Pickaya Me, Pickaya Me

Madi,
soft dark eyes,
oval in shape,
dark deep eyebrows
in a perfect shape.
Small and excited as
i enter the door.
You are small and standing on the
floor.
Pickaya me, pickaya me
not with the inside voice.

The people down the street can
hear you, jumping up and down,
yelling to the top of your lungs
while you stand on the ground.
Pickaya me, Pickaya me.
Grandma
reaching up at me.

You are no flower,
radiant in bloom.
You are madi
standing in a room.
talking, yelling ,
Pickaya me, Grandmother
Pickaya, me....
© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

I need to Know

God,
I need so badly to know
that its all true.
my giving my all
and loving you.

I need to feel you
kiss me until I am breathless,
make love to me in the early morning cold,
hold me naked,
warming me, in my soul.
God,
I need to know.

I am so into you
Are you equally into me.
Do you think of me,
early in the morning,
wondering how I smell,
how I taste,
Is my bed hard or soft,
what I sleep in.
God,

I need to know.
I need to know you,
can handle the intensity,
sometimes it so much for me.
The longing,
wanting,
the heat.
Confused,
questing myself,
how can I be here.
I am not ready,
I need to know.
We never are ready when we think,
we are arrived.

I need to know
Will we change
together and watch the world go by.
Loving, and learning and then one day
we will die.
I want so badly to know its true,
but sometimes I think I
scare you.
© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Meeting

I met a man on a train,
I was in my head
standing on the platform
thinking of endless  possibilities.

You said I know you,
you knew me in a time
when life was easy and sweet.
When I loved to love, and
you found it in me.

I wanted to
you did to.
You asked me if i would say
I do.

I did,
we had a life,
full
of coffee, dinner,
love, and walks

One day you
said i was not good enough.
Confused,
ashamed
baffled and dazed.
You walked out
and left me in a haze.
I was so hurt by what
you did.

It has taken time,
but I am whole,
I don't know
why you did this to me?

I may never
understand who you
are...

I hope never to cross your path again....

Wish you well, you know who you
are...
I am finally free

I can love again,
and live again.
Never to cross your bridge again.
© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Can you

I woke up
you were there
you were always there
I couldn't feel you
I was cold on the inside.

Alone in the crowded room
at the dinner party
sipping dry white wine.
Yuk,
I would rather have a
coco with bitter sweet chocolate
You watch me from across a room.

I saw you but didn't know
you were here for me.
I knew you were here.

I crave you,
I want to taste your soul
I want to lap the
tears of life
with you and about you.

Will you walk with me
love me as I can love you.
Cry with me
as you enter my deepest fears
as you enter my deepest joys.
Can you ?

Never question
are you the one.
As only the one would
find me in the crowd
Would watch me from afar
Would love me
where ever you are.

Be my love
in secret and in truth.
I will never doubt or fail you

Can you?

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

I will

Early morning,
crisp, cold,
I shiver and feel your soul inside of
me
filling me with you and your warmth.
Guiding me to your innocent,
The place were we stand complete

Grey and blue collide
collapsing, you, me, we, us....
We are the universe,
made in Gods perfection
Infinity....
NEVER ENDING
I breath in,
holding the air in my lungs.
I know that air is real,
because I live.

I can love you until I pant
and i am breathless.
Let me...
my silhouette,
dances naked in the moons
reflection
Wanting you until it hurts.
Standing in the rain crying,
for you, me, us
Alone

Not conventional,
waiting, wanting, escaping
Absence of memory
we have not past
we only have beginnings
of where will go
were, we can be
stars colliding in a
universe,
deep, infinite,

So afraid to fail again
but willing,
this time will be different,
knowing
this is not conventional

I want
So Bad
unconventional
Hard, Sweet,
Wet, long,
I want
not an epilogue
Please

Will you,
Can you,
be the unconventional,
be the warm,
the wet,
the fill.

I will.....

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Love Letter

My Dearest:

I want to dance with you
in the twilight,
you and I.
I don't care that there
are on lookers,
I don't care if they dance with
us,
I just want to dance with you.

I want to make
sweet nothings on Saturday mornings
for you and I to enjoy on a
warm sunny beach,
With the populous doing what they
do and me enjoying all things about you.

I want to be your confidant
in all you hold as sacred,
I want to know the inner
workings of you.

My Friend,
I never want to have a secret
that can hurt you or I.
A pain so deep that it
scars our souls.
Causing the earth to
tilt sideways on her axis.
Love has evolved into hate.
Tell me your truths and I
shall never judge.
I can only be responsible
for my feelings.

I want to give you
my passion, and you to
give me yours.
Without audience,
just you and I
dancing a secret dance
between, US.

I want to walk with
you, into the golden.
Where our hair turns
silver, and our thoughts grow numb.
The world changes;
before our eyes.
But there is still you,
and I.

I want us to sit in a
street cafe in France
and drink coffee.
Dance in the wind.
Watch the world
go bye;  with you...

All I ask is that you
are open, and that you try.

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

This too shall come to pass

Sometimes,
we are faceless in a crowd
Wearing the masks of love,
lust, want, disregard.

Insignificant and small,

large and flashy,

vivacious, and full of life.

Sometimes we are loved by all.

I run from you to save face,

But I have no eyes,

to see you with,

no mouth,

to kiss you,
passion runs deep,
breathless.
Machete,
Cut out my heart,
offer it to the Gods.
I have no heart to love

you.
You robbed me
when, you, she ,
us walked in.

I love you,
wordless,
heartless,
holding you with my soul,

with my mind,

absent of body.

We love deeply, intimately,
we touch only in the Illusion.

Dark places not known by anyone
but by you and I.

We touch in the

places that are void of any

human presence.

Provoking, raw angry
emotion;
Warmth fills us,
 hot with fire,

moist with tears,
of regret, of possibilities.
Loving,
Knowing, you, me,
Will never have our time.
The End....

You are the secret lover,

love, known by God

Made for you in you

about you.

We are forever entwined

to be something that shall

never come to pass.

We are we,

and without you I

lack a piece of complete

and without me you

lack a piece of complete.

And this shall too come to pass.

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Divorce of the Muse

Indiscriminate Lover, 

jilted, and rejected,

never made the alter.

Have you achieved sainthood?

draped in red and white tapestry,
lace wrapped face

love and regret.

Inability to hold you,

to give and receive.

Do as I say and not as I do.

I am no child;

to boss or command;

to teach, or instruct

I am who I am.

Muse abandoned. 

I will not entertain or 

indulge.

Lost,

dazed and confused

grasping for straw, 

seeking.

Sharp object,

cut it out, remove it if 

it offends you.

Anger, 

I am not what you wanted.

Psychic ability speaking out loud.
Vacant words.
You never wanted,
you played,
dressed in the head dress of confusion.
Black and blue, pink, and purple,
Grey....


Falsehood life, 
idle, 
mundan.,
keeping up with the Jonesez
will make you insane.
Suburban, 
fearful to live Urban,
lye to yourself.
Your muse gave you words of life.
The life you never wanted to live.

Muse;

never thought she would abandon you;

your choice,

You turned from her first.

Life,

Sullen and Empty.

Black chess queen,

captured her king.

He fights no wars.
He sits and he sings.
Wanting to please the queen
in her way.
Lost his soul
for many a day.

Knight, standing guard at the gate.
Knight sees the queen, and its getting late.

Queen runs you.

Muse has left you and now
the queen is streight.

Sorrow and despair will 

become your friend. 

As you live the life you 

wanted to be in.

If you should never 

find these words,

its fine, 

as you have yours 

and your muse is MINE.

She whispers softly 

in my ear....

in the early mornings;

the only time to hear.

Pen and pad safely near my 

side, 

I scribble words, that I can't hide.

Muse tells me to tell you 

thanks, 

The divorce is final, 

and without haste. 

No quibble, 

no pleading to be done.

She just packed 

her things as you moved on.

She sits quiet and patient

near my side.

Try not to get lost......
Please don't hide.

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Come, lets have fun

Come, lets listen to music at the bus stop,
on a rainy,
wear your rain coat
and your galoshes
cause its gonna be fun...

The Dramatics, tunes playing in my mp3,
"A Song For You",
"I have been so many places in my life"....
standing at the bus stop
early morning storm,
rain boots,
umbrella,
rain coat;

I take off my hood,
exposing myself to the elements.
rain drops "big", cold,
race down a crack in the back of
my raincoat.
Laughing,
as they race down to my shirt,
leaving a cold wet spot.
Smiling,
happy,
I love the rain,
on a early morning,
winter, spring, summer or fall,
I love the rain.

The cold,
reminds me that I am alive,
the wet,
makes me shiver,
I alone, can appreciate this life,
this life alone,
not captured,
free....
where to now?

I am like the monster from
a children's story, scaring the
innocent, reminding the tormented.
That life is but a moment,
come out and play, live, even
if its just for this one moment.

Remember when life was
easy and free, when we did not have
the restraint of being the person
responsible.
Come and puddle jump with me.
lets dance under a cumulus cloud,
and feel the hair stand on ends to the lightening, and thunder.
Lets dance, like nobody is watching,
lets laugh with zeal like a child, in a park
playing.

Even if just for a moment, this moment;
a moment in time, that will last a life time
in our heart, in our mind.
Even if just for a moment, we have
the memory of just this one feeling that is good,
and rich and fun.

Come,
it will cost you nothing,
just a bit of your time,
you can do it alone,
or you can do it with a friend.


© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

The Wizard, Coffee, and Wisdom

I was wondering,
through a village,
in a foreign country,
when I came across this Wizard.
A beautiful little man,
with hair of silver,
and dimples,

He spoke to me
in his native tongue,
but I did not understand him.
He gestured with his hand,
come to me.
We strolled to a nearby
out door cafe.
The air was soft with a warm
breeze. We ordered coffee.

I was not frighted by him,
as he had eyes that were like
perfect black marbles,
glistening in the moon light.
He was the perfect color of
tobacco leaves, that had been
rolled and had soft wrinkles in them.
Not quite dry enough to smoke just yet.

How did I know he was a wizard,
only a wizard
could captivate me,
in an instant.
Draw me near unto him.
Without ever really saying
a word.
I sat with him
and we had coffee,
he drank his black with
heavy cream and sugar,
and I drank mine black.
Sipping my drink, he filled my
soul without a word,
of the endless possibilities,
on love,
life,
and inner strength.

We exchanged few words,
but my spirit had connected with his
in some obscure way,
and contentment was in me.
He had a kind smile,
and soft hands.
He was brown, with
neatly placed wrinkles in his face.

We exchanged
glances, and then he spoke;
what would a Wizard,
in a foreign cafe, drinking coffee,
say in English?
That's when I realized he was
not speaking to me in words,
but words that were to my
heart. Words that were being
uttered to the core of my soul,
to my being, to my inner most
self that is not exposed to the world.
He spoke, in a silent soft tone,
that my spirit understood.
it was consoling, and filling,
his words
reminded me of how life
is life and I am but a piece of a chance,
that is not mine alone.
He reminded me that the things
that I want to control, I cannot
because I can't even control myself
To allow the "GOD" part of me to
exist and I will loose my confusion, and
desire for things I do not need.
He spoke to me that love
is not binding,
it is forgiving,
and kind.
Never wait on love because
it comes regardless of when you are
prepared, preparing, or running.
He kissed my hand,
and in an instant he was gone.

How did I know he was a 

wizard, 

he didn't wear a 

hat.

I knew he was a wizard,
as he had coffee with me
in a foreign country,
in a small outdoor cafe,
and he gave me wisdom,
that I sought my whole life.

He was a wizard because I said so.


© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Love, Delusion, Illusion, Mirage

Love and the battlefield,
jets dropping smart bombs.
I don't have to see were the bomb
will hit,
it will hit its mark.
In your head,
In your heart,
In your mind,
Your minds eye can see,
The one million men trudging across
fields of desolate sand,
Carrying sand colored back packs
full of the necessities to make it another day.
They are prepared to fight,
fight for what they believe in,
they are prepared to even die for what they
believe.
Love, that fickle illusion of a
voluptuous woman, standing with red lips,
and black hair. Her hand on her hips and
her bosom presenting to you.
short skirt, legs bare,
talking, whispering words,
words that you have heard before, but
not like this, as now you "REALLY" hear
the words. Resonating inside of your soul.
If there is a GOD, he must be related to her,
as she owns ever part of who you are, and
she knows ever hair on your head.

Its hot, a desert heat reflecting off the
sand and you are having delusions.
Delusions of the endless possibilities.
With her....
You see a desert Oasis,
You have to stop and take a break, to breath
take in the green in the middle of a scorching hot desert.
A desert oasis, Its like her,
inviting you, to
to have a cold drink from the pool
of cool refreshing water.
No camels,
no people,
just me,
my mirage,
and my delusions of "Love".
Mishaps,
I have lost myself in the delusion of "Love".
seeing only what i want,
believing all that I need,
and feeling only euphoric delights.
Sexual in nature, alluring, inviting,
if she speaks her words can take me places unseen by the naked eye.
Love, in my mirage.
In a scorching hot desert.
She and I could be in  a
tropical rain forests, some were
in the Amazon, tropical rain,
dug in deep in a hole,
covered in mud, embraced
naked,
cold,
bugs biting,
humming,
speaking their talk,
as we intertwine,
spreading our vine like
a large green foliage on a  tropical tree.
but I have you

similarities,

Push, yelling, pulling,
holding hands, longing, 

working with my hands, and

walking with my feet.

I wait

I would walk a million miles if

at the end of the road there

would be a LOVE

Love,

we, people, I, Him, Her

seek it desperately,

passionately,

wantonly,

its a million dollar industry,

disguised as sex,

people sing about her,

they write about her,

they dance to her,

they long for her,

I have only called her "her",

because she has all the attributes of a

fickle woman.

Love

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

It Always turns out the same way

It always ends up the same way,
you buy ice cream,
vanilla bean,
leave it in the car while you shop
and it melts.

You feed the dog
and don't walk him
within 20 minutes,
he poops on the floor.

You go out for a jog,
you get a drink and
fall asleep
you wake up really stinky.

You trust your friend,
with something dear to you
you find out that they were really
not your friend.

You sneak on the back of
the muni,
at some point
the muni cops
give you a whopping ticket.

You leave the milk
out over night and turn
up the heat.
it curdles.

You find out who the
real, "haters" are in your life
when you find out its your best
friend since 2nd grade.

It always ends up the same,
the paradox...
I can't seem to put
a correlation between
random occurring events,
and knowledge that things that
are trusted and true, are not trusted and
true.....it all ways turns out
the same way.
© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

ALL of my LOVE

I can love,

I can be strong,

I am not masculine,

I am gentile,

I am soft,

I am whole and complete.

I was no mistake,

Made out of perfection,

I am the image of all there is...

I can be kind

I am good,

I am the essessence and definition

of COMPLETE LOVE.

I share,

I give with no expectation of return,

I want
to be loved 

I am waiting,

for just the

right person to

come and accept the

blessing of all of,

my heart and ,

ALL of my LOVE

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

The surreal terroist

I have this painting, by Salvador Dali.
It hangs in the living room.
Its an egg with part of a man hatching
out of the egg. The paining is bland of all color,
with the exception of one drop of blood,
falling from the crack in the egg.
Salvador is one of the worlds greatest surrealist,
at least that's what I think.
He was spectacular at making
you see, what was really not there,
but there.....

If I could; I would weep tears of blood for you;
cut out a major organ ,for you;
jump in front of a truck, for you;
greet death in your place, for you;
risk my life, for you;
to allow you the opportunity to live.

How many nights have I wept for you.
Waking up to the tears,
drowning in snot,
experiencing a full range of emotion in the darkness,
in the early morning hours before dusk.
Inability to cry out to you,
to cry out for you, wailing.

You have become the emotional terrorist,
awaiting your moment to become a martyr.
Carrying your load of bomb making materials on your back.
Waiting for the last moment.
Blaming me for all that has occurred.
Every thing you have ever done wrong.
Every misfortune you have ever incurred;
emotional hostage taking,
destruction,
it did not kill the by-standers.

Daily I am barraged with wounds,
you have not killed me, oh, not yet.
You just wound me. Not mortally; oh, not yet.
Bit by bit the first blast ripps off my left arm; tearing it from its socket,
exposing bloody, fleshy, white meat.
I am bleeding profusely, and I can feel the color draining from my
face.

BAM...
the second blast gives me a compound fracture of my leg,
bone peeking out at the knee,
The pain is so intense, opening my mouth to yell in pain,
and nothing but air comes out.
I see a bright light in the etched blackness, my nose sucking
in air, my mouth open.
No sound....
I am falling, I have not fainted, not yet.
I feel as if I am gasping for air, but I am not breathing.
My chest is hot, and I know I am suffocating.
My mind is reeling of thoughts,
knowing that you are killing me, and you have every intention
of making me suffer.
I have not died, not yet.

I am the one person you love to hate,
and hate to love.
I love you and you stab me with a dagger just
below my Brest plate.
Blood dribbles down my clean
white t-shirt.
You smile with a certain satisfaction.
I am dumbfounded how? why? what? who?
could do this.
Why, not just do it quickly.
Shoot me in the head and let my
cranium splinter all over the room.
At least it will end quickly.
No, that's not good enough.
You want me
to FEEL something,
You want to see me FEEL something....
You want me to cry for you,
to cry blood, and make things right.

