lost

8-11-20 ON SEEING THE PERSEIDS

Perseids like a jolt of adrenaline
Ripping across the crowded sky
I am lost without my map
But I gaze at the stars
Absent-mindedly plunking my guitar
Munching on crackers, cream cheese
And cheap caviar
Here at 28° 14′ 38″ N / 82° 43′ 9″ W
A mere few miles from the Gulf’s sandbars
Musical waves with the
Melody of twin sitars
So I gaze at the sky
Mapless
Clueless
Stars like exotic bazaars
Each one offering a new evolution
Each birthed from a quasar
And I remember to be careful
In the night
Because like the stars
It is often safer to
Avoid black holes and other strangers…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Star Chart (Earth & Sky)

WHERE IN THE WORLDS?

(song-in-progress/will use lots of Em, Bbm, minor all the way)

For those lost, especially during the holidays…

Searching for the road home
It winds past city trash
And wild sunflower dumps
Where rats scurry to miss
Practice shots by bored kids

Searching for the road home
House in my name
Blue collar crowded rooms
Weekend alcohol and rarely
A toke of smoke enhancing
A mood that is happy or
A mood that is fast sinking

Searching for the road home
Worked so hard but
It just doesn’t fit
Like denim jeans sewn
In a country of petites
The wrong country
For voluptuous ass and thighs
Lands where those women believe
Their US counterparts have no need to cry

Searching for the road home
Different geometric shapes
Different names for states
A jigsaw puzzle from childhood
Can’t find the right neighborhood

Searching for the road home
Swamp and forest surrounding
Approaching age spent owning
A ten-year-old car
Some musical strings
Boots, shirts, just things
No home

Can’t find the road home
There is no home
Where do I go from here…?

(c) 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Galaxies Primordia

RAINY NIGHT IN GEORGIA (Another Autistically Clueless Memoir)

 

*scroll down for a YouTube video*

 

First flight

Eighteen

Philly to New Orleans

Meeting the love-of-my-life

Stationed in Biloxi

Due in at 11 pm

Nemesis fog

Flight forced to land

In Atlanta, Georgia

Here’s the terrible confession

Autistic mind clacking away

Didn’t hear what stewardess saying

Just kept thinking

Will he know my flight’s delayed

Will he wait

Went into the bathroom

Forgot about the luggage

Exited to a side gateway

Dark and empty

Nothing but faux leather

Benches

Ashtrays

Locked in!

Back to the bathroom

Called my mom

From a phone booth

She said just lie down on a bench

Sleep

As if

Can’t even sleep in my bed for more than an hour

Smoked the entire night

Danced and sang in the dark

No jet noises

All grounded

Just smoggy fog

Peering at me

Right outside the observatory windows

Sang alphabetically

Baez, Beatles, Dylan

Sang all the way to the Zombies

(Well no one told me about her…)

Personnel shocked the next morning

When I asked for my luggage

And a flight to New Orleans

Could see their stares

Could see them glancing at each other

But not sure what it all meant

Hustled me on a plane

Served me coffee

But by then I was shivering

Scratchy throat

Landed to the sound of my name

He was there, waiting for me

So was my luggage

We walked on Canal Street

Ate at Top of the Mark

Back to the hotel

I fell

Into a feverish sleep

Didn’t wake until

The next day

Felt better

He gave me his Air Force wings

How I loved him

How I don’t understand

Why I didn’t wait the four years for him

How I hope he had a good life

A good wife

And that’s what I did

On my trip to New Orleans

When I was eighteen

And unknowingly

Autistic and clueless

Yet able to survive…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: USAF Rank Pin, Pinterest

 

*YouTube video Brook Benton, Rainy Night in Georgia https://youtu.be/bDRbF80NKDU

 

 

NO ENTRANCE

 

Moss flung against the south side

Losing me in the trees

Lined up like doors

In forested hallways

Collecting words in spiral notebooks

Vertically lined

Along the horizontal:

“Paprika”

“Onomatopoeia”

Words not quite magical

Missing the point

As always

Pinterest boards of doors

Named “Piro Hudar”

Virtually visiting

Hallway of color

Pounding until they creakily reveal

Darkness behind each one

Twenty-two Tarot cards

Major Arcana

Gateways aligned

Yet the same ten

Beckon me inside monthly

Saying, “This is your lesson

When will you learn?

Then maybe you will earn

Lovers, Star, Sun”

Portals

Lines of trees

Lines of words

Lines of cards

Hallways so dark outside closed doors

Open Sesame…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: From Deserted Places, no identification

 

LOST & FOUND

(THINGS I LOST)

High soprano voice

Soared so high

And one terrible day

It refused to return from the heavens

Self esteem

It came, it went

Could have used it on a more steady basis

But it had an aversion to matters of love

Joy

The sheer excitement of life

But like Mellencamp says,

“Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone”

Visibility

Without trying, we become

More invisible with age

Shouting, “See me!” makes no difference

(THINGS I FOUND)

Wisdom, of sorts

Still impulsive

That’s probably an Aries trait

Talking before thinking is an ancient brain path

Calmness

Although adrenalin still romps through the bloodstream

Making me shake when excited

Not so excited anymore so able to navigate

Tolerance

Can laugh at myself

Zen-like understanding of people

And the Earth and the universe and beyond

Beauty

Strip away the wrinkles

And the gravitational pull

It’s there, somewhere…

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas