Working Hard.....

Head down, bum up, working on re-working a manuscript for what must be the umteenth time. At least, thanks to a good fairy in the shape of a kind Editor in Chief, there is light at the end of the tunnel for this danged MS. I'd almost given up hope for this little romp of Vampires and Witches, Zombies and Mafia hit men. There is even some sexual tension between a younger NBA player and the Necromancer heroine.

Of course, my two other books are languishing on the back burner at the present...and their characters are pissed at being ignored. Then again, there are the partial riffs from song lyrics running through the dread sub-conscious.

The time seems to be kind to all the cousins: perhaps it's because the Harvest moon is coming soon and the days will be cooling down. The darkening of the days, the bright orange of the Hunter's moon....oh, these are things of inspiration.

Long Time and Lots of thinking....

It's been a while since I posted anything of substance. A lot has been going on in Real Life and now I find writing has had to take a back seat.

My novel has been suffering for that. However, it too, has taken a life of it's own and decided to add a new character. Steven Rand is the Voice of Reason and will provide a nice counter-point to the emo-driven Vincent, who is turning out to be such a toad. Joy for me, to have such strongly emotive characters to write about, but it does make me wonder what is sneaking it's way into my Kashi cereal!

(BTW: Steven Rand is based loosely on a friend and neighbor who begged to be in this book. Whatever oddities I bestow upon him are figments of a disturbed imagination!)

I am waiting for Isabella to tell Pilar's story, since we were both there when our cousin, once removed, was a little naughty on a Girl's Night Out. Oh La! It was a fun night, but I've seldom had to resort to actually dumping water on an over-eager 'gentleman.' Aunt Fern would NOT have approved....
Of course, Aunt Fern would not have approved of her neices dancing the night away either. Oh la! *Naughty giggle!*

Anyway, back to the slave mine. Be wicked and salacious. Dance.
Love
Kennedy.

Fringe Times

Well Darlings,

Cousin Isabella and I went to the Opening of the Fringe Festival last night. Sadly to say, the fringeiest thing tended to be the shortness of people's bangs. It seems if you are to be considered "artistic" around here you have to have a really bad hair cut and chop your bangs up to your hairline.

However, I did put in many plugs for the Divas (take THAT as you may!!!) so look for us at the Festival next year. I even plugged away on television with an Eskimo name Eddie. Never mind. Dirty minds do rock.

Oh la!

And here you may have thought that Scarlet was the naughiest cousin....(she is, but I try, I try. I just have a naughty way of saying things aloud....)

I did get into one little bitch session with a Clown about footwear. Really, his shoes were so...ordinary. Brown oxfords are not funny. They're just brown. He slandered my black high heeled designer pumps. I told him he needed to be wearing them. Really, some clowns just can't take a joke.

So, onward and forever.....onward. Aunt Fern would have been thoroughly scandalized by the soiree last evening. I envoked her name several times, since she is my guiding light in all things.

Love
Kennedy.

Song Sung low at Twilight

Sail Away.
From so distant place
Aquamarine
Sail this ship
As far as it will go.

Sail Away, Haul Away.

The hands explore
Galaxies un-named
Sail this ship
With Careful Stewardship.

Sail Away, Haul Away.

Land Locked Sailor
Take this Tribal Canoe
Steer by Stars unfamiliar,
Salt Encrusted bones, Haul Away.

Sail Away, Haul Away, And Haul Away.

Night Tears

Like a fool my ears listened to words of
Common Sense (sense of common rule)
When my heart said “No, No!”

And I broke my soul in two.
Walking away, dying to the core of me.

Leaving you behind. Making excuses that
It wasn’t the Right Thing, It wasn’t the Right Time,
You couldn’t be the Right One, I couldn’t be feeling the
Real Feelings.

Hurting me, Hurting You.
Never to know how you felt,
Not giving you the chance to ever feel,
To ever express:
I walked away, being the one to use you
So inexcusably.

Listening to the words of Common Sense,
Given to me by the Voice of Common Rule.

(Why the Fuck did I ever listen?)

