Friday, December 28, 2012

Inner Pain

I am dying of unhappiness, sadness, weary of my life.
I have no one to blame but me, my own stupidity my uninformed decisions. When we are young we see with naiveté what we want to see, what should be, what we think it is. Sometimes someone to save us, love us and help us. We don’t see the truth.  Nor do we understand that this decision will only end in a form of misery.

How could I have been so stupid so blind?  What looked good what tempted me and drew me were all lies. Close family, loving relationships, lies, all lies.

Why the bloody hell did I work so hard to make it work, why was I so desperate?  Thirty plus years down the road and I can’t answer that question.

Now I am stuck, too old to change it and scared to do anything about it.  Tired of the put downs and the nasty comebacks and then I am the only one to apologize.   I am so tired of soothing other people’s feelings; they rarely take into consideration mine... Okay so I am mostly talking about one person, maybe two.

I think I feel a little better already, so of, maybe, oh fuck, screw it.

Now wouldn’t that be nice, a good hard fuck.
I could certainly enjoy that, might even help with the depression, I know it would make me feel better for a little while. Before I die.


Thursday, December 27, 2012


I love you all, but whoever slid that feather up my nose please pull it out.  Ten sneezes, crossed eyes, tears sliding gown my cheeks, it, it, it AH  AH deep fast breathing, CHOO..  I can't stop sneezing.  
I, I, ah ah ah ah ah deep breath, oh okay good, AHCHOO ..  The inside of my nose is being tickled by a silly nymph who insists that I, AHCHOO look cute with my eyes crossed trying to sneeze, and getting, getting ah ah ah,  exhale, almost there and then stopping, eyes still crossed, ah ah ah AHCHOO.

Okay fess up, whose feather is this?

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Saroya's: What Did You Say?

Saroya's: What Did You Say?: What You Say how you say it Did they understand or misinterpret? Reword speak slower try not to give offence Yet…..It didn’t work ...

What Did You Say?

What You Say how you say it
Did they understand or misinterpret?
Reword speak slower try not to give offence
Yet…..It didn’t work
They take offence where none was given

Try again saying it different, and then wait
Ah not again I cannot say another way
Seems to give offense no matter what I say 
I wonder if they really listen

Notice that they do not try to phrase their words
Just open mouth and blurt it out, no care
Then expect you will not care or will forgive
So they say all manner of things that show no thought

Just open mouth insert foot, I have done that, with no ill intent
But sometimes I wonder do they really listen or only to themselves
So maybe for a while I will say not at all, and then only say what I mean
No matter if they understand or take offense
If they have to think just what was said will they know or not

The issue is, can I do that, yes I can
But will I do that, I know how,
But it has been so long that I am not sure
Should I shouldn’t I only time will tell

Saroya Poirier     October 30, 2012

The Vietnam War and the Traveling Soldier

Traveling Soldier

I was working at the Carvery Restaurant at Seattle Tacoma Airport in Washington State during the Vietnam War. In 1968 I was 20, not really old enough in those days to be considered an adult, 21 was the golden age of legal adulthood.  Still I had married at 17 to a Navy man we had two babies by the time I was 19, separated when I was 20.  I moved out of Seattle proper and into the suburbs, in south King County in the winter of 1968 my son Dale wasn’t even a year old.    

There was at that time a large anti war fight going on, not a happy time for our GIs no matter what, where or who, coming home or being deployed.  To give the illusion that they were sending fewer troops overseas they adjusted the times the troops moved though the Sea Tac airport.  This false front was supposed to calm the anti war hippie movement.  Now before you jump on my hippie remark, I had been married to a Sailor stationed aboard the USS Kitty Hawk aircraft carrier off the coast of Vietnam, RR was in Saigon.  I was young, not well informed, and under educated at the time.  That happens when you quit school 16 to get married.  

Recently someone said to me that troops travel by military planes yes and no.  The government was sending a lot of troops to Hawaii and Guam (?), before they deployed them to bases in Vietnam. I only know they flew out of Seattle Tacoma Airport using commercial airlines.   

