Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Silly Christmas Poem

My gift to Christmas
A little white cat
A little peace on ea
Tossing snow in the air

My gift to Christmas
New worlds in my hand
A little bit of a year
To put behind me

My gift to Christmas
Cold toes and noses
And a pair of socks
To keep me warm

Old wagon wheel
Covered in snow
The dry brown grass
A barrel of new oranges

My gift to Christmas
Peace in my heart
My gift to Christmas

A gift to you

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Little Sleep

Little sleep finds it very dark where she is; she has handed her light over to the universe and is expecting rainbows and sunbeams in return.  But it is very dark. And as she walks forward she knocks things over and makes people mad, she asks for help and is put in an upsetting direction. She has to depend on her awareness to get out. “I’m doing everything myself” she says to the sky, to the ground, to the words on the paper.

She asks for a therapist and she doesn’t like what this therapist has to say, the therapist says it’s time to stop writing. Little sleep doesn’t want to stop writing; so she runs away and blames the universe for not showing her the light.

Little sleep keeps writing, and finds the answers that she’s looking for in her own words. The one thing that she was told to stop, when looking for the magic of the universe, was one of the things that saved her.

As she is running far away there is a street light. For a moment the world is bright and there is a table selling wine and cucumber sandwiches. She buys one and stays under the light for a while happy to see some light in her life.

But the light turns off automatically and the sandwiches sell out. She is sick. And she keeps running and she looks for a Dr but the Dr just wants to give her pills, he doesn’t want to find out why she is sick, it is little sleep who finds out on her own that you can’t live on cucumber sandwiches and artificial light.

So little sleep, upset at the universe again for sending her a bad Dr and making her do all the work to find out why she is sick, keeps running, and gets more and more tired. But still little sleep believes the universe will protect her and not put her through needless suffering. All the answers she has been given doesn’t make her feel better and magic, instead, it makes her feel more angry and less loved by the people around her. But still she loves the universe and herself and works even harder to prove that love to the universe so it will shower her with gifts.

“Universe” said little sleep one night “I gave you my light and I have always argued with what you have done with my searches, you have given me so much darkness and coldness and forced me to love you and love those around me though all of it. And I never seemed to get anything in return.”

“What have you learned?” asked the universe.

“I learned patience and love of self from that experience.”

Then it all seems to come back in droves and she understands what the universe has been trying to teach her these past 15 years.

Through all this the universe was teaching her about patience and love and that all was as it should be that it was telling her she could solve these problems, she could heal the hurt inside her better than any Dr. The universe was teaching her to depend on the love of the earth and self love not the love of others.

“So” asked little sleep “You weren’t punishing me by giving me crap dr’s and jobs I never dreamed of as a child? You were teaching me to find the love inside myself no matter where I was or what I was doing. You were telling me I didn’t need a Dr to heal myself that day. I don’t need to have a PHD to work out my shit, I don’t need an MFA to be a writer. I don’t need to be in a relationship to feel love.

Those are the lessons the universe wanted to teach little sleep.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Cold Heart Warms

Love for me is not whether or not I have a boy friend. I had a teacher in High School say that you didn’t feel real love unless you were in a relationship with someone else: Married, partnered etc.

It’s something that has made me sad, made me feel unloved, made me feel like I’ve failed. That I can’t tell people about my love when they ask me because
I’m not successful in relationships with a man (I’m straight so that’s the preference.)

When people talk about the sacrifices they make to be in a relationship, time, personality clashes, insults, they cant make a decision alone. I know I couldn’t be part of that type of relationship. But I still feel immense love for those around me and fall in love with many people,  And take time out from being me to -see- them.

I was curled up on the couch having a Saturday nap and thinking I needed someone to cuddle with to take this cold feeling out of my heart. It’s something I’ve healed for the past 37 years on my own it’s something I can heal today. This cold heart was met by two kitties, one on each leg and we cuddled.

Then I picked up Marianne Williamson and began to read about love. Nowhere does she say your love is defined by that of your love with your partner. It’s your love of god (I’m and atheist, so it’s my love of the energy around me, of the universe.)

My love is defined by what I give to my friends, myself, my family, my babies (the cats).I’ve found the love that works for me and I have permission to have that love grow strong, I should not feel weak and a failure because I’ve learned to love myself and others in the process.

Isn’t that pretty amazing I’ve been searching for love and all this time it’s been inside of me. I was just believing that everyone else was right and I was wrong. I’m different maybe yes, I may not fit into every group of people who are defined by a different love, and heck some people may be haters and not like that I live alone, or feel this way, but really I’ve found a love of myself that I didn’t have when I was young, and that’s got to be a step in the right direction.

Is there room to learn more
Does ego and fear get the best of me at times
But can I start with the foundation that the way I love is natural and Ok for me

Friday, December 20, 2013


I was thinking last night about the stupid history professor who told me that “I” as a writer was like a hockey player who couldn’t skate. I guess, and would like to think, that I was still scoring goals and making it from one side of the rink to the other; I just wrote more like a Timbit than a Sidney Crosby.

That’s been a sore spot for way too many years. Do you know how much better it would have been to get constructive criticism of my work? What if he had given me one thing that I could change or work on? Well last night I think I got. I posted the last post in great haste, not a lot of proof reading or making sure it made sense until I was trying to get to sleep and making corrections in my head. I got it, I knew how to be a better writer, a more confident person and a little better at my job. Just take that extra moment and make my writing matter, make my work matter, make my breaths in life matter.
Also, I had a great talk with myself, plus hanging out with my friends, and being honest about how I felt, made me feel better.

So now I can take a moment an feel better because I understand that statement, because it’s not haunting me, because I’ve grown from it, because it’s made me stronger.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Grateful Light Grateful Darkness

Today I am grateful for my apartment and my cats, who with their companionship have peeled back some of the darkness. With their cost and the extra cost of rent have made me see life living paycheck to paycheck,  I can’t buy myself out of a moment I have to think my way out of the moment. I’m coming in closer contact to the core of being me. Writing an hour every night has me peeling back truths while still focusing on fiction a whole new reality and strength. And slowly I look into the mirror and see who I am.

I did something the other day, I was walking up the hill and thought about how much I hate my life. I felt exhilarated to know this bit of information and know that if I could feel this, I could handle everything that was thrown at me; I could heal. This was going to be a great turning point in my life. It was scary for a moment and then I thought “it’s ok to heal from here.”

Now, almost two weeks later there is a darkness; the honesty keeps coming: I’m not 21 anymore, I’m glad I’m not still working at the museum because I wasn’t happy. I haven’t done anything I wanted to as a child except not get married. And that is wrapped in an unhappy memory of hating my childhood and not wanting to put any other child through that again. That is the darkness that I have come upon this Christmas. We dance every day to get rid of the darkness. I write everyday to see the light.

So while everyone is wearing Christmas hats and exchanging  pot lucks I can’t eat and gifts I can’t afford this year, I’m stripping back the layers to find the light. There’s light, but there’s a lot of dark.

I can’t work fast enough to please myself at work, I can’t write fast enough to please myself at home, I can’t keep the house clean enough I sleep too much. I still
accidently eat food that makes me sick and  sets me back a few days on the emotional train.

I think I’m on the verge of a spiritual transformation, not just on the surface, but on another layer down, a deeper level and there’s a lot to struggle with along with daily life. The past 30 years I’ve just been a child, I’ve just been playing saying “everything is wonderful because it’s as it’s supposed to be.” Today it’s not as it’s suppose to be. Today there is a new reality: I want, I need, I dream.

Today I am raw, there’s no wrapping paper that shimmers and shines, do duct tape covering the mouth tying the hands, I’ve broken free and it is both light and darkness.

Today I am grateful for my apartment and my cats, who with their companionship have peeled back some of the darkness. With their cost and the extra cost of rent have made me see life living paycheck to paycheck,  I can’t buy myself out of a moment I have to think my way out of the moment. I’m coming in closer contact to the core of being me. Writing an hour every night has me peeling back truths while still focusing on fiction a whole new reality and strength. And slowly I look into the mirror and see who I am.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Tree

There’s a tree in my house and I will fill it with great ideas and love and dreams.

Inside my jacket pocket is sand I scooped up from the last walk on the beach. 

I pick up a few grains and blow on them slowly, carefully, with patience; with my breath until it turns into a little glass ball, the first one is red and it just floats on the palm of my hands turning while I give it all the love from the last year. I hold it up to the light, in the reflection of the red glass, are hugs and kisses and laughter and dancing.

I pick up a few more grains of sand and rub them in my hands, my hands are cold but I still want to make a white one for my dreams. A glass ball begins to take shape and inside is me and the dreams that came true this year dance like a music box. The crinkle of the glass is like music.

Then I feel a darkness take over me, there is a lot of it and I have to refrain from making a huge black glass ball with all the anger I ve experienced  throughout the year. I keep the glass ball small but the sand whorls like a tornado, the reflection, ghosts of things that have hurt me over the last year. Events I thought Id forgotten come back and shake for me, pull from my heart.

I put them on the tree and remember the balance of the year the good the bad and the dreams.

And I have three more decorations for the tree.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Free Fallin

We were talking today about writing. My friend has been taught strict rules on writing. I was taught free fall and I write whatever comes into my head. I have gone on many searches in the past for good formulas on writing and archetypes; shaking off the inspiration books and going for the technical. Today we both said “we had trouble writing because we weren’t taught to write the other way.” Our egos had used the other form of writing as an excuse not to write. SO what does one do with this information? write an hour of free fall, of course.

Saturday, December 14, 2013


I’m not poor.                            And I’m not rich.

I was walking through the mall two weeks ago and I overheard two ladies say “it’s so easy to spend 1000 dollars Christmas shopping.”
I wanted to look at them and say “I didn’t know that was an option.”
This is the first year I will not be buying presents. With two cats a one bedroom apartment I pay for on my own with a wage a little more than minimum and a scope of an idea of what my power bill is going to be like the next couple months, I couldn’t do it. Some of us are going to dinner or going for adventures and I made the rest of the gifts... sadly I’m not the crafty, but I do write.
I’ve just had to change the way I look at money and the world. I judged it as a success and a necessity to buy gifts for people at Christmas and for myself all year long. And today I had a thought. I’m rich in the heart and if I can’t afford a whole bunch of little things along the way that’s ok. I walk into friends houses and they don’t have stuff all over the place like I do (I like my stuff)

It’s making me think about consumerism about how much we spend on dinners out and on friends and that we give away and on toys for children and toys for ourselves. There was a lot of money being spent in the past and I don’t know where it all went. I’m not going to be rich tomorrow and buy whatever I want, so I have to learn to live within my means. This knowledge grounds me and scares me at the same time.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Facing Fear

Clean Clear crisp night
Mittens and hats to keep us warm
Broken twig turns into broken arrow
And fear takes hold of the heart

I met fear at the cross roads
She didn’t say a thing
I realized for the first time
It’s all up to me

Clear Clean Crisp morning
One brave thought
For the sparrow learning                                                                                                                           To let it's heart fly

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Keys to the Sunrise

Photo by Mama Duncan... the sunrise we saw this morning :)

Hands reaching out, everyone to everyone
Warms arms around shoulders

Eyes bright focused, reflecting
Ears twisting with the wind

Muscles strong and rippled
Leading us to iron and steel inspired thoughts

Soul soft like clouds
Leading us into February

A little roaming drum beat
A trail of piano keys

A path of pitch and uniform trumpets
We follow the pink and orange into blue

With feasts of feats and lessons
Fire from the centre of the sun

A chance to look inside and see
How the parts run all alone in the house

I follow the pattern day in and day out
In safety going out to the sure

A bird flies by a single C
Along the staff of power lines

It vibrato held until it dips down to G and E
And sits at C again where the power post-

Stops it


One must go to work

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Remember those days

There’s a wheat field in my soul rippling back and forth in the wind today the air is dry and the weather is warm and all the crickets sing under the chopped leaves they all want love they all want love

There’s an ocean out there in the distance the air is salty and cracks lips cracks bones it’s all dry when your thirst is heavy there are no tears in this salt scape racing into the sea running to find love running

There’s a horizon everywhere I look no matter how hard I run I can’t reach it it’s sunny and warm an oasis in the desert and lately I need to go out further stand on the line stand on that line

There are wings that take us deep into the sky we can fly like a moth to the stars we can fly like a plane into the clouds but today the clouds are dry and the sky is blue and there is no water tears are dry

Take me to a place where you sleep all day and stay up into the night chasing dreams where the stars fall warm and you drink water from the rivers you run into in bare feet and catch minnows in your hand