Deep thoughts and small tears

Who knew that I would be posting so much poetry, but this has been a busy week for it. A woman's inate ability to cry for joy or for sorrow is so widely misunderstood and in these days of Paxil and Prozac, too often we are denied the sheer natural ability to sheed tears genuinely.

So, I don't know if anyone else will read this, or even understand, but I need to cry when I am sad. It is an honest reaction. So, to me is writing about loss and sorrow and joy and lust. Writing is an outlet.

I challenge everyone to write and let their emotions out. Even the scary ones. It's healthier than loading up on prescriptions or reaching for the wine bottle.

Love
Kennedy.

How can a Heart?

How can a heart so broken keep beating?
I watch the shards of a life, scattered around me
As a mosaic, none matching, none fitting,
Broken beyond an artist’s hand to assemble
Into order, into a kindness of pretense.

How can a heart so pierced have structure?
I ache for the fullness once believed to be
Belief in more, belief in Self.
Emptied now, drained away in futility on the altar
Of the Others’ Ego.

How can a heart so empty keep on beating?

Loss of a Dream

Walking Blues Man


Walking Blues Man
Walk on through my dreams
Whisper your secrets
Sing me your blues
Touch me in Secret…
And walk on through my dreams.

I found the real walking Blues man
He seared me to my Soul,
He smiled at me from miles away
Took away my breath
Now has walked away for good.

Walking Blues Man
Walk on through my dreams
Whisper to me your secrets
Sing to me your blues….
Promise me no magic
And walk on through my dreams.






August, 11th 2007.

Kennedy Calls to her Love

Shifting Sands

What movement of hand or eye
Can pull the pendulum of my lust
That my tongue, my mouth
Hungers for taste
Of your brine?
I long to feel the heft
Of your weight
Nestled in my hand;
Breathe the heated musk
That is your scent, alone.
Throbbing, I sit, as though
In perfumed seraglio,
Awaiting you pleasure,
Craving to feel you against
My lips, my face.
Echoes of Lunar events
And Earthquakes break
Across my skin,
As desire shudders through me,
Anew.

More Poertry of Eros from Kennedy

Glenn Gould playing
As lips explore outlines of body
And taste salt
Of tears and sweat.
Bodies arching together
As communication, ancient, primal
renew heat.
Fingers trace on skin, patterns the
Runes of the sorcery of Eve.

--------------------------------------

Pearl

Born of grit and salt water,
Pain, irritant covered over,
Becoming object of lustrous beauty
Held against my skin,
Shimmering in this candlelight,
Nippled flesh,
Pearl to pearl
Treasured.

---------------------------------------

The Lovers

Lips brush, then follow the contours
Of the much loved face.
Differences of texture are savored,
The rough and smooth.
Planes of cheekbones, jaws and forehead,
This wondrous symmetry:
The song of flesh made joy.

The beauty of form is discovered,
Arms, hands become objects of desire.
Fingers trace patterns on skin-
Mystical runes of flesh and sinew;
Time is held back,
As lovers explore the universe of being
One with another.

Kennedy Sings Erotic

Summation (working title)

Thrill of joy as I am
Pulled into your arms;
Surrounded by your
Delight
Discovery;
Kisses raining gentle
Across my face
My eyes,
My lips,
Oh tenderness!
As reverence becomes passion
Becomes Exultation
Becomes breathed
Worship.

Bloody and Proud

Knocked back
Knocked around
Better try and hold me down,
‘coz this Bitch,
She’s come back around.

Cover your ears if you
Don’t like my words.
Hide your eyes if my style
Burns your world.
Don’t think you’ll change me
Don’t you think others haven’t tried?

This Bitch is still standing,
Yeah, I’m still standing,
Bloody and proud.

Cousin Scarlet

My beautiful Cousin Scarlet has her Blog site up and running and she looks so damned glamorous, as always. Always the beauty, the wild child, the one to entice and entreat. We all wished we could be Scarlet, even for a day.

I have some more poetry coming your way. Some is a bit erotic. So children, if you don't like my words of poetic desire, cover those little eyes of yours.

Kisses,
Kennedy.

Kissin' Cousins

Katie!

Oh do I 'member playing those kissing games. I 'specially loved getting tied up to the kissing tree down by the creek.