Minute by minute,
hour by hour,
day by bay.
You work at taking my life,
but you will not let me die, but you are
not going to let me live.

You are like Salvador Dali,
You want people to see what is really not there,
but there....

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Life and Death

Everyone has an opinion on matters of life and death.
Most people believe when you die,
You are going to go to heaven.
People, a generalization, don't consider
how they are living.
You see, we all have a piece of the dark place.
You know, the place, you can smell;  faintly in your clothing,
When you hang your jacket, you smell sulphur.
Its a light scent, a scent  you can vaguely recognize, but you smell it.
The dark place is somewhere between life and death.
The place where the iron gate separates the living from the dead.
Catholics like to give it a fancy name
Baptist don't acknowledge it exists,
Buddhist, believe in the energy,
Guess I would have to say, its perception.
How do you perceive you death....
Many don't invest time in death....
Some say I am far too busy living....
But the dark place, that exists, is a place were the people spend tremendous
time banging on the Iron wall to warn the living to change their ways. To change now,
don't wait. Or your fate is sealed.

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Prelude to a WO/MAN

There is a seductive beast  that lives within, 

Everyone of us WO MEN...

We are made of men, for men...

She hunts and stalks men. 

Vegetarian? Delights in life, "MEAT"

Fleshy, Red, rots if it sits too long.

Leering into the inner most parts. 

Its not obvious but subconscious. 

Men beautiful specimens, to examine.
Deep Dark; bittersweet  Chocolate,
Creamy Milk Chocolate, with  Creamy Carmel swirls,
Ebony rich and creamy, Alabaster  rich and smooth,
supple to the touch.
Oh, no, don't say a word.
We cannot do the double standard.
Women are flowers,
far more opulent with far more specimens, and
a larger phylum .
Our services facilitate more functions.
You ARE an edible.
For OUR delight.

Probe,
touch them,
smell  them,
taste to see if the fruit is
ripe, Juicy and sweet.....
mmmm, is it good.
Their color, should be brilliant,
cobalt blue,
Sunflower Yellow,
Sunburst Orange,
 Magenta, and shades of blue/grey
provocative,
invitations to taste.
Not all of the good pieces are taken.
You just have;
to REALLY look.
Look, not with your eyes,
with your senses.

Don't lay your fragrant flower down at just any temple.
As we cannot serve two Gods, we will learn to love one
and hate the other.
We want to serve only One that is Worthy.
Yes, we do serve, but they also have to SERVE...
What will it really cost. To not substantiate the  trick er
of the generic hybrid pieces.
Genetically formulated in a lab.
Just to fool us....
You know the ones.
They look good,
are nice in color and smell,
Designed to make us want them.

But their insides are rotten, they don't look bad, but
they have no sweetness,
they are tasteless, empty of true flavor....
draining us of all of our vigor,
using us at their whim,
Puffed up with water,
deliberating on our insecurities...
Toss that fruit to the swine.
Wash your hands of the beast,
its not real.

We can master self-control
tame our fears
impulses
we are bold
willful, defy.
This is not our secret identity, it
is who we are.....
Your fortitude is shown by what we
DO.
Stand up, Admitting to me that I am the I.
Don't  dignify by being provoked by
ROTTEN FRUIT,
Moral cowards and brutes.
Courage
Savage, humble virtues
natural instincts to establish composure.
repress claws at empty
I will not turn in pride
against my passion
preserver through self restraint
resistance is futile.
I will end up here anyway.




© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Watching Death

Daily we observe death
We often have no idea what we are really looking at.
Sublime to a man's reckoning.
His repentance, comes during his recompense and acknowledgement of the situation.
He would never tell mere mortals such as "we" the true nature of his situation.
Never would he mention that death is present in the very room we
stand, talking to him.

First we as individuals have to be able to recognize the situation.
What would death look like if we were to really put some consideration
into it. Would death resemble a monster with ghoulish looks and horns?
Or is death really a beautiful voluptuous woman, smelling of pleasures in a magenta two piece bolero suit with nylons with seams of the back of the leg, and  patten leathered black eight inch stilettos, or death could be just a regular looking guy who sits next to him talking about "God" and the nature of life or even animal planet. Maybe death is just some simple person or pleasure that is just inviting him to come go with.

Heretofore, the man we observe, will deny that anything is wrong.
But if this person was your Grandfather, father, uncle, or brother and he
somehow devalued you during their life time. Now they have changed.
They are now willing to negotiate with you, to barter, to trade, to say things
that they wouldn't otherwise say to you.
Actually, you might even say that they had somehow had an epiphany,
they are so loving, and kind.
It would make you as a person wonder? Hmm,
could they be dying, or am I dying and I have no idea.

Subtle bantering,
loving in gestures, you can see a twinkle in their eye,
giving personal possessions that mean more to them
then they would "ever" mean to you.
Today they look fine, they are just acting a bit strange.
No appearance of someone who will be leaving.
Then why do they call out of the blue?
Why did they invite you to their home, when they were
always the Ebenezer of the family.
Hording every dime they have ever made,
Never willing to donate..
Charging you interest....
Silent you have kept your words to yourself.
Yelling in your head when you see them.....
"CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU".

Telephone call after a month,
not again..
Why does he  want a visit?
one month from the date of the last visit,
That was dreadful.
he is thin,
his skin is haggard, it appears supple,
he keeps moisturizing in hopes that you
do notice.
He smiles when he sees you, showing all of
his teeth. But today they look like he
has smeared a white film over them, and
they don't look very good. Its creepy.
Very suspicious. hm mm
His home smells of pungent urine.
He has lit incense to disguise the prolific smell.
Funny, he always complained that you wear too much fragrance.
You become suspicious.

His care provider explains he will not allow me to change his
bed linen. He has been washing his linen himself.
He has been soiling his bed.

