Become A Parent!
Are you bored with your life the way it is and you want to have it changed forever? Do you want
to be put to the ultimate test in your character, have your limits tested in unfathomable ways?
How about taking on the biggest challenge of your life with no instruction of how to do it….one
that will bring up all the fucked up parenting from your childhood and require you to put it all into
action in your own unique way? Well I have the perfect solution for you, become a parent!
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be in a pregnant body and experience the
miracle of life growing within you? Explore the areas of pregnancy discomforts that range from
anxiety, to sciatica to restless leg syndrome, leg cramps to digestive disturbances like heartburn
and consitpation? Try pregnancy !
Have you ever been curious about what it would be like to shit a bowling ball out of your ass?
Do you ever wonder how far your vagina can stretch or tear? Are you curious about the feeling
of being blasted open, hit by a truck and then left with a new born baby to take care of?
Experience childbirth !
Are you interested in seeing what its like to have a special kind of sleeplessness, a unique kind
of insomnia, the kind where just when you fall asleep you are awakened? The kind that some
nights its akin to sleep torture, and it goes on for months and months and years and years?
Experience parenting !
Are you curious about having a constant mess around you? How about Having items that are
important to you, always targeted and often ruined by a small terrorist called a child? Or simple
things like sticky fingerprints everywhere in you house? Try having a Kid!!
Would you like to have your social life disturbed and potentially vanished? Or how about having
your friends without kids quietly judging you and sometimes offering their advice as you fumble
as a person with kids in the modern world…. Have children!
So come! Join the millions of overwhelmed people that have pushed, popped, adopted,
surgically delivered, miraculously slipped out a child into this world! Become part of this unique
work force where you get NO salary and there is no such thing as paid sick leave, in fact YOU
actually have to pay to do all the work! AND there are no guarantees that the kid you raise will
even be a contributing member of society ! So do away with the birth control, just bust that load
during an ovulation cycle and BOOM, join the insanity, initiate yourself into the wild, wacky world
of PARENTING !!!
to be put to the ultimate test in your character, have your limits tested in unfathomable ways?
How about taking on the biggest challenge of your life with no instruction of how to do it….one
that will bring up all the fucked up parenting from your childhood and require you to put it all into
action in your own unique way? Well I have the perfect solution for you, become a parent!
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be in a pregnant body and experience the
miracle of life growing within you? Explore the areas of pregnancy discomforts that range from
anxiety, to sciatica to restless leg syndrome, leg cramps to digestive disturbances like heartburn
and consitpation? Try pregnancy !
Have you ever been curious about what it would be like to shit a bowling ball out of your ass?
Do you ever wonder how far your vagina can stretch or tear? Are you curious about the feeling
of being blasted open, hit by a truck and then left with a new born baby to take care of?
Experience childbirth !
Are you interested in seeing what its like to have a special kind of sleeplessness, a unique kind
of insomnia, the kind where just when you fall asleep you are awakened? The kind that some
nights its akin to sleep torture, and it goes on for months and months and years and years?
Experience parenting !
Are you curious about having a constant mess around you? How about Having items that are
important to you, always targeted and often ruined by a small terrorist called a child? Or simple
things like sticky fingerprints everywhere in you house? Try having a Kid!!
Would you like to have your social life disturbed and potentially vanished? Or how about having
your friends without kids quietly judging you and sometimes offering their advice as you fumble
as a person with kids in the modern world…. Have children!
So come! Join the millions of overwhelmed people that have pushed, popped, adopted,
surgically delivered, miraculously slipped out a child into this world! Become part of this unique
work force where you get NO salary and there is no such thing as paid sick leave, in fact YOU
actually have to pay to do all the work! AND there are no guarantees that the kid you raise will
even be a contributing member of society ! So do away with the birth control, just bust that load
during an ovulation cycle and BOOM, join the insanity, initiate yourself into the wild, wacky world
of PARENTING !!!
It Will All Change
Empty candy wrappers and shredded chargers. Sticky devices. Monopoly and The Game Called Life, pieces, missing, lost and found. Drops of milk and cracker crumbs. Muddy shoes and sandy sheets. Puppy poop, chewed on bones. Dirty undies, and piled up laundry. Spots gone splattered on mirrors of last nights teeth being brushed, and forgotten. Plates half eaten,
beds not made.
Disposed Halloween costumes and makeup messes. The salty towels, the still damp suits, the overnight bag that didn’t even get used. The signing of homework, the making of lunches, the drop off’s, the pick ups, the -“on a scale of one to ten how was your day”? The schedules, the wake ups, the sleep in’s, the disciplining, resets, the negotiating, the bargaining, the trading.
The disappointments the excitements. The cuddles the quarrels. The discoveries and the phasing outs. The kandamas, the bottle flips. The hungry moments, the picky moments, the hilarious moments. The bedrooms that accumulate stuff. My closet with clothes and bathrobes,
strewn, desk with bills pending my payment. The putting on planes, the kisses goodbye, the hugs, hello… the juggling of it all.
What will I remember of these days that are flying by so fast in front of my perceived perception? These days that take me in totality and leave me with nothing but a volumonous and impregnanted heart. These days that submerge me and smother me with decisions that must be made. These days that I didn't know I asked for and still wonder how to do. What will become of me when they're all grown up. When they no longer want me to hold them and tickle their back. When they don't need a tuck in, a chauffer, a monitor. When they don't want me to constantly watch them and their cartwheels.
Who will I be, what will I do? When I finally have all that time now I don’t think I posses? The
space I crave, the time I covet, the freedom I lust after. Will I cry and shrivel in a recognized
loss? Will I celebrate and transform into the next chapter of my true essence of that time? I
pray for the latter and in the meantime I will gobble, and relish, devour and delight in these
creatures that came through me despite how demanding the moments that come and go may
be or seem. All I know is, it will all change, and that is all I know.
beds not made.
Disposed Halloween costumes and makeup messes. The salty towels, the still damp suits, the overnight bag that didn’t even get used. The signing of homework, the making of lunches, the drop off’s, the pick ups, the -“on a scale of one to ten how was your day”? The schedules, the wake ups, the sleep in’s, the disciplining, resets, the negotiating, the bargaining, the trading.
The disappointments the excitements. The cuddles the quarrels. The discoveries and the phasing outs. The kandamas, the bottle flips. The hungry moments, the picky moments, the hilarious moments. The bedrooms that accumulate stuff. My closet with clothes and bathrobes,
strewn, desk with bills pending my payment. The putting on planes, the kisses goodbye, the hugs, hello… the juggling of it all.
What will I remember of these days that are flying by so fast in front of my perceived perception? These days that take me in totality and leave me with nothing but a volumonous and impregnanted heart. These days that submerge me and smother me with decisions that must be made. These days that I didn't know I asked for and still wonder how to do. What will become of me when they're all grown up. When they no longer want me to hold them and tickle their back. When they don't need a tuck in, a chauffer, a monitor. When they don't want me to constantly watch them and their cartwheels.
Who will I be, what will I do? When I finally have all that time now I don’t think I posses? The
space I crave, the time I covet, the freedom I lust after. Will I cry and shrivel in a recognized
loss? Will I celebrate and transform into the next chapter of my true essence of that time? I
pray for the latter and in the meantime I will gobble, and relish, devour and delight in these
creatures that came through me despite how demanding the moments that come and go may
be or seem. All I know is, it will all change, and that is all I know.
Pregnant Mermaid
Pregnant Mermaid
Moving to Maui disguised her malicious self when I wasn’t looking. She wasn’t trying but she
also wasn’t messing around. I thought, a few years here and look at me, I’ve been devoured,
swallowed up and digested whole. It only took a death, two births, a divorce, and a few
breakups to rattle my my make up, my network of nerves.
Cracking the code to my previous life and crumpling it up, tossing it to the fire. Pele called me
and somehow I heard, even tho I played dumb and followed a husband. No marriage vows can
remedy these wandering minds, no agreement can be safely kept. Miscarriages upon cancer
prognosis seduces the mother load of all suppressions.
My keiki know dark skin and slippers, rainbows and surf. Their socks go missing and they play
in the rain. They know uncles and aunties, spam and songs, leis and laulau. They know opihi
and vana, keawe and white rice, cheek kisses and shakas, and different measurements of wave
faces.
I kissed my family goodbye on their death beds and woke up on a beach. Salt water erosions
and rusty metal thoughts dampen my view of the past perception of my old perfect life. Island
fevers a myth for these homebody bones. Waking up, I fell into the closet of forgotten
yesterdays and lost loved ones who craved the ocean more than I do.
Grandkids without grandmas and uncles without aunties, stepdads without acceptance of the
children they foster. Fathers who departed, deport themselves to other lands but keep their
grip, on the bed time stories of their rigid yesterday. Mothers who are single circling the crop.
Hungry for the father they never got.
Fondling the fantasies that fuck with my mind, that allow what if-s of tomorrow, the “what nows”
of today to make motherhood mandalas that disintegrate in the sea. The variations, tumble and
swirl, collide and crumble as the transformation of tomorrow sets foot upon no regret.
Destroying those thank you cards, ruining the to -do lists. I’d tell my past lovers, to continue on
and let me go, offer yourself to the commitment tide of tomorrow and intertwine with the dragon
of your next concubine.
For now I go deeper into my own capture, of my volcanic rock hard heart that pours into the sea.
Moving to Maui disguised her malicious self when I wasn’t looking. She wasn’t trying but she
also wasn’t messing around. I thought, a few years here and look at me, I’ve been devoured,
swallowed up and digested whole. It only took a death, two births, a divorce, and a few
breakups to rattle my my make up, my network of nerves.
