ask me with your hands up... (valleyblossom) wrote,
ask me with your hands up...

  • Mood:

stiff necked fools

I dont take good pictures because I have the kind of beauty that moves.
Current mood: indescribable

To no one in particular and for everyone who has ever wasted there time on vocalizing how pretty I could be if....
if what....?
C'mon I dare you!!!
I am not your average beauty... And I dont give two shits about your shallow perception of who I am or what you think I deserve as dependant on what you see when you look at me... look through me. It matters not that I dont fit the mold of what you learned and relearned and relearned and had drilled into you that beauty was supposed to look like...

I once existed in a funk that dwelled beneath my bare toes like Na Pali Coast mud that seeped through the cracks in my calloused feet leaving its colored smear on my pale skin for weeks post the invigorating 11 mile trek home.... This funk loomed beneath me for most of my life until I found the courage to let it go... to laugh at the vanity that did not recognize the beauty of someone like me. In essence to shed the shroud...
I would give my all to you if you could just be true and humble yourself to be seen with someone like me despite the heads that may turn... Are you scarred? Are you fucking that weak?
Ive come to the conclusion that I turn heads everyday for better or for worse... in both admiration and in utter repulsion at the manner by which ones perception of me rowks what they have been taught.

If there is one thing that I am sure of when it comes to this physical body ... This overt obvious version of me.... the one that you cant help but see...
the one that makes you thinks that you know....

Do you even know who I am?
Sometimes I have the urge in my mind as I am having one of those "what I could have said moments after a confrontation with someone, to play the card of one of those talk show geusts who get up out of thier chair, pull down thier booty shorts and start screaming to the audience "You dont know me!" Except I really dont want to make it that simple for you, I sure as hell dont wear booty shorts, and I would rather keep the emotional response in my head and heart while articulating something incredibly affective like: ""I am not what you expected am I? Tell me a bit about these expectations... Or, ... "Just wait untill the reprive!"

But thats not always my stregnth... Like my son I am impulsive, like my mother I run deep, like my father I have the ability to give and take to such a degree that I will never cross you... I will let you think what you think and say what you say without for a moment stepping in the way of your OWN discovery of what an asshole you are... or can be...
The path of your evolution is not at all up to me...
But unlike my son I am three decades long and my ability to curb my urge is remarkably strong.
Unlike my mother the depths of my most deep are not shackled by corkskrews, flasks, 6 packs and whatever is cheap.
Unlike my father I will say what I must not for your evolution in this life but for my own "My tattoos are my stretch marks. See where Ive grown?."

I am humbled by sunsets, my hindsight is keen and I am honoring all the stregnths that yet remain unseen.

...and Im not looking in mirrors to uncover thier existance because I never look the same from day to day, from mirror to mirror... I feel that my face is always a wee bit distorted or maybe thats just the way I manifest.... However you slice it the mirrir in my mind that shows me the reflection of my very own face, my body, my stomach that housd my son, the fall of my arms, the shade of my multicolored skin.... none of it looks like it does in my mind in the mirror...

Some of this is from a lifetime of experiences, for better for worse in this exterior and some of them are because I believe that mirrors are fucking distorted. I believe it is both... Maybe 50 50 ... or possibly 62 - 38 ..... Or some combination there of....

However you slice it I cant trust any image of me that I see because it slows me down, drages me back into that funk that I WALK UPON... AT LEAST IM ABOVE IT... I start to believe it. ANd thats when its dangerous. Once my feet become caked with the thick oozing kalalau soil the ti leaf gets wraped around my hair for added balance and my steps must glide for fear of slipping onto my ass.
"Walk like your not even there" I remind myself...
Walk like your not even fucking there and eaze on past the funk.

So thats what I am doing one step at a time...
So I tell you my friend, that I really do not mind the way you percieve me when you analyze beauty. Just dont get angry if I flash you a smile in your fucking shallow stiff necked moment.

You cant catch this shit with a lense... SUCKA!!!!
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