Lookout

No need to look for love. Love is within you. Love is freedom. Some people have to work at it. Some don't. Love doesn't always come origanically while others don't have to work at love... we keep loving even though it may end up in heartbreak. 

Here's one from a series of poems borrowed from song lyrics called 8 words...  

Where do you look for love? Even climb a tree for a look? This doll has!

It's fun!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

So simply a look can break your heart.

We are one through the darkness breaks light

Creatures kissing in the rain, In the dark

Along the path where the stream is talking.

In the distance there's a gathering far away.

Though no one did appear and make real

They cut the cast, the music, and lights.
This is my line, this is eternal. The

Small voice in the back of my mind
Yesterday reading the lines. In the mirror through

Deep within divinity let's start another secret show.

Part your lips more; I'll swallow your fear

Closing my eyes, kissing them one last time

Calling tears from deep inside, you're so exquisite

You'll love the eyes. Have they always shown

That ghost you love, your ray of light?

So simply a look can break your heart.

Cause now you've paused to break my heart.

Hungry eyes waiting for life flash, to see 

I left here there darkness and found you.

The shadows betrayed you and I that night.

Will I ever come around or you have

A need to see those lights, like rain.

In flames is where I can be found

Cause you know where I'll be found and 

I'll gladly accept the gift I've been granted.

We've never given up before on this stand 

The words remain. I hold to the light.

We run this light take a little life.

So lose your past. It’s in the way.

A thousand lights are burning bright darkened light.

The way things seem to me right now

I thought we pushed toward the same ends.

You've got something to say, so you say

When, remember when we were all so beautiful?

All that is surrounding, somewhere between, a dream.

No fear of death, no fear of life.

This place where I belong, with all erased.

The truth you hide was you all along.

*Track Listing

...But Home Is Nowhere

Now The World

Miss Murder

This Time Imperfect

Kiss And Control

Beautiful Thieves

Too Shy To Scream

The Lost Souls

The Despair Factor

This Celluloid Dream

Strength Through Wounding

The Last Kiss

The Hanging Garden

3 ½

Lower Your Head And Take It In The Body

Don't Make Me Ill

Darling, I Want To Destroy You

I Am Trying Very Hard To Be Here

Love Like Winter

Silver And Cold

This Secret Ninja

Two Of A Kind

Aspirin Free

The Checkered Demon

Salt For Your Wounds

Consult My Lover

The Boy Who Destroyed The World

Dream Of Waking

Girl's Not Grey

Narrative Of Soul Against Soul

Of Greetings And Goodbyes

Catch A Hot One

The Prayer Position

Three Reasons

Swimming

It's a great day for swimming... Too bad this doll is caring for her very important body art or she might just join in that thought!

Sometimes you have to swim for your life or else... Here's one about a life situation amidst the great blue lagoon of the ocean?

Have you ever gone swimming in a great blue lagoon?

This doll has! It's fun!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Lifeboat

(2-18-2010)

Everyone of us sitting here is thinking the same thing. Who’s going to be next? Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch. We all have to eat now and someone has to survive to tell the story. Who is it going to be?

Surrounded by water. No sign of land or rescue. Nothing but the level ocean reaching out and meeting the horizon. The day’s grow long and time even longer. Ginger runs her small red fingernails along the white rim of the wooden craft. Delicately the wind dances through her strawberry blonde hair that sits beneath a small straw hat shielding her slightly blushed face from the harsh sunlight. The gentle breeze is a much needed relief to the last day’s heat. The color of my own skin is bright pink speckled with new developed freckles. I can only imagine what is left of my face. Several layers of burn have peeled away, leaving a feeling of raw tenderness. Frightening thought for a teenager girl to realize her face is missing.

We’ve been adrift for 42 days and no one is getting any wiser to our missing. Uncle Joe, although the fact has been overlooked that he’s no one’s uncle, says it is cause the boat sunk too quickly and there were no flares. No signal means no survivors. Obviously they’ve stopped looking for us sometime ago. Mr. Shannon, an older gentlemen insists on being formally addressed because his undisclosed first name is effeminate, agrees with the latter idea. A signal would have been the right course of action. We should have most definitely found a way, someway, anyway to identify our location. The late widow Michaels, I mean, Alice claimed the harm had been in taking only one lifeboat.

