Muchos poemas!

High Way

We ran out of luck

a long time ago,

so we hit the road

in search for life;

the one we forgot about

while we were busy searching

for other things -

lost coupons, quarters in the couch,

skinny jeans, a mediocre career,

religion, and the expiration dates

on processed foods.

I make sure we're generously packed

with Spaghetti O's, celery and peanut butter,

bbq chips, Oreos, plenty of mary jane,

CapriSuns and Coke, toothpaste,

and a camera with a pen and paper

to keep the memories.

Will we make memories?

Paige thinks so and I agree.

I make lines in the leaves,

dicing them like a chef,

chopping fresh parsley,

and stuffing the bowl full.

Jay keeps his focus,

the distortion of the road reflected

deep in his Aviators,

his knuckles relaxed on the wheel

as I pass the glass to him,

the herb burning slowly

and glowing brighter with each inhale.

Paige traces the clouds behind us;

the entire backseat has become her bed.

She and I pass kisses

in the side view mirrors

and I see what she sees

in the cotton candy of the sky.

Dinosaurs, lollipops,

John Mayer playing Neon,

Ghandi, and the Kool-Aid man

all make themselves known

to us, two passionate souls

connected by blood and the ability to feel

more than any normal person can.

Jay catches my eyes

while the sun shines on his toothy grin

and he professes his undying love

for me again.

That smile alone

makes me believe in the unknown,

in the power of miracles,

in the rewards of love and commitment.

I really do care for you,

he knows my reply before it's even said.

The smell of your skin,

the grease that grows on your hair

when it begs to be washed,

the softness of your hands,

the way your shirt reveals your body

as I pull it over your head

before we fuck -

I honestly do care for you.

And now the sun

moves swiftly over his glasses

and night slowly creeps upon us.

Another spark

and the skunk has released once more,

the blood invades our eyes

calming our breathing

and making us fearless

on a black, abandoned road.

There is no map

because the knowledge of the destination

will ruin the surprise

and dent the freedom of adventure.

Paige gets comfortable

using Ellie and Avalon

as plush pillows and musky, warm blankets,

their faint dog smell

relaxing her breath as it takes stride

along their slow rhythm.

Tessa camps out under the dash,

curled up with Jay's foulest of socks,

the rumble of her purrs

luring him into a much needed sleep

as I take the wheel.

With tunes in my pocket,

the playlist on shuffle,

and the moldable headphones

hibernating in my ears,

I'm ready to get lost

with the lights of old Betsy

revealing my path

and my best friend snuggled up

in my lap.

Zeus and I remain awake,

taking in the scenery

and refusing to allow

our journey to pass by

in front of closed lids.

The drugs keep us relaxed

yet the curiosity maintains our stamina

as I step on the gas,

turn up the volume,

and smile at the knowledge

that even a god

could not have made it this perfect.

August 23, 2010

A new poem? Does she still have it?! Let's read on and find out!!

After watching Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland and after beating the Wii game, I decided to write a series of poems about Wonderland. Here is one.

Wasting Time in the Strange Garden

In the garden -

the never-ending garden of secrets,

I lose place,

my finger no longer glued

to my last point of memory.

Confusion takes control

as I nearly drown

in the wake of my white haired friend.

He rules over time,

monitoring it closely,

keeping it steady with ticks of his whiskers

and tocks of his twitching tail,

the metronome to a world of wonder.

My steps cover no ground

in the labyrinth from hell

as he leads me to a banquet table

hidden under teapots and pastries

of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Here, I am a miniature form

finding shade beneath beanstalk-high mushrooms

and resting against blades of grass

taller than ugly skyscrapers.

My bunny friend is frantic,

tardy for something important,

yet my teacup is never empty,

and the pastries are always warm

and permeating with strong, sweet marmalade.

He moves quickly,

sporadically,

the only rhythm bouncing

from each wriggle of his oversized cotton fluff.

I don't know what's coming next

and I can't remember where I came from.

