Invisible

Invisible,
she felt
from the time she was young
with flowing hair
and sad eyes
bright sometimes
yet distant

She reached out
or didn't
but it was still the same
Rejection
Forgotten
Silence
Only her voice
to carry her through darkness

"You're wrong," they said
You can't be you
She heard it enough
for her insides
to be a mix of shame,
regret, and defiance
"I want to be me," she cried out
I can't be anybody else

She didn't understand
why that was so hard
So blasphemous
Isn't uniqueness the truth?
Why must I be what you want?
Or make your choices?
Or live your life?

You won't love me anyway
No matter what I am
Invisible people are easily buried
Dug up when people need something good
Or an excuse to feel better
about their own sadness
their own rejection
their own undeveloped potential

So they think they can use you
like a tool
forgetting you are a person
with feelings
and a heart
and a longing for a true connection
that doesn't go away
because you don't contain
something the world values
like money, or prestige, a budding career
or popularity among caricatures

That was why she never joined their dance
Or found pleasure or truth in their words
They were empty
Emptier than the cave she dug for herself
And kept lit with her own inner essence

Invisible was better than seen
if it meant remaining true
to what she felt

Project Period Contract - The Life One

1. Work only 40 hours a week. You don't have to make more than you need. Keep reducing what you can.

2. Continue to live simply.

3. Read for pleasure.

4. Write because you enjoy it. Only revise and share if you wish.

5. Wake up with the sunrise.

6. Take care of your body.

7. Find more ways to connect. Develop relationships. Invite more people in.

8. Travel. Keep exploring. Keeping seeking the new.

9. No more "careers." No more pieces of paper. No more striving. Relax and be.

10. Smile and enjoy what is free.

The wind blew softly
over her kind face one day
as her eyes raised to the sky
those honey-colored wonders
realized in a most blissful instant
that she was finally alone and Free........

(c)1993-1994

MBA vs. MFA

Work; play
Dread; surprise
Achieving; learning
Cut-throat; helpful
Finding; exploring
Linear; open
Exhausting; refreshing
Left; right
Objective; subjective
Demanding; relaxed
Suffocating; oxygen
Logical; intuitive
Outline; random
Conscious; sub-conscious
Intrusive; soft
Financial; existential
Need; value
Tangible; intangible
Forgotten; remembered
Trivial; profound

Things I'd do with My MBA

1. Management consulting
2. Organizational Culture consulting
3. Marketing plan development consulting
4. Advertising Account Management
5. Business Analyst
6. Market Research Analyst
7. Media Buyer
8. Book Proposal Writer/ Marketer
9. Literary Agent/Publisher
10. Social Media/Internet Platform Company Marketing & Creative Development
11. Frame the piece of paper and be thankful I didn’t lose all my hair in the process

Calligraphy Labels

There's a scent in the air
When you drink too much wine
And the steps that you take
Seem to be too many
The wind cold enough to sting
Through your skin
Freezing everything but what's inside

That scent in the air
Can smell like a stale version
Of the bottle still sitting on the counter
Or in the fridge
A fermented stench
Hanging as though it's about to burst

And then it does
Slowly bubbling past the cork
Spilling in streams down each side
Of what once contained it
Erasing the illusion
That its liquid can be confined
Or hidden behind shiny colored glass
With pretty calligraphy labels

Retracing Seventeen

Across that field you’d come
With your glowing blonde hair
Softly waving its threads against the breeze
Another glance left open to interpretation
Another almost spoken set of words
Felt through the eyes instead

So on we’d go
Into our separate ways
After the world of discovery
You immersed me in
Without any intent or responsibility
To the aftermath of danger’s titillation

Smoke filled rings
Swirled in disguised escape
A young soul lost
Behind the wall of books
And a stage
She’d soon discard
For lessons beyond promises
Contained in fantasy,
Truth’s expression,
And the unspoken heart

Of a grown soul still lost
Retracing her steps
To that field
She walked across
Until it became a memory
Of youth’s innocent hope
That the world contained
The possibility of dreams
Bigger than what could be seen

Gone are the smeared pink petals
The rose used to wear
Your blonde locks and blue eyes
Frozen in a seventeen year old’s unfinished beginning
An unpromised dream soon to unfold
Onto an unseen reel
That will someday be played
Within the experiment we still call today