When I first started working at the airport I would see the boys wandering through the airport, reading, eating, sleeping, or just talking together.   They were already there when I went into work at 4 PM and fewer were then when I left at midnight.  Then it changed, it reversed, fewer GIs when I went to work, then at 10 PM the airport would be flooded with all branches of the service.   

The point of this walk into my past is the Song, Traveling Soldier song By the Dixie Chicks (they have been punished enough so get over it)We would be swamped the hour before we closed with America's finest young men ages 17 and up, many drafted and those who volunteered.  

They would sit at the tables and flirt, laugh; was I available, did I want to spend the rest of the evening with them.  More than one young man who asked me to marry him so he had someone to come home to, someone take back to Missouri (insert state of choice) to meet his folks.    They laughed, smiled, and were scared, would they come home, or would the die in that war. 

It was the first war where film came quickly, the first war we saw on TV sometimes as it happened.   

I had not a clue what to say, so I smiled said I hoped to see them on their way back home.
Then there was the young man from New York, he wouldn’t smile, not just scared, but sure he was going to die that he would never see his family again. I tried to say "don't say that"  but he was sure he would die, just like his brother. What do you say, what he said could happen, it did every day? I wanted to tell him he was wrong he would be fine, in the end it was all I could do not to cry.  I don’t remember if he told me his name.  But I listen to this song and cry and think of all those eager young men I saw in the airport night after night, and I hope some of the boys I waited on in the Carvery Restaurant came home alive.

Saroya Poirier   October 30, 2012

Travelin Soldier, written by Bruce Robison in 1996

Two days past eighteen
He was waiting for the bus in his army green
Sat down in a booth in a cafe there
Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair
He's a little shy so she gives him a smile
And he said would you mind sittin' down for a while
And talking to me,
I'm feeling a little low
She said I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go

So they went down and they sat on the pier
He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care
I got no one to send a letter to
Would you mind if I sent one back here to you

Chorus: I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone when the letter said
A soldier's coming home

So the letters came from an army camp
In California then Vietnam
And he told her of his heart
It might be love and all of the things he was so scared of
He said when it's getting kinda rough over here
I think of that day sittin' down at the pier
And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile
Don't worry but I won't be able to write for awhile

One Friday night at a football game
The Lord's Prayer said and the Anthem sang
A man said folks would you bow your heads
For a list of local Vietnam dead
Crying all alone under the stands
Was a piccolo player in the marching band
And one name read but nobody really cared
But a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair

Chorus: I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone when the letter said
A soldier's coming home

No One Else to Blame

I did this to myself; no one else is to blame
I was blind I saw what I wanted to see
When things went bad I stayed I should have walked
I stayed; more fool me, blind stupidity

Why did I do this? What happened to me?
Why did I let this happen to me?
I can’t believe that strong women turned into this
For what, more misery, screaming in sanity

I am and was so fucking stupid, today, yes even today
Now I am too old for it to make any difference if I go or stay
I hate being made to feel guilty for every little fucking thing
I didn’t spend thousands of dollars at a bar for years
I didn’t spend thousands more at a country club pretending wealth

I was dunned to death about piddling items on a credit card bill
Now I am too scared to go, to old and scared to start over.
In some way I feel defeated, but that wouldn’t be entirely correct
I wish screaming would fix it, change it, make it better, it won’t

So, I will do what I can to make me happy, fix what I can,
Tell the rest to fuck off

©Saroya Poirier   October 30, 2012

Friday, October 26, 2012


There is hair down here to protect your pussy from invasion
The barrier does not keep the snakes out, that is misinformation
This clump of curly hair can harbor some tiny critters, eek have a care
There are creams, lotions, Lysol or complete removal of said pubic hair

Sugar, wax cold or hot, razor, tweezers, scissors and Nair 
So rip it, cut it, pluck it, melt it, and just take care
If you are lucky that short curly hair may disappear
Nevermore would you need worry you’d be forever unfurry  