Remember those days

Friday, October 25, 2013


On dirty gritty

Some find some dreams

Find some hope

And streets dusted

Find some schemes

Make plans through the mixing of words

Old coffee cups

Creamers like sea shells

Find some hope

Rivers of rain

Take fall leaves

Caught in drains

There is no hope
Right now

There is no hope

It’s dark and cold and


Finally I can pull a feeling from my soul

On the side of the road

A bright and sunny Friday

It’s all dark in the ditches

No more hope that dreams

Just come true

There’s a lot of work ahead

Orange flags

To make anything work

Digging with spades

And place my dreams

Like dirt on the sidewalk

And turn them into poems

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Ripe, (it's time the words in my head were mine)

a freefall

If I look left I see you out my window
Coming up the drive

What could we do
Other than
There’s got to be
A million other
Lives to lead
Kissing ripe lips
Time to fly away
I live this lie
On my own
By myself
I’ll write about singing
In and out of tune
Because that’s the way
My pitch rocks
It’s who I am
And is beautiful
And I’ll show
The world when I get
The confidence
Pause for a break here
Pause to see me realize
I am confidence
I must keep going forward
Pause to see me stand up and keep writing
We should sing in harmony
Play piano to the setting sun
Each star a special note
And when they twinkle
They sing your favorite song
Kissing ripe lips
Time to fly away
I live this lie
On my own
By myself
let the wind push you like you were a leather sail
Turn the keys till they cry
I can’t cry
I’m not allowed anymore
Not like I want to
Kissing ripe lips
Time to fly away
See the world
Is with me
Turning alone
The sky

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Angels Across the Moon

From here
I can see angels
Walk Across the moon
Tips of hair followed
By blinking stars
Tiara’s shine
In planets eyes
They move like
A summer breeze
Dresses, long and silver
Light shining from above
Glowing skin
I watched one single
Lift me off the earth
Her hands on mine
Talking all my pain away
Her light calming my skin
My mind at perfect peace
Beyond any place
I had ever seen

In a forest
Along the shore
While meditating
I felt the mother’s arms
Hold me, like a child,
And I began to cry
The Dr's said don't cry
But the milky way was soft
And I was safe

we fall back to earth
and sit along the dunes
But from here
You can see angels
Walk across the moon
And many nights
I make my way
To the other side

Sunday, September 8, 2013

I've been up since 4 am rant

So I’m doing NaNoWriMo this year, and I guess you’re allowed to work on your stories before November, well a person can work on their own Novel whenever they want I guess. It’s still floating between a novel and a screen play but right now it’s "just outlines" so it’s in that stage of “it will be whatever it wants to be.”

I put the story board as a three act structure on the wall and put plot points under each space. I’ve been doing thousand word free falls and bought special Metallic sharpies (and one black one) to do outlining and pages of dialogue. I wish I had written down what day I started this all. Today I sat down and wrote two rough draft pages. It’s still in the outline stage, but I actually feel emotions as I write it. It makes me feel good to sit down and write.

I was up at 4:30 this morning after all that I worked through yesterday and all that I wanted to get done today.

“What does one do at 4 am on a Sunday morning?”… clean and rearrange the house of course, watch Tini run from one side of the apartment to the other… I hope we didn’t wake anyone else, but this probably equals out somewhere between fight night up stairs and basement cat downstairs.

Last weekend I started to watch Adam Sandler movies which led to Reign Over Me today. I don’t finish movies, like ever, even my favorites I watch in two or three installments but I am really taken by Reign. It was recommended I watch Silver Linings Playbook for their portrayal of Depression and Mental Illness. I didn’t connect with Cooper or Lawrence but boy do I get Charlie I’m watching the trailer now and wishing there was still time tonight to finish watching it right now.

That led to two pages of what is being called “sail” because the song has the intensity I want the story to have.

On my first day of JR High, my friends came back from an amazing trip to a desolate island where they lived for six months. I had the low female self esteem that they talk about on TV when they talk about women at that age. I thought it was a gift not to talk to him. I didn't want people to think he was my friend, I did not want him to feel as isolated as I did from everyone else. That was like the last time we sat together. So I took what I should have said  then and twisted it to have my two main characters talk about what it’s like not to fit in, and they get each other. 
I want so much to post the little piece, but I know the more I get to know these two, the stronger that meeting will become. But they have that moment that I never had with my friend.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Sweet Lovers

But nature tells us how to live; To wash in the rain, to follow the sun like a flower, to mate when we find love, to touch, to heal. Yet I come here on the river to be alone, to not be touched, to hold everything in so the happiness doesn’t fall apart.

