TruthBunny

a little insight can be dangerous

clarity

Photo by Joseph H. Davis Jr.

Photo by Joseph H. Davis Jr.

I know what I told everyone
I’ve repeated the lines in my head so many times

I was beginning to question the stranger spewing the well-rehearsed story
from lips that resembled my own

my story grew tiresome and depressing

Common sense screamed in my ear to move on without remorse
retrospect is a cruel and unforgiving viewpoint
my heart will always offer a compelling argument for impetuous behavior

a dull pain still lingers
so hard to understand how illusions create such realistic side effects

call it instinct or intuition

what once was justification for the inner thrill
became an appreciation to understand the inner peace
only found
at the right time
(not then)
with the right choice
(not him)

Leave a comment »

the truth(bunny) you long for …

the bitter taste left behind by the sour words you kept repeating has faded to reveal someone different
the resentful cynic you feared might make a home, wandered off to join the utterances of a jilted heart in vain

… and then you have that moment of clarity ..
I had to go through that to understand this.

20130324-145321.jpg
Photo by Joseph H. Davis Jr.

Leave a comment »

Dressing the Part (truthbunny is born)

I used to believe if I donned a tutu, then I was a ballerina.  It doesn’t matter if I hadn’t danced outside my own bedroom or my family den, I was performing Swan Lake like a pro because my pink leotard, tights and slippers were a perfect fit.  Fast forward a couple of years (more precisely a couple of decades), I have outgrown the leotard and the fantasy that just wearing the tutu somehow makes me a skillful dancer.
I don’t know when my fantasies became less important than fitting in, but I do know that my concern to ‘fit in’ became all consuming.  I miss my childhood, but even more so I miss the freedom that came along with it.  The freedom to be myself, without apologies or explanations.  You do what you want, when you want, and if it offended anyone, the excuse provided by your parents could always be “she doesn’t know any better, she’s just a kid”.
Now, I have heard the argument that some still choose to do what they want when they want, but those people never admit to the imaginary barriers that confine their hypothetical free will.  With age comes responsibility, with responsibility comes restrictions.  At some point, I felt the looming pressure – from peers, school, society and professional superiors.  I was advised by this same grouping to learn to ‘adapt’ – a euphemism they so eagerly embraced.
As a result of both outside influence and self-imposed limitations, my creativity took an inward turn.  My spirit slowly confined itself to the “acceptable” level and I crafted the proper persona to carry me into adulthood.  Keeping my untamed tendencies at bay, I believed would ensure personal and professional success.
It did, so why was I so unhappy?
The more I refined this persona, the more dejected I became.  I actually believed in my own fabrication and the thought didn’t even occur to me that my sadness was triggered by the mask I created.  I needed an outlet or an opportunity to be myself but couldn’t see past the fact that I was the one who created this mess in the first place.  I tried changing jobs, men and wardrobes on a regular basis… as you would expect, each adjustment created even more chaos within.  Regardless of the increasing inner mayhem, I managed to maintain poise and an air of self-confidence.  What a show – I had them all fooled,  I?
One night, out of complete and utter desperation, I found myself in front of  my laptop crying and banging away at the keyboard without realizing what I was actually typing.  I couldn’t see the words through my tears.  Although I didn’t look at the clock, I suspect that to maintain the frantic pace my fingers kept while furiously tapping out each keystroke, such passion can only be found in the wee hours of the night.  I cleared away my tears and managed to sift through my words and, at that moment, I realized I wrote a poem.  To be more precise, I rambled on and on for pages and somewhere in the middle of the untidy heap of words that had, just moments before, crowded my brain I wrote what resembled a poem.
A masterpiece it was not, but I can tell you that when I closed my laptop and laid back down in my bed, I slept better than I had in a very long time.  I awoke the next morning (technically only a few hours later) with a overwhelming feeling of contentment and relief.
Strangely enough, I didn’t assign this satisfaction to my maniacal episode only hours earlier.  I assumed that I needed a good cry and I finally had one. My tears brought me the cathartic release that was long overdue.  That may have been true, but when I opened my laptop again, I was genuinely surprised to find that what I thought was an odd dream – unloading the overflow of my pent up emotions into the word processor on my computer – was actually a reality.  I began to read what I wrote and almost felt as if someone else had hijacked my brain to allow these thoughts to see the light of day.  It was a mess, but it was fantastic!
I started doing this almost every night, except instead of typing away on my laptop, a smart phone application became my keyboard and a new form of technology became the catalyst for self-expression.  On this tiny device, I clumsily type my notes, thoughts and frustrations with both thumbs as fast as they could move.  I realized that as long as I did this, it didn’t matter what persona I projected to the world during the day.  The perfectly appropriate woman by day could be the wild child at night – through poems, stories and outrageous ramblings.
I made peace with myself and with the persona I created.  I learned to dress the part for everyone else on the surface and let my writing ‘dress the part’ for my soul.
Photo by Joseph H. Davis

Photo by Joseph H. Davis

10 Comments »

enlightened truth(bunny)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW

Photo by Joseph H. Davis

How to fall in love without losing herself.

How to quit a job, break up with a lover and confront a friend,
without ruining the friendship.

When to try harder… and WHEN TO WALK AWAY.

That she can’t change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents.

That her childhood may not have been perfect…but it’s over.