How could 8 people possibly have survived on enough rations for 5? Rations meant only to last a week, and it took exactly one week before they started dying. Food was gone within one and James, Robert, and little Susan followed six days later. The Andrews children were far too sickly to have survived much longer than that. Traveling alone, the children were accompanied by a doctor and nanny. Both guardians went down with the ship. The strapping twin boys provided enough food for several days, but alas poor Suzie went overboard. Just watching the poor lifeless angel drift away seemed wrong. Her little body still like a doll, eyes left wide open to eternally gaze upon the heavens.

Alice followed the children 25 days later. But she didn’t go from a lack of food or water. It seems that despite our food predicament we have plenty of water. It was her heart. At the ripe age of 65 she seemed spry enough. But needless to say, looks can be deceiving. Alice must have known her time was coming. Before she passed she left me with a warning. “Rynn, please pay close attention to these men. Never doubt for one second. They will kill you for survival. As a child I suspect you will not understand that kind of malevolence.” By next morning she was gone.

Day 43 brought the arrival of Mr. Shannon’s rather mysterious departure. Since Alice had passed away we had all be sleeping in shifts. Paranoia brought the fear that anyone sleeping more than another would be found dead. There had been no assassination attempts as of yet. At least it seemed that way, until then. Daylight crept across the horizon illuminating the ocean in a bright orange red haze and revealing the small detail that could not be disregarded. Three remain. Without any explanation, the morning light shared the truth that one was missing. In the spot where an older man should be seated, there is nothing. No watch, no glasses, and no clothing left. Just as though he’d never been, gone without a trace.

Of course this infraction divides us further. Ginger and Uncle Joe never fully trusted each other, but without Mr. Shannon, the boat becomes a defined civil war. Him vs. Her. Me the helpless child stuck in the middle. Not a referee and incapable of taking a side. By the 48th day adrift there was no more water and no chance of rest. Uncle Joe sat in the stern of the boat with madness in his stare. Ginger on opposing end, looked more like a ferocious tiger rather than her usual delicate rose. Between the two, I’m deadlocked wondering what will happen.

Soon enough wonder becomes a reality. Ginger reaches beneath her skirt and pulls out a flask from within the folds of fabric. Apparently she’s been hiding a personal supply of water. A flask cleverly strapped to her thigh using the remaining pieces of her garters. Carefully she waves the tiny metal container as if taunting. Uncle Joe isn’t at all amused. Upon seeing this he storms across the little boat and demands her to concede. All the while the boat sways up and down under this chaos. Smiling she hands over the flask with a hint of laughter. Greedily Uncle Joe drinks until there is clearly nothing left. Wiping the sweat off his brow, the brutish man begins to waver. His feet and legs seem to come out from beneath him. With one sweep of her arm, Ginger pushes Uncle Joe right out of the small boat. She quickly reaches over to hand paddle and instructs me to do the same on the other side. Together we begin rowing away from the downed man. It seems almost unnecessary as he never makes any attempt to get back in. In fact, there’s no sign of his body. Down to the depths he sank like a rock. Ginger smiles and settles back into her seat.

50 days have passed and the time seemed appropriate to reveal the true nature of the disappearance of Mr. Shannon. Sitting at the stern I’m playing with the rope that connected our small vessel to a larger one. Ginger motions for me to bring over the rope. “Come on Rynn, bring the rope and I’ll show you how to tie a proper knot.” Cautiously I make my way over to the other side of the boat with the rope. “Rynn darling, did you think what I did to Joe was wrong? You aren’t mad about that? Tell me honey.” I shake my head no and smile reassuringly. “That’s good honey. Oh hey, you can tie a knot. Let me see that. I know what this kind is called… Wait, don’t tell me. It’s the kind you use on…” But it’s too late. While she’s looking at the insignificant knot, I’ve made my way to the side of her. With a quick movement I wrap the rope around her neck and tighten. Off goes the straw hat while the strawberry blonde hair flies wildly with her head shaking in an attempt to break free.

