Random Musings from The Pastoral Princess

I was sitting outside this morning on my porch drinking coffee and smoking my one cigarette of the day with a slight tummy ache. This led to several humorous random thoughts that I thought my readers might enjoy.

Don't you hate it when you have this awful gas pain, and then you finally feel like you can fart and all that pain resulted in one teeeeeeny weeeeeny little toot?

Don't you hate it when you are so groggy in the morning that you don't get the coffee filter in the pot right and then you get little coffee grounds in your cup?

Don't you hate when those coffee grounds get stuck in your teeth because you are so desperate for the caffeine that you drank it anyway?

Don't you hate it when you find out in the morning, as your husband is making his lunch that you left the mayonnaise out overnight?

Don't you hate when your husband won't talk to you over something as stupid and spoiled mayo?

Don't you hate it when you have to get your kids out of bed for school....when you'd much rather stay in bed yourself?

Don't you love it when your kids throw their arms around you and bury their little heads in your neck?

Don't you hate it when you realize there is snot running down your shirt from the adorable little snuggle?

Don't you love it when your husband does the dishes?

Don't you hate it when this accomplishment requires 3 days worth of praise and recognition?

Don't you hate it when your toddler is in your lap and says "I farted!" only to realize that said 'fart' is running out the diaper onto your jeans?

Don't you love finding little gifts in the carpet from repeated 'farting' episodes?

My favorite gripe is hearing my husband brag about my writing, which should make me feel good.....he's never read a single word I have written except notes to him.

My favorite joy is when someone else tells me they love my writing....who faithfully checks in everyday.

Don't you hate it when the phone rings and the person on the other end says "Could I please speak to Jeeeda....or Joda.... or whatever your name is pronounced completely wrong? This always results in a CLICK!

Don't you hate it when you donate to the State Police after 911 and they've called you every f'n day for the last 7 years for more money....even when you tell them to stop?

Isn't it odd how some flowers that are absolutely beautiful smell like a bad fart?

How can something as wonderful as fresh cooked bacon make such a stink in your house for a week?

Is there really anything tastier than a fresh garden tomato with a bit of salt?

Why do they call a driveway a 'driveway' and not a parkway? Why do they call a parkway a 'parkway' and not a driveway?

Doesn't it drive you nuts when people say "I could care less" when they really should be saying "I couldn't care less" if they are trying say they don't really care?

Don't you hate people like me who are a stickler for grammar? :0)~

Isn't it odd that for someone with a stickler for grammar I still say ya'll, ain't, cain't, mater, tater, over the shoulder boulder holder, and 'that's neater than a skeeter's peter!"?

Have a great day folks! I am going to sew sew sew today!

Manic Musings

I am feeling quite 'energetic' ie hypomanic this evening and all the windows have been washed and floors scrubbed so I am just hanging out at the computer trying to occupy my mind. I was putting tunes on my iPod and came across and old song that I love. Of course it seems at least once a week I am posting song lyrics, but I can't help it. Music is poetry in motion and it can move me to places in my mind and soul that affect me deeply.

The song "Best of You" by the Foo Fighters was a song that I could relate to so strongly when it first came out. Not because I felt like I was hanging onto a relationship with bare knuckles as the song suggests...but because I think every lover I have ever had has felt this way about me. Perhaps even some of my friends and loved ones. I am always pulling away....always drifting...and those that love me always seem to be hoping I don't drift away from them completely. So many things in my life have caused me to build a wall and always wait for another bomb to drop. If things get too good...I am wary...I was especially like this as a child. But as I get older it's better. I see that only I can create my destiny. But this song sums me up....I would venture to guess my husband feels this way about me. And maybe rightly so....

I've got another confession to make
I'm your fool
Everyone's got their chains to break
Holdin' you
Were you born to resist or be abused?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?

Are you gone and onto someone new?
I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose
You gave me something that I didn't have
But had no useI was too weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can't choose
I swear I'll never give in
I refuse

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
You trust, you mustConfess
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?


Oh...Oh...Oh...Oh...Oh...
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
The life, the love
You die to heal
The hope that starts
The broken hearts
You trust, you must
Confess
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?