What she would and wouldn’t do for love or more.

How to live alone… even if she doesn’t like it.

Whom she can trust, whom she can’t, and why she shouldn’t take   it personally.

Where to go…be it to her best friend’s kitchen table or, 
a charming Inn in the woods when her soul needs soothing.

What she can and can’t accomplish in a day, a month…and a year.

Credited to Maya Angelou but first published in Glamour Magazine,
May 1997 Glamour List Column by Pamela Redmond Satran

4 Comments »

Everything

Image

Photo by Joseph H. Davis

Youth inspires curiosity

Curiosity allows pain

Pain causes doubt

Fear seeps in

But explanations are given and all is well again

I decide I’ve seen it all

…. I think I know everything

New feelings inspire growth

New bonds are formed, desired and detested,

lessons are learned

New connections made where none existed

I apply this knowledge, all is well again

I am now an intellectual on life

I think I’ve felt it all

… I’m sure I know everything

A few years inspire caution

Tread lightly – Yeah, I’ve done this before (haven’t I?)

False confidence helps for now…

I’m cunning, I’m resourceful and all is well again

I’m positive I’ve done it all

… Trust me, I know everything

It’s early fall now and I feel it in my soul

I’ve learned and re-learned the same lesson now

And yet, new lessons still come daily

I’m beginning to think they always will

I find comfort where there were questions

Thank God, I don’t know everything

… I only know me.

1 Comment »

Mirror

Reflection at Joe Pool Lake - Dallas

Photo by Joseph H. Davis

Recently, my thought process wanders aimlessly in, out and around my insecurities. My stressed psyche consumes my quiet mind and slowly unfolds on paper as a collection of random thoughts or sometimes, when I’m lucky, a poem. I find myself seeking solace in the words that flow from my pen just to get them out of my cluttered brain. It feels as if my pen cannot move fast enough to eject these thoughts from my soul.

I am both guarded and precarious (poor judgment has been the deciding factor for which avenue I choose to take at each moment.) I am overly cautious about most monetary and professional decisions but have been entirely too risky in matters of the heart and how I choose to expose mine.

Although my past seems to lend itself to hiding behind some facade, I realized that I cannot bring myself to hide anymore. I have to ‘go for it’ and face the risk each time because the reward seems to compensate for the potential pain.

Both pain and impending salvation is what I see in my mirror today.

Leave a comment »

Hard to Find

How does a good woman remain good in a jaded world?

She makes decisions that she can live with even if the outcome is a lonely path,

She keeps her thoughts pure and her words true,

She learns from her mistakes
(even if it takes a few too many tries..)

She understands  living under that standard never guarantees the kindness of others but is not embittered by their cruelty,

And, most of all, she cherishes her life for the gifts it provides ~ even when those gifts are cleverly disguised as challenges.

She never gives up.

Leave a comment »

The Tide

The TX coast

Photo by Joseph H. Davis

Standing on the shore
I let the foamy water gently kiss the tips of my toes
I am motionless and my soles feel heavy and weighted down in the cool, gritty surface below,
I become aware of how expertly the sand molds itself under every curve and crevice of my firmly planted feet as if that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.

The water now rushes past me and envelopes my ankles,
As if it’s trying to persuade my body to follow the tide.
Why can’t I move on, all I need to do is take
one …small … step …

I’ve made an impression here,
If I move now, the water will quickly fill the sand that hugged my soles as if I was never there..
As if I had no effect…
As if I didn’t exist.

The ebb and flow gain momentum and the waves gently surround my calves
If I remain here, I must accept the tide as a comforting friend…
Surrounding me completely,
trusting the inconsistent undulations,
swirling and flowing about me,
Simultaneously confusing and captivating.

Suddenly and unexpectedly,
I am overcome with the warm embrace of peace that can only come from a sound decision and a healthy heart.

I begin to understand.

I am not supposed to stay..
my footprints on this shore are intended to fade with the flowing current.

The tide does not wash them away as much as carry them on to another shore.

1 Comment »

Writing for the World to Change

words, words, words, words, words.

d|gI+Al hEGeM0n ...d|g|Z|nE

Works of Thought... And Pictures of My Soul

poetry by Calvero

poems you'll wanna fuck and then never call again but then you do end up calling again and then you're all like, "whaaaaaaaaaaat?"

Cheeni Thoughts

a lifestyle blog!

Lateral Love

"The time is always right to do what is right" ~ Martin Luther King Jr

David Divine Brooks

The Gothic Poet and other writings,poetry ,art and prose

Megan Has OCD

About Mental Health, Daily Struggles, and Whatever Else Pops in My Head

TheReporterandTheGirlMINUSTheSuperMan!

Personal blog, interracial relationships, dating, author, BWWM,

thelovemanifesto

Real. Life. Experienced.

Immature Fruit

Poetry, Travels, Sketches, Writings and a Sip of Inspiration with Passion.

Top 10 of Anything and Everything!!!

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

It's Not a Match.com

Sometimes people you meet on the Internet are fucking crazy

Reasonably Ludicrous

Unreasonably Entertaining

The Mind of RD REVILO

Conscious Thought: Driven by Intelligent Awareness

Phillybookpick's Blog

GREAT BOOK PICKS -In the World of page turning thrillers !

sexandtheshameless

Just another WordPress.com site

%d bloggers like this: