Lurker

you turn your back
it stares
fingering your veins
gnarling at your throat
clawing at your stomach

watching, always watching
waiting, ever waiting

so patient.

cross the street
it follows
plucking at your heart
skittering in your mind
gnawing on your ankles

look behind, look away
walk faster, climb higher
so frantic

still there.

watching, always watching
waiting, ever waiting

shut the door
close your mind, scream.

multiplication tables
fractions.

Bits of songs
nursery rhymes.

Ashes, ashes
the walls come down..

find a rope
cut the cord

watching, always watching
waiting, ever waiting

fast awake
don't watch back
only one way to look
one to see..

past.

eyes wide shut
closed with coins
sockets dim
memory forgotten.

but The Fear
moves on
lives.. on

in him
in her
in you
in us.

watching, always watching
finding,
always finding.

Scapegoat

I never leave first
everything leaves me

friendsfamilylovers

doors shutting
phones hanging

all lost into fate
into oblivion

I don’t choose
I never choose

It all just happens
I can’t run away

or even
look back,
anymore.

It hurts so much
when you act like

it’s all about me
me

when you say
my tears are
an inconvenience

getting in the way
of your sleep

the time with your family

your friends

I’m sorry
that even the hurt

cuts into
your schedule

It cuts me too

and the blood stains your shoes
so you push me away

"Stupid!"
you say

"Inconsiderate bitch",
you accuse

then go out
to buy your comic books

I don’t do it on purpose
I gasp;
I try
to swallow the torment in silence

I am not good at it yet

I still scream when broken glass
slices down my throat

Just
hold your ears
it will be over soon

When you return
there will be dinner

after,
I lie down for dessert.

Take your fill, my love...

I will make all the right sounds
until you walk away
again.

Adventures in the Kitchen: Thale Phat Kaphrao

Fancy words! Foreign words! In my kitchen again at last hehe. Now once and for all I'm starting to feel like I'm home, cooking the things I like and experimenting with new recipes. Near where I was staying in Virginia was a fantastic little Thai restaurant/delivery place called Burapa Thai. No Thai food I'd ever eaten tasted so phenominal. My favorite dish there was a dish called simply "Seafood Kaprow", a delicious stir-fry of mixed seafood, onions, and peppers. But it was so much more than that. After my first try I quickly learned to dump my rice into the spicy brown sauce and let it soak up the firey mix. I began to distinguish the subtle blend of exotic spices therein and relish every bite. And every bite was an adventure in itself, for the shrimp & scallops were tender, the onions and bell peppers crisp, the mussels soft and tangy, and the scallops...well, they just melted in my mouth like hot, creamy pieces of heaven.

Yep, I was a goner.

When I got back to California (after eating 2 entire orders of Kaprow the night before) I made it my buisiness not just to find out where I could find another Thai place that served it, but also to find out how to make it. After much research, including questionings of some very amused Thai restaurateurs and cooks (Can we say language barrier?) I found out this much: "Kaprow" means basil, and not just any basil, but Holy Basil. Holy? Hrm. Apparently Holy basil (Ocimum Sanctum), like the sweet basil used in cooking, comes from India where it is revered as a sacred herb. The Egyptians burned a mixture of basil and myrrh to appease their gods. Sweet Basil (Ocimum basilicum) was introduced in Europe years later as a seasoning for food. It also has a lot of medicinal properties. I guess that's why the Indians & Egyptians kept it in their lands, keeping the heretics away from their holiest herb....

The spelling of it gave me no end of trouble in finding recipes, because the name was always different! It is also spelled bai kaprao (bai graprow, bai ka phrao)....argh. In any case, I tracked down several and looked at the ingredient breakdown. Some recipes called for chicken, some beef, oddly none with seafood. I discovered what those indistinguishablely savory seasonings were at this point. Of course I could taste and see the garlic, and I knew the 'secret' ingredient was Holy Basil (how the devil was I gonna make basil holy, have it blessed?), but what made the sauce brown...
Fish Oil! And Oyster Sauce! Errrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmm.

Those of you that know me will know that I was undaunted. I contrived a recipe and went off to the local asian market, which is inanely called 99 Ranch Market. Bought me some loverly fresh mixed seafood, which I found conveniently packaged together and ready to go; some nam man hoi (oyster sauce), and phrik ki nu (Thai chiles, another discovery). They didn't have the special basil, but they had normal basil far cheaper than I could have got it in a domestic store, and as I couldn't find a monk I was prepared to make my apologies to Buddha for not having the Holiness in my squid. Oddly enough, I'd found some nam bplah (fish sauce) in my pantry a day or so before. Where did it come from? The world may never know.

Lo, I had my stuffs. I was gonna cook that night! Never mind Jeff giving me the Hairy Eyeball at the telltale tenticles in my shopping cart. Brace yourselves, recipe incoming...