When I was at the hotel, as I found out now, I read books that said focus on the happy, let in the light, let in the good. But I never learned what to do with the bad, and so I buried it under light and mud. I’m proud that I made myself happy, but in the meantime there is all this darkness weighing me down, that separates me from everyone, except those who know how to step inside, and when they step inside, they see it’s a mess.

This is the time in my journey to make myself happy, not by covering over the darkness, but by facing the darkness and letting me see the light in it. I have yet to find guidance leading me deep into unravel the darkness. So I shall take my sword and enter the forest…

The Pills cover it over, the “I love everything” I speak of, puts all reality in denial. For a while I may not be able to see the silver linings in everything. I may have to look at the pain in things. I may have to let out the tears. Let out the anger.

Why face it all when I’m so happy on the outside? Because it’s exhausting and it’s causing a block in me moving forward, me falling in love, me being healthy.
Sweet Lovers
The flowers grow
In your path
Where feet follow feet
Sweet lovers
The red dahlia
Flower, like drops
Of pin pricked blood
Sweet lovers
The fire in the petals
Reach up like candles
In meditation
Sweet lovers
Hold hands
Over the garden
And talk of children and marriage
Sweet Lovers
The grass covers your feet
The stable ground
Your resting heads
Sweet lovers
Follow your feet
Through the garden
And into the home you’ve built

Saturday, August 24, 2013


I’ve done a lot of imagining I’d write something great. I’ve done short stories and never finished them enough to publish (although I did tell some with the story tellers) I had a 2 plays done in university that I just sat down and wrote in one sitting.

Between dealing with depression and expecting to just sit down and write a masterpiece in one sitting I haven’t been doing much real writing on a large scale; Milford is big and I need to go back and finish him.

But starting last month I decided I had enough energy to do NaNoWriMo. And boy is it a slap in the face from university (writing a 20 minute play in one sitting) At first I started just doing free fall. I went over it tonight and there’s a lot of good stuff there but it’s nowhere near a novel.

Today I had coffee at the farmers market with some amazing women and came home and started a story board. I have training in film and theatre so I set it up in a three act structure and let the juices flow.

I feel great tonight. Like I’m on the right path. That things are going good.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Bliss I guess

Well the theme song for today was spirit of the west “Home For A Rest



The line that competed with being “drunk since I left,” and an incurable case of the giggles was “I am for breathing, part of me born to the stars, I am for light, I am for dark, finding the peace that connects us to who we are, I never thought I’d find this state of bliss, I was meant for this and so were you.”


This after a morning of pulling on my large pants and complaining about my weight, yet again.


You see I stopped running and counting the calories, I stay home with the kitties and I’ve been writing. Now I want to do NaNoWriMo and have been putting in an hour of free fall a night coming up with ideas and beginnings, middles and endings. And the getting fat has not stopped. I thought it would plateau, considering I eat nothing, but alas, it has not.


Then came Hart Rouge “I never thought I’d find this state of bliss, I was meant for this and so were you.”


As if somewhere in the morning I sighed, “will I never find my state of bliss?!?” And The song said most people think they never find it and despite being fat you have the giggles and staring in your own musical at work.


So I learned that finding your state of bliss is something that takes a while to get to, so If I’m not 100% happy that’s ok I’m a work in progress. The girl in the song said she never thought she’d find it and I think it’s attainable so I have to keep going.


Now go dance to spirit of the west and have a beer or two.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

A Night at the Museum

 not my photo
He woke up
The words of use
Caused harm
Mumbling wickedness
The pinks of the sky
Roll down
A dancer’s dead drop
Into the blue waves
Of the harbor
Rectangular frames
Bars my sight
The doors closed together
Sitting still
In the sail boat
Part of the display
Rehearsing a single play
His words woke me up
The sweat from our
Tainted in vodka

Monday, August 12, 2013

The Unicorn

Like a skirt in on the body; the wind flows gently through the trees. It’s all that’s left to feel. The arms, the legs, the brain are numb; from the 30 years of antidepressants and denial. I remember the day I realized that so many people around me were finding what they loved; Jack loved car shows, Lillian loved dog shows and I took my cat out for walks on a pink leash.

