Gin Soaked Visions

March 23, 2013

By: Magnolia

He dreamt of her standing there,

dead center in the midnight of Time Square.

He snuggled against the light post,

Beard choking neck and gin washing teeth.

Wishing he was drunk off her skin and  wrapped in her sheets.

And as he sat in the cold, damp rain, and tapped his toe to the rhythm of his pain

He held his glass up to the light and thought with some doubt & fright,

  “If I stare through this long enough, will I be free from all this stuff.”

Soaked hair and bottle to chest, he closed his eyes and imagine her, in a dark, snug black dress.

And a smile couldn’t help but brush upon his lips as he dreamt of this woman’s undying kiss.

Who was she? This Helen of Troy,

a woman who turned the men into gaga eyed boys.

She was the boom, bass,

the last and sweetest drop out of a borosilicate wineglass.

She was worth leaving it all behind,

Rumpus days of playing the field

 and all his fake egotistical shields.

She was all the S’ssss that slide and slip off the sides of your tongue,

Sleek, silly, sophisticated, selfless and selectively sensuous.

And when she walked, trees that even the wind couldn’t bend

Would recline against the breath of men just to see her walk back and forth

again

and again.

Even reality readjusted it’s disposition for her.

As she didn’t live by the rules, she bent them & made um’ blur.

Shaking his head, he reminisced about the good old days

When riding the bus as a little guy,

he’d get excited by just a whiff of perfume as one of um’ walked by.

Or throwing stones

making wishes for a woman that unhinged jawbones.

And now, the only way he can find an Athena, Aphrodite or a Nyx is by

staring at the bottom of his glass or by reading Jane Austen classics.

But never mind all that,

’cause he ain’t budging for no woman unless she’s worth the combat.

He wants to be apart of a new revolution,

constructed with transparency and framed with the buoyancy of clouds in union.

He wants to be unraveled and shape shifted.

Oxygen revived and see something worth lifting the lid of his eye.

And until that day, arrives

he’ll hold his gin up to the lights;

waiting for that one

whose heart is worth it’s wait in gold, who makes a revelry out of growing old.

___________________________

GIN SOAKED VISIONS

He dreamt of her standing there,

dead center in the midnight of Time Square.

He snuggled against the light post,

Beard choking neck and gin washing teeth

Wishing he was drunk off her skin and being wrapped in her sheets.

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And as he stood in the cold, damp rain, and tapped his toe to the rhythm of his pain

He held his glass up to the light and thought with some doubt & fright,

  “If I stare through this long enough, will I be free from all this stuff.”

 

Soaked hair and bottle to chest, he closed his eyes and imagine her, in a dark, snug black dress.

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And a smile couldn’t help but brush upon his lips as he dreamt of this woman’s undying kiss.

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Who was she?

(images: Sergio Albiac)

This Helen of Troy,


a woman who turned the men into gaga eyed boys.

She was the boom, bass

the last and sweetest drop out of a borosilicate wineglass.

She was worth leaving it all behind,

Rumpus days of playing the field

 and all his fake egotistical shields.

 

She was all the S’ssss that slide and slip off the sides of your tongue,

Sleek, silly, sophisticated, selfless and selectively sensuous.

And when she walked, trees that even the wind couldn’t bend

Would recline against the breath of men just to see her walk back and forth

again

and again.

Even reality readjusted it’s disposition for her.

As she didn’t live by the rules, she bent them & made um’ blur.

Shaking his head, he reminisced about the good old days

When riding the bus as a little guy,

he’d get excited by just a whiff of perfume as one of um’ walked by.

P3_large

Or throwing stones

making wishes for a woman that unhinged jawbones.

 

And now, the only way he can find an Athena, Aphrodite or a Nyx

tumblr_mk0qg6SLjR1qicobao1_500

 is by staring at the bottom of his glass or by reading Jane Austen classics.

 

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But never mind all that,

’cause he ain’t budging for no woman unless she’s worth the combat.

He wants to be apart of a new revolution,

constructed with transparency and framed with the buoyancy of clouds in union.

He wants to be unraveled and shape shifted.

Oxygen revived and see something worth lifting the lid of his eye.

 

And until that day, arrives

he’ll hold his gin up to the lights;

waiting for that one

whose heart is worth it’s wait in gold, who makes a revelry out of growing old.

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God you should have seen her, hemorrhaging with ambition while smiling in the harshest of heat.

She stood in the belly of that crowd, raised her arm in the air & matched her heart to the beat.

And suddenly every patron in the city, believers &  doubters, rose quickly to their feet.

Their fists pounding against the rhythm of  the wind; boom, boom, boom, boom!

Kinetic electricity surged from every cavity & splashed through every layer in the room.

Head high and shoulders back, she gave the deuces to anyone who didn’t think she had the knack.

Once the souls that questioned her are now asking for her signature.

