aging

8-4-20 WANT SHELTER SO BAD…

*scroll down for a YouTube video

Recurrent poetry theme
But each time I’m blown away
By my brain’s ability to convey
Its connection with the senses
This time I heard Dylan’s acoustic guitar
Playing Shelter from the Storm
Found myself
Back in the body of a sixteen-year-old
Feeling the hope of youth
The certainty that life will be perfect
Sixteen but free from the serfdom
Of Childhood
Sixteen battering down the cocoon walls
Of Childhood
But now that I’m an adult
I’ve time traveled
Leaping through the senses
This time of hearing
Or maybe it’s feeling
Strings, yet
The antithesis of puppetry
Musically
Connected
Shelter from the Storm
My time machine
Disguised, this time
As my ears
Previously, it was the smell of dill
And I’ve been transported
Quite often
Via the vision
Of a place or person
Taking me back
But as the music fades
So do I
And once again it is me
Older me
Trying to catch the beat of the song
Seeking my own Shelter from the Storm
The Storm that has changed
Over the years
Because although I was aware
Once upon a time
Of how precious beauty is
Beauty seen and heard
Smelled and touched
Tasted
A long time ago
I thought I would know
When old and weak
That I could still sing and speak
But never suspected
Just how ephemeral
Life is…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Deserted Tardis in the UK, Lee Sullivan, FB

*SHELTER FROM THE STORM, BOB DYLAN, YouTube video

shelter from the storm dylan

MATRYOSHKAS OF TIME

Splintering wood
Dulled paint
The matryoshka opens
From a determined twist
Revealing four other nesting dolls
Identical except for size
How they blink their eyes
In wonder
Smallest remembers
The first affordable TV
Black and White images
Of cowboys and Disney
Penultimate hears the start of FM
Round-the-world broadcasts
Carnaby Street meets Greenwich Village
As the Stones seek shelter
And Dylan damns masters of war
Middle matryoshka plans
Her American Dream
House and cars and 2.5 children
While next to largest
Stomps alone in a strange U.S. State
Of heat and gators
Learning survival tactics
Because life’s a traitor
And now the largest
The one that contains
Time’s gifts through the years
Sheds some tears
Soaking the splintering wood
The paint an unfamiliar color
Looking ill and so much duller
As Time presents its final surprise
Despite watching Mad Max
And films of the Zombie Apocalypse
She unwraps the microscopic germ
Knowing her final life’s term
Is here…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Matryoshka gift from Karen Bruton

RESURRECTION: ROSE OF JERICHO (Selaginella lepidophylla)

Daily dream
End of pandemic
Changes?
Developmental stages
Of humans
Dictate reactions:

Children will be children
Just a blip
Extended school vacations
Now over
Life
Like a salty wave on sand
Continues obeying the
Moon’s command
And life
Returns to normal

Teens always immortal
Meeting and greeting
Strength pumping
No fear from a
Casual cough
A sneeze
It is once again
Friendship
As hormones float on the breeze

Young adults
See cracks in the
Mirror of Immortality
But nothing serious
As careers and caresses
Determine the future
Of long life ahead

And now the mid-forty-somethings
Begin to sense
The beginnings of pain
Bones creaking in bed
Hearing whispered warnings
In their head
Post-pandemic protocol
Lingers longer in daily lives
But still
The watchword
It can’t happen to me
…can it?

And what of the elderly?
Dreaming day as well as night
Drifting under a
Black starless sky
Wedge of white moon
Gleaming on a trellis
Of ruby-red roses
Thorns
The elderly see the thorns
The elderly feel the thorns
As we rock out to our
Beloved music
Dressed in jeans
Dressed in Goth black
Carefully avoiding mirrors
In bright rooms
The pandemic never left
We live in fear of death
Death by disease
Or whatever the reaper may please

So I lovingly place
A tumbleweed of
Rose of Jericho
In spiritual water
And as the seemingly-dead roots
Begin to turn green
I can say I have touched and seen
Resurrection…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Before & After Rose of Jericho
(Heirloom Reviews)

TANKA (NEW YEAR’S DREAM FOR FRIENDS & FAMILY)

Two Tanka about what was important to me then and now. Wishing you all a happy, healthy & fun new year! Sastimos (good health)! ❤

My dreams then:

Wishing us true love
Money, careers and travel
Home and family
But midlife did unravel
Youth and strength fading too fast

❤     ❤     ❤     ❤

My dreams now:

Wishing us good health
So we can be wild and free
Posture confident
Striding around life’s runway
Facing future mystery…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: 2020 Norfolk Pine 1 year later 2019 Norfolk Pine newly planted

2019 new-year-planting-sm-px

Jen, here is the one I planted 12 years ago (Here are 2 pictures of the Norfolk Pine I planted 12 years ago from a tiny sprig that was stuck in a flower pot. The trunk is spindly but the leaves are lush! )  12-yr-old Norfolk Pine 1