Tossing his prepared meals out,
and not holding down food.
He is going down fast.
You notice for the first time a woman.
Sitting in a chair, next to him. When she
sees you looking at her she gets up and excuses herself.
We just didn't know she was here.

Who is the woman in the corner.
A new friend.
She looks so young
the magenta suit,
the stocking with the seams down the back.
The short skirt and bolero jacket.
She just walked out.
Did you let her in.
The provider said she was here when
she arrived.

His conversation is desperate,
speaking in words like " jive",
and that's "hip". Words you have never heard
him say. Reliving moments you never knew.
Hippies, smoking Pot,
drinking, and taking ACID.
Who is this man. What happened to my
Grandfather, Father, Uncle, Brother.
This man must be an impostor,
Grandfather, Father, Uncle, Brother,
was such a tight ass that they would
use the proper name for "Shit".
Now this guy is talking  words that even
I don't know.

Talking about visiting his mother and father
last week. They have been dead for years.
Telling me that we are going to go swimming
down at lake okachobe, which has been turned into
a senior community since I was in my teens.
Who is this man?

Months go by,
and a call at 3am.
Never a good thing.
Its a woman in a soft sexy
alluring voice,
come now, he is actively dying.
Never thought of death as being Active.
The thought made me nauseous.
If you want to say goodbye.
There are no cry's for help,
there are no cry's at all, as he is really alone.
He had no children, he had no wife,
he had not  friends, he only had me and mine to visit him
as he had offended everyone, and I was the only left forgiving enough
to spend his last living lucid moments.

I unconsciously watched death in her
magenta short, skirt, black seamed stockings, eight inch stiletto shoes, and bolero jacket.
She smelled sweet of pleasures, and invited him
to come along with.
When he willingly took her hand,
There were no call for help, no good byes to his love,
He just walked with her admiring her French nail manicure. Which
he initially couldn't see.
Leaving behind his regrets, his things he had worked
his whole life for. The very things he thought would make him
happy but he never learned to enjoy. As he was so worried that someone
would take his things.
He left, and has no need for ...
I was the only person who noticed he was missing,
I was the only person who shed a tear for his passing.
As I watched death,
I recognized her,
initially passively,
and in the end actively.

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

The Want AD

If I were to ever post a

want Ad....

Wanted someone;
Willing to take me as I am and
not make me over.
Who will tell me the truth, no matter how much it may hurt.
Who respects that I am competent and able to experience hurt and be willing to work through my
pain and allow the experience to make me strong . Does not mean you
will not console me.
Who will  hold my hand and walk on the beach with me
on Friday nights.

Willing to go camping on cold crisp nights,
and make love under the stars.
To fish until Dawn on warm nights by the fishing bank.
Who wants to watch Saturday night,
B movies on the flat screen and eat popcorn.

Willing to take long Hot showers,
and let the water run down your back.
While I message you from a hard days work.
To share with me, all parts of you as I share all parts of me.

I want something that is non-confrontational,
That will not push, pull, scream,
rip, my shirt,
try to change me.
Someone to  listen to soft music with me,
dance with me  naked, make love at DAWN, before the sun comes up.
To Love me and allow me to love them.

Willing to come with to boring movies, and exciting
plays.
Willing to stop trying to fix "IT" , and just let it be....
Who loves eclectic music and movies.
Who does not wears pajama's to bed, and is willing
to be close, just the way they are.

Be able to handle a woman who can be
just were she is and be tolerant,
be able to not have to take control, but
to hold my hand and kiss me passionately.

You don't need a million dollars,
you need to come as you are and be willing to
accept all that I hold in my hand. Which just might be
"air" and have a belief that it will allow us to live and grow.

If you don't need a dependent or a new appendage,
than answer this AD and be Willing to participate in
the ADVENTURE....

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Fuckin, Sex, LET DOWNs

We, had sex,
quickly, done over, dress,
I am itching all over, do you have bugs?
over the phone.
Can't look me in the face,
I have some one.
Basically, I have moved on,
just didn't tell you to your face...
Did you tell your "SIG" you have sex with me?
The dirty little secret...
Is it dirty, or is it ....
Always tell the truth,
you have a conscious.

I just like to have sex,
with you..
with anyone who is willing to have it WITH ME
In real life up close and personal.
Do you have a disease?
I am sensitive,
I love to hate YOU, YOU hate to love me.
You never learned how? How I did I learn?
No, I just like to make, YOU, uncomfortable.

You are so polite,
we had sex,
No We Fucked in less than 10 minutes.
Was it fun for you,
Did you have an O.... or did you just cum,
you faked it?
After accusing me of fucking everything that
was willing. NOPE, Sorry, You were the one!
After all you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings,
considering, "YOU" hate to love me,
you didn't even kiss me...
SPANK MY ASS, at least make it
"FEEL" real.
Have you ever thought you, me, we them don't
really know how to feel.
How do you explain?
My BAD, YOU FUCKIN CAN'T
CUM that fast,
Starting and stopping, and starting and stopping.
15 minutes.....
Your really didn't want to.
Feels like seconds.

Lights on, blinded by the light, looking down at me
Its all such a blur,
I can't see your face,
Your back as you walk out the door.
Got some Money?
When did I have to pay for
15 minutes, and a fuckin let down...

Looking at your back,
your ass in those jeans
" I will call you tomorrow"
"For 15 fuckin, minutes, I get a call"
nO thanks I will live,
just let me down in face next time.....

©2011 Stefanie Stevens

Its gonna leave a scar

You voluntarily lay down,
You trust me, I smile,
I don't have to strap you down
This is your free will:
Allowing me to place the knives out.
You don't look afraid, in fact you smile
a little....
Its more of an uncertain smile, trusting like a child.
Who is aware that this may be against their best child like wisdom.

