Wednesday Poetry (there's two of them!!)

Untitled

What you want is to stray from bed
to what may be a couch or ledge
Don't look in any eyes
forget what's shouting behind their lies
push your future further away
focus on what makes you happy today
if it were any other time but now
the look you give me would carry sound
instead it lingers weightless mid-air
with nothing to do but stare
empty space behind wanton eyes
I think you want me to sympathize
how can I when you're not there
and all the signs are shouting beware
the risk I'd take on saving you
would take me barreling down the corkscrew
you have no interest in stepping back
I see your world so filled in black
and all you want is to forget
as you light and drag your last cigarette
laugh and smile and pour your liqueur
even you know, you're your own saboteur
I wish the look you gave me had carried sound
I swear, I swear, I would have stuck around.

12-11-12
Ⓒ mab


Serenity of Tone

The tones surround the ears
there's nothing else left to hear
beat upon the broken drum
all that's left equals a sum
drive into the open shine
find in that your own kind
and when you fall, like we always do
remember no one ever has a clue
trickery is what you'll find
be aware that all is twined
and Lucky You that finds the grace
that falls upon the lover's face
and romance is in the inhale
'tis nothing that is measured on a scale
and in that open tone you'll find identity
which is nothing short of pure serenity.

12-11-12
Ⓒmab

Tuesday morning musings: The Short Poetry Edition

Medusa  

tilt my head with a reassurance you can’t comprehend.
my eyes will bleed those lies swarming your mouth 
and tempting your tongue.


What really happens in the ladies room
two women in the bathroom so desperate for themselves
check makeup and panty lines hoping
to sleep in a more comfortable bed than their own.


Woe is me

I’m the girl i never was 
crooked in that zig-zag line
My head bumps the wall 
i can’t see straight at all 
and i bring the parts of me i can lift
leave the rest soaking in my pride
i see the way to the ending maze 
i see the way to go
but,can it be i like it? the way i sloth about. 
can it be i like it? the way my arm can always give out. 
   
                                                          Ⓒ mindy bledsoe

New Experiment. Curious?

I want to say something deep and meaningful about poetry and how it's an almost dying art form. But, I'm not gonna. Cause in me, poetry is alive and kicking. And truly, poetry will out live us all because in one form or another poems have been recorded via paper, video, graffiti, songs. Words have been put out into the universe and there's no taking that back. 
I'm attempting to reach a larger audience (more than 30 people!) with the following visual/audio experience.
Why? Because I need to.
And like the title of this blog announces, Why Not Mindy.? 
So click HERE to watch it Big.
Or enjoy the tiny version below. 

Ride.

I'm obsessed. Can't stop watching. Can't stop listening. 
Breathtaking short film/music video.
I wish this piece came from my mind.
I love it so much that jealously overcomes the love. Oh the thin line.
Watch it below, but really click HERE and watch it big.

"I was always an unusual girl. My mother told me I had a chameleon soul. No moral compass pointing due north. No fixed personality. Just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean."  - Lana Del Rey  (Full poem below)

P.S. - This is 10 minutes long. Set the time aside, open your mind, and soak it in. 

   
 
 I was in the winter of my life — and the men I met along the road were my only summer. At night I fell asleep with visions of myself dancing and laughing and crying with them. Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times. I was a singer, not a very popular one, who once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet — but upon an unfortunate series of events, saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again — sparkling and broken. But I didn't really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.

When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I had been living — they asked me why. But there's no use in talking to people who have a home, they have no idea what it's like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lie your head.

I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me I had a chameleon soul. No moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality. Just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean. And if I said that I didn't plan for it to turn out this way, I'd be lying — because I was born to be the other woman. I belonged to no one — who belonged to everyone, who had nothing — who wanted everything with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn't even talk about — and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Every night I used to pray that I'd find my people — and finally I did — on the open road. We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore — except to make our lives a work of art.

Live fast. Die Young. Be Wild. And Have Fun.

I believe in the country America used to be. I believe in the person I want to become. I believe in the freedom of the open road. And my motto is the same as ever —I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I'm at war with myself — I ride. I just ride.

Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have you created a life for yourself where you're free to experience them? I have. I am fucking crazy.

But I am free.

The days after...

...And I haven't much to say
for I left it all in the moving picture
And it's time for the next
but the loose strings weigh me down
And I'm smoking again
hoping that my brain ignites
And that logic eludes a fit mind
So it's safe to say this isn't fit
And I know it
And I don't
And I
And...


10.10.12
mab
 

Ode to the Talker

 Ode to the Talker

...your lips move like flapping bumblebee wings
          (130 beats to stay a float)
which generates a soft breeze across my face

               and i forget you are speaking.

Friday poetry: My sentiments for the day

Rage
only rage
people, I do implore,
the people me and your
learn
how to

run businessess
trust.....no one it's all folklore. 

Tuesday morning poetry : Euphemism

Euphemism

Closed wooden door that opens to

wandering thoughts that do go

places that billow aglow

         for that brass handle does hold

         a century of secret bellows. 

the slender length that curves your hand

and feels the warmth inside expand

unfolding the heavy doors

our tiny steps spring the floor

the brass doth shine 

in our wistful eyes

as the herculean doors fly open

we are but left to bathe in air of golden 

   

I've been away. I'm back with Observations

My updates have been sparse. Please forgive. Work has had me all over the place and it seems I've spent more time in an airport than with anything else. With that, today's post will venture away from my general commentary on TV, movies, etc.
Today I spread poetry. WAIT!!!1 Don't stop reading now. This is my first attempt at spreading any of my poetry. If you hate it, say so. If you love it, say so. I can't please you, My Readers, if I don't get feedback. so......
Just read and creep into a small portion of my airport trips.