Saturday, November 28, 2015


I am just sitting here, kissing tini on the forehead, and thinking about what I invest my time, love, and money on.

I spend a lot of time alone, on the kitties, a house that's not mine, and hours writing and singing to myself.

Will I be paid back in anything but instant gratification and happiness?  Will I enter the next 20 years of my life and find out I should be married with my own house and a savings account? Or is this all going to work out fine?

Up till now I have not been able to look at the future. Right now I know I'm happy with the Duncan style family that  I have. But what about tomorrow? What decisions will I have to make for the future based on the ones I've made so far?

Friday, November 27, 2015

We are not afraid

Today I was listening to a new agent on the phone, probably had never done anything like this  before, she sounded terrified. I said to myself "oh little one, there's nothing to be afraid of, you just jump in and have a conversation with a new friend"

And I thought about all the singing and story telling that has scared the poop out of me.

Is fear that easy to calm? When I get up to sing in front of people next time do I just  think of it as a well rehearsed conversation?

I don't know yet if it will work, but it's worth a try.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Silent Voice Speak

The question
Is a big one
Why do I keep going?
Keep getting up
All the days
And live?

Will I stop that journey...
And just give up?
One one of those days
Or will 80mg of Prozac
Keep me wondering
What is on the other side of tomorrow
Will she be brighter
Give me the answers
I'm looking for...

Why all the days?
Am I the only one who feels like this?
Do people without depression
Wonder why they keep waking
Why they say yes to the orange juice
And newspapers and keep going

Their silent voices
Pounding palms
On the glass ceiling
Begging to be set free.

I tried freedom
Let the voices run
In the dark allies
Of the theatre
My intuition
Too great
The heart too sad

And so I wrap your self
In a blanket
Drive to the country
Let long walks
And days of writing
Let the silent voice speak.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Little Prayers

Perhaps it' time to stop living alone, doing it all on my own. Perhaps it's time to partner up.

I can't stay here in this world of tumble weeds and dust devils it's time to keep moving.

I hear you worship your deities and worship is different than mine.

I've heard you sing to your deity but you must not hear me when I pray to, as all the strings to my harp are broken.

I have learned to pray to my own deity using my own voice and my own words maybe as humans we need something greater than us to talk to to ask questions to to wait for a response in the flicker of tree leaves in the voice of the wind

Perhaps I too need a god to ask questions to, questions that are greater than myself. I use my own words and my own voice and wait for the gods response in the flicker of the tree leaves, in the whisper of the wind.

I'm fascinated by people who want to do things for other people I do something for other people and I get hurt and I get tired that's why I don't have a god I don't want to so something for someone else. But today I ask what does my god want me to do?

A world of the deities unravel around me some have been written before some have yet to be found some gods live on stars some on hope and some in my heart. I have to listen even closer, writing and singing and meditation is my prayer.

Perhaps I needed to calm the fuck down.

There's a line in the universe that god puts you on when you believe. I don't want to hurt so i deny success and keep going on a path that is devoid of magic, despite the magic I believe in.

How do you know when you get lost in the forest and just go around in circles? It's time to sit down and let the gods catch up to me.

There is a god like a husband an equal we both know different things on my path I confuse looking for a husband for looking for a god for I am without both and think I can combine the two but to make a husband a god and a god a husband makes the world stop turning for a while. I see too much in a god and not enough in a husband and I can only know these things when I sit down to write it can only be real when I write it.

I need to wear a red robe and let the saints find me and rescue me and bring me back to life .

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Blue Soup

The witch stood by the fire and stirred the contents of her pot. She was a witch because of what she could see in that pot as she stirred. The pot of full of visions happening sights sounds feelings. Today she stirred a pot of blue soup. You don't eat blue soup you just stir it and hum songs you learned as a child. Inside the blue soup, was a man struggling to lift heavy objects on his own. The neighbour went out and asked if he needed help. He laughed.

The witch stood by her fire and stirred the contents of her pot. Tonight she was hungry and was making split pea soup. It smelled delicious. Just the right amount of herbs and the broth was just salty enough to balance out the vegetables. Do you need help with that asked the man? And the sound of his own laughter came through the soup.

That laughter sounds mean, he said
That's how you laughed at me when I asked you for help.
But this is different.

Is it?

Thursday, October 1, 2015

differenting the person with a pill

I haven't written much over the last couple weeks. I haven't posted anything much either. You see the person I got my prescriptions from decided I needed a review of my medication, upping the prozac and slimming down the abilify.
Like any changing of medication like this, it has it moments of complete exhaustion and complete confusion.
I sat down to write last night and used the whole hour to look at facebook. That was all my brain could do. Today I can write little things at work, and tonight I'm just taking stock of where I am, and tryng not be frustrated. This stuff changes the way I am, makes me a different person, for better or for worse.

I hope it works out for the best.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Gravel Rash

I heard the river sing my song
I heard the water echo my words
I heard the rain wash away the
Rocks and stones in my soul

Here the dreams of night
Cross over in to the breath of light
Here the tarot cards
Become journal pages

I woke up to the host
Moving the wine closer
To the man who never drinks
Tempting the dreamers with elixir

I had a dream of snow
As the night went cold
I could feel the frost
Break the fourth wall

I throw the rusty soul
An old blanket to keep it warm
The organ whistles a rock tune
As I walk past the church

Dear God take the gravel
Rash off my skin
As if I had never fallen

Down the road.