If all you do is trim your pussy beard beware
Five o’clock shadow can there appear
Prickly, itchy, scratchy, to sharp for flesh so tender
You wouldn’t want to prick a prick of your friendly contender

Bare it or leave it furry, no worry
Bare is how I prefer, not much work now, don’t smirk
No 5 o’clock shadow no prickly pear, no hair there, just bare
Been doing it so long it’s now down to twice a year 

So you see there are some perks for my disappearing pubic works
Now if only when he comes in for a little taste
He will appreciate the softness when we interlace and first shave his face

©Saroya Poirier    October 26, 2012

Friday, October 12, 2012

The Wonderful world of the Internet

The internet is both wondrous and horrific.   We learn, explore, and are bombarded by ads, spam, scum, friends, family, lovers and strangers.  It is all very overwhelming at times.   An email saying this politician lies; this is the truth, when in reality what they are sending you is not the truth.  Unless you are diligent, do your own research you could easily believe all the hype, the crap being sent via the internet.   Oh don’t forget the beggars, send me this, I need that.  Sick children who in reality are all grown up and very healthy, they no longer neither want nor need used Christmas cards or that dollar you are asked to send.

In the privacy of your home, bedroom, study, closet, you say, do and act in a way you night never do in front of anyone you know and certainly not someone you don’t know.  You trust that the person on the receiving end of your email or text is being as truthful as yourself that is if you are really naïve.  Some of us are truthful, honest and open with those we interact with via the air waves of the internet.

As for believing everything you read we worry about our grandparents being taken in, though that does happens, it is our children that can be most damaged by what they post or read online.  Bullying and sexting can you imagine trying to explain to your grandchildren that you sent obscene pictures of yourself to a boy that turned out to be a old pervert when you were 12. 

Heck it was hard enough in the early 1960s for a girl who gave up her virginity to a boy she thought she loved, only to go to school on Monday and have everyone calling her a whore as she walked to her locker.  I had that happen to me. 

There are days I just cannot listen or watch the news.  The problems of the world look at me from my computer. Listening to the radio I will hear several times in the hour local or nationwide news.  Then throw in the international goings on, it can just be too damn much.  Just how informed do we really need to be?  We can’t solve the world’s problems; we can’t even solve our own.

Maybe we should stop trying to help people who don’t want us to help them, and don’t seem to care if they get their own act together. Ever hear of the old adage of “God helps those who help themselves”?  So just when are those other place going to help themselves, fix their own towns, cities, countries?   Ever? Never?  Whenever.

Saroya     Saturday October 12, 2012

Thursday, October 11, 2012


Wake up, roll out of bed
Turn up heat
HOT, perspire
Turn down heat
Open window
Put on sweater
HOT, perspiring
Take off sweater
Put on shawl
Take off shawl
Put on sweater
HOT, perspiration
Hot cold hot cold
Hot, fucking sweat
Cold hot cold hot
When will it stop?

Horses sweat, men perspire, but women merely glow 
Hysterical laughter fills the quiet void
Menopause, not for the faint of heart
Excuse me while I put my clothes back on, I’m cold.

Saroya Poirier © October 11, 2012

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Message Composition

I, we, but… well maybe
No, never…well not really
Time, timely… not enough

You, him, they… oh hell
Then? When? I simply cannot
Here, there… just everywhere

Have you? I have, try it now
You can, I did, so why not?
It isn’t so hard, move your lips

Now stand, don’t just sit
Okay never mind, go to bed
Don’t toss, don’t turn…sigh

Do what? Develop a thought?
Gee whiz, what a concept
But the time is almost up

Alright, if you say so
Good day for now
Typically me

©Saroya Poirier    October 9, 2012

Dedicated to Dave Rose and Luke Burbank

Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Kiss

There is an empty space in my brain
Only the static noise inside my heard
A hole where my soul should be

Taken on a moonless night,
Taken flight that night
Snatched so quickly I hardly felt its loss

Should I be worried that it is gone?
Should concern fill me with dread?
Will something else fill me instead?