After a word of advice. You make a dish like this, you make it in a wok. Why? Buddha like. ^_~
Seriously though. High heat is integral to these kinds of dishes, it preserves the textures and seasonings up unto the moment you slide the meal onto your plate. If you don't HAVE a wok (some sad, misguided people do not) use a...big pan, I guess. Know that I will be weeping for you over here in Sherman Oaks however...

Anyway, there's a great guide on how to wok here.

ON WITH THE SHOW (ZOMG!!!!)

My Seafood Kaprow
or

Thale Phat Kaphrao

(Seafood (thale) stir-fried (phat) with bai kaphroa (Thai basil), phrik ki nu (Thai chiles), and nam man hoi (oyster sauce)

Recipe By :Danica Paz
Serving Size : 2

1 pound seafood -- fresh
3 tablespoons peanut oil
3 garlic cloves -- chopped
1/2 red bell pepper -- chopped (can also mix with green peppers)
1/2 white onion -- chopped
2 scallions -- chopped, separate white from green, chop green part into 1" pieces.
3 Thai chilies -- (2-4) sliced into very thin rings
2 tablespoons oyster sauce
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/4 cup chicken stock -- optional
1 cup Thai holy basil -- washed, dried, and stemmed

Heat wok. Swirl in the oil and heat to almost smoking.

Add garlic. Whisk about for a brief minute. Add bell pepper, onions, white parts of scallions, and chilies. Cook for 10 seconds.

Add seafood and stirfry until shrimp turns pink, about a minute.

Add sauces, sugar, pepper, stock, and green part of scallions and bring mixture to a boil.

Stir in basil and cook for 20 seconds or until leaves are wilted. The dish is supposed to be soupy.

Deglaze wok and serve at once with rice or noodles.

NOTES : Thai chilies are smokin' hot, feel free to use 2 the first time you make this! I found 4 to be just heated enough for me.
Thai basil leaves are sometimes found in ethnic markets, you may substitute fresh basil leaves (I did)

I hope you like this recipe should you try it! If not, I hope this lil nugget of my life proves to be half as fun reading as I had writing it. ~smile~

Now, I am not done with my culinary adventures by far. Because there is always my friend Brian's favorite dish from Burapa Thai...

Mussamun Curry!

~waves fist in the air~ IT SHALL BE DONE!!!

Online Women

As I have been online since the birth of the internet and in communication with people from around the world nearly as long, I find myself thinking about my virtual journeys and the souls I met along the way. People have many opinions of online friends and those who maintain those friendships, ranging from "You can't know who or what they really are", to "It's the best way to see someone for who and what they really are". My personal opinion is that there is no real difference, but both the former and latter opinions are easier to maintain in function. A person that will only let you see the surface of what they are or show you a complete facade would most likely do the same in real life. As for personality types, those are a little harder to keep hidden. And oh my. Women have a reputation for being predominantly the worst personalities to meet in any online venue.

There are websites aimed towards women looking to get their breasts augmented, one is a sort of MySpace with boobs. Stop laughing, I'm serious. A woman can create a profile and make 'friends', all male, who are enabled to make donations to The Cause. Emails, voicemail, telephone numbers, webcams, you name it...all available for a price. Further degradation is flaunted by the dollar amounts plastered on their personal pages of how much they've raised so far. The sad bit is that these sites cater to the rather ditzy type of female, who doesn't think to look at the small print where it more than likely states that they get NONE of the money if you don't meet the target goal (usually $5,000-$8,000) Incidentally, the site operaters do anything they can to keep the women from meeting that goal if they get close. Your page is not working for some reason, suddenly, or your password comes up invalid for a month. How do I know this? Well, people do complain to the BBB (Better Business Bureau), even ditzes. The point I'm making in a roundabout way however is that women are encouraged to use the web to fulfill a man's fantasies. Some fall into it somewhat unwillingly, some flaunt their 'empowerment' at being able to lead men on, and still more find it to be their true calling.

The above is a somewhate extreme example of what women are capable of doing to men online; bilking them of their hardearned money for a boob job they most likely will never attain. In a sense, working as prostitutes for faceless pimps that dole out money very rarely and extremely unwillingly. The men don't ask questions, It's just a glorified 900-number to them.

Going on to other venues, lets take online gaming into account, specifically MMORPGs (Massively Multiuser Online Role Playing Games). This is where all personality types, whether real or contrived flourish. One can find a ranging from Princess to Prostitute quite easily, and most often when one least expects it...

The Princess
This individual will give the impression that they are capable, then as the male player/s get to know them they find out that this female is forever getting themselves into situations where they need rescuing. They will get themselves to an area where they have tasks to complete, then wail that it's "So hard" to do alone, until some obliging man comes along offering to quest with her. There the effort ends. They expect the poor fellow to keep track of her completed tasks as will as his own, never let her die, and pass all the best loot to her. More likely than not she will have several men doing various tasks for her: one to quest with, one to carry her through dungeons, and several to craft items for her (no charge, of course). Why? Why, she is the damsel in distress, the one a man looks to for a smile or a grateful word, or more. She'll dole out the flattery in careful measure, true. And it means nothing to her. The man is just a pair of arms to use since she is just too lazy to get up from her jeweled pillow.