Aunt Fern near had a conniption every time she'd call us for supper and we'd be late 'cause someone had tied those danged knots so tight. (I'd never complain, somehow!)

Probably goes a looooong way to explaining a thing or two these day.

Love and kisses,
Kennedy

Kissing Cousins

Dear Cousin Kennedy,

Thank you for the warm welcome home from the dude ranch. Do you remember playing "the marriage game" out under the apple tree with me and Scarlet? This trip brought that experience pleasantly to mind.

Love,

Cousin Kate

Mad Girl Poem

Don't ever write poetry when you are white hot in rage. Wait a week and then write.

Please note: I never name names. Anyone reading out there: this is a work of fiction.

The Retreat where there are no Amenities

Cunt Energy to the Maximum
The fairy and the woodchopper,
Ready to sell our brand of righteous
Mindfulness.

(We can make you believe it’s only your bad habits holding you back. Hold my calls!)

Don’t hesitate, if you are blocked as Creatrix!
Buy our line of Brand X
Cognitive Behaviour Modification
With Added New Age terms and potions.

(Sprinkle some of your fairy dust on that one, Babe. She needs some ‘Special Time” with you in the Pagoda.)

We will
Encourage the sycophants,
Clear out the rebels, and cut down those damn
Nonconformists.

(All that’s blocking you is your clinging to un-natural fiber clothing. Here’s a line of bamboo fiber clothing that will unblock that dreadful knot in your chakra.)

Cunt Energy to the Max. Rev up the engine Babe, it’s gonna be a long night.

The Debut of the Divas

The Darling Divas, as we came to be known, are the four fabulous neices of the one and only, Aunt Fern. Separated by family, location, and circumstance, we four would be shipped off to our Aunt's care each summer for a dose of 'good clean living and Godliness' as only this kindly, upright, God-fearing Lady could dish out.

Needless to say, we ran rampant as only four girls could. Aunt Fern's lectures sank in only skin deep and we scrubbed up only well enough to pass her inspection to attend Church with her on Sundays.

Her views on the world, life, sexuality were deeply rooted in her Southern Baptist upbringing and a particular view her own Victorian mother had instilled in her.

We cousins survived and to this day have our own world views, oddly shaped and honed as they are, no doubt thanks in part to this little old lady, who had never to this day has met a lesbian, even though one of her neices has been openly gay for more than two decades.
"Isn't it nice dear, that she has someone to live with, since she is a spinster?" has the cousins roaring with laughter until we are ready to pee our pants.

My 'Home' is a place for my writing. Later, you'll find links to the Cousins, the other Diva's and Aunt Fern has absolutely PROMISED to share with us some of the advice she has dished out over the years. (She has her own Dear Aunt Fern column in her small town newspaper. I kid you not, it is a gem. We Divas subscribe to the four page weekly, just to read our Aunt's eye-popping, jaw-dropping wisdom.)

Love to all,
Kennedy.

Kennedy sings the blues...

So yeah...I'm a frustrated song writer. Not so frustrated in other areas, but sometimes a lick will just stick in my head and won't let me go.

Ahah! So this here is a Blog. And y'all know what happens in Blogs. Frustrated writers, songwriters, photograhers and the like get to rank to cyber space.

And this is one of those times.

Kisses....

When the once upon a times don’t happen
We learn to save ourselves.

No knight in shining armor is going to appear
On his white stead,
Once you get a few grey hairs
And a few miles on your odometer, Baby.

Wake up, look around and take a deep breath.
Take out your own trash, straighten up those shoulders and smile.
If this is the hand that is dealt you, let’s take the house down with it.

Gonna roar, gonna dance, gonna go down swinging if I have to.

Brick by brick, I am taking apart the wall put around me.
Placed by well meaning, well intentioned people,
Frightened people, who thought that they could contain what they couldn't understand.

But this woman won’t be held down by bricks and mortar, by chains of guilt.
Steel, gold or silver rings won’t stop me now, and knowledge is the sword that will cut through
Such mundane metals.

Gonna roar, gonna dance, gonna go down swinging if I have to.