The visions flashing across my eyes

become dancing neon lights

in shapes, letters, and forms

of shapes, letters, and forms

I can recall

from a childhood of which I'm unsure

was mine of that of some privileged child;

a child so fortunate

to be lost in a strange world

where shapes, letters, and forms

are fireflies flashing amongst leaves

as large as a giant's hands.

Steering past the confusion,

I continue with the party,

a celebration of strangeness

and the beauty of being

a freak.

My internal compass

may be altered here by the oddities

of gravity, the proximity of the moon,

and the fact that time is regulated

by an ivory chub of a rabbit

with frantic eyes, a marmalade mustache,

and the ability to always be late

even though he never has anywhere

to go.

August 15, 2010

If you haven't seen Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland yet, you MUST.

Dear Eddie Redmayne, I'm in love with you. Love, Abby

Ok. So, I have a new crush. And WHO would have thought it would be a redhead, huh?!?! Ok...everyone knew that. But this guy...oh man.

Ok, so he may not seem like all that to you. But let me tell ya...there is something about this guy that is just extremely sexy and beautiful. First off, he has this FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC red hair. That should win your heart over right away! I mean, not only are redheads usually sweet and fun, they're also great in the sack! It's a win/win situation, people!!! I mean, LOOK AT HIM. What a dream...*sigh*

Second, he is QUITE the talented man. He's 28. He's English, of course...that's where all of those dreamboats come from. He studied History of Art at Trinity College in Cambridge. Eddie made his theatrical debut for Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in Twelfth Night in 2002. He won the award for Outstanding Newcomer at the 50th Evening Standard Theatre Awards in 2004 for his performance in Edward Albee's The Goat, or Who is Silvia?, and the award for Best Newcomer at the Critics' Circle Theatre Awards in 2005 along with other acknowledgements and recognitions. He's also won Tony Awards from his work on the stage, which seems to be what he really loves to do. He's only been in films and TV for the past 10 years, so we haven't seen much of him. But I'm sure we'll ALL be in love with him soon (not just me!!).

Lastly, he was a model. Enough said.

After seeing THIS pic, it's hard not to wish he was lying in a corner of your room, ordering some 'za', staring at you with those apple green eyes...*swoon*...right?! Right.

Some of you may have first noticed him as William Stafford, the young gent who yearned for and eventually won over Scarlett Johansson's heart in the film The Other Boleyn Girl.

In the words of Anne Boleyn, I would gladly hold on to him "with my thighs". ; ) *sigh*

Yet, in my opinion, he is PHENOMENAL as Jack Jackson in The Pillars of the Earth, a new series from Starz! I started watching a few weeks ago. If you have not watched this show yet, you MUST. I watch it on our Netflix DVD that we got for the Wii that allows me to stream movies and tv series directly to my TV! Eddie truly does make you go weak in the knees. Watch the first episode of The Pillars of the Earth called Anarchy and THEN tell me I'm wrong.

Here's a clip to get your blood rushing. It's of Jack Jackson and Lady Aliena from The Pillars of the Earth.

Talk about romantic...he's too wonderful to be real, right?!?!

(P.S. For those of you who aren't sure whether you wish to give The Pillars of the Earth a try, let me just add that Donald Sutherland and Matthew Macfadyen (Mr. Bennett and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightley) are both EXCELLENT in it!! Seriously...do yourself a favor and watch it!)

My next book will be The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. The book will probably be better than the show, but we wouldn't REALLY know how gorgeous Jack Jackson is unless we had Eddie Redmayne.

Please, Eddie...take me away from here!! I BEG to be a freckle on your beautiful face. ; )

Long Time, No Blog...(And a poem for my Miga!)

Ok, ok...so, it's been forever since I last posted something worth reading here. Tonight shall be no exception!!! However, since I have recently relocated to South Bend, a town I'm not too fond of, into a house I'm not too fond of, I feel it's only necessary to start blogging again in order to keep myself SANE.