The Wringer
You know the type. Similar to The Princess, this one will be incapable of doing things for themselves. But instead of going the 'Damsel in Distress' route they predominantly function on pity. Virtually wringing their hands and bemoaning how they "can't find" this, or "can't do" that, they really need help and they know it. Less men fall for this type on the getgo than Princess, since this one really is an imcompetant bordering on idiocy. Unable to comprehend clues, instructions, or tactics, this woman will flail around in abject misery until some gallant male lifts her onto his horse and proceeds to do everything for her. You've seen the type often without knowing it until you have the misfortune of grouping with them. She is the one that is exalted most if not every faction, has excellent gear and an epic mount...and no clue how to play her class. She will frequently put her gallant on follow and go afk, she will stand there doing nothing during boss fights. Sound familiar? When the first male begins to tire of her, she'll post coy pictures of herself somewhere and lament how fat she is. Incompetance is swiftly forgiven and more men jump on her bandwagon, assuring her of her desireablity and denying the multitude of other self-depreciating things she will spout. It's very few men that allow this barnacle to get under their skin, since she is very draining and hard to maintain, but it doesn't matter since there are always more men to attach herself to.

The Farmwife
I find this type a little disturbing, since as the name denotes, they are someone's wife, girlfriend, fiancée. At first, they set off an aura of comfort. A pleasant person to game with, moderately competant but no expert. Sometimes they step afk (Away from Keyboard) to settle down their children or say hello to their significant other. When this comfort zone is established with a male gamer (usually at least 7 years younger than she is), she will start to 'open up' to the male during play hours and encourage him to do the same. Eventually a Myspace/Friendster bond is formed, where small favors are asked and friendly comments exchanged while offline. Instant Messaging might or might not take place here. The danger doesn't really become apparant, even when she starts complaining to the male about her life in general, eventually circling around to how dull she finds her sig. other, how he doesn't understand her, etc. etc. Secretly she'll thrive on the attention the male gives her, gloating if she manages to wheedle any complaints from him about HIS significant other, if he has one. Real email addresses are exchanged in this stage, as the male 'realizes' that this poor woman might need comforting, and since *cough* HE is the "only one" she can talk to...you get the picture. At some point here she will hit him with the inevitable "Ah, I wish I'd met you before him.." Hook, line, and sinker. She'll put him in difficult situations where he might feel he has to hide their relationship from any romantic relationship he might have been cultivating prior, and although she will pretend to be encouraging in reality she wants to come first. Greedier and greedier, she'll constantly pepper him with ingame whispers, and it's all over if she gets his phone number. This kind of women is disgusting to me, as she has no intention of changing her lifestyle for the male in question, but has done everything in her power to change his. In truth, she gives nothing in return for everything.

The Hag
Another disturbing one. Seeking out males at least 15 years younger than themselves, they model themselves after the Farmwife, with a twist. They start from the beginning hiding their age, vaguely alluding to middle years and establishing a comfort zone early on. Bored & married or even widowed, with several children nearly as old as the males they latch themselves to...I can only feel pity for them. Trying to meet the rigors of a gameworld they often have no comprehension of, they usually need help in everything. Males see no harm in helping out this motherly soul, who is just looking to fill thier lonely lives with some sort of entertainment, right? Ugh. These Baba Yagas are just looking to latch on to a young man who will revive their ancient feelings of desireablity and attractiveness. You will never see their picture online, and as for their age? Ha. I can guarantee they will always pick the 100 year mark on websites; they will only reveal that tidbit to the man once they are sure they're hooked good and tight. THAT particular conversation always ends up to be a psuedo-timid outpouring of how 'scared' they were of revealing the truth. Yes, these women have years of experience behind them, and maybe this may benefit the relationship in some ways...but when you look at it, all you really have in common is a world of pixels. The reality is lost in saggy flesh and all-too-soon arguments where the male is accused of...guess what? Being immature.

The Dragon (aka Red Sonja)
Full of fire and vim, The Dragon will have done most everything on her own, and take pride in it. She most likely will have quested more, made more gold, and ground out faction reputation largely on her own. She doesn't need anyone to tell her what to do and goes where she wishes. She asks for her own groups, works her own crafts, and stands up for herself if she gets in trouble. She may come off as having a huge ego, but really is just full of confidence in herself. Women like this tend to make men a little uncomfortable, but as she is a smart player and can be trusted to make good decisions they seek her out regardless. Also, she is no pansy and is prone to bouts of temper. This woman fights as hard as a man, if not harder, and shares a companionship with most of the people she comes across borne of nothing more than character progression. She may not open up to any man immediately, or share any of her horde...but a man that can accept her jarring independance may be in for the ride of his life. For she will keep him to her standards, and accept nothing short of excellence.

The Tart (aka The Prostitute)
Oozingly sweet and/or Seductive, the Tart will pander to a man's base inclinations, sex and the fulfillment of certain sexual desires. Lots of kisses, hugs, squeezings from this girl. She'll be very attractive and have her own site full of luscious snaps of her rolling around on the floor or getting drunk with her friends. Most often rather young and inclined to wear too-tight blouses in real life, her character will often emulate this by wearing the skimpiest outfit she can find and dancing in the middle of a common zone. What does she want? Help. And more help. "Take me here", "buy me that!", rewarded by whispered caresses and promises of more. Similar to the Wringer she will abscond with massive amounts of ingame goodies, but men never tire of her. They don't even care if she admits to being taken, she leads them to believe they are far better men. Always promising, delivering, and promising more. A fishook with neverending bait...but she's still a worm.

The Siren
Silent, even shy at first, doing her own thing, she asks for nothing. It's the males that come to her. She doesn't know why, but a few words out of her mouth keep them coming back for more. Ranging from average to good player, she will never be Great; but it doesn't matter to the men that keep her court. Like the Dragon, she does things on her own. Unlike the Dragon, she will prefer to do them socially. Laughing, talking, and simply playing is her forte, and no man can resist her, whether they prefer sparkling smiles of thanks or her sometimes crass wit. She is easy to talk to, only offering advice on occasion, never judgement. She may also be a private person to some degree, open in some ways but closed in others...which usually intrigues men more, though she might not know it. Most other women hate her, as they are aware that they are a minority in these online games and would rather the men pay attention to them on the mere basis that they are female. (or of course, one of the types listed here) Once again, it matters not if she is average looking or moderately attractive (rarely beautiful). She is sought out, and her login is filled with a smattering of welcoming tells and invites to 'go and do something'. She has fun, her online life is full of chuckles and friendly insults, and finds herself well-looked after although she doesn't need it. If she lets a man closer than usual, she has to be careful, because he will fall for her something fierce, whether she is looking for that sort of thing or not.

Well. This got a whole lot longer than intended *laughs*
But I have experienced and gotten to know a good deal of personalities over the years. It may seem that there are more negative female types than positive listed here...but in reality it suffices to say that there is someone out there for everyone. Maybe you wish to be The Princess' Knight, maybe you dream of an older, experienced women that needs your companionship. Maybe you are the Player that thrives on his sweet Tart. I'm not here to judge.

I will say I find online infidelity to be one of the lowest things one person can do to another. If you find yourself snagged on the branch of one who wishes your companionship above that of their professed loved one...run. Tear free, whatever the cost, run far, run hard.

And don't look back.

Bloodflower

n a forest, long ago, lay a briar patch in a wood. It spread as far as the eye could see, as well as an eye could see in such a dark, dank place. Nary a patch of light for many yards there was, yet in one, a single bud grew. It was orange at first, red at the tip. It had yet to open, as though waiting for something...or someone.

People now and then came to the woods, if they dared, to hunt at its edges, and one enterprising lad in the midst of chasing a deer came upon the flower, but he dared not come closer. The thorns looked too harsh and loomed closer than he cared to go. Yet, word spread of the lone flower, until a young prince came to hear of it, and, as princes tend to be was enamored with the idea of a flower presuming to take root in such a place.

He traveled with his entourage to the rim of the wood, and bravely ventured forth. Then...he saw it. And before his very eyes it bloomed in the thin beam of light that it had managed to thrive on. Glorious red, orange and yellow blossomed before his eyes in a symphony of colour he had never seen before...ending in a deep blue center, as the very heart of a flame. It was as though the flower, in a desperate attempt to catch his eye had spent its very last energy in the blooming.

He unsheathed his sword, which was magical of course, blessed by a holy man; and cut his way through the thicket for all his worth. Reaching out with a gloved hand he plucked that flower, lifting it to his lips for an almost reverent kiss.

Upon heading out of the woods he enjoyed the banter of his company, the courtiers gaily discussing what they would play at that evening. They headed together down the road towards the village, only stopping when the prince nonchalantly threw the bloom on the ground. The courtier directly behind him pulled his mount up short hurriedly. "My prince?!" The prince looked over at him and shrugged. "I was raised in the royal gardens of Shad'loc, where the sun favors the petals of every flower, and the nightingale's song never ends. Do you really think I could bring my mother that thing? I mean...it's petals were bent."

"Disgusting!", they chorused, and looked at him for approval.
He laughed gaily and whipped his fine white steed faster, making the court give a merry chase.



The End

The Loss.

Tell him how you feel

They proclaim.
So you unleash your mind
let loose your thoughts
undampen your dreams

And get slapped for your pains

Tell him how you feel

They advise.
you stagger back
open your eyes
say what you see

And get thrown down the stairs

Tell him how you feel

They admonish

you limp onward
unstitch your chest
unburden your heart

And get throttled by the neck

Squeezed,
mind running cold
blood coursing dry
heart pounding empty.

Fool.
You gave up everything...

