Category: Gypsy Women

With dark locks hiding troubled eyes, she draws me in. its a story told many times, yet still thrilling on every occasion. It was a fortuitous meeting to be sure. Myself, a hardly human crazed mutant (too weird to live, too dumb to die) her, a sumptuous beauty who shook when not properly lubricated with ethanol. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” lets go with the latter on this occasion, trust me. We met under a sky illuminated by LED and candle light, no natural light to be seen in my apartment in those days (months). Our initial union was unorthodox to say the least and in this case saying the least is already too much. Her and her companion entered my den in the fall of… the exact month escapes me. Her intellect lured me in, her voice a revelation, and her words were whiskey in my ear. We fell in together in all senses for hours which turned to days. Hedonistic to be sure, but entirely honest. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Much ado about many things in Brooklyn that night. What exactly, is a question… not asked.

Carry me caravan, take me away… Take me to Portugal, take me to Spain. I love to journey on this caravan, it takes me to new heights. Allows me to be the man I know myself to be. Strawberry blonde locks fall perfectly into place, with emerald eyes peering out. Eyes larger than life and her personality suits this fact. It was during a glorious summer seventeen years ago I first hitched a ride on this illustrious caravan and I have not gotten off since. A brilliant light to guide me in my quest to achieve the happiness we all seek. A beacon of home, not necessarily your childhood home but a place to lay your head in comfort and with peace. From the moment I laid eyes on her I found a place to call my own. And this home has sheltered me from the storm these many years, offering solace when I thought there was none to be found. With the wind at my back and feet on the road, no stopping till I get home. I say this with all the Honesty I am capable of; I love you truly… I respect you, I honor you. “Neither the angels in Heaven above nor the demons down under the sea can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee.” For she is not my bride, but she is my darling, my darling, my life, and a star in my evening sky. -James J Hayes, December 2nd, 2012

With a soft word, spoken loudly, a tempestuous flame is lit; illuminating all that surrounds it. What a clever creature this seems to be, not to be mistaken for jest but taken in all earnestness. With a few short words I was intrigued, with a few more I was involved. I will not turn away as I so often do. With the words of a Voodoo woman on my mind and the taste of strawberries on my lips, I walk once more into the fray dear friends. Though this time I do not find myself back at the beginning as the spirals have so often led me. I walk the line, as johnny says, and find a path previously unknown. A dark horizon lit with increasing intensity as I walk closer to the shore line. A magnificent shore, littered with the remnants of a storm which has left most startled… Not me. We ponder our beginnings with a shared sense of propriety. We own our past and all the ghosts trying to hold back what must flow forth…

“You desired my attention but denied my affection”
What to do when this is the case? It’s not so simple as to try harder or change something about yourself. One cannot change something intrinsic. My affection is very real, as are my intentions. She is a gypsy woman, no doubt, but to me that is a term of endearment. Of love. A woman who makes you feel that you can move heaven and earth in the pursuit of her and all she has to offer. Apathy is not an option, not now, not ever. At least not for me. Apathy is the lowest form of the human nature. If I see someone in peril, whether emotional or physical, I am compelled to offer aid. Offer shelter from the storm. And no doubt she is in peril; in peril of losing herself to doubt and regret. Of loves gone by, or choices made irrevocable by time. Aren’t we all. Can I help? Yes, I believe so. Should I help? Absolutely. Whatever form that help may come in, it must come. I am compelled by her nature. By the look in her eyes, as she gazes at me with head on the pillow, and her heart still beating a thousand beats a minute. Then she rolls over, grabbing my arm and pulling it close around her. Not a request but a necessity. As we pulled our childhood blankets to our chins, I offered an equal comfort at one time. Can it be achieved again? Though hesitant, I must believe time will tell.

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee:- And this maiden she lived with no other though than to love and be loved by me. She was a child, and I was a child in this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee- With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven coveted her and me. And this was the reason that long, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud by night chilling my Annabel Lee; So that her high-born kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulcher In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me; Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling And killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those much older than we- Of those far wiser than we- And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:- For the moon never beams without bringing me dream Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride In her sepulcher there by the sea- In here tomb by the side of the sea. – Edgar Allan Poe.

It’s a funny thing, those who catch your eye.. I must walk the streets of my fair city and see hundreds of beautiful women. And while i appreciate them all, there is that 2% who are different. I can’t quite put my finger on what quality it is that makes them unique, but it is most certainly real, it is truly valid. Take this particular woman for example, a mischievous smile adorns her face as she suggests we do something half nuts. And that sly smile is what makes you agree. Her hair, sometimes up, sometimes down, frames her face just so. and upon further examination you find eyes light green, like the shallows of Polynesia. The rest of her physique i choose not to describe, for I fear I will fail in the attempt. Use your imagination.
Now that we’ve covered the external, lets go deeper. Is she smart? yes, though sadly i don’t know if she believes it. She’s funny, quick witted, and totally honest. If your pulling bullshit she will call you on it in a second. God I respect her for that. I suppose the best way I can express it is she brings out the best in me because she deserves nothing but the best. Her goodness rubs off just a little on me, and momentarily I’m a good man. I keep to myself as a rule, but i have never once denied one of her calls. when I see its her calling, a wave of relief runs through me. I am blessed to have such people in my life, though I don’t always express it well. Having known her since i was 14, my love has fluctuated in intensity, but never left. She’s mine and I’m hers. and no matter what, she always will be. I cant be with her now. I hope to god she’s happy, I simply wish she was happy with me…

With soft blond hair and a hard to find smile, she came in to what I call my life. This supposed life has been emptied of late. The loss of a parent left me devastated and medicated. But, as fate would have it, she knows this loss too. we wept words together, and laughed later. L’amour fou the French call it. Crazy love. It must be, for I am certain I am mad. And she as well. No time to be still for this girl, on this plain or the next. I relate. It’s a comfort never known before, as I said, crazy love. But it is all encompassing, the feeling of your favorite blanket as a child, wrapped tightly up to your chin. Now we share this cover, inextricably linked by feelings for one another.

“Carry me caravan , take me away. Take me to Portugal, take me to Spain. Andalucia with fields full of grey. I have to see you again and again. Take me, Spanish caravan, yes I know you can.
Trade winds for galeons lost in the sea. I know a treasure is waiting for me. Silver and gold in the mountains of Spain. I have to see you again and again. Take me, Spanish caravan, yes I know you can.” – The Doors, Spansh Caravan. For the one I have to see again and again…