But that was many moons ago and cat got scared and didn’t want to go outside anymore. Love became soured like the worst wine and I’m sitting alone watching the turtle on the middle of the pond. Its tiny, ancient, body doing nothing more than soak up the sun.

The last time I saw a unicorn was on this pond, when I was 16, walking hand and hand with my boyfriend. Oh and 16 year olds will be 16 year olds. The unicorn galloped behind me and blew its breath on my neck. It said “this is the last time you will ever see me.” I cried, but I was in love.

Like the fog on the sea shore, I sat weighted and heavy. I really didn’t think there were any more reasons to go on. Oh sure I would go on, go to work, clean my apartment, but really, what else was left?

I heard the children playing behind me and saw a runner in black on the other side of the pond. The children were laughing and calling out to the turtle. The boys named the turtle and the little girl of the group just stood and stared like there was magic everywhere.

I wondered.

Like the beat of my heart the world changed and the runner picked up the little girl. She began to scream. I began to think of my marriage. And then I saw it, the unicorn run across the pond, the water splashing up from the hooves. We both reached the little girl at the same time.

The runner was down and people all over the park were starting to take notice. The little girl and I jumped on the back of the unicorn and galloped to her mother.

Like hours of being questioned by the police, there is a tired. After everyone when home, I looked for the turtle. He had left his rock. I began to leave when I heard a throat  clear.

“You know you are the Unicorn now. And I will be with you whenever you play on the pond.”

There was a splash and the turtle swam back to his rock.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Strings and Ribbons

Strings and ribbons
And Angles hair
Tied in knots
So loose and fair
I take you in
And pour you out
There lies in me
A darkened moat
I sway by power
And spoken words
I stand when hearts
Are hurt by swords
The wind it blows
Through castle walls
I’m safe inside
The cold still calls
I tried to make it
Home alone
With silver Jackets
And shoes brown tone
It wasn’t till you came along
I stood up strong
I did belong
Strings and ribbons
And Angles hair
Tied in knots
So loose and fair
Tears of rivers
Tears through time
We walk through them
We make them rhyme
And all the while
The ribbons knot
The endless moat
Must be fought
I'm here alone
And that I see
I’m frightened
But believe in me

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Sunday, July 21, 2013

The Son

My belief in god began and ended in the Mormon church. My strongest memory of being a child was fighting with the Sunday school teacher about whether or not our family should have a son.

We were to build yellow houses out of craft paper and my house had five windows. And each window stood for a person in the family: One window for my mother one window for my father, my sister and I. That left one window empty I don’t believe I even thought twice about putting a picture of our dog, Whisky; which I’m sure was a name loved by the church, in the other window.

This became something to call a five year old out on I guess and I was told to put a picture of a son, because you never know there could be a son in the family. And that animals weren’t family members.


Last night I dreamed that the family was airing out dirty laundry and that there was a son. I cried and admitted that and I always imagined as child that an older brother would come and rescue me. My fantasies weren’t that I would marry a prince, but that this older brother would find me and let me live.


There was on old chair I picked up from the garbage at university and I sat it in front of the window and watched the cars drive down south park street from 8 floors up. It was old and yucky and who knows who had it before me, but I would love to have saved it and set it in the sun room now, I’ve always given things away in the thought that something will come back to me when I need it to, but so far I have had no comfy chairs come into my life for the sun room


My belief in god has twisted in and out over the years until I decided I was an atheist. I knew there was something larger in the world, and I thought that the only answer was church. This led me to a Christmas concert my first winter home from university and a cult of a church my third year of university. M

My first year university experience came from the happiest person I’ve ever known who insisted you can’t have Christmas without church and kids. By the end of the concert I was embarrassed to be there, it wasn’t what I wanted god to be or imagined it to be. I later admitted that I don’t really like kids and only like the coloured lights at Christmas.


The second I was walking the underground halls at the university feeling lost and alone and confused and said to myself “Dear god show me the path That I’m to follow.” and a lovely lady handed me a card to her church and I went a few times until they said I had to leave all my non church going friends behind and make them jealous of the friends I was making in church. But I loved the singing and the people seemed nice. And they were quick to reassure me they weren’t a cult.