I wait, quiet in the night, hiding in the light
Waiting just waiting, keeping out of sight
Quickening pulse, fighting for breath

Someone has come no fear no fright
A cold hand to hold, eyes that glow
He has come for me to have and hold

He brings something to replace my soul
Pulling me out under the moon
Listening for the sound of hearts that beat

Listening for you to come
Needing you close to kiss
Taking your soul so quick

You’ll hardly notice it is gone
I promise this with my kiss
Follow me now before the light is come

©Saroya Poirier   September 29, 2012

Thursday, September 13, 2012

My Own Personal Torment

One persons torment is someone else’s circus. When telling your life story or a small part of that story someone will say, “well mine was worse”.  It may have been worse, a lot or just a little.   Every person’s “torment” is different; it can, might or will be hurtful.  Mine is not better than yours, yours isn’t better than mine, for both of us, “it just is.”

I can’t speak to the horror some go through, I have been present when they spoke of it, in essence relived it and I can’t even begin to imagine and I don’t want too.

Some are tormented by others for years, bullying at school or at home. Some torment themselves over something they had no control of, doesn’t matter how awful it was or sounds; only how it affected us.  The effect can play with you all of your life, even when you have done what was needed to rectify, solve or change.  In that case you logically know, understand and work for the change, you can see it.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a psychiatrist, psychologist, therapy group or otherwise it always ends with us having to solve it ourselves in order to “move on”. 

These professions are supposed to help you help yourself, give you guides to do just that.   Suggestions that help, not tell you exactly what to do.  No matter how good a doctor or therapist, for the patient this is a lifelong process. It never really goes away.  We are supposed to look at it, get it out, push it away, each person does this differently. 

For me, most of the time, I write poems, good poems, bad, funny, nasty, even scary poems.  Sometimes I rant and rave and that is ok too, I am getting it out. I have already seen a therapist who studied what happened to me and many other women, she showed me how to look at it, process it, tease it, and get it out.  So I sit down and write something.  I feel better after I do, that usually includes tears, a little talking to myself or the dead.  It really isn’t unusual for me to talk or argue even to scream about a subject when I am alone.  Occasionally I solve that problem, I get it out, I own it.   You may even see this on my blog, occasionally something comes out of my own primordial ooze and bites me in the butt.  As they say “shit happens”.
The phrase for those who have been though therapy laugh about these words, “And how does that make you feel” often repeated by your therapist. It isn’t really that micro second in that room with your therapist, it’s deeper. We need to see and feel, that long ago emotion of the traumatic event itself.  You can’t heal what you can’t see, so put a band aid on it for now. Take one step at a time, where have I heard that line before?

  The object is to look down that long line of your life find that moment when the “thing” happened.  Look at it from outside if the pain is too great to relive it in the moment. But look at it; see what you did next, how that moment in time may have helped you unconsciously to make decisions.  We may say I hate that he/she did that, hating the moment isn’t going to get you anywhere.  Really!  You have to go back look real close know that fear or hate at age 7 or 17 or anywhere before during or after those arbitrary ages.  That is a start, from there you can go anywhere, self pity, outrage or just “hell no”, now let’s fix what we can. We need to look at it, understand, deal with then put it away.   All the time knowing that it will rear its ugly head again at anytime, that is okay, you will deal when that happens.    

If you tap the dragon when it’s asleep, don’t be surprised when it eats you.

All this came from a nightmare last night odd very odd.

