Book, Frog, Skull, Stone, Hammer (and, oh yes, a penis bone)

The way to my heart is dark, dark,
darkness brightened by books, frogs,
skulls, and peaches my lips drink

one life-kissed poem at a time.

At 13+13+13+1+1 (love the odds),
my skull wants
wild things (horrors and bliss) inked
life that hops and transforms

like a frog (or Muse)
waiting to inspire, or birth

stories…

 

Really, my Wicked Luvs. Poetry might not be all fact, but it’s all true. For my wild-witchy-writer-heart, happiness is full of books and frogs and skulls and peach wine and hammers and stones and… after visiting The Oddities Spring Flea Market, it also contains a penis bone. By the way, when I got the penis bone, I promised I would say penis bone as often as I could.

“Penis bone,” the writer whispered while grinning like a maniac.

So… I am 41-years-delicious. I am a tad healthier than I was last year. Must thank the Universe, my Piano Man, my ink, doctors, and you… for that. My sexy flesh and bones and I are strong enough to go back to indulging in real exercises (not just those damn “therapeutic” stretches, which I’m convinced are the bastard kissing cousins of torture). A day at a time, right? Of course.

I want to show you some of my birthday gifts, because… well, I’m an Aries and according to the scientology god of memes, we Aries love showing off our skulls (I’m pretty sure I just made that up). But hey, it could be true.

The super-Girl-child, she’s just too grown up to continue being the “Little Princess”, you know? Anyhoo, the super-Girl-child made me a skull out of LEGO pieces. She said, “It’s a vampire skull, ‘cause it’s bloody. Get it?” Yep, I get it. 😀 My favorite of the gifts I got from my Piano Man is the 1st American Gods graphic novel. There was much squealing… Followed by serious cooing, when I saw the happy frog pillow case my MIL made me.

My friends from the hospital got me a wee plate, a tiny bowl, and a small glass, in celebration of going back to eating as I wish. You see, when I’m on certain meds I have to eat a lot. So, now that they’re gone, I get to eat like my wicked self likes. I prefer small portions many times a day.

A few paragraphs above, I said I was going to say penis bone as often as I could. Well, I gifted me the penis bone of a badger and an orbicular jasper stone. The stone fits perfectly in my hand. The penis bone sits rather nicely next to one of my hammers and allows me to say penis bone quite often. 😀

Rommy, did not get me a penis bone for my birthday. Nope, she got me a sledge hammer. I love it. And yes, I’ve been hitting people with it.

I didn’t hit Rommy with the hammer she got me. I didn’t even hit her with the penis bone I got for myself. I don’t think one is supposed to hit friends with one’s penis bone. Friends are for smiling like a blurry lunatic with.

See? Told you. Um… the creepy rabbit demanded to be photographed.

So, what have you been up to?

Of Skulls, Wild Blessings, Pain and Ink

I got out of bed counting skulls. I always find healing in the act of counting blessings. If you know me a bit, you aren’t wondering about my use of the words skulls and blessings in the same paragraph—I love skulls, and recalling the tales of how they got to me is quite soothing.

Take the skull in the photo below, as an example. It’s a gift from my friend Lynne, mistress of the Insomniac’s Attic. She gave it to me during her last visit to New York City… in which we delighted in old books, got lost looking for an antique shop that insisted on hiding behind a delivery truck, and witnessed a rather irresponsible New Age seller tell a customer that onyx stones would give her telepathic powers.
Weeks later, the outrage I felt towards the seller’s statement (and the amusement my reaction brought to Lynne’s face) makes me laugh like a maniac. Laughter heals. The same is true of rituals and symbols. That’s the idea behind the grouping in the image: a frog from Stacy, a skull from Lynne, rosemary from Gina, and a mini-book from Emma, every piece sitting on a stone and a shell that holds its own tale. Even the black ribbon has a story, and telling myself all those tales (and laughing) pushes the aches away. Yes, it’s magic.

After saying goodbye to the frog, skull, rosemary and book, I started breakfast and made my bed. The quilt filled me with warm grins. It’s a handfasting present from my Mother-in-Law. As my not-so-perfect picture shows, the squares make an M or a W (for Magaly & William). And yes, the stitching forms lovely hearts. How cool is that, my Wicked Luvs? How could pain and exhaustion ever compete against the love put into such thought-filled gift?

Some gifts are unexpected treasures. The memories of when I first saw them always rush through me like a wave of ecstatically surprised endorphins. Yep, I’m referring to the bee kissing crabapple blossoms in the photo below. I was gifted this glimpse into Nature’s crafty magic, right after having spent a couple of hours searching for mushrooms. The search was a total fiasco… So, I was justifiably disappointed. Then I saw the bee… and the blooms… and I was delighted. Oh yes, I’m grinning like a lunatic, just thinking about it.

I’m writing this post while my heat pad does its magic on the pain that kicks my back. And “Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!” I’m smiling, as I think of gifts… of friends… of spring… of skulls… of wild magic… of every experience life has inked into my blood… and of how lucky I am to have the strength to craft them into poems and stories to share with you.

Do you count personal blessings? If so, do tell me of a wee blessing that brings all sorts of gigantic smiles to your face. Yummy grows yummier when spread. Really. 😉