Remember- You. 


Do you know how delicately you have been crafted? Your arteries, your capillaries, your mind is a work of art. A man spending his entire life fitting these parts in, couldn’t do it. You are flesh covering bone, ligaments holding our grimaces and smiles in place, tendons straining and joints popping as we devour the miles of the day under our feet. You are men with a meter wide stride, and yet you have conquered oceans. You are the vessel of years of education from the people who birthed you and taught you or abandoned you, and behind those words and between those lines sleep the instincts of a million years of progressing from hunting to gathering. You are the color of your skin. You are the purple you have painted your nails and the white of your flashing teeth, and the histories of the years you have lived, the memories of those you haven’t, silently lurking within reach. You are the culmination of a lifetime of decisions. You conquer mountains and ocean trenches are are still capable of being crushed between moving rocks, as you are of not surviving a few blood cells stuck in the wrong direction. You are beautiful, with your crooked teeth, your eyes that crinkle when you smile, and your bronzed cheekbones. With your faults and your fierceness, your mistakes, your experience, your endurance and your flawed wisdom, you are beautiful. You are strong, and your fragile. Love yourself for it- for all of it. 

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Whore 

  

A whore is pointed at 

Not because she sells herself, but

Because she sells herself for 

Far less than she is worth 

Not because she lets a strange man

Paw her breasts for money 

Sweat on her face, grunts between her thighs 

She’s not bad because she’s ‘easy’

We all have prices 

We all have sold ourselves in

Different ways

At different rates 

Some more than others 

But we all get paid eventually

A different wage 

And sometimes

You have to whore yourself

For a lesson learned that 

Will not be forgotten

Can not be denied 

You lie naked on the floor

Next to a man you thought 

you knew like your own skin

And you realize 

That if the price you paid

Was respect lost, then

That price was altogether too high 

Whore
©CM 
14.02.2017

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. 

To Kill A Man

To Kill A Man

Too many ways to kill a man
Not enough ways to save him
Too much pain brought on by his own hand
How could the prognosis be anything, but grim?
Be accused of prejudice, fat shaming,
When you advise a patient to lose some weight
A society that works for weekend alcohol
Is not easily convinced to moderate
Point to sky high cholesterol on charts
And you’re looked at with sullen or unconvinced eyes
Threats of liver cirrhosis fall flat
Unlike liver enzymes, which soon upwards rise
That jaundice isn’t merely you feeling yellow, my dear
– At this stage, it could be carcinoma in disguise

But red wine’s good for you! the specialists say
And it is, so is beer – but a little a day
Your liquid weight in vodka might help your depression
But it’s not going to keep the doctors too far away
And what of a nice steak? Mash taters, rashers, et al?
They protest – it’s just protein, GoogleDoc said it’s okay!
-In small portions, and lean is still better protein
Not, though, if you’re going to chase it with a souffle

And don’t even get me started on these diet fads
Ketotic, acidotic, kidneys almost failing
Still pushing away no-carb or no-fat, insistent
All the while, pulse irregular, or vitals flailing
The problem’s that there is no cure for ignorance
Fragments of info will give you fractured health
Would you take your sick cat to a plumber?
No, right? – then why do we invite this stealth
This truculence, resistance. We know it’s online
And please do read up on your illness, that’s fine
But don’t self medicate a horse for a zebra
You can’t fix erectile dysfunction with Clozapine
You can’t be obese and think that you’re still fit
‘Fit’ means ‘in fitness’ – there are dimensions to it
And yes, we have sleep meds we will not prescribe
Till we know that you’re clean, that you’ve really quit

It’s not a petty thrill – we have a moral code
It’s not that we’ll throw pills at you by the boat load
That’ll fix all your problems- no, we are looking out
For what’s best for you, it’s part of our oath
There’s too many ways to kill a man, and
Not nearly enough to save him
But with a little luck, and a little cooperation
The prognosis doesn’t really have to be grim

 

©CM
17.04.2016

 
Day 17. Maybe I cheated a little on this one, because I write from the medical dictionary pretty often (Broken Heart Syndrome, anyone?). This prompt was still fun to write, though. And made for a terrific break from studying.

And now *grand flourish* coffee time. Hope y’all are having an amazing day!

Cheers,
Cookie

My Fallen Angel

Image
 
 
 
 
My Fallen Angel
 
 
He has black magic in his voice,
And I’m under his spell
Apollyon, he sits waiting
At the sheer cliffs of Hell
 
With my soul hanging in balance 
I can’t but wonder why
Of all the sins of mortal flesh 
For me he will defy
 
The reason of his creation 
The purpose of his being,
Am I this angel’s temptation?
Then why does my heart sing
 
In agony and in ecstasy 
Just once to hold him close?
If I am to be his Lillith
I’d have more strength, suppose? 
 
Yet no, I am but virgin clay
To be molded, desired
In any and in every way
Tempered in his fires.
 
Held captive in his seduction 
And drowned in ocean eyes,
I let him wrap me in his wings 
And fly us to the skies.
 
I am not me, I cannot be
Till entwined in our love
And guilty of purity, we 
Are Fallen to above. 
 
 
 
©CM
02.09.2012 

 

 

Wow, a week already. Here’s a hurrah for that! And the to people who are following my blog, thank you ever so much. You don’t know how much I appreciate the encouragement. Much love! =)

I’ve always had a particular fascination for angels. I suppose it’s natural, in a way, to be envious of the guileless purity they signify. What enamors me more in the many books I’ve read recently, is their human aspect more than their faultlessness. Something about angels being only human too? That paradoxical statement probably gives away a lot about my psyche, it is rather open to interpretation, but I’ll stand by it, just what I think, that’s all.

 

I suppose I’m rambling again, but I don’t want this blog to be some sort of monologue where I prattle away. More of a Socratic discourse, I think, would be more beneficial all round. So feel free to join the babble. Tell me what you’re doing, what you would like to read, or what you would like me to write about. Tell me what you think. 🙂

 

 

Cookie