Calmly I explain the specific details about the deaths. One by one, aside from Uncle Joe, I handled the unsavory business of elimination. Alice spared me the trouble by passing in her sleep. Survival of the fittest. The children were of course the easiest. Fragile creatures would have suffered needlessly. Mr. Shannon found me with the poison before I was about to pour it into the water supply. It didn’t take much effort to take care of him. Old man never stood a chance. Can’t swim and couldn’t hold an anchor. I’d tied it to his foot and pushed. As the noose robs Ginger of her last breaths I explain, “So you see, here’s the answer to this all. I’ve managed to hide a little water of my own and there’s going to be enough food until they find me. How would you like me to tell them you died?”

55 days out to sea. Poor girl stranded all alone with barely enough food and water. That’s how they found me. Deprived and isolated little Rynn Thompson, the sole survivor of an ocean liner wreckage.

Lovelies

Sometimes I think that all anyone needs in life is lots of popcorn and a few Lovelies

~ Sam Savage

Perspective

Perspective. It's not how things are it's how you see things... No matter where you are, you are always with you. Time grants you perspective and sometimes you write or photograph about it; I did. A novel that encompasses many viewpoints of same events because the world has many perspectives. 

I used to write about my past loves and I don't want to do that now. I don't want to exploit any person I cared for in an open exposing way that wasn't positive without their permission. Borrowing quirks isn't the same as facing your flaws on paper. It's an interesting conundrum. Photograph them? I don't know yet. A few of my favorite artist Kens once told me it's not a good idea to paint or draw your paramour but some artists do & it's amazing that it works out fine too. So I don't know. Maybe? 

Here's a 300 about the different versions of love. Love has no versions. It is not controlling, selfish or manipulative. Love is freedom. And when it hit's you... you least expect it to. You are taken hold and it's amazing that life is this beautiful everyday... That's perspective! Love & light!

Would you photograph, draw, paint or work on your paramour? Do you have a version of love? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Version

(6-29-2011)

He says this is love.

His version of love carries no commitment.

From day to day to day, I want the same thing and he hardly knows his own name.

Some might tell you that you have full free will when it comes to choosing who you love, when it’s not really like that at all. You have no choice. It’s like a pothole in the road. If you’re lucky and see it in enough time maybe you’ll miss it.

The day before yesterday he tells me that I need to think about what I want. We’re hardly talking at this point but I need to know what I want. It’s important that I know what I want, especially when he doesn’t have a clue.

Talking is what I want. This isn’t what he had in mind and says there’s nothing to say when there is everything to say.

Where is the love he talks about? I can’t see, smell, feel or taste it. It’s not something that I can put a finger on but he says it’s there.

And even when he walks away from me, he says it’s still there.

My heart is scalded by the love that he keeps talking about.

His love, his love, his love. Where is it?

What about our love?

If we’re a pair shouldn’t it be shared?

Before I can even imagine what it would be like to share love he pulls the rug out from under me again.

Love isn’t one-sided. There’s no version where it is all take without give.

But that doesn’t change how I feel when he tells me this is love. I want to believe this is love but everything he does and says contradicts that truth.

His version isn’t genuine.

It isn't love.

It isn’t truth.

Bend

You bend the world to your whim. If you're lucky it's already bent for you! If travel the world, you might be surprised to look at what you might see... It's beautiful

Here's a 300 about a road trip...

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Passing through

(10-07-2010)

Car broke down, eh? Want a lift? Get in. If you’re not too picky there’s a truck stop up a ways. I can drop you there on my way. Oh, I’m not going too far. My place is up the road a bit further than that. So where you headed? Just passing through to the main road. That’s an odd way to come by things. I guess there’s nothing like scenery. It’s just… well these parts are uncommon to outsiders. Oh not to worry. It’s not that anything bad ever happens round here, it’s just that since the money went out of the area and through the main stretch of highway not much sense in people stopping. See there’s the old diner right there. Ellie’s. Been out of business six months now. Old Ellie and Frank Bass used to run it. Yeah it was her namesake. Frank was a bit of a romantic in those days when they opened the place. Served the best apple pie you’d ever tasted in your life. People would come all around for that pie. That’s a shame cause you’ll never taste it. And there’s Manhattan gas. Closed since last year. The fellow that ran the place fell out of touch after it shut down. Such a shame. There used to be a soda fountain in the front that served the coldest pop you could find in these parts. On a hot day there would be a crowd hanging out. Funny thing is you would have had something to eat and that car fixed right up by now if they were still open. Something about those old places closing makes me a little nostalgic. Ah you wouldn’t know about that would you? Alright, here’s your stop. Nice to have the company. Don’t forget us now.

