Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

You November 28, 2013

Filed under: all,love,Poems,poetry,relationships — rainey46 @ 7:46 pm
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Nude art

How many hours have I wasted

dreaming of you?

How many days are lost forever

thinking of you?

How do I continue breathing

living without you?

You are the blood that runs through my veins

You are the one who  makes me insane

You are the air that touches my lips

You are the wind caressing my hips.

How many hours have I wasted

dreaming of you?

How many days are lost forever

thinking of you?

How do I continue breathing

living without you?

 

Never As It Seems July 6, 2013

Filed under: all,Poems,poetry — rainey46 @ 1:50 pm
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When she was only a little bitty girl

she ran away from the cold, cruel world

she just lived in her head, inside her dreams

where everything was just as it seems.

 

When she awoke she paid the price

nothing was real; nothing was nice

so she just lived in her head, inside her dreams

where everything was just as it seems.

 

Time went by and she grew up

she ate from his spoon and drank from his cup

but she just lived in her head, inside her dreams

where everything was just as it seems.

 

She grew tired of living and made up her mind

this life was over, she’d leave it behind,

she only lived in her head, inside her dreams

where everything was just as it seems.

 

She bought the gun out on the street

drank up some courage, settled in her seat

she was tired of living  in her head, inside her dreams

where everything was just as it seems.

 

He came through her door and saw the gun

he looked her in the eyes and didn’t even run

She stopped living in her head, inside her dreams

where everything was never as it seems.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How He Folds T-shirts and Other Insignificant Details April 9, 2012

Why is it that seemingly insignificant details seem to stick with me? I can’t remember what I had to eat this morning or the name of the toothbrush I need to replace, but I can remember a chance remark someone made to me ten years ago. I don’t wash clothes mid-week because if I do, I can’t remember what I’ve already worn that week and I might repeat (heaven forbid!).

I understand remembering hurtful things from my past that come back to haunt me. Like the time, when I was a teenager and acting out, my mother told me if my dad had a heart attack and died it would be my fault. Two years later, he had a heart attack….he didn’t die, thank God, but I still felt to blame. Things like that tend to stick, and I understand that.

But what about the stupid, minor things that happened? Like the time a friend showed me how he folds his t-shirts. I hang mine in the closet, so why do I remember him explaining it to me? Of all the billions of memories, why that one? Why do I remember that a friend from long ago, a girl I haven’t had contact with in many years, loved the color pink? I have no real attachment to her, the color pink, or that memory. But there it is, stored like it is of some great importance, right between my social security number and the names of every pet I ever owned.

Memory is a funny thing. For a very long while, I blocked out some terrible things from my childhood. In fact, I don’t remember as much about my childhood as most people do. While blocking out the bad, did I also block out the good? Or was my childhood so unremarkable that I simply forgot most of it? I do have some memories, don’t get me wrong. I remember my dogs, with great detail. I remember playing outside, alone. I even remember a terribly vivid nightmare I had where I tried to escape and the fence had knife-like jagged edges that sliced off my skin every time I tried to get away. I don’t really remember my family, or any friends, or things we did together. All of my earliest memories are of me, alone.

In my teen years I found drugs to erase the memories that were beginning to haunt me. Drugs, alcohol, sex, and rock ‘n roll became the way to escape. I have lost many of these memories due to my self-medication. This is probably for the best, because I am not too proud of some of the things I said and did during this period of my life.

Maybe because I have lost large chunks of important memories it leaves more room for the insignificant ones. Like the time a friend told me she gets really warm right before she gets out of bed, even in the winter. Who cares? Apparently, my memory does.

 

 

Expectations March 31, 2012

I am drowning in expectations. Not my expectations of myself, but the expectations that others have of me. I must play a certain role, or say or do certain things every day. When I do something out of character for me, it angers or upsets those around me. When did I become so predictable? When I cannot live up to what others want or need of me, I feel so inferior and inadequate.

What would it be like to start over? I mean, REALLY start your life from scratch? Obviously, you cannot go back in time and get a “redo”, but what would it be like to walk away from the life you have now? You would have the advantage of  your present life experience. Whatever your age, you have lived and made mistakes and learned. If you could walk away from your current life, you would have all of that knowledge without the baggage of your current problems. No one would expect you to “be” something; you could wipe the slate clean and be what you choose. Would life be better, or would you fall right back into the trappings of new expectations? Is there a way to live for yourself and not hurt those around you?

 

One View

Writing, composing poetry, taking photos, and creating art are the ways I make sense of my life. Today I have uploaded photos of some of the art I have created. I am an amateur, obviously, but it is a great form of therapy.

 

One Day March 28, 2012

when will you learn

that words spoken cannot be snatched back

once the sounds erupt from your angry lips

they hang, suspended in the chilly air

finding their target deep in my heart

later when you hold me and say you are sorry

when you claim you love me more than life

the words are still there

burrowing deeper and deeper, making a hole in my heart

I try to forget but the hateful words are still there

when will you learn

that one day the hole will grow too large

one day your words cannot harm me

one day I will be gone.

 

a lovely world August 1, 2010

Filed under: life,living,love,Poems — rainey46 @ 6:50 pm
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i dream at night

of a lovely world

free of hatred;

no senseless crimes

mar the beautiful landscape.

what you want

you ask for

what you have

you share.

humans behave humanly

and love abounds.