I begin my first day of work at Borders tomorrow and I am ecstatic!! I have been applying to the Borders in Bloomington for about 8 years with no success and the second I get HERE, I get the job I've always wanted to have. WHAT THE HELL?! Thanks fate, but really?? HERE?!?! While I'm not very fond of being here, I'm looking forward to the job (not only because I'll be surrounded by books but because I won't have to spend my days surrounded by...well, this 'spacious closet' of a room). Perhaps, I'll make some friends. I don't have any of those here yet, and that's pretty upsetting. Sure, I hang out with BRANDON'S friend but in the end, I'm just there because I'm 'Budzon's girlfriend'. Some of them have been very kind and nice; others, not so much. Hopefully, that will change soon.

Anyways, since I just got a new job (and because we're EXTREMELY poor), I won't be able to go to New York to see my grandmother for her surprise 70th birthday party. I mean, I should be there...we call her Miga. (Mee-gah) I GAVE HER THIS NAME...I should be there!!! Right?! Right. (And seriously, I did give her that name when I was just a young lass because I couldn't say 'grandmother' so I somehow came up with Miga and being her Angel Face, she let it stick. For years I fought with anyone who attempted to call her 'Janet' because what the fuck is that?! Her name couldn't be 'Janet'!! It's Miga!!) In her honor, my aunt wants me to write a poem that she can print off and have sitting at each table setting for everyone to see. I came up with the following poem, but I don't like it. It needs major editing, so that's my goal for this week. So, Miga...Happy Birthday!!! I love you more than anything...you're my number one and I hope your birthday rocks!!! : )

Our Miga: An Ode of Thanks

*dedicated to Janet "MIGA!!!" Balbo

When your mind

grazes over her,

the thoughts are filled

to the brim

with grins and comfort.

She holds the beauty

that radiates within us.

Her strength is what

keeps us going,

moving us forward

like a steady stream

bouncing over fish caves

and climbing over

rocks and pebbles

as the pearly white stratus

skipping across treetops,

watching over us

with constant, evergreen eyes.

My mother came from her.

So did yours, remember?

She birthed roses; princesses.

Her brilliance was reborn

in us.

We carry all that she is

and everything she has been.

Her sacrifices have been many

but she has prevailed

and made the Gods

rethink themselves,

for how could such divinity

be left on this earth?

She holds a plethora

of titles, but her soul

is Miga.

She knows this.

We have known

only this.

And will it ever desist?

Never.

Her faults are few

but they show us

how perfect she is

by being imperfect.

And her legacy will

live on...through you,

through me,

and through all of the mere mortals

whose lives have been

so graciously touched

by the hands of

our Miga.

A. Lynne June 21, 2010

*And My Cat Is A Pothead*

Been trying to write more but have been lacking the ambition and talent to do so. Basically, winter vacation took its toll on me. So, here's one of the ones that I came up with last night. Hopefully, it's enjoyable. : )

'And My Cat Is A Pothead'

And he made the pipe,

claws withdrawn;

just the stub fingers wrapped tightly

in milk and honey gloves.

"Light this, Buddha."

Swift fire sprouting clean

from the crisp snap,

his paws colliding;

Zeus and his thunderbolts

lighting the sky.

His ears are the great pyramids

with tunnels and tombs;

knowledge and secrets.

The giant king in soft purrs

takes the puff, a cyclone

of brittle winds rattles his chest,

the lungs pushing out through the ribs,

out through the coat.

His walnut eyes are amplified

with lousy focus and puddles

on the surface.

On the exhale,

the clouds pound space fiercely;

the horizontal chimney saturating

the sky and making it rain.

Lungs begin to flatten

as he relaxes and frees the sting,

the burn that scratches the back of the throat.

My shocked face reeks of wonder

and awe at the agility and grace

in motion here.

And my cat is a pothead.

And I knew this already.

He has a routine...yet keeps it entertaining.

The cherry is going,

smoking loud and with ease.

We watch him struggle with gravity.

He takes a break

letting the back end fall first.

The couch takes the hit

with a full rumble,

stretching from hibernation;

it is sturdy yet frightening under pressure,

the steel springs making potholes

in your rear end.

You endure for him.

And we watch him.

We wonder what he sees

and how he remains composed

as one of Beethoven's later works.

His Majesty is comfortable; stable; well.

I just saw him passing by

with his lips in pout,

riding the blue tugboat.