I've got another confession my friend
I'm no fool
I'm getting tired of starting again
Somewhere new
Were you born to resist or be abused?
I swear I'll never give in
I refuse

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
You trust, you must
Confess
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?Oh...

Perhaps it's someone...Perhaps it's something...but I'm always a step away, a step ahead or a step behind. Sometimes I wonder if I have some emotional defect that prevents me from walking side by side with anyone.

A little ditty

I could grumble about my husband
But I won't
I could tell you I feel chipper
But I don't

I could say to you,
How do you do?
I could act like I care
When you say "Oh I'm fair"

I could write about Obama,
And my fondness for his wife
I could bitch about conservatives
But I couldn't care less tonight.

I could growl about my health
And the hand that I've been dealt
But I know there's those far worse
And my piddly problems just make them curse.

I could write a little ditty
About travelling to the city
Esacping my life
A terrible wife.

I could write you a song
I could sing all night long,
Of the giggles and grins
Of my beautiful children

But instead
I am off to bed
Too tired to grumble
Or muble
Just stumble.
Too tired to write
Though I'm feeling contrite
Too tired to sing
Too tired for anything.
But thanks for stopping by,
Next time I will try
To actually care
If you are only doing fair.

Let it Die

I am sure that I am way behind the times in my discovery of the song “Let it Die” by the Foo Fighters. (Give me a break, I'm stuck with Barney and Laurie Berkner everyday) I felt compelled to blog about it. WOW! I wonder how long he held that in before he had to put a pen to paper to scream his sentiments to Kurt Cobain. I can sympathize.

As a member of the Nirvana generation, I can honestly say that his death affected me profoundly, especially the manner of his death. This man, this voice, who spoke my thoughts and sang my truths….this man who represented every nonconformity that blossomed out of my rebel soul….threw it all away by chewing the wrong end off of a shot gun. Much like Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison before him, here was a man with a message, a vision, a pied piper to millions of young people begging for guidance and desperate for reassurance that we were not alone in our isolation and pain. Confused and rejected, abused and neglected…Nirvana was our megaphone. The album Nevermind is probably top on my list of life changing musical discoveries. And I discovered it before it was cool, before it had radio or MTV play. Some of my punk rock comrades had discovered the band through the underground network and we all began sharing bootleg copies of several of the songs on their upcoming album, including Smells Like Teen Spirit…to this day that song makes me feel young and anxious. I wish I still had a copy of the original, unpolished, un-produced version...it was absolutely amazing.

Dave Grohl clearly was blindsided by the death of his friend and band mate. The lyrics speak for themselves when he says “Why’d you have to go and let it die?”, repeated over and over as if he is trying to say them enough times to reach the afterlife and let Kurt hear them and ponder them. And his anger at having his dreams dashed by this one stupid moment... “Did you ever think of me? You’re so considerate. Did you ever think of me? Oh, you’re so considerate!” Not to mention the reference to Kurt’s blushing bride, Courtney Love.

Oddly enough upon a google search, Grohl claims this song is not about Kurt……Bullshit.

The Wrecking Ball

Music has been a saving grace for me in the last 4 weeks, and I find myself listening to those deep melodic haunting tunes that sometimes lift you up and bring you down simultaneously. I had to laugh at myself though when I first started to write this post. You know you've lost your marbles when you start to write a blog post that you have already written....almost the exact same post written in March....The Secret Garden but what is even more startling to me is the symptoms I was showing of bipolar disorder even then. I describe the racing thoughts......hmmm....that was a bit heartbreaking to me.

Anyhoo...so I came up with an equally beautiful song that I have been listening to a lot and rewrote a new blog post!

Gillian Welch has a beautiful song she recorded with Old Crow Medicine Show that affects me deeply lately. Do you ever feel, when you hear a certain song, that somehow your soul is connected to another simply through the sheer coincidence of circumstance? And when the words flow out of them they feel as if they could have just as easily fallen from your own heart? She has as song called Wrecking Ball that I have fallen deeply in love with. These are her words, which feel like a word for word description of my young adulthood, minus a few minor details:

Look out boys, cause I’m a rolling stone,
Least that’s what I was when I first left home.
I took every secret that I’d every known,
and headed for the wall
Like a wrecking ball.