Fine

You can not test the water in life. It's fine to just get in! Live! Love! Breathe!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m

Test the Water

(5-6-2010)

Honey. Go on now. It’s your turn. Well, what are you going to do? You can’t stand on the edge of the pool all day. There you go… a little closer. Test the water. A toe? Come on. The whole foot. Silly Girl. Of course it’s cold. You will adjust to the water once you’re swimming. Yes. I do know what I’m talking about. Stop shaking your head. It’s ok to be afraid. Just don’t let it stop you. When I was a little girl I didn’t know how to swim either. Your grandpa had to show me out at the McGovern’s lake. And we certainly didn’t have these little floaters you have. Keep going. The sooner you get in, it will feel better. That’s a girl! Like that. Both feet in. So brave. I was actually a bit older than you when I started to swim. Much more afraid than you too. Grandpa had to drag me out to the water and drop me in. It was far worse than being dragged to the bath tub. What a commotion it caused. Goodness gracious! I thought I was drowning in shallow water. A-a-ah. Leave those feet in there. Or I’ll put them back for you. See, there I was, putting up a fight. Just like you right now. Of course, nothing like your pouty little lip trying to be angry with me. Soon enough, I found out my kicking and screaming was about nothing. Took to it like a fish in water. Almost so much that I wouldn’t get out. Not even for dusk. Nearly took your two uncles and grandpa to wrestle me out of the lake that evening. I spent most of that summer swimming in the lake. Go on now, get it over with. Just dive in.

Dream Roomspiration: Kites

Tyler Shields Photography

Dolls! You can't fly a kite if you don't have a string but you can decorate with them!

Dream Roomspiration: Kites

Would you decorate with kites?

Barbie would!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Longing...

You can not miss someone who doesn't miss you back. Instead of longing... Belong to yourself first and foremost. Love yourself and you'll never long for anything. Real love is; you believe, you trust & have faith in it; it does not need. Kisses, m.

Belong

 (2-22-11)

 

I belong to no one.

He tells me “I’m setting you free.” 

I tell him “that’s alright,” because I enjoy being free. Solitude isn’t a prison like everyone sees.

When he says it with that tone, I know he wanted a different response that I didn’t give. So he stands there waiting for me to do or say something else.

Anything.

And I don’t.

 

I’m not backing down.

I jumped all the way in and he’s still afraid to get his feet wet.

Come on in darling the water is fine.

You’ve come this far, why not stay and swim.

 

His face stays fixed in amazement still waiting.

I’m quiet.

 

Before he tells me that he’s “setting me free” he tells me that he wants “space.”

Well darling, this is what space feels like:

It’s quiet, you can’t breathe, your stomach is sick and there’s no where to land.

Guess some people can’t handle Zero-Gs. It makes them nauseous.

 

He’s staring at me with his broken half green face that hasn’t been shaved in three days.

If he’s letting go what more can be said?

I’m wondering when he’ll lose his cool and blow.

That’s a funny thing about a stand-off…

Someone has to end it. Or draw first.

 

And he draws.

He tells me that he’ll leave.

 

What’s he want me to do?

Scream?

Kick?

React with a knee jerk response.

He’ll still walk out that door whether I give him one or not.

 

I say nothing and watch him walk to the door.

He slams the door shut instead of walking out it.

Nothing can be done with his fear.

I wish he would commit instead of playing this game.

 

All these things he tells me aren’t what he wants.

He wants to belong.

To belong to someone.

Ripple

Ana Mulvoyten Ripple c/o tyler shields photography

Some dolls and Kens love creating ripples in still waters... Well here's a bit of dream architecture just for you!

Ripple by Locus Architecture

“RIPPLE is public space as sculpture activated by weather for enticing people to create experiences in their city. Shaped to move in response to wind or the push of a passing pedestrian, visible from multiple locations, programmed with activities, and lit at night, RIPPLE stimulates the curiosity of children and the attention of adults.”