Although in the dark & blind to the masses, she doubted nothing while lighting her own torches.

Bearing the brunt of naysayers & pile driving while supplying her own transfusions,

Every night she closed her eyes and challenged the dark with esoteric allusions.

She was a woman, but didn’t need to prove it.

Her ears had swallowed  broken glass and her knees felt the itch of mud and laughing grass.

And while it was in style to sport the scent of gin and sex,

She didn’t bother, she was a self-accepted reject.

All the while undeserving, with gut and grit, she pushed Sisyphus rock up and made it stick.

Her razor tongue savored the water of Tantalus and of others opinions, she could care less.

Unapologetic & foolhardy with determination, she fashions her lips with bona fied narration.

But when the crowd has dissipated she sits alone, contemplative.

And although she is silent in her tears, she paints only what she wants herself to mirror.

Saying nothing, she curls her fingers around the heart of the moon

She squeezes it in hopes of growing more immune.

A goddess, a rebel, a lady of ten thousand names, she breaths to the beat of her own drum, she is a consummate dame.

 

LIKE A VIRGIN

November 8, 2009

“My first time, hard to explain, Rush of blood, oh, and a little bit of pain On a cloudy day, it’s more common than you think. He’s my first mistake.”

A poetic description of a first time, two lines in Vanessa Carlton’s song ‘White Houses,’ tells the story of a girl who loses her virginity during a summer of love . For those that have done the deed, the first time is always remembered, no matter how good or bad it was. And for those that have not, the idea of their first time hangs inside their mind, colored with excitement, fear and the hope of mindful discovery.

But what does it mean to be a Virgin? Our society has a way of scrambling and re-defining words based upon the current trends of morality. I.e., if we are not kind then we alter the meaning of the word kind in order to sustain sanity, deflect our true reflection and ignore our flaws. We subtract, add, divide and multiply a word until it resembles something we can swallow, something that makes us feel comfortable in the unflattering parts of ourselves, something that allows us to be functionally dysfunctional.

These thoughts were provoked after I read an article on Wired.com called, “Artificial Virginity Hymen. Yes, It Exists.”   The article spoke of a vaginal gadget from Japan sold by Gigimo, a Chinese Sex Toy company. The $30 product consists of an artificial hymen that allows women to fake their virginity it reads;

“No more worry about losing your virginity. With this product, you can have your first night back anytime. Insert this artificial hymen into your vagina carefully. It will expand a little and make you feel tight. When your lover penetrates, it will ooze out a liquid that look like blood not too much but just the right amount. Add in a few moans and groans, you will pass through undetectable. It’s easy to use, clinically proven non-toxic to human and has no side effects, no pain to use and no allergic reaction.”

VIRGIN RESTORATION, FOR SOME, A CULTURAL NECESSITY

Although it is a nice thought to believe that the main purpose of developing an artificial hymen product was solely to protect women in countries where losing their virginity could in fact result in the loss of their life, unfortunately it seems more geared towards carnal reasons.

In cases where a woman is violated or is not born with one, hymen restoration is an understandable solution. In the Egyptian Islamic culture premarital sex is forbidden and can lead towards “honor” killings or violent punishments. In some conservative Muslim customs, violence or ostracism is a risk. In countries where virginity is held as a prized possession over a life, this product seems to be a necessary solution to a cultural rule of propriety that is only held over the heads of women and not men.

VIRGINITY, A BRIEF HISTORY

The origination of the word ‘Virgin’ comes from the Greek and Latin word maiden or “Virgo.” Virginity began as a term of power, often used in Greek mythology as a term of classification for Goddess such as Artemis and Hestia.  Hestia, whose name means “the essence,” is the goddess of Hearth and was notorious for her inner world focus rather than outer world focus.  Artemis, the Goddess of wilderness, wild animals, and fertility, is associated with chastity and as known as the protector of the venerable. These goddesses were immune to the temptations of Dionysus, the God of wine and seduction. In Greek mythology, Dionysus invented the process of growing grapes and creating wine. Woman and men worshiped him, dancing and drinking. The word “orgy” comes from these wild celebratory gatherings.

Virginity has played a pivotal role in history with the unbroken hymen being used as symbolism of purity. There is the case of Elizabeth Bathory a.k.a “Blood Countess,” a 16th Century Hungarian Countess who insanely bathed and supposedly drank the blood of over 600 virgins in order to preserve her beauty.

Virginity played a major role in one of the most famous reigns of all time, that of Queen Elizabeth the I; also referred to as the Virgin Queen, the Good Queen Bess, the Faerie Queen, Virgin Goddess and Gloria. Queen Elizabeth was the 5th and the last ruler belonging to the Tudor dynasty from November 17, 1558 until her death in 1603. It was her virginity that exalted her to a 45-year reign embroidered with mystery, power and tales of parallel allusion to the chaste moon-goddess Diana.