12-yr-old Norfolk Pine 2

 

IN MEMORY OF KB

Just heard you died
Haven’t cried
Not going to
But all these memories
Glimmered through
Last moments of a sunset

In your way
You taught me how
To behave in the real world
How to disguise my autism
Although we didn’t know that word
But you certainly knew
I didn’t function quite right

Met in 3rd Grade
Both dressed the same
Mine orange, clashing with
Sallow skin
Sailor-suit themed
So proud until you walked in
Red, white and navy blue
Angelic blonde with eyes so
Caribbean ocean true
A fairy princess to my
Dark hair and eyes
An evil-looking Disney witch
At age seven
But we bonded

Mainly hung out at my apartment
Over the corner grocery store
Your mother with
A touch of violence
Similar to mine
But mine was working
So just us
Looking out on the vast expanse
Of Oregon Avenue
Never returned to your house
You’d shocked me when you stole
Money from your mom’s purse
Twenty-five cents
To buy us candy
But she caught you
So I got scared
And ran home

5th grade teacher
Shamed us every morning
If we had incomplete homework
You’d say to me
Before class started
“I have incomplete homework, do you?”
Lying unusual for most autistic children
And so I said “Yes”
And you said
“I don’t. So be sure to stand up
When teacher asks
Or I’ll tell on you”
This happened 3 times
And I finally got it
You challenged me
To learn not to trust
And how to read the clues
On a face: lie or truth
Impossible to know
When older I decided
The lies of a Gemini provided
A new perspective for me

When we were 13 I bought a cheap wig
Blonde
Hated my dark curls
You refused to walk to 7th Street
Where we shopped for
Lipstick at the Five & Dime
You said I looked awful
Must take off the wig
And should make the most of the natural curls
I didn’t make the most
But did take off the wig
To walk and talk with you
And in future, I knew
To really study the image
In my enemy the mirror

The thing I loved most
Was you coming to my home
After school
Especially in the winter
And we’d talk without a light
Sitting in the twilight
We were 15 and you taught me
To smoke
Kept the weight off, you said
And it did
Smoke, twilight
Your face would morph into
A soft, happy voice
As mine did too
And we were equals
In the gray light
No blonde, blue
No dark, bright
That year you told me you were
Once molested
By a family friend
And last week
You’d had sex with a man you met
At the coffeehouse we’d discovered
He taught you words like
“Pseudointellectual”
And I spiced up my sentences
Loving words so much
Not realizing
I was the pretentious
Pseudointellectual
Until you suggested it
But
You were also feeling depressed
You were also feeling hopeless
You were waiting for something
But what?
I sometimes felt the same
Hormones
If we’d been born Millennials
Instead of Baby Boomers
We could have googled
“Hormones in teenage girls”

At 16 I moved to New Jersey
And you didn’t want to visit
So it was two years before I saw you again
Although we’d talk on the phone
But not in smoke and twilight

Moving back to Philly
We picked up
Right where we left off
And at 19
You were at odds
I was dating a med student
You agreed to be fixed up
They picked us up
At my house
Saw your face
And both of them tripped over each other
Helping you into the car
While I stood by
In despair
Long black curls
Black eyes
Knowing I didn’t have a prayer
To feel good about myself that day
Because you were a gorgeous
Blue eyed blonde Disney princess
And I still the Disney witch

The following year I married
And never saw you again
Didn’t know anything about your life
Until told you died two years ago
And I thought how you were the one
Who always cared enough to tell me
How to act, fit in
Showed me your
Occasional inside ugliness
But also the inner beauty
Because you stuck by me
And all I could think about
Was how I never truly saw you
Was how I never truly cherished you
Wasting precious time because
I wished I was you…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Sleeping Beauty & Witch

GYROSCOPE (song-in-progress)

I’m a wild gyro
Tilting and spinning
Nothing, no one
To tether me
Maintaining orientation
And angular velocity
No problem though
Locating the horizon
When the mist comes
Surprising to see
I’m lost but then
By sheer will power
I right my brain
Like an airline control tower

You yank my string
Send me turning
Churning, burning
This aging heart…

Old bones can learn
To do new tricks
Like dogs biting
Entrenched swamp ticks
But here I go
Once again
Back in my ’07
Honda C-RV
Driving crazily
Through shadowy back roads
Six crates of my crap
All I own in complete defeat
Slipping off the back seat
To the World Music CD drumbeat

You yank my string
Send me turning
Churning, burning
This aging heart…

After days of driving
Back where I started
Land of swamps and palms
But I’m like a handful
Of July 4th cherry bombs
Short fuse, loud noise
Ready to blast
Whatever I worked for
And thought I owned
Gone in a gust
Of anger and mistrust
So the engine ticks
As I get out and stare
Ready for more psychological warfare

You yank my string
Send me turning
Churning, burning
This aging heart…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja
IMAGE: Gyroscope with Baritone Ukulele

