…with Heart-Bits in It

I have always felt deeply (perhaps even peculiarly) attracted to trees and dirt and frogs and bones. Growing up in a farming village filled my soul (and brain *thank goodness for that*) with a sense of respect for the land (you truly appreciate Nature and her ways, if her moods directly dictate what you get to eat, where you get to go). In my childhood, no ritual was as natural or as important as those attached to the harvest of rice, coffee, and cacao beans.

In those now gone summers and autumns, I didn’t think of what we did as ritualistic. It was just living. We cooked the first cauldron of rice in the field (the growers always ate the first bite). We danced and sang as we roasted coffee beans (dancing and singing and laughter enriched the taste of the brew, the Old used to say). We did witchy things without calling it witchery. I didn’t use the term “witch” to describe how I relate to nature and her gifts, until I felt the need to help others understand what I did. Saying, “I’m a wild witchy woman” is much easier (okay, simpler) than calling myself a lover of trees and dirt and rain and Dark Moon nights and sex and dance and words and smiles that come from the gut and life…

I love sharing things in ways we can all understand what I mean (well, I try). This is one of the reasons why I changed my blog’s tagline from “Poetry, fiction, and other Dark bits with Bright in them” to “Poetry and fiction with heart-bits in it”. I’m not dropping the dark and bright tag because I think my writing isn’t exactly that… Not at all. I’m choosing heart-bits because the phrase does a better job at describing what I write.

Other Bits

– The delightfully bastardish Facebook idiotic Team keeps on marking most of the links I share (from my blog) as spam. I have asked about it, and it was suggested that people who follow me (or who follow others who follow me) are labeling my blog links as spam. This makes no sense to me… Why would anyone follow a person whose work they don’t want to see? I mean, just stop following me. Or, unfriend me. Or, ask whoever might be sharing my posts with you to stop doing it. I will continue dealing with it (for a bit). Any advice?

– If we are friends on Instagram, you might’ve noticed that I’ve changed my URL from @magalyguerreroindarkerwords to @wordsbymagalyguerrero. This shouldn’t affect our interaction, but I wanted to tell you anyway… I’m feeling rather rambly (and adverby).

– If you’ve yet to help me choose the direction in which “This Lingering Maybe” will go, please visit the 55-word tale and choose 1 of 3 paths. I’ll write the next chapter tomorrow.

bits I’ve shared on Instagram
because… why not, right?

My id is a poet
in love with strange.

Love understands wild,
weird and me.

bee, the one
keeping things blooming
bright and wild

I Am Made of Wild

A bright, sexy and rather modest Toad invited everyone to ask themselves, “what am I made of?” And then, craft their answer into a poem or short story. I decided to answer by expanding this blackout poem, and letting that beautifully freakish Toad know that:

.
I am made of Caribbean
dirt, blood and bones,
thought and screams.

I am made of free
women and men, of souls

kissing hurt on the mouth,
grinning with sharp teeth.

I am made of muse
birthing breathing words
of bright and dark
small minds can’t shroud.

I am made of wild

brilliance dancing
with rage, control
and haunting memories.

I am made of wild.

.
the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ “I Am Made of…” (Poetry and Flash Fiction with Magaly), and to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 357.
– I suspect this will become some sort of Made of Wild series. There is just something about those words, which keeps on asking for more and more and more… and I want to give it. So, while we are at it… what are you made of, my Wicked Luvs?

“Passion”, by Oscar Ortiz

Angel or Monster, or Both

Our sweet (and deadly) Rommy invited us to play with angels and monsters and poetry. I was all for it, of course. I mean, she quoted the greats (Buffy, Psycho) to remind the world that “I’m the thing monsters have nightmares about”, that “We all go a little mad sometimes.” So, here is my poem *wild giggles and delicious cackles*.

.
Choose to be
angel or monster, or both—
be a miracle, or The Thing
nightmares run screaming from.

Go a bit mad, break bones
to soul music that inspires
wise children and old fools
to tolerate tamed liberals
and life-drunk poets.

Be a rebel—
love Star Trek and Star Wars
equally (if it makes you happy),
be the queerest adventurous
conservatively wild spirit:

different is beautiful,
identical is gorgeous,
choice is best…

…choose to be.

.
the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Of Angels and Monsters, hosted by our Rommy dearest. She asked us to choose a quote and create a poem. But since I was feeling extra rebellious, I used four of the given quotes… and threw one of my blackouts into the mix (yeah, I am bad to the bone):
“I’m the thing monsters have nightmares about.” ~ Buffy the Vampire Slayer
“‘Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!’” ~ Dracula
“One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel.” ~ Doctor Who
“We all go a little mad sometimes.” ~ Psycho
– While proofreading this mildly wild piece, I noticed the phrase “the thing”, thought of the movie by the same name, and felt the urge to capitalize the words. Seriously, no serious poem would ever be complete without Star Trek, Star Wars and The Thing in it. This has been science fictionally proven, seriously.