Sun, kisses lucidly against the wooden planks on the back porch.
Folding over the mosaic tiles you bought from Big Lots, or Lowes the difference not mattering.
I try to remember the way your pruned feet would caress against the ground as you watered the Ferns.
Or the way Ben and Leigha would crawl into your bed weekend mornings and cuddle with you.

You probably are clueless about how much you meant to me.
How much you meant to mother.
The nights you would take us in, rub her back, and tell her everything would be okay.
The nights where I would lay on the futon in the great room,
Staring at the stars though the skylight above my head.
Listening to mom whisper about her life, stress, and years passed.
Your hand whispering back in strokes, up and down her spine.

I wish that I had stolen a bit of your smell, in a crystal vial.
I wish that I would have saved it for today.
A day that I needed your comfort and the cupboard play space below your stairs.

I spent over half of my childhood smelling your smell, and loving you.
I haven’t stopped loving you.

Comparisons are hard to come by through Immortal things.
Wind is the exception.
She is a paradox, riddling you with her swift, antagonizing blows.
Antecedently she will caress the soft white hairs, sprouting from the nape of your neck.

My love you are Immortal, you are wind.
Ripping, tearing, shredding through the seams and beams that hold my heart together.
Habitually sewing back what you have destroyed, healing the wounds that you inflicted.

Is it in my Nature to love you, for the paradox that you create?
Perhaps it is the paradox in which we create, together that I am so fond of.
We are two human beings that shouldn’t be yet are.

With the universe going against us we struggle and strive for our paradox
Through love and hate, through judgment and acceptance
We will still remain. Strong, immortal like wind;

Hoping, but knowing, that our love will not be understood.

poem

There is nothing to differentiate the time that passes here.
Days run together Ever long. An Illusion.
Only told by the gradual graying of her Hair
With slow arching of a vertebrae growing closer to the ground

She still dances in the Northern Lights
Casts of Blue and Purple Trickling over her skin.
Portraying lost ancestors: Bear, and Eagle.

She binds her Ancient Remedies,
Mixtures to soothe and heal.
Swimming together in deep greens and yellows
Transforming into the color of her Eyes

She stands under Lonely Mountain
Cracked Calloused hands Reach Up
They Offer herself to the Gods.
A final Acceptance Knowing all that she has loved-
Diminished

hmmph

Is it right to want to move on? How can you love someone and not want to be with them? I am so confused and distraught and I miss her.

Initiation

So, I am going to begin this exiting journey through "Blogdom" by telling you some things about myself...

You can call me Avery. This of course is not my actual name, but in this day and age some facts must be concealed. For older folks are learning how to use Google, and my daily ramblings are a tad bit... lets say conflicting with the innocence I bestow onto adults. Haha.

I am not a grammar Nazi and my Blogs will surely have many grammatical errors so please move on if you have different views.

I Have a email (fickleintentions@hotmail.com) in which you can reach me at anytime and I will surely respond with a hearty helping of demented humor and sarcasm.

I am a resident of Kentucky and have been so far for all of my years on this glorious planet. I like it here its quite nice though a change is always welcome.

All of the names and places will be somewhat altered to maintain the privacy of myself and others. Sorry for your luck.

I hope to update this quite regualarly with my photography, attempts at poetry, random ramblings, and fucked up quotes, pictures,videos etc.. So join me in the fun... Maybe I'll see you around.

Much Love,
Avery