Your mind is a void.
You see nothing now.
Your heart a dying ember.

You let the one you love tell you
that you're full of crap
that you are a joke
and watch them laugh at your pain.

They say you deserve it.

You slit your own throat.
You denied your own heart.
You killed your own dreams.

What was it all for?
You wonder.

You tried to accept thier friends
Who mocked you.
Whispering behind your back
You never knew he betrayed you.

You tried to oblige in his bed
he took his mind elsewhere
whispering in his thoughts
other women, other times.

You tried to be his family
he already had one
committing to them
what he never would you.

You lose,

They murmer.

You die,

They laugh.

No silence
No solace.

Only the eternal knowledge
that you wasted your flesh

Gave up your freedom

Bargained your soul

To a one that would use the broken carapace of your hopes
as a bucket to piss in.

Death Makes a Holiday II

BASTARD!
She shouted, and threw the telephone
-through- the wall
pausing, and staring a moment

what's going on...?

Death stood from her table
left a 25% tip
(it was good chocolate)
and wandered outside.

The girl stared as the woman walked out of the wall

The woman said, "Well. Hope that made the point."

The other One sat up
(she had been lying on the ground, in a little crater of unlife she had made
not to be found for several hours yet)

She stammered "the..phone?"

The woman/girl who was Death smiled. (It's hard to realize her age)
"Yes. The phone. I dodged it, naturally."

The other girl blinked.
"I don't understand."

Death nodded.
"Who was the bastard this time, pray tell. Who hurt you this time?"

"What does it matter. Another day, another pain, another form of death."

Death grunted. "My sister, you have no idea what all my forms are. But you will."

The mortal blinked hard a few times.
What does it mean?
Pain is pain. Life hurts. We must endure.

Death smiled.
"Have you any idea? Do you think that all the pain you've endured, all your life is for no reason?
The universe always has a reason. It IS reason, in all shapes and forms. You are, what you are..."
Because we need you.

Death crossed the street, and took the other woman's hand, embracing her for a silent, brief moment.
"I am here. Maybe not to explain, not even to comfort, but you are my sister, in pain and in torment, we are two halves of the same coin, for all eternity."

The girl stared, "What do you mean, sister?", *she pulled away* "I do not know you, woman."

Death laughed. "I did not know it myself. Until I saw a mortal. Willing to accept her shortcomings. Taking responsbilities for her mistakes. Knows herself and her shortcomings, accepting them. Accepting resolve. And last of all, embracing the Numbness. I knew this, and knew were my kin."

The mortal shook her head and shook her head. "I wished to end it all and you were at the end of the trail. I did not choose this path. No one I know needs me. No one cares for me; wants me in this world. I have no usefulness."

Death took her hand. "I do not care what you think you know. I do not see what you see. I see a man what wants to fulfill his creativity in the only way his closed mind will accept. I see loves unrequited, only because they will not tell you what they need of you. I see a need, that has never been fulfilled, and the person blames themselves through your needs."

The girl frowned, yet took Death's hand. "You say I am your kin, and see things I cannot see and know things I cannot know. I cannot see a malicious intent in you. Yet...I am not ready to end my living, although I was ready to die."

Death tipped her hat, and puts out her hand. "I am niether friend, nor lover, nor One anyone ever trusts completely. I wear clothing from outside time, and offer advice that is out of place. But I know you, and love you. I wished to see you in a place, content and free of sorrow. I couldn't promise you of that time and place. I just wanted to see you find it. Now I know. I can take you there."

I take her hand,
and hope.
for what it's worth.

She asked why I threw the phone.
I tell her it's because
the person I love
decided he needed yet more sleep.

She stared at me for a few moments
and stared some more
"Sleep?"
She rasped
"Sleep."
I replied.
"He requires more than his usual heroes."
"I see", she replies.
He thinks I'm not the One.
Forgive me.
Pretend heroes don't make up a hero, do they?
She asks in my mind, answering my unspokens.
Also, you're not -THE- One, but you're one of the Ones.

Maybe.
But does every woman need a hero?
I ask the Goddess.

Yes.
She says.

Yes.

Now. I say, the girl says, the unsoul that had been mortal says.
Tell me
about being a One.

Death Makes a Holiday

She stood watching the tiny lights, the sparkling city spread below her like a jeweled carpet. The wind blew her dark hair across her cheek like a caress. Calm now, she waited. For what, she didn't know. But the unquiet thoughts that paced across her soul were still for now. It had been easy to scale the side of the building, she thought. Look at me, a ninja. She smiled wryly. It had only been a fire escape, rusty and unguarded. But now she was perched on the side of an office building like a small, disconsolate gargoyle.

In the city, away from the lights, away from the populace. She was only herself. No one to perform for, nothing to try to prove. In the darkness, she was away from it all. How she wished the sense of peace, of silence could last forever. The razorblade she alwayed carried in her coat pocket seemed...hot. She stuck her hand in after it and traced it with a forefinger. Warm. Reminiscing about the fantasies she'd always sought, of recognition, approval, success...never brought her such warmth. They never promised her what she really wanted.

