Honeymooners Anonymous

Here at honeymooners anonymous, we welcome people coming from every stage of lustful self-destruction.

We particularly aim to help those who are addicted to the honeymoon phase.

Yes, addicted. And pills can't fix it.

Because when you first meet a person and their lips taste like honey, you assume that they must always taste like honey, that you and them will be in a stasis, a trance, a tasty eclair filled with a never-ending flow of creamy love.

But one day your beau eats onions. No longer tasting like sweet sugar, you stop, re-evaluate. Why settle for onion breath when there are honeys buzzing all around you?

The full moon comes ever so soon, and before you know it your love is gone too.

Every full moon you transform, like a werewolf, from a man to a rabid creature.

On the hunt, on the prowl, so here you are. Seeking perfection.

An immaculate pair of hands to hold, fingernails trimmed long but not too long, French manicure and Italian perfume. Perfection.

Milky white skin, free of sin, eyes that glow in the dark and a jellybean nose.

Cute laugh, mild manners, independent, grim at times, happy at others, a perfect lover.

Will kneel at your feet, raw and sweet, and complicated with many little bittersweet parts like a pomegranate.

Oh where is this perfection you crave?

Here at honeymooners anonymous, we have only one piece of advice:

Eat an onion and see, that you're not perfect too.

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Happiness is Pink Jellybeans

Happiness is jumping in a pool of pink jellybeans Feeling the cool candy on my skin Happiness is enjoying the pleasures of life Without worrying about confessing my sins Whoever said that we are gluttons For biting juicy pears on the beach Must never have felt the sand in their toes They must have placed their own soul out of reach And what about greed? It's not all that bad To bury a pile of chestnuts for the spring All animals do it, so why shouldn't we? If it's greedy to love yourself, let it be Lust is the one that makes pastors blush Yet it's one of the greatest joys in the body A kiss and a dance, laughter and romance Why did we ever label this happiness as naughty? Have you ever seen a cat sad when it naps? It is okay to sometimes be lazy The body needs rest as does the mind Or the world will set fire from the crazy If happiness is a sin, then let me smile in hell Looking up at the do-gooders above For to live is to err, to cry, and to sing Happiness is pink jell...

Lost in Rio

Jesus looks over The lost souls and bones below In the jungle sun To witness such beauty And such devastation God painted with one brushstroke Merry men sing Holes in their shoes The dark night lit up By police sirens And the crescent moon Bats flail around Like me, lost in the jungle Eyes glaring all around I hope they're monkeys Or jaguars I hope I can keep a piece of This country with me Safe in my pocket It smells like tropical rain And feels like The clam shells Washed up on the shore It tastes like fried bananas And heavily salted steak Sounds like seabirds cawing Samba on the streets And looks like a page From a storybook About parrots and palm trees Of finding a golden treasure A magnificent, uneasy place When she sun goes down So do we Leaving the night To the creepy crawlers And innocent stray cats

I See the Fire

Every time I close my eyes, I see the fire That aches where you burned me last I am a woman of the earth and the cool soil Where life ferments and earthworms roam I can't survive the lava that pulses beneath The crust of this beautiful land Yellow dandelions piercing the grass Emerald pockmarked with gold I wish sometimes that I wasn't a woman of the earth I wish that I were stronger I wish that my bones were made of steel And my heart of flame So that I wouldn't fall apart at every Crude remark, every Light tug, every Covert attack That rolls off the back of a fire-woman Instead, my skin is transluscent Like the morning dew My muscles pieced together With tree sap and mushrooms What's an earth-woman to do In a world engulfed by fire? But root herself firmly to one place Grow a network of twisting underground limbs And create a stable home To escape the chaos of this world

Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

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