Would you enjoy RIPPLE?

Barbie would!

Enjoy! 

Kisses, m. 

Dream Roomspiration: Giving your room the Red Dress Treatment!

Roadrunner in a Red Dress c/o Tyler Shields

Barbie knows that some dolls absolutely love to wear their favorite red smock out and about while strolling amidst the warm climate. Even in the desert! It's quite impossible to leave the sheer sexy feeling of wearing that red dress behind. So what's a doll to do? Especially when Ken's favorite dress is that red one. Hmm? Decorate with it! From top to bottom give your room the Red Dress treatment and go all out with a bold RED!

Dream Roomspiration: Giving your room the Red Dress Treatment!

Would you give your favorite room the Red Dress Treatment?

Barbie Would!
Enjoy!
Kisses, m. 

Another Taste of Red?

Ana Mulvoyten's Red Lips c/o tylershields.com

Some women change their lipstick like they change partners. Different colors for different seasons. While some men change their women the same way. Unlike their oh so unique fingerprints... They use the same technique, the same lines and quotes to seduce women over and over again thinking that nothing changes... Well although the women change it doesn't change the type of women who they pursue. Just like the quotes, the lines and the seduction. Oh well, if you're looking for love...  guess you shouldn't look too far for the same thing if all you want is the same color of red. 


Enjoy the story! 

Kisses, m.

Taste

(August 3, 2010)

You’re not gonna get very far if you’re looking for love. I don’t believe this. But that’s what I’m hearing tonight from the man at the bar. He can’t believe I’m wasting my time with her. I tell him not to worry. It’s just a couple of drinks. Nothing really. He says he knows my kind. The same kind that falls in love at least three times a day. I tell him if I’m lucky… only three usually it’s five times. He laughs with me getting the joke. I buy him a drink before returning back to her.

She’s easy on the eyes and has a smile like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life. I can’t help but notice she doesn’t look at me when I’m talking. Not the same way I’m watching her. And I can’t stop watching her. She’s watching the door, the floor and the back corridor. Head turns and she’s licking her lips. Soft wet lips that are toying with the cherry in her Midori Sour. Bright green sets off that fire engine red like a neon sign. Every syllable makes me swim deeper and deeper in the thought of kissing those fiery red lips.

From the first moment I laid eyes on her I couldn’t help but think of kissing her. That magic moment when I knew I’d never meet her then she walked up and said hello. “You can call me Daja.” So I offered to buy her a drink. Tells me I’m absolutely delicious beneath the dimmed lights. “Divinely delectable.” Then she licks those red lips and smiles before agreeing.

Daja isn’t sitting for much longer after we finish the second round of drinks. I try to leave and she stops me by feigning sadness over my absence.

“Don’t go,” she says.

“I’m only going to the bar. We need more drinks.”

“I don’t need another drink. I just need you.”

“Alright. Tell me what you want from me.”

“Right now, I want you… to sit with me.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Sit.”

But something has her attention. Within minutes she is excusing herself and off to the ladies room. I don’t know why she made me stay. I think I see her talking to someone in the tight expanse of the back corridor, but it’s much too dark. There are bright red lips leaning inward with arms circled around a tall dark body. But it could be anyone. I get up to get another round of drinks.

“She’s not the kind of girl you’re used to.” Pipes up the old man once again. He‘s nursing another long neck and I’m ordering another round. I tell him to explain. Says she just the kind for the evening. A bird that flies at night if I get his drift. I ask him what exactly is drift is. He says that there’s more to be seen by the likes of my kind. I nod and turn my head. The bartender tells me to keep it down and wait my turn. I look around for Daja. She isn’t back yet. I’m reminded to mind my own business in the company of strangers.

“Don’t be stubborn, now” he speaks up again.

“Yeah,” I try to speak without an attitude, but it’s hard to miss.

“Yeah that bird ain’t the scene. Watch your step around that one. She’s a bit wild.”

“Good to know. Thanks for the advice. Bartender those drinks?”

Bartender ignores me and keeps after the other patrons. Daja is no where to be seen. My strange friend keeps on talking. There’s a ruckus in the back of the bar, but the old man stops me quick.

