CATE'S BEEN BEING

So on and so forth

[beingcate]

Once the winners who wrote books scared me The corruption of history at school desks The beating the other to the storyline I mention the way he film violence upon me I feel the flicker of my Pen Against lined collages of paper Click, lick, click, flick. I now tell the truth. All the time. I can hear whispers of the great lies I told when I was 10 And now I tell the great truths with no justice for rebuttal or defense And I call it what it is: violence. I plant each seed, spit on it to make it grow, kick some dirt and will come back later to see the tres that grow. The winners write the history books and I am here Writing For I am not dead And I’ve found my ink and paper.

[beingcate]

There is a small black bug that waddles itself through m blood A rolly poli Of sadness For I am so sometimes so very sad And so very quieted.

[beingcate]

I think of you no longer As often anymore. I overconsume now. I am displeased, displeasured, scanning for that which makes me happy, which makes me feel not so trapped. These last nights I have stayed up until the self morni begging the moon to stay bright Because now I am afraid of you. Or your ghost in the middle of the night. I ebb and flow in these memories, these flashbacks, these instants. I have ostensibly all I need but it is not enough, I continue to scan for what to buy next, What more to improve. It is not good enough. Nothing is good enough Anymore. My currency was my complacency My ability to not care To be so fluid i had no drive Now, now I am angry. Now I am angry. Now I am angry And it’s not it’s not good enough anymore. I want my own firm high up in a skyscraper Where we help others to become free But I am not free in the dead of the night. I am haunted by you this summer, this early fall. I pace my cage like a ticking time bomb of a panther. Get me out. Get me out. Get me out.

[beingcate]

There is a truth I’m about to tell Break it down and nail it out But I cannot yet I cannot Breathe it out yet For it must be the truth and not some Fabric to feel similar like satin to silk like doilies to lace. No, it must be accurate. I waken now in the negotioan with men to not attack me. I awaken and worry about being naked. I remember now. And you terrify me.

[beingcate]

I built for myself a dream whereby now the dimmed lights are too bright, Out there a siren rings like a singing bowl and I cannot find the cause.

I built for myself a dream And when it shipwrecked on the Sevilla corner I forgot I am a siren I am a song I am Poseidon. I forgot the ocean moves for me The storms thunder for me And you, you I let not die.

And now I have thrown you against the black of the universe, Slammed into the stars Collapsing upon them I had forgotten I am Zeus I am Persephone I am Hades Medea

I built for myself a dream And forgot I rule the earth The territory Our lands I had pitied myself at your grave, curling up next to headstone to prove I loved you. I cowered at your side, subdued, subservient, obese.

But I forgot. Now that you are dead, I am free. And I kick dirt upon your headstone, I scratch liar into the marble and shove it over.

You are dead. I am alive. And, for now, and ever after, I am free.

[beingcate]

I know what it is like now to sit with a man of sober mind. Of sober intelligence. He radiates words of importance He perseverates, he pauses, epitomizes Uligizes and simulates She says he is good at make believe At being just so to be seen Perfect I wonder did I buy hook Line Sinker... I wonder. In his presence I felt he saw the world for what it is Felt certain in my conviction. I wonder now if I can not read a leaf From a stone From a lie From a dead dandilion. I seek, it seems. Yet hide, it seems. I’ve no radar as I know As i cannot seem to build or restore or Disarm. Still we sat and chatted And I believed, throughout the week, He was seemly and seen, I think now no one is safe but for a wallflower Wit whom we critize the petals.

[beingcate]

What if I never light up again? What if I never open again to love? What if there is no one else to ever make me bloom inwardly and I am alone to garner affection, seduce my own mind, cherish my sweet lips, marvel at my mind and laugh easily at my quips? What if there are no more rosebuds to gather?

[beingcate]

I stopped looking back Capturing photos Writing poems Stopped to stop the dog earing, The toe tagging The label making of this and that. I stopped itemizing, And memorizing, And commemorating Or ritualizing. I finally stopped remembering.

And since then I have searched frantically for my memory. Where is it? Where is it?

