
    His blue, wicked eyes
    Undressed my mind
    Whenever we'd meet
    He could read my thoughts.
    My body
    In perpetual anticipation
    Of his
    Near me.
    His low growling voice
    Pricked chills up
    On the soft nape of my neck.
    He bit there
    Never drawing blood
    But as if to carry me away
    Like a lion
    With tender cub in sway
    To safety
    Away from where I might
    Hurt myself.
    And though I have always been
    The cub to his lion-like ways
    It was more passionate
    Than paternal.
    We longed for each other
    Like the characters I scribed
    Or the lifelike sketches
    And paintings he created
    With those strong beautiful hands.
    Our fire spanned decades.
    It's orange-yellow flames
    Burned on in secret parts of us.
    We had only once chance
    Long ago
    To be together
    Age has erased what went wrong or why
    Neither of us cared. The fire, the Magnet the pull of stars and suns
    Still gravitated us to one another.
    I kept remembering the way that July sun lit up your blond beard
    Your lips within
    Buried there
    And how I wanted them on mine
    Like needing air
    I needed you.
    Ours was not a consistent type of knowing
    As years passed
    We stay vanished and silent
    Until we don't
    Then it all comes back to
    how it was
    As if I am sitting too close to you at that table
    Me in my 20's: the huntress
    And you needing fixing
    I watched you sketch
    My character
    So effortlessly
    So full of talent
    To make paper and pencil seem real
    You started with the negative space, and went from there.
    I liked the scratchy sounds your pencil made against
    The paper
    as my stomach reacted to your handsome face with such excitement and energy.
    But beyond the primal, physical wanting
    was a deep connection.
    We saw each other and then we simply became. Like links in chain, one needing the other to be.
    You have always been that to me. Over 20 years and nothing about us dims. I'm still your number one fan and you still cut me with a loving truth only you can deliver. I trust in you. More than others. I cherish you more than others. Our history is testament to our connection.
    And I'm not deluded. We know we are both disasters in different ways, and that is OK. That is called acceptance, or love, or something close enough to desire.
    It's valuable.
    August, you are breathtaking.
    I'm still in awe. As are you. I love that for us. Shouldn't we all have someone so perfectly imperfect to hold onto?
    I'm so grateful.
    Eternally yours, m.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 41w

    Damn You

    First you took my sun
    It used to be warm
    Inviting
    Energizing
    And calming simultaneously
    I remember that color
    Golden yellow to citrus orange
    So easy to stare at, that our parents had to remind us not to!
    Coconut oil on my tanned childhood skin
    Floating in turquoise chlorine water
    The scent of oil mixed with the scent of the thin plastic innertube my skinny childhood body floated in.
    I watched all the wavy sun lit lines travel across the bottom of the pool.
    They hypnotized me, until my body floated in time with the tiny water movements of the pool. Undulations.
    I stuck my bottom in the hole of the innertube and faced the sky.
    A rich deep blue like my best friend's eyes.
    Brilliant white puffy clouds
    Slowly drifted through the sky.
    But you took that too.
    Damn you for taking my blue blue sky.
    And smells
    like fresh flowers, green grass and fresh living dirt.
    And now
    You took my family
    And friends
    You took my human touch
    My hugs
    My soft embrace
    My healing hand holding
    Damn you
    You took anything worth
    Living for
    But damn you
    I won't let you take me!
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 52w

    Silent

    When you begin
    Your anger welling up
    From within
    I don't know where to go
    I want to help
    It's my first reaction
    When you are angry
    Or frustrated
    And you yell out
    In absolute
    Exasperation
    Because the world presses down on you
    And me
    In different ways
    And you don't let me help
    So I want to run away
    Or cry
    Because every thing is
    My fault
    Always
    And always was
    And always will be
    From the time I was small
    Till this time now
    Being old.
    So. I have learned (although it goes against every single part of me)
    To stay silent
    Or go away from you.
    Because I get angry too
    And I need to remind myself
    How much it affects you
    When I do that to you too.
    Although I rarely get angry with you
    It is life or other people who continue to hurt me
    But I cannot escape them
    I am bound by obligation
    Much like you feel you are to me
    And your silence far outweighs
    Mine
    And it hurts to never speak or be spoken to
    Now your anger has passed
    As my panic has grown to an undeniable pitch
    Until I spill out of myself
    In tears and choppy
    Barely sustaining breaths.
    So I hide from you
    To allow myself to be possessed
    By the other spirit
    Of chaos
    Created from toxic shame
    Guilt and self-loathing.
    It tells me your life would be so much better
    If I wasn't here-
    And my life would be better
    If I wasn't.
    You and I would be free of this tether...
    But I shush those voices
    As I always have
    As I always will
    From a young girl
    Until now
    An old woman
    with wrinkles mapped out on a face that carries sadness like it is all she has ever known.
    I cry into the silence
    And look around
    As the chaos spirit
    Lessens it's hold
    Around my soul.
    I am alone, and once again-
    Silent.
    Just the way you prefer me.
    And the way I was always shown.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 53w