Saroya Poirier    September 13, 2012

PS  I forgot to talk about my personal torment, oh hell, if you want to know just start reading my older blogs..  If you embarrass easily you might want to skip the poems about sex.. or not.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Turn on the Lights

Three times I walk the hall
Three times I think
Three times darkness

Tears times three
Hesitation times three
Standing still times three

They are in the dark
They wait for me
Trusting that I will come

Looking down the hall
Quietly checking each room
Sitting in the dark watching

I know they are gone
I know they don’t wait
I know they are in the earth

Laying in darkness forever
No longer waiting for light
No longer waiting for me

But still I think
It’s too dark turn on the light

For Bunnyman and Charlotte

©Saroya Poirier    September 8, 2012

Friday, September 7, 2012


Hairy feet, hairy toes
Hairy pits, hairy nose

Hair for this hair for that
Sometimes tit for tat
Imagine that

Cover hair, vanished there
Shave it, clip it, wax that hair
Smooth as silk or prickly snatch

Winter hair, summer flair
Scrap it, pluck it, chuck it
Grow it, hide it, slide it

Hair removal stinky cream
Hairlessness is a dream
It has become a theme

Hate to break the news
Don’t want you to get the blues
But hair covers everywhere

Growing hair should to be there
See it disappear just to be bare
Ever see a bald bear in her lair

So bear up ladies and gents
Comb it, brush it, soap it
Braid it pretty and floss 
©Saroya Poirier   September 7, 2012

Wednesday, September 5, 2012


All things possible in loss

All things possible in emotion

The unthinkable
All things possible in life

All things possible
Everything possible

Everything and nothing is possible
No matter how big or how small

©Saroya Poirier       September 5, 2012

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Your Taste

I want to taste know your flavor
Crave your skin in my mouth
My tongue licking just there
The soft skin as my lips slide over
Lick under sip the salty nectar

Chest heaving moaning
I need more of you
Clasping you tightly
The smell of your need
The hot explosion to cum

Your hands across my skin
Sliding parting caressing
Your breath across a tender spot
Parting fingers sliding
Moaning for more don’t stop

The coming dawn, emptiness
Knowing you are but dream
Nothing real to hold, unbearable
Drawing into myself holding tight
 Tears of sadness upon my face

Where are you?
Can you hear?
Come to me


©Saroya Poirier       August 30, 2012

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The End ?

The soul is shriveled, the body weak
Skin is withered, Time to seek

Has it come? Time to go
A new beginning or an end

Is there worry, Acceptance Then?
Thought provoking, Mind in chaos

Jumbled thoughts, Fear of what
Have you wondered? Or have you not?

Do you care?  Have you prepared?
Don’t give a shit Just don’t care!

How it works it matters not
It will be whether you like it or not

The time is near the time will come
Near or far down or up

We all end up in that place
No matter whom you worship or where at

Yell or scream you are right
They who are different must be wrong

One or many stay or go
In the end, you are just as dead

©Saroya Poirier    August 28, 2012

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Want It

Get it out
Get it up
Put it in
Pull it out
Repeat repeat

Gone soft
Be firm
Need help
Here’s a hand
Need a kiss


I’m ready
I’m wet
Put it in
Pull it out
Again again!

Done good
Short nap


Get it out
Get it up
Put it in
Pull it out
Repeat often

©Saroya Poirier July 8, 2012

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Do people like you?
Are you loved?
Have you ever been adored?
Tell me tell true
Don’t lie, don’t be shy,
Be honest, just true to you,
Be faithful to the person inside,
Let your ego, step aside,
Open that door to life,
Let it out, be proud, be you,
Now tell me the answer,
I will answer too.
Liked, yes
Loved, yes
Adored, sigh, no not ever.

