Poetry

Swans at Crossroads

Here she is at the edge of the tunnel
A crossroads on a narrow path
Sun on asphalt
Eyes adjusting to the bright
She teases the wind with a finger
Now two
She can’t tell its direction
She is scared
A small step back
Into darkness
Into comfort
There she does not have to wonder at her shadow
At the future it foretells
There she does not have to wonder at her greatness
At what she could be
At what she already is
But won’t let anyone see
She could stay here…
She fears the light shed on her scars
Her idiosyncracies laid bare
There are cracks in her skin
A needle and thread in her heart
This quirky, patchwork woman may frighten you
She frightens me…
When reflected upon broken glass
Muddied puddles
But, she is glorious art
She has Mona Lisa’s subtle smile
Exudes the sexuality of Venus
Stepping out from her dank isolation
She sparkles in sunlight
She has little confidence
Feels inadequate
But knows she must change
Choose a path
Persevere
You will be mesmerized by her performance
Enthralled by her dance
See the black swan transform
No…
See the white swan embrace herself

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Movies

Movie Depth: Solo: A Star Wars Story

One of my intentions with this blog was to do movie reviews, among a myriad of other things that I’ve been neglecting. Lauren is slowly coming back into herself and I’m working on writing more on a little of everything. I thank my dedicated, patient followers. Anyway, this seemed like a good one to start the reviews back up with…


So, I decided on a quiet Saturday. I was going to continue watching Season 3 of The Original Series of Star Trek, but then thought, hey… Avengers: Endgame comes out and I have Thursday night tickets so, let me do an Marvel Cinematic Universe marathon. Went on Netflix and saw that Solo: A Star Wars Story was on and that whole plan went to hell.

I’m glad I didn’t see this one in the theaters. It wasn’t a bad film, but it was deeply underwhelming. It seemed like one of those prequels made solely to throw out Easter eggs for the fan base. My list of thoughts are below.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

  1. Ok, the backstory was decent. An orphan turned smuggler – I buy that. Not as grandiose a background as I might’ve hoped for, but I’ll take it.
  2. So, his name is “Solo” because an Imperial Officer that he was being clever? Come on… That’s on the level of “it takes Juan to know Juan.”
  3. Given how arrogant Han initially was about his relationship with Leia and how he was portrayed about only caring about himself, I found it difficult to believe that he cared so deeply for someone before that, i.e. Qi’ra. But again, I can go with it.
  4. Thandie Newton killed that ish. Girl went out like a soldier.
  5. Han disobeys orders which leads the crew to losing the shipment of coaxium in their fight against Enfys Nest. Beckett’s wife Val has literally just died for the cause. If you were Beckett, wouldn’t you have killed Han instead of apologizing for punching him in the face? Yeah, me too.
  6. Wait, wait, wait!! Qi’ra is just conveniently with Dryden Vos who Beckett is working for???? Shenanigans. (Nice cameo by Paul Bettany, by the way. In fact, the whole cast was quite superb despite the garbage pile of a script.)
  7. Ill-placed, somewhat cute emphasis on what a “good guy” Solo is. He isn’t, though. He’s not a bad guy, but he isn’t good. Again, given what we’ve seen him, I don’t believe that he would be so willing to help Enfys Nest’s cause except as anything, but an afterthought.
  8. Don’t trust anyone. True.
  9. Lando wears capes. Also, he apparently used to wear his hair natural? I wonder at what point int he Rebellion he decided he needed to change it up? (Kind of like Black Widow being blonde in Infinity War – did that piss anyone else off?)
  10. I wonder if, when the original story was written in the 70s, anyone really thought about what the Kessel Run was supposed to be…
  11. I think I would’ve shown significantly more devastation if the love I’d been chasing after for three years abandoned me for the Sith for her own survival. I mean, how can you misjudge someone so egregiously? Also, where was she in The Phantom Menace?
  12. Anyone else feel like Han and Lando ended this movie with no foundation of a relationship whatsoever? Maybe a casual, cordial tolerance at best. Not enough for Lando to later welcome Han to Cloud City. Of course, he betrayed him, but than he helped save him afterwards and I’m just not buying that Lando would even remotely care for anyone’s cause but his own. Lando literally said, “I hate you” and bounced. Speaking of Lando, was he in love with L3 or what was the deal there?
  13. I did like that they threw in a throwback to Lando (or rather Billy Dee Williams) mispronouncing Han. That always bothered me in the original films.
  14. Anyone else notice Ron Howard’s little brother? Again? (Dude’s in everything.)
  15. Han shot first. You saw it. I saw it. That was a nice throw-in for the fans of the original cut in A New Hope that shows Han shooting Greedo first. See… he’s not a good guy. He’s a survivor, too…

All in all, I didn’t feel like this movie really set one up for A New Hope even though the events are supposed to be about ten years prior. The pieces were there. Obviously, Han and Chewy were leaving to find Jabba on Tatooine. But, after doing a little for the cause, why go to the smuggler life? To prove he’s not a good guy? He didn’t convince me either way. And Disney is not convincing me that they can handle any of this.