I started down on that road of sin,
Playin’ bass under a pseudonym
And the days are rough and it’s all quite dim
But my mind cuts through it all
Like a wrecking ball

Oh…I’s just a little Dead Head
Who is watching?
Who is watching?
I’s just a little Dead Head

A fallen daughter, on a scholarship.
I got tired and let my average slip
Then I’s a farmer in the poke and lip
Where the wee that I recall….
Was like a wrecking ball.

I met a love sick daughter
Out of San Joaquin
She showed me colors, I’d never seen
Then drank the bottom out of my canteen
And left me in the fall….

Like a wrecking ball.

Hey boys!
I’s a little Dead Head
Who is watching?
Who is watching?
I was just a little Dead Head
With too much trouble for me to shake
Whoa and the weather and the blinding ache

We were riding high until the 89 quake
Hit the Santa Cruz Garden Mall
Like a wrecking ball…

Well the 89 California quake did not affect me, but events that occurred in 1989 changed my life forever. My life would never be the same. And while I never played a guitar under a pseudonym, I certainly spent many years trying to hide myself, trying to be someone else, anyone else but who I really was…lest I have to face the parts of me that weren’t so pleasant. Even down to the fallen daughter out of San Joaquin….Wanda you know that’s you darlin’….showing me colors I’d never seen, drank the bottom out of my canteen (Honey Brown Beer anyone?)…then leaving me in the fall…like a wrecking ball. Doesn’t that describe “Us” so beautifully? And Wanda is someone who remembers the little Dead Head I used to be…the little hippie child who never wanted to speak of her own life, just quietly listen to yours. The girl who seemed full of dark secrets, but nobody could crack the code…..

Girls like Wanda and I never escape the wrecking ball. Sometimes we ARE the wrecking ball, sometimes we are standing frozen, watching it slowly swing in our direction, helpless to stop it…..welcome to the wonderful world of madness. This song reminds me of us, the two of us and the maddening journey we have traveled together all these years. Sometimes I wonder if she didn’t have to suffer in order to be able to help me survive it….her wisdom and experience carries me through my days.

This song is just amazingly beautiful and if you’ve never heard it, find it! I got it from iTunes, but can’t find it for my playlist. There is the original version on Project Playlist, but it is not nearly as beautiful and soulful as the version with OCMS...but worth a listen. I just don't want it on my playlist because it sullies my fondness for it.

The Road to Nowhere

I was jammin' on my iPod tonight while the boy were outside with Daddy and a song came on that just touched me. Ya'll know how that happens to me....music is a passion for me. Anyhoo I just had to share this song that filled me with hope and made me smile tonight. Most Ozzy Osborne fans have never really taken the lyrics to this song for their literal message, but it is a beautiful song of hope, and I think it is also meant to be a love song to his wife. Sharon Osborne took Ozzy's drug addicted, mentally ill, talented ass from rock bottom to the top of Rock and Roll history. In the process her father, Ozzy's former manager with Black Sabbath, disowned her and declared that the two of them would never amount to anything. They were on a road to nowhere.

Clearly Ozzy's road led him down a very distinguished, but rocky road. This song reflects his struggles with his childhood, the past he can't outrun, and yet look where he is now....It gave me hope. I can and will overcome the demons in my past. I will make something of myself and use my talent in some manner that is personally satisfying to me. Hell if he can do it, anybody can. Although it would help if I had a wife like Sharon Osborne....think they are into polygamy? :0)~ Anyhoo here's the song I wanted to share...on my way to add it to my playlist right now.

The Road to Nowhere
I was looking back on my life
And all the things Ive done to me
I'm still looking for the answers
I'm still searching for the key

The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me
It just wont leave me alone
I still find it all a mystery
Could it be a dream?
The road to nowhere leads to me

Through all the happiness and sorrow
I guess I'd do it all again
Live for today and not tomorrow
Its still the road that never ends

Ah ah
The road to nowhere's gonna pass me by
Ah ah
I hope we never have to say goodbye
I never want to live without you
© Ozzy Osborne

Tonight's musings

Unwelcome
Who gave you the right to waltz in here?
Sauntering in like a smooth criminal
In your black jacket and your patent leather shoes
Waving your cane around so arrogantly…
Demanding attention,
Disrupting the ball,
Announcing your arrival with boisterous glee.
Banging your stick and waving your fists...
Nothing will ever be as it used to be.

