I was born to be a kept woman

On my own terms mind you.

Kept by life itself.

Petulant 
or devoted
as it pleases me.

Allowed to try on all the costumes
don the accents
be theatrical 
all-over-the-place
Karyn Leigh.

Supported.

Lavishly cared for

No grunt or grind

Only visions

for my Sovereign Self

and our New Earth

to mind.

But from controlling parents
to love
of men
adventure
sons
I went along

Ever
RESPONSIBLE

Tending others
emotions and
needs
before my own.

Terror of

fucking up beyond repair

haunting me

as if my 

obsession 

with perfection 

was more powerful

than

grace’s 

ever open arms.

Left one man
after 15 years
of stormy 
marriage
to rise wildly
with another.

We were open

and that was 
as painful
as being
allowed 
only
one.

Put myself
in 
greater 
financial 
peril 
than ever before.

Finally 

had to 
go 
back 
to a
job.

“You have a strong
practical
German
thumb,”

said the palm
reader

who struck up 
a conversation 

while I was ditching a 
business seminar

to be at the beach.

I gave him $20 
because he was more 
down on his luck
than I was.

I was born to be a kept woman.

On my own terms

And now once again

I am.

Fear no longer 

dogs 
me
panting 
with 
slobbery tongue
on my 
peace.

Incessantly 

insisting

Your good luck
is

bound 
to 
run 
out!!!

I adore work

on my own terms.

Now I rest

in knowing

my holy work is

to suck 

the muck
into

my
heart

with my inhale

then

exhale 
an offering

of
plenty
peace

pleasure
to
all
the artists
the advocates
the activists
for living
wild
sexy 
free 
and
owning it

as our birthright
one more 
blessed day.