Closer
Special Note before reading further:
I've pondered long and hard about sharing this, and for good reason. This is a very mature topic which is definitely provocative and not for everyone's taste....In the end, I felt I needed to share--to point out something incredibly powerful I learned from dabbling in affairs of body, heart, and soul....
I guess, in an odd way I'm sharing what happens when you don't follow what you know and feel to be true, just to see what happens...to see if the grass is greener on the other side...so it's a poem with a story and a warning. The road back to self-esteem, self-worth, and spiritual healing comes at a very dear price--while I'm forever grateful for the miracle of forgiveness and the Atonement, I honestly would never want to experience that journey again, nor would I wish it on anyone, if I could prevent it.....
This was something I wrote after going through a very experimental point of my life, when I wandered and explored and ended up pretty much bitter and disillusioned from making some pretty awful decisions. Extremely poor judgement, in retrospect.
Funny thing about youth, that. Young, beautiful, and oh, so stupid in matters of the heart....
Around this time I had again started going back to my church again, in the attempt to get back to what I somehow always knew but had foolishly abandoned anyway.
I captured this feeling about my overall disgust and bitterness with the ultimate metaphor of "safe sex," i.e., a condom...
That. Is. A. Great. Big. LIE....There's absolutely nothing safe about casual sex....
Not something I'm happy or proud of, but just the same--it's one of my many scars and its imprints left me wiser and able to grow and progress into what I'm grateful I've become....
Make no mistake, there's honestly NOTHING casual about sex--the epitome of joining--physically, and so much more....the sacred ability to create a bond, to create a life....and the misuse of it truly leads to nothing more than heartache, loneliness, and empty regret and bitterness....trust me on this one. I turned away from things I believed and held dear in the efforts to try to obtain affection, closeness, and in the end that instant gratification nearly became my own undoing.
So deeply grateful I was able to eventually get back on the path that has brought me a deeper sense of happiness, joy, and eternal companionship. And, while I recognize my opinion might be in a social minority or even greatly unpopular--it's true for me nevertheless. And I own it, along with all my decisions, the scars, the lessons, the experiences, and the wisdom it's afforded me. All of it.
As an artist, I owe it to myself to reflect and share as brutally honestly as I know how....You can take it, you can leave it, you can love it, you can hate it. It's me, just the same. Thank you for reading this, even if you read no further. For those of you who wish to read on, I also thank you....
Eliza
June 29, 2015
I hate condoms.
I've pondered long and hard about sharing this, and for good reason. This is a very mature topic which is definitely provocative and not for everyone's taste....In the end, I felt I needed to share--to point out something incredibly powerful I learned from dabbling in affairs of body, heart, and soul....
I guess, in an odd way I'm sharing what happens when you don't follow what you know and feel to be true, just to see what happens...to see if the grass is greener on the other side...so it's a poem with a story and a warning. The road back to self-esteem, self-worth, and spiritual healing comes at a very dear price--while I'm forever grateful for the miracle of forgiveness and the Atonement, I honestly would never want to experience that journey again, nor would I wish it on anyone, if I could prevent it.....
This was something I wrote after going through a very experimental point of my life, when I wandered and explored and ended up pretty much bitter and disillusioned from making some pretty awful decisions. Extremely poor judgement, in retrospect.
Funny thing about youth, that. Young, beautiful, and oh, so stupid in matters of the heart....
Around this time I had again started going back to my church again, in the attempt to get back to what I somehow always knew but had foolishly abandoned anyway.
I captured this feeling about my overall disgust and bitterness with the ultimate metaphor of "safe sex," i.e., a condom...
That. Is. A. Great. Big. LIE....There's absolutely nothing safe about casual sex....
Not something I'm happy or proud of, but just the same--it's one of my many scars and its imprints left me wiser and able to grow and progress into what I'm grateful I've become....
Make no mistake, there's honestly NOTHING casual about sex--the epitome of joining--physically, and so much more....the sacred ability to create a bond, to create a life....and the misuse of it truly leads to nothing more than heartache, loneliness, and empty regret and bitterness....trust me on this one. I turned away from things I believed and held dear in the efforts to try to obtain affection, closeness, and in the end that instant gratification nearly became my own undoing.
So deeply grateful I was able to eventually get back on the path that has brought me a deeper sense of happiness, joy, and eternal companionship. And, while I recognize my opinion might be in a social minority or even greatly unpopular--it's true for me nevertheless. And I own it, along with all my decisions, the scars, the lessons, the experiences, and the wisdom it's afforded me. All of it.
As an artist, I owe it to myself to reflect and share as brutally honestly as I know how....You can take it, you can leave it, you can love it, you can hate it. It's me, just the same. Thank you for reading this, even if you read no further. For those of you who wish to read on, I also thank you....
Eliza
June 29, 2015
I hate condoms.
Rolled. Powdery.
Plasticking inside,
Stretching wide around
the very fiber of
release.
It's all about.
Prophylactically choking.
My space, my air, my mind--
my coming heart
my coming heart
inhales the burning
bitter rubber offerings.
Socially.
Smoothing them down.
Pat all down
nice and easy--
like "buttah."
Just like the pillows
in the morning.
Unreal.
I've yet to feel
THE ONE THING.
Is that ME that's
oozed into that reservoir tip?
If I let it?
Is that what I amount to
after all?
Torn.
Wrapper discarded.
Condoms kill
the urge, the rush,
the touch of
two thoughts converging--
just a thought.
Out there.
Smothered.
Sterile.
All yours.
Alone.
Hiding under the blanket
of "Responsible...."
Riiight.
To keep me in the shape
of your toy,
nice and safe-like
from feeling.
Again?!
Ugh...
Just. FAKE. It.
Scream to protect....
That's what you
really mean
what you
really are
what you
really bare
when you
pull it over.
Tight.
For the time being,
Taut to be friction,
taught to be clean.
Immuned. Dry
from penetrating gush
of
from penetrating gush
of
the sharing,
the closing of eyes
in me
to me
on me
with me.
How long can you last
against me?
Go ahead and put it on....
(Originally drafted 2/24/98, Rev 6/29/2015)
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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!