Overall rating: Meh.


I can do a review for Us (which I saw Sunday), Avengers: Endgame (which I will see Thursday night), or The Last Jedi (because it relates to this and I have a full-blown rant). What do you like?

Poetry

Yellow

Yellow is my favorite color
It is the color of the sheets I lie on while I think of you
The color I sleep on
While I dream of you
Of other pleasant times
Of other nightmares
The color on which I lay my head in regret
Or wonder what the universe has planned next
It is the color of the sun’s rays
Penetrating me
Darkening my brown skin
To match the bile within
It is the color I wear to glow
Strangers think me exuberant
Innocent bystanders scammed out of their wits
It distracts from the truth in my eyes
From the yellow cowardice within
I wear it as armor
As a lie for the masses
For who would they be
Without their strong, confident leader
Who would they be if they knew I am weak
Gray patterned and vague inside
Unable to stay
Unwilling to leave
Exuding yellow sunlight
But following the black night
Castor and Pollux see behind the ruse
They know the yellow, mutable muse
The nomad who can’t stay
The two-faced changeling
Who is both beginning and end
Send in us clowns
We’ll make you laugh while we cry
We’ll make you yellow
Even when we’re blue

Poetry

Rise

The bottomless pit of hunger
Is akin to the bottomless hole in my heart
My appetite is for you
The taste of you lingers on the palette
I never want it cleansed
There can be no one after you
No course that will fill me
You were my last supper
You left that night
I died the next day
Where are you?
Come back to life
Rise from the dead
Raise me from the dead
Sustain me with your body
Let me feed on your blood
Save me from the fate you sacrificed me to
Because you did not know yourself


I realize this sounds like an Easter poem, but that was totally by accident…

Poetry

Masterpiece

I can see the music in your aura
Flowing through your veins
The passion is brimming over
Without words
I understand you wish to play for me
Play with me
I fall into you
Submissive
As your symphony begins

Begin measure

The melody starts simple
Your touch is light
Like the soft sounds of a violin
Like a caress of the piano keys
Equally attentive to black and white
And pink
You progress to high notes
Lyrics form in my throat
Low and gutteral
pianissimo

To the other end now
To the low, seldom touched notes
Your form is unmatched
Your eloquence unequaled
Ready for a quick sixteenth
A long fourth
The eighths in between
This consonance will be the end of me
My beautiful Apocalypse
mezzo-piano, mezzo-forte

rest
End of measure
coda

For a moment, you slow
My song pauses
Then, you bring in the orchestra in full force
fortissimo
I become a thorn bird
Singing the most precious, beautiful song
As though I will never sing another
We rise together in crescendo
I come alive and die in your arms
Our final forte

rest
End of measure

It is silent now
Our masterpiece ended
Instruments dim into a quiet harmony
My ears still ring from the sound
My body still trembles from the strum
I emanate vibrant colors
You gaze upon the wonder of your art

da capo al fine?
From the beginning, shall we?

Play me again…
Make me sing…

rest
End of measure

fine

Poetry

Love and Lust

Is this madness real?
Or is it the fire within me
Trying to break out
Looking for any target to engulf?

When our eyes lock
You see me and through me
At a quick, furtive glance from you
My secrets lie down at your feet

So, do you know?

It might be love
It might be lust
Be it neither or both
I must have you

What is in your mind?
What are the musings you blow to the wind
With the smoke from your cigarette
As you consider the sky and stars?
You are depth and substance personified
I am your eager student
On my knees before you
Teach me

What do you taste like?
Let my tongue wander and learn
I will wrap my legs around you
Squeeze you and push you deep
Until I feel the essence of you
In the marrow of my bones
I want to forget where you end and I begin
I am a dripping sponge
On my knees before you
Take me

Let me lay my head in your lap
Give into love as you stroke my hair
Let me lay my head on your chest
Give into lust as you stroke my bare skin

I ache to be in the vicinity of you
Shudder and stutter in your proximity
I’m ready to open any gift you give me
And, in turn, unwrap myself for you.

Maybe today,
I’ll gather the courage to say hello.