The knives are in perfect alinement's on the stainless steel table;
the perfect tool for the perfect job.
Displayed just right.
scalpel to make the perfect cut.
Incision, perfect, blood rippling down, bright red, fresh
running down your belly button,
filling the perfect little whole.
The base of your pubic synthesis
not too deep, just enough, I want it to hurt not
to kill, I want to expose just enough
Expose your white flesh,
below the skin line,
fatty deposits, yellow, and bubbling,
Its just beginning to hurt, just enough that you are
aware that you have a cut above and just below your belly button.
I wanted your belly button to act as a cup and hold the blood.
I am in complete control.

Exerts from a day in the life of ....
Do you hear the story line?
this is not going to kill you, its like
visiting the dentist,  it hurts just enough to make
you want to cry, your eyes well up with tears.
Darkness.... Confusion

Walking down the street heading
for any destination ....
infected, it will not scab, not just yet,
it will grow pink, and ooozy, and stink
If it stays infected just long enough
turning deep purple, blue, and green.
Eating on your body as a source of
nourishment. The bacteria wants to live,
its the foreign invader, and you have become the host.
It lives because you let it.

Following you everywhere you go,
you cover it with a bandage, and clothing,
but you can smell it, and you grim-is when it is
rubbed by the bandage. When do you want it to stop
when do you want to put an end to the discomfort
After all you allowed the cut,
you lay down and let the incision be made
When do you want to make it  stop.
You have absolute control over when
its time to change.

Fever takes over; sweat
profusely, at night, hot  and cold.
Delirium, in and out....
MAKE IT STOP,
pitiful,
victim,
you have control over the threshold of pain
you will experience.
But you play games with yourself.

When you are ready for the pain to stop....
You WILL go to the doctor.
Its Gonna leave a scar,
but you will never forget.

©2011 Stefanie Stevens

Cowards

You lie to me in the name of 
your personal sexual gratification.
Coxing me with soft whispers of I love you, 
You obviously viewed me as a cheap 
two dollar pair of tennis shoes purchased at the local
Woolworth nickel and dime.
Tell the truth shame the devil do you have no shame.
You don't have the courage to allow me my feelings. 
Lying in the name of sparing me.
My feelings are mine and its better to tell the 
truth than to lie, in that all of your words were lies.
What is your name, were are you from, do you really 
know were you are going?
A person who truly loves another allows them to 
their feelings. Even anger. 
Coward.... 
Anyone can be a Coward it just comes in 
different venues: Doctors, Lawyers, Artists, Thief, Preacher, 
Teacher, Chief....
Cowards in the name of love are the worst kind.
They will not kill anything, but they will not let it live. 

Caution to young women and young men, beware of the Coward in the name of love....
the coward who says I am sparing you the pain of the truth....
There is no pain in truth, there is only liberation, 
there are no knives, rammed into your back, 
while blood oooses from your mouth.... 
You are dying and you don't know who killed you....
Your beloved. 


Men, Women, people don't emulate, a statue, hard and cold,
standing in the square, frozen in time. Memorialized for your acts.
I would rather die trying, than being a coward, removing the dignity of the unbeknown victim.


What makes you so different what makes you stand out. 
Your cunning play on words. Telling one you love them, and the 
other you sleep next to. Don't be a man of two minds. 
As you will never rest. Never, indulge your fancy in foolishness.
Don't be a coward.


You showed your hand when you identified with a man of 
such low disregard. 
Referring to women as simple Whores...
Professing you are a man 
based on your sexual ability.


Free your soul with the truth and save face, as 
your lessons will be hard if change is not destined to 
come to you. 
A coward has the same problems up close as far away....
Especially one that uses love as their weapon.


©2011 Stefanie Stevens

Flying

This morning, right now, my eyes are open, so wide my eyes send tender tears of salt down my face, My arms are open : Cascading the air, cool, and gentile. I can feel my chest, pushed out, my neck  tense, I feel, feel my back.
Muscles tight in my shoulder blades, like I am carrying a burden, arched   shoulder blades pushed close. They are not heavy.
They are feel beautifully light. I can Feel...  the air that I am breathing, Alive.

Simple nothingness.
I see the, deep blue feathers in teal and indigo, with sprinkles of black. I am decadent but not quite ornate. I don't know when I became aware of my unusual circumstance but TODAY I SEE. For some reason I believed this could  never happen. Happen to me?
Today it has.....
Today I am not afraid.
Remembrance of my past; Like yesterday the jumped was "OCCURRED", so fast it was surreal and  I knew I was spiraling out of control.
Rolling, spinning, tumbling, SCREAMING, my heart was going to come out of my mouth, I can feel it coming:  PLOP UM PH soft grass, mud, I was wet, and mushy, dazed and confused, bruised purple black and yellow, leaves and branches in my hair. Bruised, dazed, but not broken.

Phobic to try again. I know I  have to do this again.
The circumstances are truly going to have to be different. I have to have more control. DEFINITELY MORE PLANNING; Success is imminent. Remember, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again, my mantra. But at what cost.....

Full feathers I feel them, NO FEAR.
I won't close my eyes.
My heart is beating rapidly, don't think i am scared. .....
Just don't look down,
I feel like I am in a dream, motionless, suspended animation, its happening, its really happening....
Cold air crossing my face,
Shivers racing down my spine chilling to the core of my being.
I FEEL ; The sensation captivating me.
Open your freaking eyes, I focus the green grass rapidly approaching.
Open my arms, Aurora she grabbed me in her embrace, lifting me higher into
Azules caress, he is beautiful, she is all I needed to support me on my journey.

Shivering, cold, visions of the unknown, wet,
I am born...
New....
Clean...