    Fitting in

    No one talks about it
    When fitting in
    Doesn't fit
    Did you get in?
    Trick em so they didn't realize
    That you don't fit in
    To their group
    Of sunny smiles
    White teeth shining
    Colgate grins
    Like Cheshire cats
    And pussy on display
    Is this where you wanted to be?
    Is it everything you thought it would be
    To be seen?
    Collected and molded
    To shapes that hurt your tender body
    Contorted
    And bent
    Till you are on your knees
    Get up
    Get up
    Stand
    You don't need what they are selling you
    Polished and manufactured
    Smooth lines
    Fresh wax
    Reflecting your pain
    Are you a car
    Meant to floss your worth?
    A woman is not a display of a man's power
    Don't fight so hard to get in there
    It's twisted and delirious
    The pain numbed over
    By powder up your nose
    And fire into your vein
    You sleep
    Wake up
    Do it all again
    And I'm only watching
    From the sideline
    An old voyeur in a world
    Turned mad
    Kids are not kids
    They aren't allowed to be
    They get processed
    Into someone else's
    Commodity
    And it makes me sad
    Because I do remember
    What it felt like
    To believe I was on the outside
    But you've got to find the right tribe
    Where it fits and feels like the family you never had
    Where they lift you up to be what your passions scream
    Listen to those
    Because nobody talks about
    How fitting in hurts
    Once you fake it to get there
    You can't remember who you were
    Don't fight so hard
    To exterminate
    Who you really are
    You are no one else's commodity
    Stand up
    Fight for your self
    You matter.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 53w

    Simulation

    Do you remember
    Analog?
    Like yellow Sun
    And blue skies
    Those days are gone.
    Do you remember
    Vinyl skipping?
    Needle dropping
    Love sharing?
    No likes
    Phantom figments
    Of manufactured adoration.
    Do you remember
    Soft touches?
    Like fire's spark inside
    Combusted.
    And there were 2
    Not many
    1+1=2 is now insanity.
    I'm a throwback
    Vintage queen
    Wrinkled rockstar
    Pretending to be seen
    I come and go
    When I want
    I'm not connected
    To your lightning cords
    My birth is a legend
    No test tube
    No clone
    No DNA collected
    No vaccinated sickness
    Represented.
    And do you remember
    Analog?
    Like yellow Sun and blue sky
    Those things were meant
    To die
    I mourn their loss
    And mine
    Look up
    This is
    Not My Childhood Sky
    It's something
    Streamed in from the SIM
    I'm out of lives ready to die
    I'm ready
    Put the needle down
    And it skips, skips
    And starts again
    Do you remember
    Analog?
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 69w

    Slow

    Tonight is slow
    Like a drip of
    Cold honey
    Unmoved by my desire
    For it
    I want the hours to be minutes
    So we can be together
    Again.
    But time is crawling
    Tonight
    Like freshly hatched Salticidae
    Across my chest
    I watch the air
    Move inside and outside of me
    My skin rising and falling
    Tiny chills prickled my flesh
    Waves
    Chopping at me
    Currents
    Taking me
    Hiding me from the usual
    Passage
    Of time.
    Now all was slowed
    As the orbit
    Became a stretched out
    Ellipses
    Warped, elongated
    A tube, as it rolled over into itself
    And time began to speed up
    And slow
    Immesurably except to those of us who could feel it through our bodies.
    And tonight dragged on
    It took my body with it
    A hostage dragged by chain-
    Clanking loudly in my mind
    Echoes thrown
    All around this empty home
    Sounds that should not be-
    Are here.
    And I glance nervously
    My eyes straining to meet their sources.
    I know I won't see them, I rarely do.
    I feel the earth trembling
    The quakes have increased
    And much like time
    They are mere markers of it.
    Warped or not
    Time is moving so slowly now
    Like cold honey
    Without the sweetness...
    And somewhere far away
    But close enough to seem like it is over my head
    I hear the rustle of shiny black raven feathers
    And it calms and frightens me
    Simultaneously.
    I miss you my friend
    And those little sounds you made while perching for the night next to me.
    You helped me with my passage of time and your feathers in my fingers gave me so much courage and love.
    I could almost accept
    That time was broken now.
    And honey is cold and not sweet and you are gone forever and there are noises in this house and I am alone and waiting...for time to snap back into place again.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 74w