"What do I...want?", she whispered.

Images of the people in her life flashed before her eyes. Lovers, family, old friends.
No. She shook her head.
Not them,
Me.

What do I...
Why do I...

I've been strong, she thought. I've fought hard. It never got me anything. Nothing worth having, and when I got it, it didn't last anyway.

*Yes it did*
Came a whisper of her mind, a small golden gleam, fluttering in her mind like a dragonfly

It lasted until he told me he was my boyfriend, not my therapist. Shut it.
Close the door, open a window...

Razorblades and deadends
mistletoe and sakura blossoms

It's all the same to her.

A bloodflower that blooms in the dead of winter.

She laughed.
It doesn't have to make any sense. They all think I'm crazy.
Beautiful and crazy.
A passionate soul that can only end in madness.

She pulled out the blade and threw it down,
28 stories down into darkness

It's California
it's winter
still warm of course

She's only bones, so she shivers yet
it's more than fleshcold she feels

The blade tinks against the fire escape once
Death raises her curly head from her cup of chocolate
She is watching from the window at Mo's
Will she this time? She wonders.
I like that girl, she thinks. Good conversation.

The girl smiled her trademark as if she'd heard
that small lopsided quirk
and followed the blade with her body
and ended her days with what she had finally found

ah, the silence.

Never Cry

Breaking

Broken

Borrowed time

Bones and bloody

shells of lies

Walk on glass

Glide in fire

cracking stairs

erected pyre

Lift me up

Lash me down

craze my teeth

hear me howl

Burn me

Bleed me

Taste my pain

what I gave...

never again.

An empty heart,

A guttered flame,

See true love

Hang head in shame.

What is, Is.

Ashes

Candles,
bleeding
on the floor

You don't need me
You don't see me anymore.

Reaching
Needing
moan in pain

You don't notice
You hang up again.

Seeming
Meaning
I try to show

You don't get it
and want to go.

It's my fault,
all of it.
So many candles
still unlit.

Through a haze of shadowy dreams
I read your words and want to scream

I long to go back to that loving place
once again touch your kind, sweet face.

But all I did was make you blind
and all I can do now is look behind.

A face of iron,
a heart of stone

The man I see
is now unknown.

The girl I was
is mostly dead

So many reasons
left unsaid.

My words mean nothing
You've heard them before.

My tears even less,
and you're out the door.

Here now in the snow I lie
clutching my matches,
waiting to die.

A life fractured in guttering flame
In visions of happiness,
there is no blame.

I leave you at last
with a last, imagined kiss.

Your little matchgirl
will hardly be missed.

The Clock of Life

The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.

To lose one's
wealth is sad indeed,
To lose one's health is more,
To lose one's soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.

The present only is our own,
So Live, Love, toil with a will--
Place no faith in 'Tomorrow' --
For the clock may then be still.


Robert H. Smith
©1932-1982

Reflections

Below you will find a trio of poems born on different days, but are sisters nonetheless.



~White Reflection~

My white reflection burns me
reminding me of innocent days and
starry nights
When I was trusting
when I had faith
Now I am blinded by the fires
of truth
Old dreams come back
to taunt me
and I am lashed by chains of hopelessness
There is no respite
only unending visions
and unfulfilled prophecies
of freedom
and love
as I go plunging through hell;
sorrow incarnate.



~Black Reflection~

I look into the mirror
and see my black reflection
looking back at me
from the corner of her eye
she laughs
Everknowing
all my hurt;
eternal frustration-
and revels in my suffering
For she is
both the knife
and the cut,
the blood
and the pain.
The faithful companion
who understands sorrow
and embraces her;
the shadow-filled light
in the unquiet void
of insanity.



~Incarnation~

There has never been a sunrise
that I did not begrudge the ending
of night-
the darkness beckons me
it sings to me of
freedoms untold in daylight
Where I may dare to have a self
MYself;
I can aspire to be more than a shadow
in this absence of light.
Sunsets forgotten
lead me unto ecstasy
into the NightDawn.
There shall I fly,
Shrouded in white
Armored in black
into being
into seeing
all my reflections
in focus
at last.

Slice of a Dream

I had a strangely disjointed dream today, borne of oversleeping to an unusual 8 hours. Usually I sleep 3 or 4 with no trouble or regrets. My dreams are typically very linear & storylike, generally resuming like a videotape if I should happen to be awoken by the upstairs neighbors' dog (they let it race around in circles all day. From the incredible noise it makes, it must be a golden retriever) or the telephone, which rings regularly from Jeff's bill collector's for his 10-year old student loan. This one...was about living with my mother. I don't dream about her often. I try not to think about what I went through at her hands over the years for the most part, and my dreams respect that by sparing me the nightmares.