[catecox]

I have taken to writing poems Poems I do not have inside me Any longer I feel a disenchantment I’ve never felt before It creates a headache as I help her Pack one more item Place one more box on the porch As she tells me she’s given over her hand gun As he lies one more And he shifts side to side As we talk on the phone of little r’s; big R’s I feel disheartened No matter which way the conversation will go Could have gone I feel unimpressed I feel the sorrow of 10,000 swans Not coming to rest And I’ve a headache And I forget

[beingcate]

Leave

Leave me alone Yes, please leave I know now you do not love me I know now you never did And I do not find this unloving me intolerating I find my believing To be the pain-staking-claiming I must run my body over rocks Drag my sorry lot back to the desert Let the nose be broken and the teeth chattered Let the hair matted and the body already bruised For I have fucked up again I believed another him Another wrong, won't be loving me him I must now die of thirst again Until the bloodied girl can speak aloud, Yes, I remember now, I will not be loved this time round. I say this sometimes to others and the flit and flout and announce love is everywhere for everyone And to make them happy, I agree. But, no, not me. I promise I'll not forget again. Now, please leave me be.

[beingcate]

I was of the impression the searching would come to a valley would come to a stream A waterfall A riptide Or ripcord An ending of epic, vast proportions Begging to begin again I have found only a dried up creek With broken wood shavings from fallen down trees And the beautiful imagination of water Burbling. I feel nothing when they kiss me Nothing! I feel nothing But hollow and rotting When I am told I should feel rebirthing And spring And quiet relief For not being married. I feel nothing when they kiss me! Like a hollowed out ghost on a dried up creek And I don’t know how to tell them or me - I feel nothing.

[purplebuddhaproject]

https://www.instagram.com/pbuddhaproject/

[purplebuddhaproject]

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.

Maya Angelou (via purplebuddhaproject)

[purplebuddhaproject]

https://www.instagram.com/pbuddhaproject/

[beingcate]

I have become engorged in my sadness Empirically startled by mine own loneliness. How can it be I am so, so sad at this age? Was it not meant only for the teens and the twenties, For our reveries in discovering feelings. I have become irreverently I am becoming irreverent-ly. I ramble about whining, "But I don't know what I want" Because wanting and knowing how to get the wanting are so intertwined, I see tonight, reaching around the bus tub, balancing the glasses, Even here in this place I have no destination - anymore. I had a dream with him. A him who never became a you in my own mind. A dream to be safe and okay among dreams and acquisitions and riding the waves and I was so ready to ride Until he sucked the ocean up in breath and left me crashed on shoreline, Negotiating, again, with Poseidon to bring back the tide so I might finally master how to ride and not look back. He said I looked down too often, never quite confidant enough for him in my conviction of not wiping out And here I am a bit bruised and mostly stunned At the base of a bathtub where he stands with straw And I argue with him. Forgetting some knock over the Lego buildings simply because they can. Building just perhaps to cause a hurricane. Simply because they can.

[beingcate]

We circle like wagons now

sussing the other out about their dreams and hopes,

you are cynical - 

strive to make me feel poorly for daydreaming

I now no longer trust you to love me

to love all of me

and the irony is rich,

isn’t it aways?

This being what you commanded of me? Questioned of me?

Could I love you unconditionally - 

when I do not believe in unconditionality - 

and now it’s been backfiring.

For I have loved you, while you have stopped loving me,

all the while inquiring of this unconditionality.

[catecox]

You asked me to dream aloud with you. To present the images and dalliances and outrageous fortunes of otherness. You commanded and I danced And I felt free Now we look at one another, Ungluing the bits you’d given to me. I saw something for a moment there. A recognition in the reflection of some artist Who lives with parrots Paints only rabbits Do you love me? This is what I think - It whispers into my head - into my mainstream. Do you really love me? Or are you just looking for someone who can disappoint you and you can then finally have a justification for being angry and unimpressed by life? Do you love me? This is what I think when I look at you. Do you really? Once you made me think so but now you’ve had the intoxicating bloody taste of my sorrow on your teeth and I think maybe you no longer love me. Of course, I think that because my father wouldn’t have loved such weakness, my mother would’ve outcasted that. The other day you told me my values, as though assigning roles for a fifth grade musical. You be this, you be that. Do you love me, I want to ask.