Swiping away the cobwebs,
Opening up old wounds,
Screaming in the silent voids of my mind.

A parasite getting comfy in my brain,
Robbing me of the security
Of being sane.

I want to kick and scream!
Shoo you away with a mighty sword…
But I am paralyzed.
Tied to my front row seat with chains of heredity.

I silently sit here watching you assault
the shell of who I used to be.

Then there is that which you desire most....

Robert Frost so wisely wrote "Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired"....were truer words ever spoken regarding love and lovers?

Madame de Stael wrote in her famous letters "The desire of the man is for the woman, the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man"

Why are women so complicated? And furthermore, why didn't God give men the tools to crack our complicated codes? Sometimes it feels like the man I share my life with could care less to even look for the tool box anymore, and sometimes I feel like perhaps I am too complicated for him, or anyone else for that matter, to bother.

Do you think men like Robert Frost, who seemed to understand the depths of the human soul with those 9 simple words, sat on his butt watching TV all day on Sundays? LOL!

But then again this is also the man who wrote "It's funny thing that when a man has nothing on earth to worry about, he goes off and gets married." Maybe they are too busy 'worrying' about us to desire us....

Tonight I made home made lasagna, garlic bread and pie, everyone knows that's the way to make a man happy right.....still scowls and growls all over the house...I wasn't looking for romance, maybe just a smile....I need a sabbatical....a sabbatical in Tahiti!!

Goodbye City

A sense of loss
For something never mine
An emptyness somewhere
A longing that could never fulfill

Promises that were never made,
Scenes that were never played.

And yet....I miss.

Miss the idea of what could have been.
That which would have hurt,
Pain beyond compare,
Left my heart beyond repair,
Send my mind into despair,
I only did what I deemed fair.

Now you're gone.
Gone of my own choosing.
Gone from my grasp.
I quit before loosing.

I will always wonder what could have been....

The Medicine Show

Finally one that is not so morose....sometimes writing poetry is like travelling in the spring...the weather is unpredictable. But tonight I have been inspired. I am grateful for the flow...

The Medicine Show
Draw your bow lightly young man
Across your careful bound steel.
Strings of gold, songs of old
A reminiscent hillbilly band.

Poetry in motion.
A suggestive notion.
Toe tappin’
Foot stompin’
Hand slappin’
Work into a lather.
Pass the shine,
Spend some time,
Make a rhyme,
Make it mine,
Sing along
Rockabilly good time.

Make me cry,
Want to die,
In the arms of pretty little girl,
Harmony and infamy,
Never never see a poor man try
To chug a bottle dry
Faster then the tonic of the crow.
©J. Stark

Those who drink the tonic know what I am talking about...The Murder.

Navigating

The sands of time flow like the creek to the west of my house.
Rushing smoothly down a crooked path.
Their sounds crisp and clean
Disappearing before they can be seen.

Lost in the rapids of my mind
Searching for a paddle
To steady the stream.

Rains keep coming
The flood waters flow
Pouring out yesterday and past my today
Even faster through tomorrow.

Oh what I'd give
To float back upstream.

Barefoot and carefree
In the days of yesteryear.
Toes splashing in the trickle
Praying for the rush,
Hoping for speed.

I'd plant my feet along the shore
Let time pass no more.
Savor a golden hour
Of youthful shower.

Laughter and fears
Unfaltered by tears.

Rowing on an on
Bound for the promised land.
Sweet freedom.
Happy Independance.

Stupid Girl.
You travelled so fast.
Now you are lost.
Far from the path.

Turn your boat around.
Row with all your might.
Find yourself somewhere
Buried in the banks
Of this muddy muddy life.
©J. Stark

Harlot

Surrounded,
Guns pointed,
High Noon,
Silence.
Click, Click, Click.
Six shooters and shot guns,
Aimed at the accused.