Poetry

Forgotten Things

Just over the hill is an old house
Nothing special about her, really
Aside from her mere existence
Yet, her appearance elicits a gasp
She is plain, but regal
When the glint of the sun hits just right
Her many windows render her splendiferous
At other times, they are like eyes
Watching you, following you
Seeing through you and learning your secrets
But, unbeknownst to the naked eye
Her foundation is crumbling

I step inside the house
I’m not interested in the winding staircase
The large, ornate rooms
The places where laughter once rang
I want to know her secrets, too
I find the attic, pull down the door
The ladder creaks like old bones
I fear they may break as I climb
The sight inside is not beautiful
Nor is it heartbreaking
It is a shrine to indifference
There are things
Little things and big things
Little knickknacks and little nothings
Memories suffocated by dust and left behind
Making friends with cobwebs and spiders

I feel at home here in the quiet
Making my way through the boxes
Trying not to disturb the years layered here
Lest I give life to lifelessness
Hope of rememberance
There!
In the corner!
An empty space that’s just my size
She knew I was coming
I inhabit my designated space
My place among the forgotten things
This old house
She will love us
Long after we crack and break from disuse
She will hold us
Long after the sun goes down

Poetry

Lying in Wait

I wish that you could see me now
I hope that a glance would tug at your heartstrings
Summon the memories you’ve suppressed
The me you’ve forgotten
The you that you were with me
These brown eyes would undo you with a stare
Not a penance stare
In fact, not one I could describe with words
But, you and I would know
We know what lies between us

I am a wilted rose
Winter has not come
The seed of life has not ceased
But, I refuse its care
I had learned to know every petal
To laugh in the rain
And under your gaze
I became even more extraordinary
In full bloom for the world to admire
But belonged only to you
I gave you me
Entwined my thorns with your own
We were broken
Yet, we understood
Rather than kill each other
We grew together
I became fearless
You fearful
Now I wait under the glass for a miracle
For you to stop searching for more than magic
I am not enchanted or enchanting
But, I will bloom for no one but you
I wait

Do you remember my spectacular nature?
The lack of normalcy that attracted you?
If only I’d known how normal you were
How very ordinary
I would’ve kept passion and lust at bay
I would’ve kept love in my bones
I would’ve only given you this temple of a body
My only thoughts of you
Would be of your touch in unspoken places
Of the way I opened for you
Of my kiss in other unspoken places
Of the silence after
Of heavy sighs of contentment
Not of sorrowful ones

We were a brief moment in eternity
A reason for this existential existence
The last glimpse of the sunset before the night
Before reality set in
You are my favorite star in the dark
The one that illuminates me
The one to whom I bare my soul
Not to God
Not to the angels
But they receive the peripheral privilege of this gift
I gaze upon the other specks of light in the sky
I compare them to you
For all I know, you could already be dead
And I’m gazing on the last vestiges of your life
Before you burned out
Before you left me
In death and life, you shine brighter than the others
I cannot look away
So focused am I on you romanticized memory
That I probably wouldn’t notice if you came back

Poetry

Word of the Day – Smithereens

Smithereens
That’s what’s you left behind
Pieces so small they turned to dust
Even now that I’m together again
I’m still a fragment of myself
A girl with one eye
Half a black heart
Yet, I’m awake
Scarred, but standing tall
Broken, but not over
Not fearless…
Quite scared, actually…
Yet, I’ll take in the sunlight and rain
Eventually, I might bloom again
Someone ready and worthy will pick me
Have eyes only for me
Cherish the beauty you could see
But could not love


Slowly becoming more consistent again. Thanks for hanging around and for the encouragement. Special shout out to you, Ruth! You always miss me. 🤗


I had a rough year and change. Still working my way back to the light. Happy to have my WP family. I’ll get back to reading and commenting soon. Love you guys! 💛

Poetry

Me and You

I am me
I am not you
You do not like me
Because I’m not you
You had a vision for me
A dream of another you
But, I turned out like me
You are disappointed

I am me
I am not you
Yet, fundamentally, I am like you
The ways in which I am like you
Are what you do not like about me
Because you do not recognize you
I am what you taught me
So you hate me

I am me
I am not you
You refuse to know you
You refuse to see me
You conjure this monster of me
Make me believe that is me
In those moments, I hate you
In those moments, I hate me

I am me
I am not you
Thank the heavens
I do not want to be you
I want you to be you
I want me to be me
I wish you could love me
As the me that I am

I am me
I am not you
I think that you hate me
I think you hate you
I love you
I love me
Can you learn to love yourself
And, in turn, love me also?

I am me
I am not you
And that’s ok
You are you
And that’s ok, too