Sunday, June 17, 2018

Dear World





SO Last night I read in the news about the children in tents in Texas. I also, not only paid attention and wasn’t stoned in history class in high school, I took it in university too. (Along with Theatre and English). And Like so many people I wondered how Hitler was allowed to go so far before he was stopped. There were signs and actions that people should have said that’s enough. But now I see it happening in my back yard.

SO I’m saying lets tell our leaders that we’ve had enough.

Dear Justin and Bernadette,
I know that a lot of people are making jokes and facebook posts about Trump, But my cousins and friends are south of our border, some of us have blood in common some I’ve met through social media and now there are ones that have my heart just because they’re honest people with a dishonest president.  Are there not enough signs that this president has shown that we can stop worrying about the tariffs we’re putting on maple syrup and get those kids and their parents back together and stop so many wars of so many kinds.

That we can say this man is creating a global sociality (and economy) that is not beneficial to anyone.

So tell me what I need to do next to save this world from that man.

Candice

Friday, June 15, 2018

Little Leader




the little leader
down the street
sad again

cigarette in hand
hopscotch crisscross
the side walk

take it to the street
find it on the walk home
there’s only a few minutes
until reality sets in

World leader
on the road
lost again

map in hand
wine in  heart
a story to tell

take if from the street
all the sorrow in the day
clearing minds
until war reaches that place

Where day has
Ended; straight to hell
Time to be home

alone
little leader
alone


Sunday, June 10, 2018

Tomorrows Dream



For me, there is always a run to reach that huge dream “tomorrow” That I don’t have time to sit and smell the flowers; I will smell the flowers when I live in my own house when I am self sufficient on my art, when I can come and go and do as I please.

Yes leaving Duncanville comes up once or twice a year, as I try to see if I have enough money to leave or look for a place where the power bill is lower in the winter.  This summer I wanted a house with really not much of a bathroom if it meant my rent was free and I could go on EI and just write. 

But I solved that problem by having friends support me and putting out a bunch of well edited poems to a publisher. It just seemed to wrap up a part of my life. And now I’m back to what I want to do, writing a play. Yay.

I had a night talking to the land lords, not an earth shattering change the world/save the world type of conversation but there was good local and Canadian liquor and a lot of trust happening. I realized that along with being in a good place mentally, I am in a good house for what I want to accomplish a writing room for the summer and the cats and the piano and yes good neighbours too.  SO I can stop running after the dream of having a good house and stay here for a while.

Something happened when I was talking to the land lords. I was like "do I have to ask my parents permission to be friends with these people?" They believe different politically than I do and seem to be adults while a lot of my friends are big kids. SO I guess I wanted to know if it was ok to be friends with adults who think differently than I do.

I of course didn’t ask my mothers permission to be friends with people I want to. I just wonder what sort of things I have to sort out because of that thought.








Friday, May 18, 2018

Strawberry Toes




these are not my toes: random internet toes....

So we had a good write night the other night and was inspired by the woman who thought, in many ways, differently than I do, or maybe I’m not there yet and needed her to question my reality and where I need to go next in my head and in my heart.

She said one thing, that I wrote down, which was “It is beautiful to see people dependant on each other.” Which challenged every ingrained piece of my heart and soul. Me, who has believed that it is beautiful to have lived 20 years independently, short of help from friends and family, and not had one person, or lover (or many) to lean on for any length of time.

“It is beautiful to see people dependant on each other.” But I grew up in a generation where we were told to have our own bank account in case your loved one abuses you. To protect yourself in case your loved one has AIDS or some other sexually transmitted disease.

I hear so many woman who explain how each partners has to change their thinking as they’ve grown older because this partnership has drifted in so many different directions.

And here was a lady with a Masters Degree stating that couples were a beautiful thing. Dependency was a beautiful thing.

 I’d forgotten that part, or maybe I was never shown that picture. Through all the lessons at school and all the people who were interested in me but I wasn’t interested in them and vice versa. It’s never “worked” it’s never been beautiful or shared as beautiful nor has it ever been explained as something I want to be part of.

I want to be part of something beautiful. I always want to be part of something beautiful. Oh, you should see my toes right now, I had my first pedicure, ever, and my toes look like little berries and that is beautiful to me: Something a strayed away from for so long was a little bit of bit of beautiful. Something I was so sure had no relevance to my happiness made me smile and show off my feet, my feet could be like all the “cool girls” Could my love be like all the beautiful people?





Thursday, May 17, 2018

Cold





The day is hot,
the kind of day my mother
takes me to the beach
buys me an ice cream cone
let’s me swim in the ocean.