The standoff has begun
The tumble weeds of indiscretion roll
The gain is none,
But the burning thought is blinding

Off in the distance, shining in the sun
Out of reach
Blistering brilliance in an uptown suit
Smiling in her direction.
Intoxicating and roaring,
The passion, the illusion,
Blocks out the barrels and lead.

Whispers of promise
Rise from her scarlett petticoat
The swish swish swish of her bustle,
Tells lies.

Sweet soothing lies,
From a harlot's lips.

Ride, cowboy ride
Confident in your leave.
With the promise she will be
Waiting on the eve

Of your return.

Gun her down
For in this town
A mother would frown
On a tarnished wedding gown

And the deafening sound
Of her silent screams
Will ring in your ears

On the eve of your return.
© J. Stark


Not meant to be as morbid as it sounds....it just came out of me this evening. It's been a while since any words were flowing this freely. There may be more....

The Whining Moon

Well after visiting with some girlfriends and checking a few of my favorite blogs, it seems my hubby ain't the only one in the doghouse this weekend!! Around here when things in nature take on a familiar pattern of behavior most old timers will tell you the cause must be the sign of the moon. I think the same goes for men! I really do. (ok maybe for women too....) Our cows tend to calve during certain times of the moon, and if the decisions are left up to Great-Grandpa all crops are planted around the moon signs as well. He is a firm believer in such things. Hunting, fishing, even haircuts are often timed by the moon signs by many of the old timers. There are supposedly certain times you should never try to preserve your garden bounty or butcher your meat.... Perhaps there is something about the waning moon that makes men turn into crab asses....I think I will change the name to the Whining Moon!

Or us girls could band together and enjoy a few bottles of Verde and call it the 'Wining Moon'

We could avoid this whole problem if they could come up with some kind of Midol for men. We could call it Moondol; For that time of the month when you feel bloated, bitchy and belligerent! Or all of us girls could just hit the road for a few days! It looks like we all might need to take the weekend off July 18-20....anybody want to meet up in Jamaica?? Ok, who am I kidding, I could maybe scrounge up enough money for a campsite on Kentucky Lake, but I'd be game! Hey with enough wine, a beach is a beach is a beach.....right?

Untitled Blues

A poem poured out of me this evening that I felt like sharing. Mostly because I know there are partners all across the world feeling these same feelings tonight. This poem probably make things sound bleak...but sometimes that is how it feels. The road to hell is paved with good intentions....and while it's not always hell, somedays it is. I will stay. I will work it out. I will find a way to keep life together, but sometimes the sweat that pours off your brow from the labor of love that is "till death do us part", runs into your eyes and burns. It blurs your vision and causes tears. It hurts.

This poem currently has no title...any ideas?

Warning: Construction Ahead
Reduce speed to avoid damage to self and spirit

The road you are traveling on,
The destination you are intending,
The journey you expected
Is ending.

The map is wrong,
The compass has broken
The engine is stalling
The toll charge is a painful token.

I will travel on.
I will not give up.
Eyes straight ahead….
Ignore the Off Ramp.

Can we write our own map?
Will a star lead us North?
Can we jump start it again?
Am I destined to idle.

Cold and rusted
Along side the road.
Strapped inside, refusing to admit,
Refusing to go.

The passengers inside
Didn’t ask for this ride.
We must journey on.
© J. Stark

My Life In Music

The house is quiet, hubby is out, the kids are asleep and I have been adding songs to my Playlist for my blog....it has put me in mellow mood, as always seems to happen when I have time to listen to meaningful music. Much like reading an emotionally powerful novel it takes my mind to a place that reflects on the past, the present, the future and all the events in my life related to or described by the lyrics and rhythms in the songs. My family is full of musicians, my father, brothers, uncles, nephews and cousins...guitar pickers, bluegrass lovers, rock and rollers and amazing songwriters are all in the mix. No family gathering ever occurs without guitars and a foot stomping celebration of our roots.

I had the urge tonight to post snippets of song lyrics that are the timeline of my life, but this blog would be 5 pages long. Then it occurred to me to just post the song titles. They are all on my playlist, anyone interested could just find the song and listen. However, this blog is really just for me. I don't expect anyone to be all that interested. I just have the need to purge this....there are no words of my own flowing from my brain tonight. No poetry. Nothing new...only things that have already been said. Only the words of these songs, stolen from others and applied to the realities of my life. Songs so significant in my life that many of them stop me in my tracks.