    For Poe

    (This is Poe) R.I.P. my eternal friend.
    "Every spiderweb
    Became my gift
    Because they caught your feathers there-
    Where I could not reach
    A part of you
    I was never meant to keep."
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 74w

    Poe

    Every spiderweb
    Became a gift
    Because they caught
    Your beautiful feathers there
    Where I could not reach
    And long after your passing
    As my heart breaks and morphs into something
    Stronger, hopefully-
    I can admire your black shiny irredescent feathers that were starting to show
    And your fluffy baby feathers
    I watched you Preen as you grew
    I will watch sunsets again
    Now minus you
    Their beauty dulled dramatically
    By your loss
    Because we loved each other so
    and shared wordless hours
    In mutual appreciation of each other
    And these spiderwebs
    Are now my gifts
    All around where we lived
    For they caught your feathers there
    Where I could not reach
    A beautiful part of you
    I was never meant to keep.
    (For Poe, a beautiful wild Raven who we lost much too soon. He was the light of my days, an incredibly intelligent, soulful, loving companion who I had a bonded relationship with for a little over a month. I spent hours a day playing and talking with him. He trusted me and I loved him so deeply. I beg my heart heals soon.)
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 76w

    The Learning

    I was taught to kneel
    Before I could stand
    Taught to beg
    From your outstretched hand
    Taught to fear
    My own thoughts
    Fear living
    And decisions
    And being unjust
    I was taught that men
    Were to be revered
    In their white collar
    And black suit
    With the bread of Christ
    As their trade
    I was taught that the battered and bloodied dead man
    Who hauntingly, pleadingly
    Looked down on me each Sunday,
    That he was dead for me.
    But I never wanted him to be dead for me.
    This made no sense to my innocent 4 year old mind
    Being molded by the sculptors of the church
    I was taught that this man's father
    Loved his son so much
    That he let him die a terrible, foreseeable death
    Abused by so many during his life. I was taught that if you love someone so deeply, you sacrifice them to a horrible life and then death.
    For others.
    To save their souls of course.
    Hmm?
    Then I was taught to eat his body disguised as a thin styrofoam-like wafer that stuck to the roof of my mouth for the entirety of mass each Sunday.
    Later, as I was older, I was taught to drink his blood, from a gold chalice dispensed by a special man who had powers beyond the mortals. He wore a huge white robe with gold and purple scarves and sashes.
    He said this wine was blood and we all drank it up eager to have the blood of Christ inside us.
    Later than that
    I learned what cannibals were
    And vampires
    And narcissists
    And I connected dots
    And considered my history
    How my brain had been washed
    In unclean ways
    How my own thoughts could actually belong to me and not God or Jesus or the Virgin Mary or the Holy ghost.
    Before I could walk
    I learned to kneel
    Before I could speak
    I was forced to listen
    How I would not belong to myself-
    I belonged to God alone.
    How I should save my virginity because of God, because that is what he wanted from me.
    How all my value was tied up in my vagina and how obedient I could act
    With my parents and later my husband.
    I learned that if the loving vows are broken in a marriage
    And your heart breaks and aches for your husband
    As he follows another woman around
    Waiting for a chance to have a relationship with her, how once you decide to divorce the church sacrifices you.
    They beat you down further in judgement and scorn and wiggling tongues like serpents in a basket.
    You are excommunicated when you need support the most. And your value which was in your virginhood, is now gone for good.
    You are worthless.
    Nothing left to offer in this church-world.
    Time to repent.
    And I never did stop saying I was sorry for each little thing.
    So, I'm sorry now.
    Sorry for learning all the wrong lessons.
    And I was taught with a purpose...to obey without questioning...
    And I broke that rule too.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 77w

