personal musings unleashed

as a child i nagged my parents to stop smoking… my dad was happy to quit and exclaimed “i can smell and taste again!” what should have been a breakthrough was left a defeat, mom moping and poking around, complaining as usual… she wanted her cigarettes… not wanting to smoke alone, she subsided the habit, never lit another cig again… she also never let me forget her misery was my fault…

today i am suppose to be packing… what little we brought to our temporary apartment, so i better scoot and tape up some boxes to haul stuff over to our new house… it is our home tomorrow! it feels like a Christmas, as it hasn’t felt since i got a Barbie Townhouse from Santa in the 3rd grade… i won’t go into a diatribe about the evils of believing in nonsense (perhaps another day i will reminisce about breaking my brother’s heart and getting an ass whooping) or how Barbie and Ken evokes sexual feelings in kids… might just let that be forever…

not going to fix humanity and i have given up trying… my egotistical complex has been put to rest… now off to calm this racing heart… and pack!

tomorrow waits for no one ☀️😁

GLAD I GREW UP WITHOUT A PHONE IN MY HAND (reblog)

I would have missed days dreaming in the hayloft of grandpa’s barn, baking pies with grandma and romping through summer meadows full of flowers and butterflies. And you?

The lovely thing is tomorrow i am moving out to the country, across the street from a farm housing goats, chickens, a few barn cats and i wonder how my writing will shift? That and my piano and paints… i am sure some things on my blog will shift… so excited!! 😁🎶

— Read on namingmyvoice.wordpress.com/2018/06/21/glad-i-grew-up-without-a-phone-in-my-hand/

personal musings unleashed

who is responsible? for me… and there is no blame to lay… early the birds chirp. have you ever heard a grumpy bird? not me… and there is no shame today… all ready to plan my day… all these baby steps, these horrid thoughts shed…

(woah, guilt, back off, this is space to spread cheer… your not welcome here…)

my greatest joy to date are all the wonderful people i met at the homeless shelter… witness women struggle and that was the place all my depression and anxiety was shed… found spiritual friends, our souls, a union… our lives, a chorus sung, entwined around a root cause… all else is ignorant complaints surrounding insecurities… playing arrogant games, leveling up our status on the backs of others… who we rise to shout down… how do we think we are better to shine as a star rather than a fellow man? this me, has gleaned wisdom, to spread my cheer…

i no longer look outward but inward and there peace resides and all the world’s negativity slides… i become the stairs to climb and reach my hand down… help my sister find her contentment… buried beside her self… she cries… the bird dead… he shivers… quietly i revive each… not in revolution but in finding solutions and working towards a common goal… no angry bird survives. no angry person thrives…

you breed strife in anger… let the melody ring… freedom is a just cause… a mind at peace is priceless… so sisters join hands and the homeless find a home in my heart.

missing.

how can i miss
what i never had
you ask
but i did have you
and still possess

the words spilled
on my dress
the magic marker
highlights the stars
spread under the hem

this horizon
never ending
we agree to never
wash our hands
again -your grin

wiped clean by tide
a rinse cycle failure
and the poison drunk
as one forever
unto our death

in obedience we sunk

Nietzsche’s Questionnaire (reblog)

Daniel Paul Marshall’s blog... click link to read the complete post. “Nietzsche concludes book III (268-275) of The Gay Science by posing 8 questions to himself & answering them. I found, answering them as if they were philosophically incentivized Rorschach blotches, quite revealing.”

Finally posting my answers to the 8 questions… (and yours?)

What makes one heroic? Saving yourself from doubt.

In what do you believe? Myself. My ability to contradict the obvious and assert i am nothing.

What does your conscience say? To pardon, is the first act of grace.

Where are your greatest dangers? My ability to listen and hear with my eyes.

What do you love in others? A sense of humor.

Whom do you call bad? The unmistakable persistence of a man caught in a game of chance.

What do you consider most humane? The ability to live.

What is the seal of liberation? Saying goodbye despite having just said hello.