The first being Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd, which describes the descent of my mother's sanity and the feelings I have surrounding her loss. The song was written for Syd Barrett, the bands original singer and songwriter. His friends and bandmates watch him slip into the depths of mental illness at the beginning of their success....they have captured the feeling of loss so wonderfully. I want this song played at my funeral someday. "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year" Those words seem to sum up my mother daughter experience. Even now that she is gone, I still feel that....year after year.

The second is For You by Stained. I hope that when I my sons are teenagers I have the sense to listen to this song and remember my own childhood. This song just embodies everything I felt as a teenager of a broken home, a victim of abuse, a lost child trying desperately to find a way out of the darkness that was my reality at the time.

The third is Not a Pretty Girl by Ani Difranco. This woman is such an amazing songwriter, every word she puts to paper touches me on some level, but this song is who I am. Once I found myself, became comfortable in my own skin, and decided to forge my own path in life, this is who I became. From the moment I first heard this song I felt like Ani had somehow reached into my soul and pulled out my inner feelings about who I am. Yes I am pretty, or pretty enough...but I don't care about being a "pretty" girl. I want to be the girl you remember because she said or wrote something that affected you in some way...not because she is attractive.

My feelings on politics, government and human rights? Blowing in the Wind by Bob Dylan. 40 years later this song still holds a powerful message that I wish every human on Earth could take to heart.

My family, my roots, my heritage - Leave This Long Haired Country Boy Alone by Charlie Daniels. These are my father's people. Hillbillies. Country Trash. River Rats. Guitar Pickers and Whiskey Drinkers. I love them fiercely.

The soundtrack of those family gatherings often included songs like The Ballad of Curtis Lowe by Lynyrd Skynyrd, Copperhead Road by Steve Earl and dozens of Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Merle Haggard, George Jones and Willie Nelson songs.

My experience with aging - Outlaw Women by Hank Jr. These are my girls. One of a kind. Loud, rowdy, strong, independent and opinionated. Take it or leave it. We have gone from being girls to women, girlfriends to wives, and kids to mothers. There are a handful of us who are still a tight knit group and Hank says it all about who we are.

The memories of being young and free as a teenager...ok don't laugh....Good Ole Boys by Waylon Jennings. Yes it is the theme song to the Dukes of Hazard, but more than that to me, it describes life for the youth of my generation growing up in rural small town America. We got our kicks taking risks and evading the law. We never meant any harm, never created any violence or vandalism, we were just kids with nothing better to do but drink beer, race cars, get crazy and be young. Another song that is an accurate description for my generation of country boys and girls is Fortunate Son by CCR, once again a song that was written for our parents generation seems to hold true, even for my own children.

My life today Small Town by John Mellencamp. He says it all.....

All of these songs....feelings captured in the words written by phenomenal artists. Writers I could only dream of being comparable to. They speak to me in ways that Wordsworth and Lord Byron will never be able to do.

Overflowing with Emptyness

Overflowing
Things are never what they seem.
The cup that overflows,
Is often too shallow to be full.

Fulfilled is not full
On a tiny plate.

Screams are silent
If no one is listening.
Silence is deafening,
If no one hears it.

The struggle
Is exhausting.

© J Stark

The Priestly Blogger...Halleluiah!

My hubby happened to be walking by while I was blogging the other day...a concept he just cannot understand...why would I write about my life online for people I don't even know. Anyhoo He happened to catch the title of my blog...the definition of "Pastoral" being completely lost on my redneck husband he says,

"What are you some kind of Priestly Blogger?" I think he took a little offense when I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I gave him this definition from Encarta

pas·tor·al adj 1. rural: relating to the countryside or to rural life pastoral living 2. arts idealizing rural life: presenting an idealized image of rural life and nature pastoral poetry

However, I had to eat a little crow when this was the third option:
3. of clergy: relating to religious ministers or priests or their duties

Which, if you think of it in the first two terms, a priest or pastor does Shepard a flock, much like I Shepard and tend to my family....