This one wasn't a nightmare, however...which surprised me. It was fairly casual, with me as I am now living in an apartment that looked like it was furnished partially by The Bombay Company and Banana Republic. I think she lived with me; I can't think of any other reason she would be there all the time. In the dream, I was fretting over calling out to work at my old job at Borders, where I worked for 5 years under the most evil boss in history. He was egotistical, condescending, and seemed to take pleasure in telling me that no matter how hard I worked as the Office Manager, he would never do more than give me more responsibility. It wasn't only me. During my tenure at the store I observed at least 2 other female managers crouched in offices and backrooms sobbing because of something he'd done or said. More than 5 people, after complaining futilely to upper management transferred out of the store. It was obvious to the rest of the staff why, since they were lateral transfers with no promotions in sight, and no one was moving out of the area. Sad, no?

I was the only one to ever write to the corporate office and talk to a real Human Resources official about him. I logged a complaint, and the manager got written up. Ohhh, it wasn't over there. Now he had it in for me. I began to get written up for even the smallest foible. Things no one had ever been written up for before. While everyone else had an unlimited number of times they were allowed to forget to punch in...I was only allowed once every 2 weeks. If I forgot, as I sometimes did because I was a manager and had to shut the store alarm off and wait by the door to let people in; I'd get written up. If a 10-minute break slipped into 11 minutes, he'd come after me. Etc, etc. I couldn't even transfer out of the store due to a stipulation that one couldn't do so if there were outstanding writeups that were less than 6 months old. I was trapped. The man wanted me fired. Eventually he got his wish.

As for the dream: I paced, trying to remember how many writeups I had, and could I afford to call out again? My mother ignored me, she was planning something for my sisters. Jeff popped up out of nowhere, and as he also worked at Borders (he still does) I asked him his opinion. He couldn't help. I listened to my mind, which for some reason kept spouting at first what I thought was either song lyrics or poetry. I finally realized what it was, and looked to my mother with suspicion. But she was still immured in her project. It was scripture. 1 Corinthians 13:11-12, to be exact. It said:

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Then I awoke. Strange, no? I'd always liked that chapter in the bible, for what is said about love and faith. It can't really even be called entirely religious, even, since one verse even says that without love, faith means nothing. Funny how dreams are, reminding you of things you thought you'd forgotten. Perhaps my mind knew what my heart needed to remember this time.



1 Corinthians 13

1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Iron Rose

An iron rose
found its heartbeat
onceshining petals
rust in a lonely garden.
Needing love;
for water could not
quench her thirst.

Turkey Lurkey

Hrm. Thanksgiving. For me it never really meant much as a holiday, as I was raised as a Jehovah's Witness, meaning I didn't celebrate much more than my parent's anniversary (Which kinda sucked once they got divorced). But once upon a time, my family used the day off and the reduced pricing of turkey to get together with each other *gasp* just like normal people. My parents and 2 sisters, my two aunts and uncles and three cousins would all cram into Ampa & Oma's tiny apartment in Van Nuys to partake in a great meal.

Oma had a rather outlandish stuffing which used ground beef that I could never quite get into, and there was always the swimming pool afterwards. I don't remember much more than that, really. I don't think it happened more than a couple of years. My family's like that. My mom and her brothers didn't really get along.

Still, I at least got a feel for the family vibe, which pains me now to recall as I am more than a bit estranged. It's the religion thing.

A few years ago I noticed how many 'orphans' lived in California. You know, the kids that left home to follow their dreams; to make something of themselves. Most of them are quite impoverished, needing one or more roommates to afford an apartment, frantically working several jobs to make ends meet. No way could they afford to fly home for Thanksgiving. As a retail manager, listening to their wistful memories of the holiday at home gave me ideas, and I started to invite people over for Thanksgiving Dinner. I finally had a family..sort of hehe. Being appreciated for my cooking skills on this day gives me a chance to step back and appreciate things in general. Thanksgiving is all about appreciativeness, isn't it? I am thankful Oma taught me how to cook using more than just recipes. I am thankful I have a home. I am thankful I have Jeff. *gasps again*

More than anything I am thankful for the true love I found, at long last. He makes all the song lyrics I ever thought were sappy, all the tales of unconditional love....true. He is with his family today, and while I admit I cried a little out of loneliness for not having one of my own to share the day with, he reminded me that someday his family would be mine too. Look, another thing to be thankful for.



Oh, and for posterity, here's tonight's menu:


Turkey Breast with Sausage-Apricot Stuffing

3 pounds pork sausage, maple flavored
8 cups dried bread crumbs, *see Note
4 cups pecan halves
2 cups chopped dried apricots
1 cup Butter, melted
1 1/3 cups chicken broth
8 stalks celery (1 cup) sliced 1/2-inch
4 medium onion (1/2 cup) chopped
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon dried sage leaves, crushed
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 turkey breast, Bone-in (9 to 12-pound)
12 tablespoons Butter, melted

1. Heat oven to 350°F. Brown sausage in 10-inch skillet over medium heat; drain off fat.

2. Stir together browned sausage and all remaining ingredients except turkey breast and 3 tablespoons butter in large bowl. Gently loosen skin from turkey in neck area to make large area to stuff. Stuff with sausage mixture; secure skin flap with toothpicks.