My prepubescent body
unaware of how cold
The water actually is
I swim
 until I turn cold

It isn’t until I ‘m a teenager
I actually see my body turn blue
I shivered on warm days
like I was hypothermic

This kids on the beach
laughing and taunting
that I was sitting on the shore
making an ugly sandcastle

I swim
once or twice after that
experience but cold happens
the temperature in the thirties
Warm breezes making me cold
.   
Over the years I gained weight
filled out
lost again
I skate in minus thirty
weather
fingers freeze
needing a warm shower.

This summer
 self hate is topped off
Like a cherry
with hateful letters, stating
every ugliness
Every mistake.
Every whisper.

Hello darling,
I say when I get tired of
“I love you and your beautiful.”   

To my face in the mirror
The only one
I ever loved the only
body I have given pleasure
I hear whisper

“You look unbearably ugly today
And people don’t like you. And while I have your attention
Calling other people ‘freaks’
Doesn’t make you feel any
Less of one yourself.”

Today they found a rat
Under the house and you were just like
“it is what it is,
Just as long as it doesn’t come in my house.”
What if the rat is already in my house,
What if my hatred,
Your self doubt and ugliness
Is the rat in your house.

I hate that I don’t
Make enough money to get by
And don’t do anything about it
It’s called running a straight line
Down the labyrinth.  
I scream out loud and it only echo’s.

Why all these little steps
don’t take me out of the hell
Into something: something, anything.
 I remember everything
prayers to get out of darkness
and the darkness still engulfs you
I am dreams of
your dead grandmothers
rotten mac and cheese
I have to wake myself
In the middle of the night
To get out of the bad dreams

I feel like screaming the word testimony
it doesn’t make sense anymore that
I’m haunted by hateful dreams
of hateful places
of hateful people
I want to take life back
Make some of it worth it
I want to fight
Everyday I feel like telling the world:
“I’m here fighting a war here.”

Like walking to work is being raped.

I had to fight and scrape at my skin
Just to make it out the front door
I didn’t want to have friends
I wanted to live alone
be alone
have a house alone

I tried to be someone else
be who I wanted.
The truth is
“I’ve always wanted to be someone I’m not…”
I had to sit alone in the house
Just be cold.




"This Cat is not Adoptible"


Hello, Tinkers mom here. I found Tinker on the SHAID website on Nov 16 2012 after a week of realizing I was ready to adopt a cat. There were many to pick from, but Tinker had been there a year and the internet said that she needed a special house no kids no other pets, not a lot of craziness going on.
The next day I went to SHAID and looked at all the cats I'd seen, and there curled up in the corner of her cage scared and overwhelmed by everything was Tinker. She had been there for a year and while my sister and mother questioned my choice. I kinda knew that we could heal together. I picked her out of her cage and she was so scared, her food and water dish went everywhere. I knew the cats that came to the cage door and purred would be easily adopted. I knew Tinker was my soul mate.
I brought her home and she refused to come out of her tiny little carrier until I left the house and then she hid in the closet. I used to bring the food and water to her as she hid on an open box of cloths.
Little by little when she thought I wasn't looking she would peek out of the closet and one day she discovered the sunbeam on the couch and finally realized she had found the first step to freedom.
She has no trouble giving her opinion. Like when I asked the lady at the shelter, “what type of food she liked” I was told she'd eat anything, but if she doesn't like it she looks at me and say NO NO NO.
I thought a cat like Tinker would be fine on her own, but she would look at me when I left as if to say "Mama, it's lonely when you work your 9-5" and so I brought home Addy, a cat completely opposite from Tinker; and they're best buds.
4 years later she still runs and hides when I come home, but when she's sure it's me, she sneaks back out.
And when it's bed time she paces until I go to bed, when the covers are up she lays down beside me and purrs that's if she's not kissing Addy.
I saved my cats and my cats healed me.



Sunday, May 13, 2018

Day Dream





My heart is full;
My dream coat colourful;
My shoes are ruby
Yet I click my heals
And can’t jump to
New worlds

I can disappear  into
Day dreams and
Heart aches
But I always come back
To here
To this and
I can’t be 40?
Can I?

My father sicker
And more determined
To do what he did
When he was twenty
What he would have liked
To do when he was twenty

My mother losing her mind
Dementia and who are you?
When sometimes I don’t know
Myself
Especially in the mirror

I wanted to play
And worked and played
And played and worked
Until I broke down
And cried
And here I go

Starting all over again