I contemplated changing the name of my blog for a while....but my intention for this blog was to discuss my rural life, and to especially present my poetry, which is often pastoral in content.... I am still uncertain as to how often the name of my blog is misinterpreted by others, much like my husband did.

Vanquished

This was inspired by a dear friend....a confession that flooded me with so many memories and thoughts of the first time. It's not my best work, more like something I would have written 15 years ago...but it's sincere and I felt like sharing.

Virginity Vanquished
The first time
The first touch
Crossing the line
Feeling so much

Fear of the unknown
Excited and scared
Passion
Passion
Passion

Fear
Fearless
Terror
Pleasure
Pain
Pressure
Sweat
Sweet
Tears
Joy

The first time

Someone new
Looking in the mirror
Who?
Who are you?
But it’s still you.
A new you?
A damaged you?
A better you?
Who?

Guilt and Shame
Obsession

A taste
The flavor
Lust divine
The first sip of wine
Bittersweet
Bittersweet

Sweet again
The second taste
A different place
A heartbeat
A breath
The first time once again….
© J. Stark

The Dream Interpretation

So the crazy ass dream....I had some ideas when I first woke up this morning as to what some of it might have been about. Perhaps watching the E True Hollywood Story about Jenna Jameson put me in a randy sort of mood before I went to sleep. I mean, a two hour show about the most famous porn star on the planet is bound to include lots of sex talk and soft core scenes. So despite all my belly aching apparently my hormones got juiced up.

So Axl Rose?? (I just realized I was spelling that wrong) When Guns N Roses first hit the scene I was all hot and bothered for Duff actually, not Axl, but they both have that skinny, lanky, sweaty dirty boy look to them and that rock and roll swagger that made my little heart go pitter patter....as does Scott Weiland. In fact when I saw Velvet Revolver in concert I thought I just might loose all control of my senses and crawl up on stage and lick the sweat right off of Duff as he stood about 10 ft away from me, without a shirt on, sweat dripping onto his guitar and down his black leather pants, his hair stringy and wet, he's lucky I couldn't get through the crowd, and yes, my husband was standing right there beside me...laughing his ass off!....... (Yes I was under the influence and feeling quite wild and free :0)

Oh my...ok anyway back to reality. I am going to guess my subconscious pulled out these dirty little boys from my younger days for this twisted wet dream. I always did have a thing for the bad boys. In fact the badder the better there for a while. If you had an arrest record, and looked remotely like Jud Nelson from The Breakfast Club, I was in hot pursuit! And let's just say I blossomed at a very very early age in the lady lumps department...so I rarely had trouble getting their attention. One of my high school boyfriends got hauled off school grounds in handcuffs once, while the whole school watched! (he didn't kill anybody, he just mooned the grade school recess crowd! LOL!) Even the man I married used to be a rough and gruff long haired biker boy, but turned out to be a big old teddy bear. But I digress....

The hotel, and concert scenario... Hubby and I had tickets to go see Van Halen that kept getting postponed (Eddie can't seem to stay out of rehab) so we finally got a refund and booked a hotel room for a mini vacation with the kids in a few months.... I am guessing that explains that.

The sister wives??? That's a funny one. Big Love on HBO is one of my favorite shows and I often find myself pondering the idea of polygamy....could I really handle it? I could certainly handle the extra help around here, and a grown up to talk to during the day....all I would be sacrificing would be intimacy with my husband right?? I mean if the sister wife was like my best friend anyway, and all I had to do was turn my head while she humped my husband.... Hmmm....nope probably couldn't do it, but on more than one occasion I have told my hubby I need a wife...LOL! Or a maid!

The poetry sharing with Axl is self explanatory, I have had a huge creative burst lately. And I think giving his diary back had to do with someone mentioning how personal my blog is. And it is, I am very open about my life. Perhaps in my dream I was second guessing my tendency to be so free with my thoughts and feelings. But don't worry...I have not intention of censoring myself

Anna Nicole Smith....?? I am guessing I can identify with her white trashiness...and both of us have never felt the need to apologize for it. If I had become famous and glamorous...I would have been a trashy famous and glamorous celebrity. No way around it. Maybe my brain figured I wouldn't be sitting around sluggin' whiskey from a bottle with Jenna Jameson, but could definitely picture getting sloshed with Anna Nicole...and then screwing her boyfriend LOL! And as for the cigarette runs, I am trying to quit...I am certain that is why that was a reoccurring theme.

