Space by Karen Pilarski

Space. What everyone needs and wants at times. It could be physical space. Perhaps tight quarters has led to heated arguments and hurt feelings. Living or working too close to someone has caused others to think they have no privacy or life of their own.  I know how my step kids feel. They are with us everyone other weekend and we live in a two bedroom apt. For awhile they were sharing a bunk bed. Granted, they are not with us 24/7. There was no space for them to add personality to their room. It looked like a couple of little kids lived in there. A broken green rocking chair, dusty toys with strings of cobwebs stretching across them. Disney globes, broken and dirty. The apartment became too crowded with stuff.  An ugly painting, sport equipment from 1990. No one felt they could even breathe.

Everyone needs emotional space. Maybe a relationship is exhausting or becoming dull. Problems left unsolved start showing signs of cobwebs and dust. Love's shine of lust and excitement may start to lose it's luster. Too much time spent together or apart has caused a type of rift that needs mending and some T.L.C. Less of "what will be" is replaced by "what could have been." The mind wonders to a place far away and sometimes in another lifetime. Thoughts  never thought were possible start seeping through the rift and into the lover's soul.

During these stormy and unpredictable waves of self-doubt the need for personal space is evident. The silence on the phone isn't a sign of trouble. The quiet dinner together doesn't mean something is amiss. Maybe the person just needs some solitude to think and remember the brilliant shine of love's luster. Time is needed to take out meaningless thoughts and objects that are no longer important and that take up too much space. Room to stretch out and catch one's breath.

Time heals all wounds both spiritually and physically. In a blink of an eye sick person either gets better or worse. While illness brings people together it can pull them apart. There needs to be space to rest up and gain energy. When moral support and warmth is needed, they will let you know. Heartache is the same way. The heart takes time to mend. Not just heartache from love but from life's ups and downs. All people need is just a little space.

Wired by: Karen Pilarski

Twisty, colorful wires uncrossed to help the head feel better
Sparks of electricity zaps the skull in an assault
A negative remark stabs, burns like a bee’s stinger
Pasted smile so the somber mood is not caught

Bashful and timid, not wanting to pester
Temporary solitude is no one’s fault
Lock of straight hair twisted tightly in a curl around a finger
Bleeding lower lip bitten in nervous thought
Foot taping in a repetitious movement

A desire to air emotions to avoid them from festering
Attempting to unlock the brain’s vault
Throat cleared loudly to clear the dryness that lingers
Staring off somewhere in space, a quick delicious jaunt
Quiet escape from the busy mind’s confinement
Makes me feel better.

Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide

Jimmy Cricket must have been busy perusing the job ads when you waltzed into the candy store. Mom was busy pushing the cart toward the checkout. The smell of the peppermint dancing in your lungs. Price of the peppermint was 20 cents. Jingle, jingle in her little coin purse. Only 5 cents. While mom was distracted, you put the peppermint in your fuzzy pocket and run out of the store.

As you leave the store mom notices you have the candy. Busted! Tear streaked faced as mom drags you kicking and screaming back into the store to apologize. Then the guilt is poured on like molasses.

Maybe it is bitterness or seasoned experience that causes me to doubt any story that is presented to me. My cynical side has witnessed it all.

I remember when I was younger my sister was running around in the living room in a pink jacket. My dad was trying to take a nap and was annoyed. Half groggy he seen a pink flash. My sister knowing of the impending spanking threw the pink coat on my little brother. Dad, full of anger took my brother and whooped him hard. It didn’t pay off for her as soon as dad realized what really happened she was punished.

This past week has been filled with dishonesty in all shapes and forms. From the call I received asking for the model number on the office fax machine to the man wondering around pretending he ‘ran out of gas’ and needed money. To family members that burn each other continuously. Sadly, even my husband has been caught in a string of whoppers. Maybe I’m too nice to confront the liars, terrified of some retaliation or afraid of the awful truth.

Who am I to complain? I go into the 10 items or less lane with 20 items. I tell my professor my homework was left at home, knowing full well it wasn’t done. When I worked as a cashier I called in sick but I really was hung over.

The lies or truth have a way of biting us in the butt. A few months ago I took my kids to Old Country Buffet. I told the cashier they kids were younger to get a discount. My kids decided to point out the lie and yell “That’s not my age!” I felt exposed and humiliated. Ashamed of myself that I would ask my kids to be dishonest.

The world would be a better place if everyone had Pinocchio syndrome. Or at least a green BFF in a top hat with the battle cry “let your conscience be your guide.”

If only the people around the world would feel guilty like that day in the candy store. Is that temporary sweet reward really worth the crime?

Collection of Poems I wrote

 Inside Out 

Bruised ego
from the hits inflicted
you still have the sore
The sounds of the names yelled
Hurts you just as much as before

I know a secret is not well hidden
The writings on your face
Don’t let people tell you
The feelings you have are forbidden
There is no time for that type of hate

Its got to take a lot of courage
To be the one to step out of hiding
I used to think your were only confused
But then I was just denying

You are an inspiration
This bravery astonishes me
There is no doubt

You are still human
Inside out.