I know how to fly.......
Its time for the adventure to begin.
©2011 Stefanie Stevens

when life gives you lemons .. throw them

sometimes i wander wonder dream ponder what life would be like if i were not here if i she we us were to interfere with the mishaps of time and make myself disappear? now wouldn't that be something? if Morgan Leigh thee hippie were not a being not a mime or a hippie ? i believe i would be a Indian man some dreamy Indian man id love to believe if i were not I she believes she would be a tree rooted deep grown out of experience out of love prosperous with fruit voluptuous with time we believe we would be clouds sifting soaring dancing in the sky bra and us being her panties . If Morgan were not here would the world not notice if Morgan were to disappear would Morgan become a grain of salt that you would use when you eat your lemons? Morgan who is that who is he? she? what is it how did Morgan come to be i often wonder wander hope dance upon the thought of how did i get to be why me ? why didn't i think? where could i would i should i be? so many i's and than we comes back into mind and i can feel my roots Digg deep into the realms of my hips that birthed my children who have come to be and i remember i can only be me i can only be Morgan the Morgan that dances alone jumps puddles eats life mysterious and swallows its seeds takes pictures enjoys nudity beautiful men chocolate curry won ton and the list goes on  Morgan has made some bad decisions yet has learned Morgan has been hard headed Morgan has grown and is still just give me the chance and to show you that Ive learned that i am doing instead of trying that i am no longer the orange on the tree yet the seed the tree the roots the dirt i am I love me learn me imitate me if you please dance with me kiss me Eskimos butterflies live for me live with me cry eat with me travel laugh go ahead get mad and at the end of the day all you and i can do is laugh i love you .

morganleigh.

© 2011 Morgan Carter

How Long

How long?
I ask you how long?
How long, will you ignore me, and pretend I never had no meaning to you?
How long do I have to live in exile, when just a short time ago, you said you
loved me.
Is what is presented to you far better than what I offer ?
You and I are cut from the same cloth, its a fabric woven with both or our
skeins, loving red's, exciting magenta, longing cobalt blue, and
your favorite pastel pink, how long...

You said you were not waiting for me, with unspoken words I secretly,
claimed you as mine from the moment you opened your heart to me.
You  may never have a  love as great as you and I, so easy, and free
unobtrusive, caring, and understanding.
You  may never have the understanding you and I share.
Run from me, but in another life you will return.

You blame me, for not putting to words the very same words you failed to say. You and I both know you run from yourself. Fearful of the possibilities,
Fearful that my response will be, YES.

I am the raging river that flows and you are the rocks that it flows over, embracing you, clearing you and making you pure and clean for all.
Without me there is no wash, and without you there is no clarity.
Come and rage with me, and provide the healing, the substance needed
for life to flow.

You will sit as a rock,  with no water, no emotion, used to build, used to
cast at ones enemies, but without me your purpose is unfulfilled.

How long will you abandon me, and leave me alone ?

©2011 Stefanie Stevens

Chocolate Monologue

If I were to post an ad for a man:
It would look somthin like this;
mm girl,

Wanted
A Bitter "SWEET", and I do mean "SWEET" not the one that does not like cream, CHOC CO LATE yes now Chile,  the darkest the tastiest, taught not supple, Milk chocolate kiss, stirred and not shaken baby.
Honey, mocha chocolate, dream LATTE with fresh and I emphasise WHOLE milk without the "SPLENDA" that's artificial sweetener.
Baby, cuz i dont drank nothing artificially sweetened.
"Oh, my lord." Boldacius flavory chicory, southern style.
Daddy always added a spot of cinnamon.
Not to discriminate, Cus V is an equil opportunist.
Vanilla Cchocolate,  IVORY, EBONY, EXTRA RICH is my second choice,
cause it doesn't fill me.
It leaves me wan tin.
Not quite satisfied.
Now, B A B Y, if u like heavy cream,
supple and smooth get at me.
 Girl what u think of that!

© 2011 Stefanie Stevens

Early

EArly is never late,
Ebony soft skin,
Supple to my touch,
Masculine, hard muscle,
Beads of  sweat developing to the rhythm
Screaming guitar,
Early, not to soon; not yet,
Keeps pace to the melody,
Thrashing, biting, hard, tenderly, piercing, holding my breath, I utter the silent speculations of your time,
Early just on time; bringing me to my peak ... Of inspiration ..
Early the delivery has been made.
Complete breathless... Early?


©2011 Stefanie Stevens

Concrete

Riding, running, walking, staggering, sitting, laying, fighting, puking, shitting,
camping, the concrete jungle, God I love the city.
I love the city early in the morning when the sky is grey and the air is crisp.
I beat the homeless mobs;  the cast of characters who accost you for a living;  chanting "spare change or a smile". " Please help a homeless woman".
Working harder then me on my nine to five for meager pennies.
Earning more than me; Tax free dollars; at what cost humility or humiliated.
God I love the city.

Fighting over shit that don't matter.. Man, Woman, Dog, She/He, He/She,
homeless, lesshome, fuck all  have damn rights.
What the fuck happened to human rights?
Fuckin Rights! OUR fuckin rights!
Everybody needs a reason; give me a fuckin reason on a sunny day and I am aggresive.
God, I Fuckin love the city.

We care, " but not in my neighborhood." Lets put "THEM", on the island.
The Home Less/ Less Home, With out a home, shanty, box, sleeping bag.
Are "THEY LEAPERS" is what they have contageous. One stop shopping. "Jesus save the city", bible thumpers standing on corners, in the street, holding signs, barking "REPENT". "JeSUS saves."  Committed to
saving YOUR soul. Who is gonna save their soul?. JUDGE NOT.
Jesus, I love the city!

Concrete, hard, supple, plyable, maliable, write your name forever, but shake it breaks, recycle it its cold.
Concrete

©2011 Stefanie Stevens

My Life in a Day

Greatness:

My greatness, she tried to discard it as child,
I was taught to be seen and not heard.
Leaving me utterly meek, and withdrawn from the world.
Trying to remove myself from this life as long as I can remember.
Laying in the barn smelling the dirt, earth was rich and smelled of freshly turned soil. Hiding in the cellar with my arms crossed, motionless.
emulating a person I had seen in a coffin. "what are you doing" , Playing dead.
I was three. Fourteen, overdosing on Demerol, knowing I had succeeded, but the police were standing in front of me tell me that I had committed a crime, and I had to go to an institute. Where are my shoes, what has happened to my shoe laces, why am I here, all I wanted was to be free of this pain, of this life. She hated me. She would remind me that she hated me.

