Showers

of tears flowing down the drain but there is no washing away of heartache and sorrows and anger.


The grime on the spirit is sticky, made up of tiny specks of pain clumped together...their pain and mine. They do not respond to scrubbing, they respond to response. Yours and theirs. Tangled and without boundaries. Running together rather like the snowflake becoming a ball...and no one dances at this ball, throws permitted and encouraged.


Where is the beat of the dance, the grace and abandon of the dancer? Given away/thrown away? Breaking down into particles and Gorilla glue won't do its thing. Make it sticky and sloppy...at times, I'd settle for S & S.

The light within withered, no rekindling. Kindle, that we could read what's coming, how it ends? Foolish thought to desire knowledge of possible multitudes of minnows of mania ...crazy ride on a broken vessel by a broken human who doesn't care if there is a spectacular crash...insurance companies do not pay for planned crashes, only the unexpected
bringing murmurs of sympathy to the left-behinds
Cash, too. Eases their lives while yours fades into muddled memories/delusions/sour reality morphs into it wasn't so frigging awful. 

What Fun...

..it was to ride in a one-horse...nah, here in the South, we just ride the horse and it ain't through snow that falls to the ground.

Nemo Mos Inhonesto Mihi

Loosely translated from Latin; In Chains but Still Free.

The chains of the past can and do imprison us. Stifle our motivation to move…move in any direction, any direction. Forward, backward, sideways, no ways will I move from this comfortable spot even though it hurts like hell to stay here. I be afraid to take steps; forget baby steps, I’m often into snail slides. Inch forward and usually leave a bit of slime…so I can find my way “home.”

Rhett: "Frankly My Dear...

I don't give a damn." Or something along those lines...maybe Ol' Blue Eyes, "I Did It My Way."

Methinks I'll take both and run like hell, sprinkle powdered sugar along the way since there is no fairy dust available, and sing Joplin as loudly as I can.

Days Of Dumb

If anyone finds my mind, please FedEx it back to me…well, I have to lose it completely first don’t I? Very nearly almost there.

How did I end up with static link on my page, why can’t I access any comments, what made me think writing a blog was worth it? Worth anything?

Sodas and Sillies

Another day of leaving the miseries behind and enjoying myself. It's not illegal or immoral--nuts!--but it does soothe the soul. I have no idea if people actually read these things, but what the heck, here goes.

Dust Off

Sitting outside this morning and watching the rain, I become aware of the green glow of the leaves...the rain had gently dissolved the dust and grime weighing them down. There was no harsh wind whipping them, no drowning downpour beating them down...had there been, they would have survived, albeit with fewer leaves.

Ten Minutes

Ten minutes is all it took for me to crash and burn. It's not a record for me; I've done it in ten seconds. The ten minutes most likely is a delayed reaction to what happened...or didn't happen. Words were said, I became silent but used every damn thing I could think of to shut out the laughter of those who taught me well to think badly of myself. And it just didn't work, none of them worked...so the shriveling started.

"I watched a flower withering and was embarrassed by it's honesty."

~~unknown~~

I AM

why didn't you care enough
to send your best...
oh, thats right!
Hallmark wasn't yet acting as a reminder
of love and decency and caring
you averted your eyes
I Was Still There

Inertia-In/Motivation Out

When I watched my little chickadee do his trapeze act this morning, I was jealous.

Would it not be wonderful to drive up to a mythical pump and fill your “tank,” aka spirit, with lovely truths of self-esteem and worthiness and sweet joy?

A Favor

'tis not meant to be forward-fresh-unladylike
it's an emptiness that needs to be filled
just for awhile

handmade, short silk kimono
mint colored with tiny cream-colored flowers
cream colored chemise underneath...
hair natural, barely curled
cascading down my back

DEAD

...Lost My Last Nursing Sister
Nurses In Vietnam

We Will Never Forget

Solitude

Do we whisper of our despair when once more we stumble
…from grace and from glory?
We are kinder to others than to ourselves