My path with Jesus had ended, maybe that’s what the prayer in the dark hallway was about, because I wondered for a long time and doubted a lot of my decisions because of the prayer in the hallway. I learned that a prayer does not always guarantee the right answer or the right thing to do, it may be that there’s another experience to mark off your list.


Post university I was in a bachelor apartment and started to make visits to the little mysteries store down the street. Where I learned, not Wicca per say, but I decided nature was my church, that if I wanted to feel “god” I walked through the park and sat at the end of the cliffs overlooking the water, that worked until one day I started to point out and realize where all the sewers were coming out of the ground and bubbling, you could tell by the bubbling water and mass amount of seagulls and in the summer you could hear the Shakespeare by the sea kids yell “a whore a whore my kingdom for a whore,” and me feeling pity that they could have failed voice class so severely.

I learned I could find this god on my own.  

I learned to use candles and which colour was used on which day and how to summon the gnomes and the salamanders and at times I could feel these creatures in the room with me, But I kept getting further and further away from reality. So I stopped and moved home, where for a long while I just wore a t shirt that read atheist.


But I could hear things, know things, feel things, understand things. My confessions became morning pages my lost moments were spent on the river watching the water flow down to the Atlantic.


And then I met an energy healer, who understood what I meant when I said “the energy in this room is crazy. She said “I’ll fix it” and she did. She referred to this god as the -power of the universe- and -the creator- and it made sense to me. I bought a whole new set of candles in many different colours and meditate by the colour that suits me best what I need to work on, usually peace and intuition although sometimes the green money candle comes up and I pray for money.

Interesting things have happened, gnomes and fearies are everywhere. I’ve found out interesting things about my life, I’ve shared stories that I’ve kept inside for 30 years and I’ve looked at all the books I’ve collected and given away over the years about  looking after nature and finding yourself. I chose to look after the energy of the universe and let it look after me. There are pieces of my bible is every book that I choose to read.

Now I just need to make sure that I can play in reality and this other world.

Sunday, July 14, 2013


The sunlight illuminates
The rose petals
I am the rose
The sunlight illuminates
The grains of sand
I am the beach
The sunlight illuminates
The luscious leaves  
I am the tree
My petals will bloom and fall
The sand will drown in oceans
The leaves will turn to rainbows and fall
It may be a fall day today
It may be high tide tomorrow
But together we will rise up

Saturday, June 22, 2013

The Tree in My Floor

50 sleeps go by
And still my bed
Is without you
I’ve grown my love
With cats
With Poems
And a gift
From a midnight party
And some anti depressants
And still I let nobody in
The war in my brain
Says it’s time
To show people
Who I really am
To reach out
And say I like this
Not that
And make decisions
For me rather than worrying
About what other people think
This is a time of abundance and beauty
I turn myself over
And let someone else
Help me along
The house has plants
growing from the floor
I holds out my hand
I know what you like
And I trust and follow
And everyone else
Thinks I’m crazy
There's a past they say
But it’s worth
Living here
The death card on the table
With a pentacle
Rise above the dream
See the patterns
The way they move like dancers
Find the centre
Find the core

I’m better than
Doing dishes
At your hotel
Says the dream
I will move forward
I will awaken

Monday, June 10, 2013

I'm going to try this again

The blog is going to go through another change, I now write two hours a day and try to produce a poem or parts of a story so the focus has gone off of the blog a bit, that poetry will hopefully be workshopped further and the ultimate goal would be to see it published, but we'll start by looking for places to work with my poetry, I went through other changes with the blog and still kept writing it so it'll survive. I'm jut going to keep from posting anything that might go towards the "novel" or poems that may be published. I'll keep you updated on that if it works out. Also there is a library sleep over this weekend that I believe I will be blogging about, while it happens, I will be telling stories and doing morning pages in the morning.

So I'm going to try again to be a writer...