Jumping off the barn hoping to fly, almost breaking a limb. People don't fly, as birds have hollow wings and they are made to fly. People are made to endure.
If I had wings I would fly away from this empty place that lacked love, and compassion for a child who was destined for greatness.

Learning to be very still and he won't hit you, he won't hear you, he won't notice you.
Wrong, cover your ears its happening again. The screaming the hollering, the breaking of glass. Her face resembled nothing that I had seen before. Eyes so swollen purple, black blue and the healing yellow. She couldn't see, arms broken, soft moaning. Why in the hell do you stay here. In  my life I grew to know to well the battles. Hating holidays, loving the alone and quiet time, and missing a connection to anyone.
This is greatness, is this what is required to become great, than I don't want it.

I never wanted a mate, husband, wife, daughter, son, until one day Love came and
knocked on my door.
Drinking madly, at a party, I did not even notice.
Love presented so quietly like a thief, it took my heart and softened my greatness.
I wanted to be a part of but not of this he, she, they , us....
Oh, it was so good, i couldn't get through the day without it
Years passed and he, she, they , us , faded, half a person, one way crying, begging, pleading love me,
HOLD ME,
WANT ME,
L  O   S   S
Confused and dazed walking in what felt like an eternity of confusion.
Is this greatness,
Is this what I longed for, or is this what I fought against.

Some fortunate children are told that they are destined to be something great.
This of course is the hopes of our often misguided parents.
While the truly great one in the family is often overlooked and forgotten.
Discarded with yesterdays trash, and reminded of the terrible mistake they were
Battered with the angry bitterness that their parents hold to their highest esteem,
you were a mistake, you remind me of...
you look like...
you act like...
you will never be nothing, and you will never achieve......
because I SAY SO
The empty words of a broken, angry parent with no ability to love, or pretend to love....
Riddled with illness, they age into the person they don't want to become.

Some of us preserver we become great in spite of the hostility of our world and we
find a solace in our adult lives of endless possibilities. Learning to love and be loved.
We stand in the light that beams warmth, and forgiveness on our faces.
We laugh, we live, and we adventure into the world with vigor and always hopeful
that each day is another chance to live to see the next day as our days are not promised they are just imagined.
Never leave the day as you found it. Make your mark. What ever that mark may be.

But our greatness is always over shadowed with our meager beginnings and the
frustration of that parent who started off as our Demi God..
The Demi God who had the responsibility of loving us, of holding us,
of teaching us to walk with our heads held high in spite of any attacks.
Often people will say you have to forgive them they did not know any better.
To hell with not knowing better.
You knew, because you only chose one of your children.
You were trying to destroy the tree before it gained roots.
God knows what it creates and God knows that you are born to fight even your own
demi God.

I stand today with my branches strong.
Some of my branches are withering because they failed to reach the sun,
but my roots are deep and Greatness is Known.
If you never acknowledge me,
My greatness is known.
My love is kind and I forgive and I live to see another day.
My greatness is known.
It lives in me, throughout me.
It provides shelter from the rain, lightening, and thunder,
But my Greatness is know.
The fire may come and burn me I may have scars left behind but I am resilient.
 I recover and begin anew. You cannot take that which is not yours to take and you cannot give that which is not yours to give. Greatness is born into us and when you see it you try to kill it before it stands.

See me now I stand, I am great and you can no longer hurt me with your
bitter words. They do not feed me strange fruit with excuses, and exile.
As Exile was the gift and not the punishment.
My greatness comes from a higher power than a Demi God who withers and grows old.
My Greatness will stand even when i am gone as my seeds will grow deep in the earth and many will follow.


©2011 Stefanie Stevens

Indigo

It so small but I am the only one in the room that notices.
I sprayed it, I bleached it, i wiped it with soap, Ammonia and yet that darn spot...
Its a small mis-shapen spot, that is indigo, or at least that's the color I prescribe.

Everyone is sitting around sipping their sparkling drinks laughing and enjoying the music.
For God's sake someone say it, say how did that blue spot get there.
Someone acknowledge that its there. Maybe I can tell a really cool how it got there story.
Considering that even I don't know when it made its appearance.
Only I would notice its disappearance.
Only I have put credence into that little indigo spot, because I can,
Because I will because I am the only person in the room who feels that to not notice
would mean that I am not living in this moment.

sometimes, I am the indigo spot in the room,
sitting with the mindless empty people who smile and laugh and occupy space with the blah, blah, blah.
But who have no idea that someone in the room, in a space is a small indigo spot and we wouldn't notice if they spot if it was there because its so small and insignificant to so many that if it were to just fade away into the rest of the colors in the room we wouldn't notice.

I was cleaning the carpet and this random thought occurred.

You may want to stop my writing to you because you will find it often very ironic.


©2011 Stefanie Stevens

My Love, My Loss, Fair well

We met on a sunny day, it was easy and calm. You and I had so much in common. You were so close but so far, you were so kind but so harsh. Your words, frighted me but your love embraced me.
We talked often, never touching, we loved,
imagination consumed us and we left the words motionless in the air.
You love me with every word, caressing me, filling me with you, and all you had to offer.
You offered me nothing but your script and I offered you my heart.
You wanted me as badly as I wanted you and yet, I couldn't bring the words to life to tell you
how much I loved you.
I never felt threated as you never said you were looking.
Six months later, you told me of your new found love. I am so happy for you but my heart was broken as I had no idea. Now all I have is script, words to say with no audience.
I was given the gift of a Trojan horse and all that is left behind are the bodies, from the decimation of the army.
You were my Love, and now I have a loss, fair well and good luck.
We will never know the true touch, we will never have a real love. It was all a script made
for you and I.