    I won't

    I won't take it back
    Have you ever stopped
    A moment
    A pause
    To contemplate
    We never age out of what we were born to be
    And guess what my youthful friends?
    When you get old
    You've less impetuous
    To pretend
    That you are ok
    And just right
    A perfect peg in the perfectly shaped hole
    Sawn out from hardened aged wood
    Teeth and blades chewing you raw
    Can we ever fit in?
    Do we dare to truly want that?
    I hum along
    To the distant mourning doves
    Bowing and cooing
    For loves they've lost
    And I too
    Pine
    Pine
    Pine away
    Smelling the fresh needles underfoot
    Coo-oo-hoo-coo-coo
    I hum along
    Until my mourning
    Morning
    Is done.
    And don't you want to know?
    My youthful wishful kin?
    How it all turns out-
    In the end?
    We still want to be accepted
    And loved-
    To belong to those
    With a prettier face
    Than soul.
    Surface
    Floating
    There's no disuading us
    From the pining
    Pine
    Pine
    Pining away
    For those who knew better than to stay
    As your cracks revealed themselves
    Like golden sunshine
    Catches light
    In all the wrong ways
    Like the wrinkles smashed into my face.
    And I'm here to tell you
    It stays the same
    Your still the one
    You were meant to be
    You were that all along
    Before they told you what they said you should be
    In the end
    That all falls away
    Like lizard skin
    And prayers to the unknown
    You are left with yourself
    And those who want the cracks in you
    In a delicate way
    An appreciative way
    Realizing
    Your authenticity
    Is worth more
    Than a mask
    That hangs around your necks
    Smile children
    Get to know yourself
    Let go of the sculptors tools
    No creation required
    You are already all you are
    All you will ever need to be
    Nerds geeks jocks cheerleaders gays straights and inbetweens
    Models mentors and intellects
    Anyone is all they are
    Already
    I know
    Because I'm still that shy girl
    Sitting alone at the edge of the room
    Not ever raising my hand
    Scrawling in notebooks
    And dreaming beautiful dreams
    Content to be away from everyone
    Even the ones
    Trying to get in
    Surrounded by animals
    Who need me
    Looking up at the sun
    And living
    And I won't take it back
    I won't
    And you shouldn't either.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 85w

    Is there?

    Is there still joy?
    I have memories of searching
    And almost catching it
    But I was fooling myself
    I was acting
    Playing house
    With men who tolerated me
    Until they couldn't
    But by that time
    I had beat them to it
    By throwing them out
    Throwing them away
    Before they could deliver
    Their dreadful messages of
    Goodbye.
    I remember experiencing things
    Always in the future or past
    But never in the now
    I am incapable
    Still
    Of being still enough
    In body and mind
    To do that.
    "Now" eludes me
    Much like love
    Or even knowing what that is.
    Such a strange way to exist
    Being a narrator
    A film maker
    Of my own life
    Like never having any control
    Only foreshadowing
    Or
    Recounting
    Moments I've been a part of.
    I used to plan elaborate things
    As I lay in bed
    On a school night
    Plotting
    What I might say
    The next day
    Should someone want to speak to me
    I plotted how I would stand
    And look in my clothes
    How I would be perceived
    By the other little kids.
    The next day would come
    I would follow my plot line
    And it never worked out how I wanted it to
    No one wanted to speak to me
    No little friends
    And had I made them
    I wouldn't have enjoyed them
    Being so incapable of enjoying moments.
    Stuck up here
    Inside my head
    Reading the script of my life
    Not yet lived
    Or turning the yellowed, stiffened pages of my own history
    As a bedtime story
    For only me.
    Tell me, is there joy?
    I've forgotten to experience it.
    Is it out there? Or in here?
    I'm stuck
    And slowed
    And no wiser
    Though the catalogues
    Of my life are considerable now.
    Tell me is there joy?
    (She asks into the darkness.)
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 91w

