Totally off the Wall

I am a razorblade on your sink top.  You see me in the reflection in the mirror and your wrists ache at my site.   I sit there gleaming with many sharp edges knowing my use can be one that makes you sexually appealing or the dark and with arousal you lift me and then with short strokes you apply me.

My razor has teeth in many rows and my friend the straight razor thinks I am a fad but I tell you this,  I go back to school to learn how to shave you close painlessly.    There are places that I go that I rather prefer like a visitor with benefits but unable to close the deal.

But I am happy for now because I know,   I get to touch the softest places in a carnal sense.   You see my friends I have my place,   next to you.

 

Skin upon skin we feel each other.   A private tenderness that is enhanced by my sharpness.  

Foghorn Says read, ‘White Oleander’.

Now you know your friend Foggy can be froggy.    I am a degenerate Rooster with a wry sense of humor and I now sport a fanny pack.   Note,  but your own fanny pack.   Anyhow I digress.   On a serious note this book is good!   How good,   Oprah narrated the CD and I highly recommend that because her reading is gripping.

Though her mother is narcissistic,  intelligent and extremely beautiful she condemns her sweet 10 year old Astrid to a life of horrors.  You see the kid was strikingly beautiful and innocent too.  She was buying her mom’s self-love but the result ended up being a bunch of scars.

As her mother was arrested for murdering a Hollywood writer.    Her method of death was the administration of White Oleander through a chemical medium.   Her mom played in the movie was Michelle Pfeiffer,  a woman who most men would drool over.  

Astrid the child was imaginative.   She was as beautiful as her mom but she pretty much suffered the same fate.   The narrative is really about the suffering of a young girl.   At any age when  most children are becoming aware of crude nuances of life,   she was battling jealous kids who loathed her beauty and her relative toughness.

Her first trauma was a children’s home where she was hurt often but still with the strength of her mother’s imaginings was able to mitigate the horrors of abuse,  both intended and unintended.  Parts of Astrid started to die.   The innocence was raped by a system that allowed Foster Parents free reign.   Starving kids until the kids acted out.   It is much as an indictment of Foster Homes and Adoptive Parents.

Astrid’s unflinching love of her mother and her rapturous adoration begun to wilt.   As her sexuality grew it caused a major conflict that led to a very hard time for the girl just barely a teenager.   That is the time when the little girl had sexual relations with an older man.

Things always seemed to go from bad to worse.   Her one saving grace was her articulation through art.   I will not give away too much of the story but the book was great,  the reading by Oprah outstanding and the movie falls way short.   Then again how do you capture seven years of abuse by the system with a mini-series.

The show also walks one through innocence to compromises and one feels angry and jaded that this kind of thing really goes on but I know it does.

Case in point,  while my daughter was in elementary school a certain foster mom had like ten foster children.   The mother dressed in jewels,  fine clothes and expensive cars while the children actually went hungry.   The teachers felt so bad and when the teachers fed the kids the mother went off on the teachers.

Teachers in my mind do a lot more than have kids color.    Many kids are being abused by the parents,  foster parents and even the system.   It is a lonely,  painful and sad trip through the mind of an extraordinary baby girl with the mind of a savvy adult.

A compelling aspect is the story of survival.   My girlfriend and I watched this movie a few times in the theatre.   I can tell you this,  she was a former runaway and almost wise beyond her years.   But this kind of suffering does that.   And I was privy to things that broke my heart and made me an advocate for women.  

None-the-less,  Please read this wonderful book and if you can listen to the audio version.

   As a man I wept for her and the soundtrack is orchestral and haunting but it hammers home the point that there are many sick and disgusting people who hurt the hearts of the innocent.  

 

 

The Weeping Willows

Inside my world of fences are places where I go to dream.    Where the sun can’t get in and the monsters are not allowed.    I peek between the vines and see thousands of lost hopes and there are a few of mine left about. 

There in my realm tightly secure with a moat of thickets I laugh at the cries of the hideous demons.   Bullies each they stare but I assure my friends,   it is outside of my weeping willows that can’t get in.

The Mountain of Eye (I)

Below me are vast vistas and I think I have done it all.   And help is something I brush off like tiny snowflakes on my massive shoulders.  The air is here is rare and forbidding,  most of you feel dizzy but not I.   

I changes the clouds at my pleasure,   like play-doh structures I inscribe wit.  Then I chuckle as philosophies are made,   some silly cottage industry for those with shutters.   The ice and snow with their biting teeth surround me.   They sit on trees and fall with a thud.  You better not stand there.   Just saying.

I like to laugh but not too loud or I wait for the spring to cast off this shimmering shroud.  As it does I permit streamlets to form, with water so pure but only I can drink.    I might let you take a sip from others for sure,  but I won’t let you ingest the sum of my I best.

by Larry Olson,  01/15/2014

My Scepter

I sit high upon the throne or prone in my bed.   Changing the scenery with images in my head.   I lay waste to nonsense,  I am unflappable you see.   I manage the visions with great aplomb, the artists hand  quick to draw or retract.  I don’t need to erase things or bother with smudges,  like an etch-a-sketch with no rewind,  the image will do.

I like to be in control because it is a lot of fun and observing colorful birds with the eyes of the sun. There is nothing that I can’t do,  until I wake up from this dream

by Larry Olson,  01/15/2014