To Be With Me
 Believe in me
When truth is too frosted to see
Measure goodness by soul
Not by appearances that deceive
Even if near drowning
Would you rage against the storm?
If only for a chance to touch my hand
Through tornados that form
Spits you out onto wet sand

When you put my needs before your own
Then my heart will come home
Then I could be yours
Possibly

I have drawn the shades up
Leaving mere resonant of past
Don’t dwell on you’re sadness
The blues won’t last

When you can say you love me unconditionally
And keep my name in your heart faithfully
Then I could be yours
Possibly

This heart
Banged up, bandaged
Still has blood coursing through it
Flowing like a lake

This heart longs to be
With someone who aches
To be with me.

Butterfly 
  From a womb
Like shelter of a cocoon
Supposedly you bloom
Though life you have tried to break free
Only to be imprisoned spiritually
Vibrant colors need to come alive
Instead of dark forces that keep you locked inside
Oh butterfly
With wings that have not yet formed
Rise above the cruelty
That makes you thoughts deform
Too chocked up to pin point the reason why
Only you know the way to fly

It’s a scary world out there
Instead of emerging
With wings swimming in air
Sticky substance keeps those wings from flying
Angry words always spoken
You have the courage to be all that you can
When wings are broken
Wait awhile and the pain will mend
Butterfly, then you will ascend.

Listen to the Heart
The heart
An exuberant vessel
Speaks in beating rhythmus
Slower then faster
Through time it molds
Into ever changing forms
Emotions once thought to be lost forever
Springs to life then surrenders
I should try to listen to my own heart sometime
Analyzing what it is trying to convey
But I can be stubborn as a mule at times
This heart is no ordinary organ anyway
Extraordinary, but I find myself taking it for granted again
It pounds so loudly to capture my attention
Only for a split second I pause to listen
Then the thought drifts away.

Over Zealous Ruler
On an over elaborate throne you reside
A wreath of leaves circles the jeweled crown
Why isn’t there a queen by your side?
Ambiguous ruler, you try to dictate the town
Yet you will never dictate me
Lavish estate filled with fearful servants to do your bidding
You’re cankerous ways makes townspeople flee
No one in line to kiss your ring, no women in line wanting you’re romancing
On a high horse you sit up right at the grand parade
I throw sharp rocks and sticks your way
Rose-colored glasses block your view of your real fame
Although you may be king in your own head,
Nobody made you judge, jury and executioner in this town of dread
I’d much prefer to marry a common man then to be stuck next to you
I await for your evil rein to be overturned.

Rainy Afternoon
A drop of rain cascades from the sky
As if a teardrop
Dripping sorrow from my eyes
Crack of thunder pops
Skipped my heart into irregular beats
The gray overcast
Fills the sky
With lingered pasts
That repeats itself sometimes
Storms violent, winds harsh
Thrash against my door
Fool I am for answering the knock
It was pity waiting at the door.

My Admirer
Wheels spin round in your mind
Then rusted, they stop at one thought
And make it a wondrous find
How appealing it must be
To hold on tight to love sought
Time after time
But your love is not returned
Images of her glow like starlight
Never mind her innocence is tarnished
In reality her elegance couldn’t light this night
Anymore than you could make it as bright.

 Love's Blush
Love’s Blush
On my cheek
Sensual touch on rosy lips
I crush
The melody of your name, the heart skips a beat
Oh, I’ve been floating over the skyline ever since
Anticipating the trumpets to sound
Upon hearing your name over and over again called
In your absence
I still feel love’s blush present
I crush.

Pieces of You
Alone, but it’s not the way I choose
Thinking of an excuse to call you
But I know that it wouldn’t be playing by the rules
Could you sneak away for a minute?
I know we would end up paying for it
And both of us would be lonely again

Every night I dream of kissing you
And that’s all I have wanted to do
But I know your heart belongs to another
Dividing your life between us two
You break each time for one or the other
All I end up with are pieces of you

If only your heart would beat only for me
If only one look in my eyes would sparkle a gleam
I need you in my world right now
Please don’t leave me
I’d rather see beautiful colors then live in blue
I want it all instead of pieces of you.

Spoon Fed
Silver spoon fed, sleeping in your golden bed
Life is so damn good to you

Don’t you know how it is to live in this pain?
You don’t care as long as nothing ruins your fame
Oh high roller, you are so spoiled inside your over sized head
Does it hurt when thoughts of goodness are now gone and dead?

Poor thing, money is no problem as long as you got your youth
It’s a damn pity all the crisis’s you go through
Just try to walk a mile in my shoes
Try to climb those mountains that kiss the extending sky
Ride those long roads, as another opportunity passes by

Live for a day
Cry for today
Let the joyous music play
Because when you’re gone
 Tomorrow doesn’t mean as much as today.