Cracking the code to my previous life and crumpling it up, tossing it to the fire. Pele called me
and somehow I heard, even tho I played dumb and followed a husband. No marriage vows can
remedy these wandering minds, no agreement can be safely kept. Miscarriages upon cancer
prognosis seduces the mother load of all suppressions.
My keiki know dark skin and slippers, rainbows and surf. Their socks go missing and they play
in the rain. They know uncles and aunties, spam and songs, leis and laulau. They know opihi
and vana, keawe and white rice, cheek kisses and shakas, and different measurements of wave
faces.
I kissed my family goodbye on their death beds and woke up on a beach. Salt water erosions
and rusty metal thoughts dampen my view of the past perception of my old perfect life. Island
fevers a myth for these homebody bones. Waking up, I fell into the closet of forgotten
yesterdays and lost loved ones who craved the ocean more than I do.
Grandkids without grandmas and uncles without aunties, stepdads without acceptance of the
children they foster. Fathers who departed, deport themselves to other lands but keep their
grip, on the bed time stories of their rigid yesterday. Mothers who are single circling the crop.
Hungry for the father they never got.
Fondling the fantasies that fuck with my mind, that allow what if-s of tomorrow, the “what nows”
of today to make motherhood mandalas that disintegrate in the sea. The variations, tumble and
swirl, collide and crumble as the transformation of tomorrow sets foot upon no regret.
Destroying those thank you cards, ruining the to -do lists. I’d tell my past lovers, to continue on
and let me go, offer yourself to the commitment tide of tomorrow and intertwine with the dragon
of your next concubine.
For now I go deeper into my own capture, of my volcanic rock hard heart that pours into the sea.
There's no denying demons in these dimensions. They come and go as they please and how much determination they have, or discipline we lack. Some days are undeniably better than others, some days are detrimental to our dirty work. Daytime duties consume my contemplative determinations.
There is no remedy for this juvenile juggling of bouncing between sugar cravings and the seductive suck of the latest devouring device. Who is to say it is detrimental. To my concept of what is right and wrong, what should be or not be, I’ll never get to decide. To my own self sabotage, or when I grow weary of the disturbances that incessantly push me to the threshold of downward spiral of sane mothering moments.
The maternal desire of the fun house factory of flickering biological lights, nipples that leak, and school bells that ring too early. The twitching of eyes that consume themselves before the caffeine should enter the tunnel of piercing adolescents, in uniforms scattering like cockroaches as the staff usher them to their places. Drudging up the triumph to crack the code and
keep things on task. My cheeks hurt from stuffing my cooking to the side while I spoon feed the
dependents of my making. My tongue is incapacitated as I try to swallow the separation of my
former self. I taste only with my pussy, and when I speak, nothing comes out.
Where did she get tucked away and suppressed from her surrender? How does she nourish
her off spring while her former self divorced her care free nature. No needle and thread can
sew this back together. No payment will ever cover the expenses. I see why people walk away
and give up their rights. They miss the selective spectrum of single moments of pain that
transform into beauty and melt again into deep crevices of growth. They give up the chance to
walk their own line, create their own verge, to be on the brink. They chose to lose themselves in
their own mess rather than to be woken up to their own creation. To be shocked into new
knowing. To be frightened by their own beauty. Its all passed up, and handed to another
disheveled household, so never to be harassed by the needs of a restless fetus or a dying
corpse. Because to do this is to die again and again. To do this is to be born over and over. To
do this is to stay at home and never get to go out with your former self, ever again.
There is no remedy for this juvenile juggling of bouncing between sugar cravings and the seductive suck of the latest devouring device. Who is to say it is detrimental. To my concept of what is right and wrong, what should be or not be, I’ll never get to decide. To my own self sabotage, or when I grow weary of the disturbances that incessantly push me to the threshold of downward spiral of sane mothering moments.
The maternal desire of the fun house factory of flickering biological lights, nipples that leak, and school bells that ring too early. The twitching of eyes that consume themselves before the caffeine should enter the tunnel of piercing adolescents, in uniforms scattering like cockroaches as the staff usher them to their places. Drudging up the triumph to crack the code and
keep things on task. My cheeks hurt from stuffing my cooking to the side while I spoon feed the
dependents of my making. My tongue is incapacitated as I try to swallow the separation of my
former self. I taste only with my pussy, and when I speak, nothing comes out.
Where did she get tucked away and suppressed from her surrender? How does she nourish
her off spring while her former self divorced her care free nature. No needle and thread can
sew this back together. No payment will ever cover the expenses. I see why people walk away
and give up their rights. They miss the selective spectrum of single moments of pain that
transform into beauty and melt again into deep crevices of growth. They give up the chance to
walk their own line, create their own verge, to be on the brink. They chose to lose themselves in
their own mess rather than to be woken up to their own creation. To be shocked into new
knowing. To be frightened by their own beauty. Its all passed up, and handed to another
disheveled household, so never to be harassed by the needs of a restless fetus or a dying
corpse. Because to do this is to die again and again. To do this is to be born over and over. To
do this is to stay at home and never get to go out with your former self, ever again.
