Splattered Guts

s p l a tt e r e d g ut s

pamelacone

Words, faithful Cleft for me

Words, tapestry Cover me

Words, symbolic Shield me

Words, unchanging Speak to me

Words A refuge

Words

Strength ******************************************************************************************** If I were hungry I wouldn't tell you. I wouldn't give you the opportunity to look down on me and disguise it as pity. If my heart was broke in to pieces and bleeding down into my shoes I would wait for my own tears to wash away the stains--avoiding the shame.

The shame of you knowing I failed once again. I reserve my nakedness for my friend the one who I meet while on my knees. **********************************************************************************************

Blown Glass The fanned open colorful skirt tail inviting one in to see the swirling rainbow at the bottom of its bowl.

Revealing the beauty of earth, the glory of woman. *********************************************************************************************

the paper tells what the tongue keeps the ink spills the secrets the fibers drink the life words asleep until awakened oh, the tales that they tell ******************************************************************************************** The orange hazy glow of the sun like a ball bounced into it's place descending as the faint moon just called in and ready for duty across the sky. The time nestled in between, nameless--the earth again stood still. ********************************************************************************************

Weighed Down Scales not always kind. Weighing, measuring a woman. Measuring her by her curves that are sometimes in the wrong place. Measuring her against a standard set by God's first creation. Since then man has been flawed. The original can not be duplicated. The secret was lost in the garden.

Nevertheless, I am weighed down looking for it. ********************************************************************************************************

Cloudy Day The clouds cover the sky to deny the fullness of light.

The wind habitually stirs the leaves on the tree in the window.

Today time seems unimportant, the clock's moving at an unnoticeable pace.

Inside turmoil is boiling, the tea kettle is about to blow.

Like the bell at the end of a working day.

Letting you know you have had enough.

Happy Birthday!!! *****************************************************************************************

Coldly coiled, until petted, he bites like a viper. Then his venom slowly renders you submissively deceived.

The imagination can run wild, un-tameable like the wind.

No lid strong or wide enough to confine it.

It has life, even more than you can imagine. ***************************************************************************************** Tell me a truth Even if it looks, sounds, feels, smells and taste like a lie Tell me a lie, and make me believe it's a truth *******************************************************************************************

uncovered exposed hidden exploited protected

NAKED CLOTHED bare cold WARM FRIGHTENED BOLD lonely comforted broken WHOLE afraid

FEARLESS HUNGRY satisfied

Negative thoughts flood invading the mind working consistently building a kingdom out of the fibers that bind the psyche. They work meticulously like wasp. Their lines fuse together not to divulge their origin. The damage is unnoticeable, hidden, until it visibly spews out on the breath. Dis-confirmation creeps in at dark through the back door and in the morning displays the prey caught in the intricate net of deceit. Ignoring the devourers trap is costly. The zombied look in the eyes and dribbling lips mark the level of deterioration. Then comes the hysteria followed by the hallucinations told on stammering lips. ********************************************************************************************* A carnival intended for the fortunate. All other attendees merely spectators or servants. The lady in the feathered hat makes a grand entrance. Pretending to desire to be left unnoticed, please!, that hat could stand on its own. The orchestra plays familiar tunes, as with all of these events it's about making the privileged comfortable. The choice of costume speaks a lot about a person. The inner self has a way of always slipping through the cracks. Tonight is her night to shine. To come behind the shadows and live like the little girl playing dress up in her mother's clothes, finding the old costume jewelry in the attic and the boa in the trunk. Until the clock strikes twelve and her carriage turns back into a pumpkin, but not before she meets her Prince Charming. And in the morning light after they have fallen in love with the evenings mask they discover that they are only truly exposed when covered. ********************************************************************************************

Tired Eyes My mind & body's tired They have yielded to getting older I can't say they didn't warn me I just didn't consent *************************************************************************************************************

Two Opinions The see saw goes up and down Up, you look down at the world Down, the world's looking up at you Down, you can touch the clouds Up, they are still just a view The see saw goes up and down

Reflections & Shadows Sometimes the image is distorted. But the looking glass doesn't lie. Although the story it tells--a half truth-- is missing the inner theme the books covering is all that it can reflect. You would have to read between the lines and explore beyond the type and cover in order to know what took place before and after.

The shadows come to protect--some say hide--but when you need one it can be kind. A protective shield from whoever is trying to figure out why page 42 has been highlighted. What transpired is only for those who shared that moment in time. It’s like asking someone about their most private thoughts, the ones they can't wait to go to sleep at night to re-visit alone. The chapters in which they can make fiction reality and reality fiction.

You would have to look in the mirror and search far behind the eyes to uncover the whole story--it’s in the reflection protected behind the shadows covering. Captured momentarily--once removed, it’s forgotten, but the tale has been recorded.

Silence Mimes as fascinating as they seem must be in a constant state of torture.

Their faces have to tell what their mouths can not utter.

They gesture and move about for others to guess what their silent whaling’s suggest.

Their life is one big riddle waiting for someone to figure out—like a test.

Like a conundrum spectators search to find the piece that will cause this act to unfold.

It’s puzzling—hard to discern, these characters look as if they are about to explode.

Oh, the silent movies of the twenties how frustrating but still enacted everyday.

We smile and maneuver in silence like the court jester waiting for someone to define our way.

Behind Unopened Doors No need to check the lunch box for the remnants of the crusted tuna fish sandwich or the couch cushions for the expired bag of M & M’s. Today’s a new day—full of possibilities. Maybe the mailman will come early or an old friend will stop by to reminisce about old times. Or just maybe you’ll stumble upon the future and discover why you’re here. Predestination is hard to appreciate.

The unfinished projects in the basement are a constant reminder of your incurable habit of procrastinating. If you complete them, then what is left to contemplate? If left to fend for themselves the possibility of another tomorrow opens.

Knock--or continue in the cystoids puddle of ponder.