©Saroya Poirier    July 1, 2012

Sunday, June 17, 2012

The Old Cedar Tree

It is cool and dark down here
Snuggled tightly deep underground
Wound around the roots of an old cedar tree

I would dig myself out for all to see
There would be no solitude quiet or safety
So here I stay secure in the grasp of this old tree

No one here to haunt me no one here to taunt me
The years roll by here I lie rotting away day by day
As the tree grows taller the less there is of me

All you’ll find should search for me, is bones
There may still be worms lovingly eating me
But that is the way it is supposed to be

If you want the cool and dark
I invite you down underground
I will wait to help you see
It’s not so bad being part of the tree
So come along with the worms and me

©Saroya Poirier   June 17, 2012

Monday, May 28, 2012

The Need

There is a definite need between my knees
A low down softness up lifting to please
A gentle touch of rough hands for me
A sigh heard encouraging urging
Demanding exacting forceful plunge
Opening Venus to trap the phallus
Friction subsiding a wave arising
Gentle swells awash with cool breeze
A limp extraction for pleasing thee

©Saroya Poirier May 28 2012


quiet introspect 
a shedding of the day
birthing into the night
Unable to anchor
chain cumbersome 
ungraceful heaviness
Solitude forgiving
cleansing of the soul
letting go of the lost
Confusion grasping
as water though fingers
sinking quicksand
Soft light arsing 
bathing in warmth
shivering in the chill

©Saroya Poirier May 28, 2012 

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Love Unrequited

Love unrequited
Love unfulfilled
New love
First love
Lost Love
Eternally lost

©Saroya Poirier

When I am gone

Will you pick up the phone to call me?
Will you wonder what I would say on this particular day?
Will you understand why I related what I learned along my way?

When you need advice will you remember what I taught you?
Will you pass it on to your child, one who may never know me?
Will you understand then why I so often repeated myself?

Our time is shorter then we think, it is over in a flash.
The day came when I realized that my time was not infinite.
That one day, five, ten, twenty years or a few more,
Might be all that is left to me, it was such a surprise.

What happened to forever?
Did I do enough? Did I love enough?
Did I give enough?  Will you remember me?

I often think I missed so much, did I?
Did I make my mark no matter how small?
Will someone say about my life?
“I wish you could have met her, she met so much to me.”

But I won’t be here to know, to hear, and to see on your way.
Just the traces of my existence in the people I love.
 I will always and forever love you.

© Saroya Poirier     May 13, 2012
Mom, grandmother, the one who thinks you are perfect no matter what.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Butterflies in my Chest

So looking online I see it isn't unusual to feel this sensation.
I thought it odd, very odd indeed since I had never heard of it before.

YES I am calling the doctor and going in to see him. Hopefully tomorrow.

Even odder, over the years, I have woken up asking friends, neighbors, children, grandchildren.
I have asked this question of my oldest granddaughter "Merissa, "did you feel the earthquake?"
Merissa looked at me when I told her what happen the night before saying she remembers me saying that to her.
Some where between fully awake or fast asleep, I would feel the earth move. NO not "that" kind of earth moving.

Recently, okay 4 or 5 days ago. fuck it, last week, I had this sensation.
I was almost but not quite asleep and I say to myself in my own little mind, "its an earthquake".
I have said that ever time I have felt this since my twenties.
Only this time, my mind notches up one notch to waking up instead of going deeper asleep.

My whole body is shivering so minutely that you might not see it if you were standing next to the bed.
Or maybe you would since I felt the bed move.
I am not cold, no muscle contractions, I am completely relaxed.
My body is vibrating, a full body shimmy with no effort on my part at all.
Oh yes after 40 years of dancing I know if muscles are deliberately or thoughtfully involved
or if it is uncontrolled muscle spasms.

Like everyone I have felt my body jerk awake as one muscle decides it must be morning,
or when you over exercise then begin to relax after going to bed.
That is NOT the sensation I felt.

What I felt was, actually relaxing.
"Except the butterflies from breast to stomach, which is a brand new never felt before sensation."
This event has only ever happened when I am in bed at that in-between stage of awake or asleep.
This has never ever happened when I am fully awake.
Not at all, not once.

But those butterflies, they are what concern me most.

Oh yes, Roni, Dale, Michele please do NOT tell anyone what I told you about,
you know what that is.
Exactly what I was doing the hour before I turned out the light to go to sleep.
Please keep your mouths shut. Thank you very much, Mom.

Well you have my news.