I waved in excitement

but he was busy...

counting his own stripes and whiskers

from right to left.

January 12, 2009

Love Poem*

Ok. So, this is the first REAL love poem I have written that I actually REALLY like. I hope you enjoy it, too. : )

Fall Swiftly

*dedicated to Jay Brandon Budzon

I weep for you, soft love,

weep as a daisy

after kind spring rain.

Patient shadows

grazing the fingertips of the willows

in sweet wait

for my own love's true heart.

If I was ever less than perfect,

forgive me.

But never did I turn from your light

or fall victim to the disease of lust.

You become a private wind

bound to the grass,

bound to the belly of the jay

as he soars over precious lands;

lands that mirror the beauty of your face

and the breathlessness of your soul.

Fall swiftly to me...

open arms in lover's kiss.

And you will save me

from all that is vicious here,

all that remains empty

and lacking the grace of your eyes,

two caramel orbs,

painted from my deep dreams.

You are the merry heart

singing me lightly into rest.

Would you be taciturn,

I would withdraw my soul

from your silent grasp

and surrender myself only to death.

But with faith you are joyous

and call me into your heaven.

Fall swiftly to me, kind love.

I will cloak you with desire

and cleanse your soul

with the passion and tranquility

of a thousand saints.

You will hold my last breath,

waiting for the finest of times

when my soul is swept

by a most feverish ocean;

pushed to a new birth

with you, my companion, at my side.

Fall swiftly to me

for your skies are littered

with the damp, gray clouds of doubt.

Fall swiftly to me, my dear.

Let love's blind sighs

was you over and whittle your naked heart

so that it fits mine.

Fall swiftly to me.

Fall swiftly to me for without you,

I am quite lonesome.

And without your love

there are neither treasures nor joys

to be had in this world.

December 19, 2009

Ode to My Kindred Spirit

One day, I dreamt of many brave things;

things I wished to show her. My dear sweet dove,

I called her, for at night she warbles; she sings

like me for solace and wisdom from above

the rafters and dried leaves on trees.

We both make giggles on bended knees.

The light of stars and the tender scent of wheat

I meant her to have, the sun tickling her hair

and making it shine like an apple, the kind you eat

and not just place lonely on a table and stare

with pencils and charcoal or perhaps some paint and brush.

Such beauty, such truth must take ample time with no rush.

My daisy cousin; my hippie friend with braids

tied swiftly on her head. I simply cannot forget

to open her flushed eyes, her two portals with the aid

of her kind yet strong hands so that she might let

her strength finally meet her story told;

that gentle; that misunderstood; that gold.

I wanted her to feel hope in me but it died; dead

like the buried carcass of her sister's beloved cat.

I made note the potions and magics festering in my head,

but what normal person would have interest in that?

She and I certainly found comfort in such things

for we were both bred from imaginary queens; not kings.

Our Lady Sovereign; our Mother Earth did but call

to us whilst we were fresh in bloom. The sun

became our secret keeper. And with  backs to the wall

we strut in harmony; two kindred spirits with none

to answer to. I live in her to free

a world iced over with hate and greed;

a world lost; a conquered sea of red

that burns through us and wounds us deeply

like thorns under the skin; rocks under the bed.

We carry the burden; little support thrown cheaply

to all but us. Alone we must stand;

heart in mind; soul in sight; hand in hand.

One day, I called on her for care,

a Kleenex to a runny nose. She softly replied

with sighs like coos and kind words of rare

quality and simplicity; and perfect words I tried

to use with others in order to make

a life worth living; a life not to take.

She and I, we favor the smell of rainy days,

the sky in loud sobs, echoing our sorrow

and making us feel wanted; making us stay

a little longer, giving us another tomorrow.

Our fear abides to hidden spaces;

eyes and hands hung low alongside heavy faces.

We are rare; genuine; unique, us two.

The purest of diamonds. The softest of clouds.

I lift her and she lifts me and together we make through

the darkest of times and the thickest of crowds.

For thriving in a tattered world must be

a little bit of her and a tiny part of me.

November 24, 2009