Manuela Cardiga's Blog, page 66

REVELATION THROUGH MEDITATION

The Sound
Of One Hand Clapping
Was the Guru
Wanking

Manuela Cardiga

GOD BE NOT PROUD

God, forgive me that I have learned
to love thee more
in this frail flesh
alabaster shimmer
fragile cup
holding a flicker
of thy
divine spark.

God forgive me
that i was so bold
as to have found
completeness
mirrored in
the spinning hope
of another
human spirit:
thy immortal soul


Manuela Cardiga

LOVE IN MY HEAD, SONG FROM MY BED

i want
i want
he moans
and in my head
my granny said
"young whores
don't make
old bones"

i stand
and cock my hip
tits high and toned
hair tousled
slightly stoned:
first customer
has purple lips
fat and shiny
with sequins
of spit.

i want
i want
he moans
and in my head
my granny said
"young whores
don't make
old bones"

after,
uncle var-var comes
takes my money
bites my cheek
fucks me
and hits me
when i weep

i want
i want
he moans
and in my head
my granny said
"young whores
don't make
old bones"

my fault
for being weak
for being afraid
to speak, to say
"no...i wont go"
when papa said:
"you go to work
it is far, but i spoke
to uncle var-var,
there's 6 of you
and i can't cope"

so that night
when i felt him grope
i thought:
at least there
i will have hope,
it can't be worse
than this curse
of hearing
my father moan:

i want
i want
and in the next bed
my granny said
"young whores
don't make
old bones"


Manuela Cardiga

OUT DAMNED SPOT!

You can imagine
My surprise
When my shrink
Just plain refused
To analyze
My new craving.

The man went raving
Mad- proverbiallyMad as a hatter!
Can you believe that?
And threw down
His notebook and pen
With a clatter,
Tore out his hair
And screamed:
“It does not matter
To me one jot
If a polka dot
Is a spot or a blot!”

Let me tell you
I was so shocked!
“Get out”
He screamed
“Out! For I swear,
You stupid bitch,
My trigger finger’s
Developed an itch
And I just can’t decide
If I blow you away,
Or beat you
Within an inch
Of your stupid
Futile life!”

I was a little miffed,
So I left, taking
With me all
My swatches
Of spots and dots,
And blotches?
Really,
I’m rather saddened.

My passion
For the beauty
Of patterned
Fabrics and
Decorating life
Is so ill-received
By a man trained
To perceive
The deeper truths of
The human psyche?

It is really very,
VERY sad.
Next week,
I will try gingham.
Surely he can’t
Find fault
With that?

Manuela Cardiga

MUCH HAVE I SEEN, FAR HAVE I TRAVELLED; ALWAYS BEFORE HAS TRUTH UNRAVELLED

(disappointed)
I stand with my head
To one side
Quizzical child:
Am I toy?

(disappointed )
I stand with my heart
Astride a divide:
Do I play?
Do I hide?

(disappointed)
I stand with my mind
In a bind:
I know it is
All a lie.

(disappointed)
I stand with my eyes
Opened wide:
I bide my time
And watch for random
Reasons for disappointment
In your smile.

Manuela Cardiga

SHORTCOMINGS

The best story
I ever heard
Was about a pig
And a poke.

Well,
A pig IN a poke.
Cause see,
When we talk
About Piggy-Heaven?
What the old folk
Never spoke
About was…

Well, Piggy Orgasm, see?
And we not talking about
SHORTCOMINGS here,
But about thirty
Bloody minutes
Of wedded bliss!

If you somehow miss
The point?
PIGS DON’T SUFFER
FROM PREMATURE
EJACULATION!

And to add to it all,
Lady Pigs, here-forth
Referred to as SOWS,
Who, quite unlike poor cows
Or female humans
Engage in an anatomical
Wonder known as
The UP-SUCK
When stimulated so
Ably to ecstasy
By the Piggy-Poke
(not to be confused
With a human reaction
Known as The UP-CHUCK
When inadequately served
By an under-par stroke
Oh hell!
Let’s not be coy!
A pretty bad fuck!)


Manuela Cardiga
From "Shortcomings and Second Comings"

I WENT LOOKING FOR SHOES AND FOUND MY FEET

I went looking for shoes
That felt right:
Satin (bright red) or skin
Untimely ripped from dead
Crocodilian smiles,I paid no mind.

I went looking for shoes
That combined
With the varying shades
Of my fickle mood
And flattered me the way
A good shoe should.

I went looking for shoes
To dance and romance in,
And attend to business
More bitter than the
Transient flicker
Of love in my life.

I went looking for shoes:
High stilettos
Or low mules,
Slippers with ribbons
Sandals with crystals or
Odd heels shaped like pistols.

I went looking for shoes
And looking down
Saw the odd delicacy
Of toes budding
And wiggling with delight
Grasping at the ground.

Like Frankenstein I exclaimed:
"It's alive, alive!"
I think the shoe-salesman cried...

Manuela Cardiga

TWO VIRGINS - An Ode to John and Yoko

Come. Let us now set aside Our separate pasts
Here let us begin:
Two virgins.
No masks
Will I set before you,
Nor will you wear mine. 
Let us set the stage
Here sit you, Sir, right there-
Now: pour out the wine
A toast and we shall While away this very night
In high argument And metered rhyme.~
Do your worst, Be not kind
Throw at me Your sharpest arrows
Lay caltrops fit to pierce My mincing pride
Stretch my vanity On the vivid rack
Of your integrity.

I swear with equal passion I will reply
“Think you so to best me, Sirrah! Not I!”
Lean forward into the light
Bring down your brows
Fix well my face,
Ignore the vile distractions
As our traitor hands Conspire to trace
Another story In each others palms.
Ignore them!

Mold your discourse:
Oh I beg you Do your very worse
Bite out your every word With rapier grace;
Lay out your argument,
All the intricacies of lace.
Make me earn my victory,
So while our fervid minds contend
Our gentle fingers touch, And still we pretend.
I now lean in to deliver One final triumphant jibe,
And find my own hand blocks it
Fingers spread wide;
Hopelessly, helplessly Trying to hide,
My mouth - swollen And pregnant With kisses:
It also will not lie.


Manuela Cardiga

CROSS-ROADS

I choose.
Every day starts anew.
My gift, my choice.
So today I say:
This is the way,
The path I follow;
And who can say
Where I'll be tomorrow?

Here is a cross-roads,
An invitation to a new dance

Oh will you not
Take a chance?
Quick! That-a-away!
Will you not join me?
Or will you shy away?

When you flee from pain,
You hide from joy.
And even as I believe
You do but toy
With this odd choice
That I may be;
I choose to play,
I choose your path
For one more day.

And then tomorrow
Who can say?
I may choose
Another way.

Manuela Cardiga

SUMMONING A WILD WITCH-WIND

I tear up the old map and take another road.
I will set my feet on a shadowed lane
Perfumed by sweet verveine,
I kick off my shoes- I will feel
Barefoot my way on the tender green
And cut soles will bring me no greater pain
Than to the Mermaid who loved in vain:
Poor fool, who gave up her voice
And traded in her free life and choice
In the glassy wilds of the endless sea
For bloodied footsteps;
Such a thing is not for me.

I will walk and perhaps at the end of this very day
I will pause at some cross-roads
And let down my hair.
I will hold wide my arms to summon
And become a weather-vane
Follow my tumbled wind-tugged mane
Down another way
And there… who knows?
Perhaps, someday; a welcome-home,
Someone to lay claim to heart and soul.

Today we start again, free of past and stain:
Nothing, and no pain, is foreordained.


Manuela Cardiga