Now the sex...well duh! Who doesn't like that, and thank God it changed from Tattoo Ray to Scott Weiland...that is a much yummier scenario! If he comes back to 'visit' tonight I hope Anna Nicole gets help up in traffic or something...we were just getting to the wild and crazy, tear your skin to shreds, dirty boy kinda action!!! Sssshhh don't tell my hubby!

So if anybody really cares...I think that explains my crazy ass dream!

Your Dreams Have Missed You.....

Ok, I just have to post this crazy ass dream I had last night. I must live a rich fantasy life because it seems the craziest dreams I have revolve around scandalous escapades with celebrities......and I am grateful my brain gave me a humorous distraction from all the chaos it is currently trying to processing. Warning: this is long, but very funny.....

So the dream starts out that I am in a hotel room with 3 other women (who happen to be the ’sister wives’ on Big Love if you are familiar with that show, polygamist family, 3 wives etc...not clear as to wether I was supposed to be the fourth wife or just a tag along) but we are preparing to go to a concert....it’s summertime and it is at an outdoor state fair type arena. But we happen to find out that the band is staying in the same hotel. And of course me being the brazen ballsy hussy that I am, go investigating. I find the lead singer’s room and knock on the door. And who opens the door.....Axyl Rose! Not the bloated, botoxed, braided version of today, but the kid. The breakout star who came out of nowhere Indiana to be perhaps the greatest Rock and Roll star ever if he hadn’t let his ego get the best of him...ok back to the dream. He invites me in. We start discussing music and poetry. I share some of mine, he shows me some new songs he is working on. I happen to mention that I caught the Velvet Revolver show recently (which is true in real life)..(now if you are out of the loop here, Velvet Revolver is pretty much Axyl’s old band...minus Axyl~They are fabulous) ok.....he gets a little tense about that and I apologize. Soon we are back on track sharing our art and of course ’falling in love’. He says he has to get ready for the show, but wants to see me after the concert. I tell him we have front row seats, I won’t be hard to find...etc....He gives me his diary...I leave, but as I am walking down the hallway I decide his diary is too personal to keep, I go back and knock on the door and explain this to him. He kisses me, takes the diary back and tells me he will see me after the show.

I go back to my room to get ready. The other girls are wearing sweaters and skirts fit for Easter Sunday and apparently my clothes have been laid out for me on the bed.....I put them on and then realize there is no way I am going to a rock concert dressed like Sister Margharita. So I stay behind while the other girls leave, (apparently I have my own car) and I try to assemble and ensemble trashy enough for a concert with only a suitcase full of soccer mom gear.

I end up being late for the concert...in fact I never arrive because the dream suddenly shifts to me sitting in a trashy mobile home owned by Anna Nicole Smith and her boyfriend, who happens to be the amature tatoo artists who did my first tatoo...Ray. We are smoking cigarettes and are drinking booze of some sort and suddenly we are out of smokes. Anna offers to run to the gas station, and as soon as she is gone Ray and I are all over each other....except he turns into Scott Weiland (lead singer for Velvet Revolver...see the connection here...) We are all hot heavy and pretty much doing the deed when Anna walks back in with a carton of smokes and brown liquor bag and proceeds to beat the crap out of us with it......

Next thing I know Scott Weiland/Ray (whoever the hell he is supposed to be) and I are driving in a car, going to a gas station to get cigarrettes. (She must have destroyed the carton on us) He is very repentatent., but strangely I am not feeling that guilty. (my husband apparently doesn’t exist in this particular dream). I am feeling like she is just white trash and he should just come with me...I am moving in with my cousin in Carbondale.....

Then I wake up. Now somebody interpret that!!! I should also add that I have started a new sleep medication. The one that has the commercial with Abe Lincoln and Groundhog playing chess, their slogan is ’your dreams miss you’....I guess that is not false advertisement! LOL!

P.S. I have my own ideas about the interpretation of this dream....I will post them later.