SECRET OF LIFE

Sanguinaria canadensis
(Bloodroot)

I: LAMENT

Ways of the old
Are lonely roads
In modern days
Try the herbs
When the end is here
Yet no one believes
In the cure or fear
Go to the doctor
If you’re scared
But although I respect
Others’ choices of
Slash and burn
No one respects mine
Ah, if only I’d paid
More attention to
Gran’s ancient lore…

II: HISTORY

Many years ago
Used a salve
Instead of allowing
Burning and slashing
In my body
Painful in its own way
But within a year
It spewed the poison
And life was once again good

In the heat of the cure
I woke up in darkness
Hearing myself say
“So that is the secret of life”
But couldn’t remember the
Vital words preceding
The statement
So sure
So sure I knew
And instantly forgot
The secret of life

III: OLDER BUT NOT WISER

Now I have need
For the same cure
The same salve
To pull the poison
From my body
But
It is more serious now
Perhaps being thirteen years older
Has added to the stress
But I am looking for quality
Not quantity of life
So I try alternatives

IV: COSMIC JOKE?

Napping today
Trying to ignore
Scared looping
Thinking of the
Cosmic Joke of Life

Cosmic joke or each little psychic mote
Seemingly silly or useless
Meant as a part of the larger secret of life
Like being handed an A Minor or Fmaj7 note
What to do with it?
Put it all together
Work together
Make music

Think of Grim Reaper gift
Some have told me they know
Not only the date of their own death
But the date of others
What could possibly be the value
In a “gift” like that?
Or my “gift” of the Bird Psychopomps
Appearing before a family death
Tangled in my hair
Trees splitting
Faces superimposed on mine in the mirror
Book shelves falling apart
What is the value of that?
I cannot warn anyone because
I don’t know who it relates to
Until they die
Or think of a friend
Looking up at a boat hanging in a ship yard
Realizing it is going to fall
He runs and it falls
Wondering
Did he make it fall
Or did it warn him it would fall?
More questions than answers

V: EVEN MORE QUESTIONS

So do we, the people of the world
Each with a bit of psychism
Need to meet and talk
Were we all given a clue
To the secret of life
All with a piece of the puzzle
And until we talk to each other
Combine the clues
We will never understand the secret of life?

VI: CLUES

We’ve all been entrusted with a bit of it
This will take a lifetime or more
To solve…
Hints in symbols and codes
Tarots and alphabets
Equations and cells
Elemental tables and
Dowsing wells
All there
Waiting to be combined
Waiting for us all to share
Our talent
Our truth
A huge cauldron
Containing a big bang
For the next step in
Evolution

VII: LOST IN THE LABYRINTH

Or does Sanguinaria canadensis
Create a high?
Healing and pulling
Bodily poisons
Challenging the brain
To figure it all out
Unforgiving
And if so
I can only conclude
The secret of life
Is living..

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Secret of Life: Herbs

FERAL (on hemp oil)

Little bit of old age pain so taking a little bit of hemp oil. I’ve become a little bit
uninhibited (that’s a little bit good). Interesting thoughts while watching Joan Jett
eat…

*scroll down for a Joan Jett video

WTH?
Swear I’m swinging
On a fur-clad sling
Wearing fur?
Oh, no!
Hope the animal rights groups
Don’t splash me with blood or
Red paint
But never wore fur
Couldn’t afford it
And I’m vegetarian
Not the radical kind
Hey, eat whatever you want
Well, not me
But I look around
And honestly
The word “Scruff”
Echoes
I’m being carried by
The scruff of my neck
It’s a cat
A black feral cat
And wait!
Too much hemp oil?
I’m a kitten
A starving one
With a desire for milk
But aren’t I lactose-intolerant?
Hate milk
Suddenly
(That horror story word)
“Suddenly”
An orange male cat
(I know he’s male, can smell him)
Leaps at the female
Mom?
Carrying me
Didn’t I once feed a feral cat?
Didn’t want to do it
But her cry seduced me
Music like I’d never heard
Pathetic
Beautiful
Secretly named her
Joan Jett
Oh, no!
He’s trying to kill me
For food?
I know male bears do that
To their cubs
But do cats?
And while wondering
How I became a cat
My eyes close
All is dark
And I tumble down a tunnel
Toward light
So bright
It finds its way through my eyelids
And I wonder what
Life
Or is it
Death
Brings me next…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Joan Jett eating

*Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, I Love Rock & Roll

PETRIFIED!

Our lives are like a fossil record
The past built upon the corpses
Of who we were
Evolving in our lifetime
Age 10, age 20
Stages part of the record
Phases of impressions
Visible along the
Striations in different hues
Records of me and you
An old map relevance
Hope I remember
Life is merely a planned trip
Guiding me to me
Time synonymous with vertigo
Yesterday
Today
Tomorrow…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Fossils