Sewn (reblog)

I dabble in photography and this blog i share (see link below) always satisfies when read, with varying ways photos impact. Click link to see work displayed. This particular post is especially drawn to me as a quilter, lover of fabric and the process of piecing together lives.

“For over a decade, Sewn has taken shape from altered, chopped, merged, and recomposed photographs. …

By engaging with the photography in this way, I create work that deals with the notions of truth in photography and its impact on identity. Using family photographs and those from my family’s past albums as material for the work, the resulting imagery tells a “new truth” with reimagined memories, situations, and experiences.”
— Read on photolicioux.wordpress.com/2018/06/20/sewn/

retreat.

this whispered touch
middle finger caress
splits open -borders
a wounded heart
to bleed love
and flow your way

dreamt you held
these broken bones
crushed dream -hoarder
i offered you
my orange creamsicle
spiked with fear

perched atop
you slink below
covered silk -corridor
i whisk away…
you needed more
rain to pour

chasing me into trouble
under the gun -again
and now i will never be free

personal musings unleashed

We really do not know each other, do we?

Years were spent cultivating all these hateful thoughts. Up until today, all that is wrong with life, seemed to be my fault. I easily accepted blame and never fought the day my mom banished me from their life. I was not the daughter she wanted and I constantly told myself it was my fault. I really believed awful things, that ruminated in my inner conversations. I tortured myself with thoughts of hangings, driving over bridges and splashing into rivers, jumping from a third floor apartment window while pregnant with my first daughter. Or recently, recklessly scraping a knife across my neck and wrists, aimlessly staring out the kitchen window above the sink, while I witnessed a small trickle of blood seep out. The drops slid down and pooled near the drain. Blue dreams turned red. Hot and bothered, I quickly fed myself more lies.  I truly believed I did not deserve life. Lies I recognize now. Lies taught to me. Lies I easily fall back into when I am not staying present in the day.

I am not looking to place blame. Oh, well I will blame myself for getting caught up in a web of lies. Lies that told me I am no good…

I  believed that I was no good for the longest time. Therapy has done wonders for my soul. My heart and head no longer bleed needlessly. Only when I forget who I am.  I have learned to fight back. I am not cut by my own hands or any one else’s for that matter. Not anymore.

During this personal awakening, I have ventured to places I should not have. I became too brave and traipsed where I did not see the wrongdoing on my part or the wrongdoing of another. I enticed it to go on longer than it should because of feeling alone. Sometimes I want to indulge myself more. Whisper sweet things to strangers. They do not mind. Neither do I. But I am hurting people, including myself. It just has this turn on not easily turned off. Then realize I am not truly alone.

I live in a self-enclosed loneliness because I am afraid of true love. I begged for love during childhood and I simply do not understand real love. When it showed up, I fought and fight against it. Trying to convince others I am no good. They should kill me too. Surely make it easier to die, than by my own hands. I even had a cop ready to take his gun from his holster. I pushed just enough. But really not enough. I retreated from the edge. The dryness I remember. The trying to swallow while the heat rose from my feet. What was I asking for? Was this fight really worth anyone causing harm to another?

All these words sprout from somewhere deep… some words remain shallow and swim close to the edge of my skin. Others are dying for air and I happily let them out. Luckily for me, the words mostly die the minute they hit the atmosphere. Nothing survives without oxygen and these thoughts greedily suck up all the oxygen my body consumes. Often I am left with little but carbon dioxide. I am not a plant. Not even a humble clover or Venus Flytrap, as some men like to portray me. I need oxygen. I need to breathe.

——–

I know what would have happened to me had my past plans come true. But do you? Or would you even care?

Heck! You do not know me. Why do I think you do? Or want to.

How much do we want to know about others? Or others to know of us? It is easy to write. Well, not always. I struggle and then I struggle again, with posting. But I do write. And I do post. It is all here to read. Until it is no longer.

I think and rethink myself over. Over and over I turn the bells in my head and they always ring twice and I still never hear them. Do you?