3. Place remaining sausage mixture in 1-quart covered casserole; refrigerate. During last 30 minutes of turkey breast baking time, bake remaining stuffing for 25 to 30 minutes or until heated through. Place stuffed turkey breast, breast-side up, on rack in roasting pan. Brush with 3 tablespoons melted butter.

4. Bake, basting occasionally, for 2 to 2 1/2 hours or until meat thermometer reaches 170 to 175°F and turkey breast is no longer pink. Let stand 10 minutes.

Note: I usually make my Maple Pecan Corn Bread a day in advance instead of plain dry crumbs.

Maple-Pecan Cornbread With Maple Butter

Corn Bread
2 cups cornmeal
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
6 tablespoons butter, softened
4 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar
6 eggs
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2/3 cup maple syrup
2 teaspoons maple flavoring
1 1/2 cups chopped pecans, toasted
Maple Butter
1 cup butter
2 tablespoons maple syrup
2 teaspoons maple flavoring

1. Heat oven to 350°F. In small mixer bowl combine cornmeal, flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda. In large mixer bowl combine 3 tablespoons butter, brown sugar and eggs. Beat at medium speed until well mixed (1-2 minutes). Add buttermilk, 1/3 cup maple syrup and 1 teaspoon maple flavoring. Continue beating until well mixed (2-3 minutes). Reduce speed to low; add flour mixture. Continue beating, scraping bowl often, until well mixed (1-2 minutes), By hand, stir in pecans. Spoon into greased 13-inch square baking pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. (Corn bread may dip slightly in center.)

2. Meanwhile, in small mixer bowl combine all maple butter ingredients. Beat at medium speed until fluffy (2-3 minutes). Serve with warm corn bread.

Note: I doubled this recipe to use approx half of the bread for the stuffing.


Sweet Potatoes with Apples

8 medium sweet potatoes, or yams
1/2 cup Butter, softened
1/3 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon grated orange peel
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 medium Granny Smith apples (2 cups) peeled,cored, coarsely chopped

1. Heat oven to 350°F. Prick sweet potatoes with fork to allow steam to escape. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes or until folk tender.

2. Cut thin, lengthwise slice from top of each sweet potato; scoop out inside, leaving thin shell. Place shells on 15x10x1-inch jelly-roll pan; set aside.

3. Place hot sweet potato and all remaining ingredients except apple in large mixer bowl. Beat at medium speed, scraping bowl often, until well mixed and no lumps remain (2 to 3 minutes). Stir in apples by hand. Fill reserved shells with sweet potato mixture. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until heated through.

Velvet Mashed Potatoes

12 medium boiling potatoes (4 lbs) peeled, and cut into large pieces
3/4 cup milk (to 1 cup)
1/2 package cream cheese (8 oz) cut into cubes, and softened
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1. Heat 1 inch water (salted if desired) to boiling in Dutch oven. Add potatoes. Cover and heat to boiling; reduce heat. Cook 30 to 35 minutes or until tender; drain. Shake pan with potatoes over low heat to dry.

2. Mash potatoes in large bowl until no lumps remain. Beat in milk in small amounts, beating after each addition (amount of milk needed to make potatoes smooth and fluffy depends on kind of potatoes used). Add cream cheese, margarine, salt and pepper. Beat vigorously until potatoes are light and fluffy.


Deep Dish Almond Pumpkin Pie

1 pie shell, deep dish
Almond Layer
1 cup almonds, finely chopped
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
3 tablespoons butter, softened
2 teaspoons flour
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
Pumpkin Filling
1 1/4 cups granulated brown sugar
3 ounces cream cheese, softened
2 eggs
1 1/4 cups pumpkin, canned or cooked
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/3 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon molasses
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
Decorations
1 egg white, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon water
whole almonds, optional

1. Preheat oven to 425ºF. For crust, reserve a small amount of pastry for decorative cutouts for top of finished pie.

2. Almond Layer:
Combine almonds, brown sugar, butter, flour and almond extract; toss with for until well blended. Spoon into unbaked pie shell. Press firmly on bottom and partway up side of crust. Refrigerate.

3. Filling:
Cream sugar and cream cheese in large bowl. Beat in eggs, milk, sour cream and molasses at low speed of electric mixer. Add cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, ginger, cloves and almond extract; beat 1 minute. Spoon over almond layer.

4. Bake 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350Fº; bake for 50-60 minutes. Cover edge of crust with foil, if necessary, to prevent overbrowning. Cool to room temperature.

5. Increase oven temperature to 400ºF. Line baking sheet with foil.

6. For decorations, roll out reserved pastry and cut out desired shapes. Place on baking sheet Combine egg white and water; brush over pastry cutouts. Garnish each with an almond. Bake 5-7 minutes or until golden brown. Cool. Arrange on cooled pie.