    I made a mistake

    I made a mistake
    I let it in
    Trying to innocently
    Get a breeze
    To blow the demons
    Out of our home
    And unintentionally
    Let something else
    Equally
    Insidious
    Through our screen
    This air
    White
    Thick
    Acid lung stinging
    Ears ringing
    Body vibrating
    Sickness.
    I let it in.
    Now it's too late to do anything
    But breathe
    What else is there?
    I'm responsible for this
    The sky is in our house
    And now I can't get it out
    Head throbbing
    Pulsing
    With purposeful
    Rhythm
    Assigned by those unseen
    I made a mistake
    So I must suffer
    I'd rather live with the demons
    Than breathe this chemtrail air
    At least demons
    Have their reasons
    I've made a mistake.
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 94w

    Not just

    I'm more than photographs
    Taken with my green blue eyes
    More than music that I scribe
    More than melodies
    Sung to comfort those
    Who've come undone
    More than gentle kisses on your eyes
    More than lover's bodies entwined
    I'm more than what I've left behind
    And more than silly rhymes
    But blind men
    Stay darkened
    Purposefully
    They take for granted
    What they cannot see
    And I'm more than an old woman
    Who counts the years
    More than a childless version
    Of what society believes
    I should be
    And I'm more than phrases
    You never heard before
    More than the sum of all the books I've read
    Turning silky pages
    Cracking spines
    Integrating character's lives
    Into mine
    I'm more than my breaking body
    Now betraying me
    Keeping me caged in the pain of captivity
    For I would walk then run
    Away from here
    If I thought my body would carry me there
    If I thought my splintered mind
    Would let me finally decide
    And I'm more than what I will be
    In some future even I can't see
    With my lens facing
    Maybe the wrong way
    Green blue eyes
    What can I be today?
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 94w

    Scars

    Remember
    When you didn't think
    Your scars were beautiful?
    When the slice in your skin
    Made only by others
    Consumed you
    With horror.
    Yet your calculated, deliberate
    Slices adorned your feather white arms
    Like sleeves of proof
    You still existed
    Your inner thighs
    Held tight
    To the belief that your marks could erase all who had been there inside you.
    Remember when you didn't know who you were?
    How every phrase a man uttered to you dictated the messy map of your future and your past.
    Remember how that old voice
    Deep like the chasm of your despair, beckoned you into your own demise
    So many, many times.
    Going back was never moving foward.
    Remember when you saw a light?
    You caught him in a mason jar and let him illuminate the pages of your life as you wrote your own story...for the first time ever.
    Remember how we used to cry till we laughed?
    Holding each other so tightly so we would never lose ourselves. We held each other together. Patched and glued and stapled until all we were was mismatched emotions with no cohesive bond at all. Remember how you were the first to love me true?
    Remember when you finally looked in the mirror at your self, the way he looked at you, without judgement or critique.
    With the eyes of belonging and acceptance.
    Remember when I ran my finger over your lumpy stitches and told you that scars are beautiful markers of our strength and no reason to be ashamed?
    Remember when you finally agreed?
    And now
    You are free. Scars coat us both. Some self inflicted some by other's incising.
    But now, can you remember?
    When you didn't think your scars were beautiful?
    How long ago that was!
    ©mmbftd

  • mmbftd 96w

    I burned

    Outside was sharp light
    She knelt to capture
    A yellow flower that reminded her
    Of her long gone Abuelita.
    The white hot sun
    Didn't allow her to get lost in this moment
    Of photographing water on soft petals
    Of green, course leaves
    With aphid tenants
    This sun burned her toes and feet
    Pale-skin-red
    Like embarrassment
    For not visiting
    Before she left forever.
    She poured hose water over her feet as she waited for the pain to subside
    Grabbing the little white gate to pull herself up to stand
    She looked out over her replica garden
    Trying to be so beautiful
    Like her grandma's
    But she had never grown anything of her own
    She took cues from all the elders
    But could not break free completely
    With her own direction and momentum
    Burn
    Burning
    Her heart could not take this
    Self assessment
    Plucking the sunflower
    She realized
    Was yet another mistake she had made
    Burned
    Down into forgotten ashes
    Kept on a shelf with a dusty photograph
    Of a time less perilous
    When the thought of being without Abuelita had never entered her mind.
    Burn
    Burning
    Burnt
    That sun
    Is on me now
    My soul is ash
    My heart is unloved
    And I cannot wait to bring her my sorry sunflower
    Burned and blossomed
    To our full capabilities.

    ©mmbftd