Katie
Funny how time flies by
Years pass in a blink of an eye
As they go by
I want you to be always by my side
My love is a circle that has no end
Sister, you’re my best friend

We are years apart
But not in my heart
Amazed at the young lady that you are
I see I’ve done my part
Everyday till the end
Sister, you’re my best friend

As we travel down the road
My respect for you continues to grow
I’ll be there for if you’re broken heart needs a mend
If you are lonely and need a friend
You are the best thing in life for me
A sister that’s a friend, you will always be
My best friend.

Mr. Fake Personality
Fake Personality
Not in the realm of reality
Fake Personality
You don’t know what you are headed for

Games you play in others’ heads
Leaves them down and sad
Just flash that deceptive smile
And they’ll have believed everything you said

Oh you are a slick one
Knock down anyone
To get what you desire

Playing with hearts and minds
This time you will find
You’re playing with fire

Fake Personality
Inhaling your last breath of sanity
Fake Personality
Never changed from what you were before

Just about everyone hates you down to your core
When someone calls you their grievances
Out come Oscar winning performances
And you get away with murder once more

One day it’ll all fall back on you
The lies told become unglued
And you’ll be exposed as a liar
Oh you’re a slick one
Knock down anyone
But now you’re playing with fire.

Click
Click, click, click
Eye brow sweating, veins twitching
Fingers rapidly shifting
Body glued to the seat
Snug in bed loved ones you should be missing
The gleam of the screen, smell of deceit
Must be intoxicating
Tick, Tick, Tick
Repetitive eye movements
Clock hands becoming invisible
Secrecy replaces intimate moments
Take in everything
Learning nothing
Click, click, click.

Procrastination

Let me think
Ponder here for a moment or two
Your presence here has frozen my tongue
Up to my knees in love’s quicksand, I sink
Is your heart racing to?
With one look in my eyes, I come undone
My words unintelligent
Face a shade of crimson
Clumsy but not for you enjoyment
Why can’t I be smooth like those other women?

Your voice
Soothing and lush
Like the sound of an angel’s call
Only I have the choice
To confess my crush
Or risk my inevitable fall
I go in circles unable to follow through
Contemplating telling you, at the brink
Let me think
Ponder here a moment or two.

My Life as a Soap Opera

Erica Kane has it easy. Of course she is a fictional soap character on “All My Children,” but her life of cliff hangers, love affairs and tragedy is more exciting than mine. Why it is that life and soap operas collide at times?

Me, I’m a plain Jane trying to get by. I don’t meddle in my friends’ lives. But between my own family and in laws, sometimes high drama becomes a sudsy entertainment for everyone to watch unfold.

I’m no Jennifer Aniston or Reese Witherspoon. Little do people know I’m actually a rather boring character. My character would likely get killed off by a microchip implanted in my brain or remarry my long lost love after much endurance.

By day I answer phones, and the most exciting thing that happens to me in my job as a receptionist, is when I get a prank call. On my desk are piles of papers. No champagne chilling; just a regular cup of java. Sometimes I spice it up by adding a half cappuccino. Wow, what a rebel. There are no fancy martini glasses or suave men in silk suits hanging on my every word.

When I go home, I kick off the heels, and put on my ugly sweats—the one you wear at an all you can eat buffet. Admit it, everyone does it.

My hair is almost always pulled in a messy ponytail. My bedspread is not made of fine silk ruffles or chenille. The bedspread is a tattered old comforter.

Where Erica Kane would have a full bar with exotic liquors, I bide my time guzzling back a diet coke. When I want to get down and funky I might drink a glass of boxed wine. Erica would be so proud.

I don’t attend glitzy balls or fancy parties. Some Fridays I might go to a local bar and hang with friends. Most often I’m watching my prized Sex and the City collection with my husband.

To listen to some folks, though, you’d think I was living in Pine Valley with my fourth millionaire husband. Obviously, they’re not paying attention.

Whatever the case may be, life is not a soap opera. I spend my days trying do the best job I can at everything I do—work, grad school, friendships. I have never performed brain surgery in a cave on a deserted island or rescued my father from a busty blond gold digger.

Unlike characters on a soap opera, we don’t come back from the dead when our contract is renewed, or come back as a long lost identical twin with amnesia. I have a twin brother, so unless he wears a wig, this won’t be happening.

We have one chance to make our lives worthwhile. Let’s spend it building each other up and making ourselves and others happy. Let’s not move to Pine Valley just yet. Erica has plenty of future bridesmaids at her fingertips.

New York

Jagged buildings crowd under Manhattan sky

Blurry splashes of moving colors whizzing by

Rushing movement of people scattered along the subway line

Pulsating sounds scramble the focused mind

Constant lights blinking, throbbing eyes

Sounds of the city, jolts the heart alive.