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Bridge

Jenny held his hand
Beige eyes like
Brown Sugar
In molasses cookies
The kind with the raisin on the top.
Martin held her hand
Blue eyes
Like the water under
The cobblestone bridge
The kind with fish that ripple the surface.
Their eyes met for a moment
And they could see truths
Black and white like
Piano keys in under skilled hands
The kind you would experience in a church service.
Martin turned his back on her
And looked into his spouses eyes
When he looked back to Jenny
She had her arm around her spouses shoulder
The kind of love that is a whisper in a dark room
Only I, standing in the middle
Of the cobblestone bridge
In meditation, in listening
Heard that they were soul mates
The kind that will find their way back to each other; even in this lifetime.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Summer Night

Bring your favorite shoes
The faux leopards
With inches of heal
We’ll spend the night
Under the charred sky
The campfire and the marshmallows
Our eyes aligned with the stars
Our hearts in the raw
Open and bleeding to the moon
There will be a piano
And an open field
We’ll tap out our S.O.S 

Tell our stories
Until the dew
Sets on our noses
And with the sunrise
We will be reborn
Hold hands and be set free in the world

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Jane Erye Workshop

There was no possibility of a friend coming over that night. The distance between the three of us had grown like a river flooded by a hurricane. We each went in our own direction and sat in different places around the centre and let ourselves take different paths; no longer all three thinking the same, doing the same, breathing the same.

We had decided to speak our minds, to say when we didn’t like something or weren't interested or didn’t have enough money.  We all have cats and exersize patterns and passion that keep us apart rather than together.

We had been wondering in unhappiness ever since. Missing that law of threes, those times when three people laugh at the same time, just by a glance, a thought, a smile, when we all know what’s going on; When we know each other that well.

What do I do? I keep going like that’s the way it has to be, like that’s the path that we have to go down. like there’s nothing you can do about it. I have one of them over at a time, for chicken wings, or to watch the great Gatsby or other such movie, but it’s been so long since the three of us sat and talked about life.

 I know it won’t last forever or will it. We stand unsure of what to say to each other, afraid of the positivity, afraid of the negativity. I do know I miss those chats and that time and hope we can find a way back together as our new selves.

Was that our time? Or will something happen that will pull the three of us back together again?

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Before Sunrise

After the sleep
Comes the Awake
The budding eyes
The dreamy glance
Cloudy with the past
And the future
Like the sunrise
Two worlds one mind
Slowly coffee is brewed
Slow motion
And bitter sweet
Sugar and milk
To want more
Than just the dream
Of the running night
And take instead reality
Slowly hand in hand
A lover on the sand
And run ahead
And stay behind
Meet side by side
See eye to eye
Start small
Laugh with the moment
It’s not the way I dreamed it
Honest and small
It’s really me
This sunrise of reality

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Mariska The Gypsy

I may be able to use this in the written version but not in the version I tell outloud, not yet

He traced his fingers
Across my back
In the shape of
The rose and thorns
The tattoo of his ancestors
There’s a silence between us
I know what he means
He wants me to be
A Gypsy too

Tuesday, May 7, 2013


 not my photo

I woke up neither happy nor sad, just in the middle, merely a state of motion. I know the things I had to do and commenced doing them. No feeling of happy like that child running down the road right now meeting up with a friend after school. Nor sad like a lover leaving the house for a long trip away from home and all she knows. Just motion, forward and due to tiredness, some repetitive motion; going back and forth trying to remember the nothingness that was forgotten.

It was not like university days when there was always an adventure; Like little lanterns floating down the river, each person a light, each light shone like a beacon to new ideas and new adventures; each day a million lanterns in the night.

I woke up from dreams, and nightmares, of doors opening. I woke up a few times after a front door, a hallway door, a door I had never seen before, opened and someone, something began to enter. Each time I woke up. I understood that doors opening were a good thing but so many bad feelings came along with it.

It was not like university when everything was light. Now people have faces and hair and pasts that push them forward and hold them down. So opening a new door is both exhilarating and frightening at the same time. A lover becomes beautiful and evil. There are no beacons, nothing to say this is right or this is wrong, only the present only the movement forward.

I woke up and went to work, there were other people going through the motions, some happy some sad, some so sad they’re happy, some so happy they’re sad. We seemed to meet by the coffee maker and wish each other a good morning, and pump another cup of caffeine into our souls, waiting for five o clock, waiting for that sound of our own swipe tag sending us home to happy.

I came home and had another cup of coffee, and for a moment there was a feeling; I was tired and then happy to be home. I was happy that I had found a place that was so perfect and so wrong at the same time, and like the dreams where doors open, I had seen another door open that day, and enter something both beautiful and evil and began a new phase of my life.