“Listen up. Listen good. Better men haven’t been the same since she got her claws into em.”

“What?”

“Tell me the truth. Ever been in trouble? Cause that’s trouble.”

I shake my head, but he keeps on talking. Rumors and tales. I’m not hearing much, but it keeps coming. Hospitals, homicides and suicides. He goes through at least ten or more before I’ve had enough. Cause this last one has a pair of teeth in that bites into my head. Literally.

There’s something unmistakable about her teeth. I’ve been seeing it all night. I can’t completely put my finger on it, but it is completely captivating. The way she curls her tongue against the front and makes a whistle sound with her ‘esses’ is not like anything else. Far from displeasing like a lisp. Intoxicating. I think that’s why I prefer her talking. I’m absolutely hypnotized by it. Nothing I could say could be interesting. Even talking about her bubble gum flavored Tic-Tacs is captivating. All I can see is her mouth move. When it makes the shape of an ‘o’ it’s more than arousing. When she moves her lips everything I’m supposed to be thinking about is no longer important. I’d burn down the building if she asked me to. Hell, I’d kill the bartender if she asked me to. I want those lips. I want to tear them off her face and eat them I'm so sick with desire. I can taste her kiss.

Daja has her bright red lips wrapped around my neck in a tiny grip. Those lovely incisors are creating just enough pain for me to enjoy it. She reminds me we don’t need drinks. I agree and walk away. We aren’t in love, but this is more than just a few drinks among strangers. I ask her about the bathroom. She smiles and talks about a line. I just keeping nodding and we leave. I don’t know why we’re leaving. Daja keeps saying “Come on.”

There’s a commotion as we exit the bar. No one is watching us leave. There’s the shrill sound of several women screaming as we walk out into the parking lot. I’m watching her lips. Not her face. Just those lips. Focused. It doesn’t matter that her lipstick is smeared. Or that there’s a spot of something on her forehead. She’s watching me walk. Watching me steady, with a desire in her eye. Watching me the same way I was watching her glide through the bar earlier. I try thinking if she was there already and I can’t remember. That moment before her lips seems to go all fuzzy. Fuzzy like the light outside of a misty window. Not quite clear, but you know its day or night by the shape of the shadows.

She laughs and tells me “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s get something to eat.”

“Alright honey, how about right now?”

“There’s nothing here.”

“Oh. Don’t be silly. Of course there is.”

She looks me up and down then makes that “o” with her lips. That captivating outline. Enticing. It’s all over with again. I’m nodding. Listening.

“Now honey, you’re gonna come with me and let me have a tiny nibble on that lovely body of yours.”

“Yes. I will.”

It hurts so bad to hear the words, but I can help but go along with it. I could walk away but I don't want to. I’m hers and she knows it. That pretty smile and red lips. Lips I want to taste. Need to taste. I’m following her deeper and deeper into the nothingness of the night. I forget about my car. Forget I have a name. I just want to go with her. I want her to take a taste. It’s ok.

There’s nothing sinister about it. We’re walking in the dark until I’m completely enticed in a paralysis. Frozen as Deja undresses me like a peeling the skin off of a chicken breast. Once bare, she takes those pretty teeth and sinks them into me. It isn’t my neck or mouth she wants. I still want those lips. Completely aroused by their movements. I want them to chew off my face. But that’s not what she’s doing. I can’t help the satisfaction I’m getting as she devours my flesh. It’s absolutely gratifying and I want her to keep going. Keep tasting.

Piece after piece, paring as she makes her way up and down. Tasting. It’s intoxicating. I can feel everything. There’s nothing but those red lips. In this moment I don’t exist. I’m where I need to be. My body aches and twinges as she works. But I don’t want her to stop. More fulfilling than anything else. Those teeth are hypnotic. Every one of them. Razor sharp. Special. White. Brighter in the dark than the light. Something about them is still the same. I can’t place it. Smiling bright red lips look my direction. They’re slowing. I can’t see her face. I don’t care. Just those lips. I want them more than I did earlier. My mind is running towards it. Calling me. Closer. In my reach. A taste. A touch. A kiss. I’m alive by those lips. She’s done. I’m satisfied. I don’t believe it… Nothing else matters.