Sunday, April 26, 2015


I enter the doors
Made by paper
And words
I will skim
Like milk,
Spilled over the leather
The bindings, utter sounds
To remind me of
Of the body of words
I wish to learn
Like sugar in my tea

I study
This new romance
Make new rules
And as soon as they're law
Break them

I reach the core
The verbs, the adjectives
And, oh yes, the nouns
The language a volcano
I try
The first time
I see your eyes
The words I learned
From the travel guide
And no one
Not even you
Understands a word I say

But you see my passion
And take my hand
Phrases and images
Give way like the
Castle is falling behind us
Pictures come alive
With the words
I see mine
Turn into yours
Before I open
My mouth

One day I say
"I love you"
In your language
And it makes sense
So many words
That have been said before
Are only crumpled paper
Except that this one sentence

Is a written passage way to the kiss of a foreign tongue

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

In Dark Places

I'm growing light; I am a flower of light, in dark places. All this time I wondered if I made the right decision. All this time I've hated my theatre degree because I didn't understand until now, right now, that I was following a dream, following my heart.

I was embarressed because I went to university and didn't get a job doing Theatre, or History, or English. I was embarressed because it took me a while to find my place. I was frustrated because it took me a while to not come home and just sleep.

I'm growing light, I didn't realize it, but when I started singing again I opened up the zipper between light and dark, and let the sunshine in. I've doubted and still doubt my abilities, but I'm getting stronger as I do write night and singing lessons, as I keep writing and recording on my own. I took film and now I record myself reading my poems, singing. It's little but it's one step at a time

It's a lesson in faith, to hang on. In 1995 I said I wanted to take theatre, be an artist, and no one stopped me. In 2015 I feel it all falling into place, if only for a moment, life and dreams start to come together and meet. I see the reasons for my choices in the past and I applaud myself for the perserverence I have shown over the last 20 years.

There will proabably always be pain and struggle, but I'm learning who I am, I am lighting up my darkness.

Saturday, April 18, 2015

The Navigator

I don't remember much from being a child. I think because I don't have a lot of people to remind me. SO much of conversations parents and relatives and friends since childhood, is "remember the time you rolled in the mud in the mud flats?" or "sang something beautiful at the church service?" In our family we don't really talk about or remember things like that. The event happened, a few people were there, they didn't like that we got all dirty or that they had to sit through the whole service to hear me mess up Morning has Broken.

I do know I was a mixture of impulsive and thoughtful as a child. I would do whatever I wanted to do and then think about the consequences and decide how I would react and talk in the future.

I liked to have jokes and conversations planned out in my head, I remember post university when my Hotel friends missed a joke I saw unravel in my head, I tried to direct it, like the director I had been in university. But I know that over the years I've become more and more aware of myself. I didn't think it was possible to be more away of myself now than what I was twenty years ago, but I am.

I've become a human navigator I write poetry like maps of the past, like maps of my feelings. I get up early in the morning to go over my dreams and stay up late at night pointing my life in the direction I want with song and words.

I think about what people say, people that I have to be around, people that I choose to be around and see how their words affect me. I embrace the good ones and heal from the sad ones.

I live the present by navigating the past.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Butterflies Around the Moon

Someones praying tonight
I hear their sighs
Their words like butterflys
Around the moon

Someone is playing their
Old stand up piano
For the last time
Before they leave it
In the golden field
The June bugs to play it with
Their June bug toes

The sounds of dreams
Waking up in the night
To realize
The prayer wasn't for the child
But for me

The sound of keys
As I walk out the door
One more time
To do something
I pray for

I just can't shake
The sound of my voice
Asking for one more wish
One more dream coming true
And then praying
For someone I've never met

My words butterflies
Around the moon

Thursday, April 16, 2015

two cats and a lap top and a piano

Maybe instead of thinking: "I’m not very good at this but I’ll do it because it’s fun." I’ll think "Hey I’m pretty good at this."

Maybe I can do both. Have fun and be good. You see I don't always have the best self confidence but I do what I want to do. I do what makes me happy. Singing made me happy so I did it, but what if I'm good at it, what if I can be good at it, and can be proud of it.

What if what I'm doing here, means something. Well it does mean something to me, but what if I'm doing Ok with it, you know? What is my positivity rubs off not only on me, but on the people around me? And we laugh and feel real.

I'm pretty good at writing a poem that heals me, and I can record them and play with them and the options of what I can do and what I want to do and what I've studied are starting to come together. Even if it's just for my own amusement.

What happened if it took forty years to love myself. All the things I tried to do in my twenties, go out on self dates and go to restaurants, never worked. Now, finally I curl up alone with two cats and a lap top and a piano and I feel like I'm getting somewhere. I didn't need to get out to love me I needed to get in. And The more I stay in, eat my own food write my own life, and go out when it's honest the more positives I attract. Is that a type of math?

I guess I just needed a little time to say "I'm proud of who I am" and where I seem to be going. Slowly but surely. Understanding my ups and downs and not fighting them as much, not trying to be someone else, when I thought I was trying to be myself, but I wasn't. Just becoming more comfortable in my skin and my soul and more able to stand up for what I want and who I am.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Be Magic

I have the right to my own body, my ideas, my own mind, my own strength my own decisions.

This morning I saw an article that said Hilary Clinton is going to have the messiest race ever because most people don't think that women have the right to their own bodies let alone the right to run the country. And I wondered what kind of fear that invoked in me. If, through society, I learned to be afraid of my magic, my mind my voice, if growing up meant I wasn't as strong as I think I want to be and that fear holds me down.

I wonder, and believe it could be true, that I'm afraid to lose my power, and so never use it to it's full potential. And so I am going to stop being scared.

I won't be scared I'll be magic.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Melting Snow

The snow below

Like my broken heart

Will stop falling

On the broken glass

Along the coast line

I swear I saw her fly,

Over all the troubles and

Along the broken coastline

I swear I saw you walk

The miles it took to live your life

And not be scared

Maybe I'm afraid to live alone, despite

That's how I live my life.

Maybe I'll see that I'm not alone, really,

I won't be so scared.

But I know I saw you smile

I know I saw you fly

Like a humming bird high

The blue sky and white cloud shadows

There are very few things

That would bring me to my knees

But it won't be this

It won't hurt worse

Than the heartlessness

I've chosen to live

I'll land on that tree

And really find my heart

Full of whispering leaves

The broken snow melted away

We'll be free again

Friday, April 10, 2015

The Dancer

There's an image dancing inside my head. A music box dancer. She's in a white dress but something wrong: somethings not right about it.

There's an image of a little baby with a toothless grin and saggy diapers. Dancing to music before she can even walk. Just sort of bouncing and grinning and humming.

"She's very receptive to music," people would say.

Cassie's parents put her into dancing as soon as the instructor said she was old enough. The closest studio was a tap class. They loved to see her click in the tiny shoes.

"She'll lose interest in it soon." Said her father.

"Oh Cassie you don't want to go to dance class?" they would ask as a joke, and at first she would cry and pled. Later she would stand silently with her hair in her mouth until her parents laughed at said "Of course we're taking you to dance."

It only took a year before there were pictures of ballet dancers on her walls and in the computer. On Tuesdays when they would go to the dance store she would beg and cry for a pair of ballet shoes.

"Mama put my hair up in a bun?" She would ask before tap. She was the only dancer with a bun in tap class.

One day the instructor pulled Cassies parents aside when they came to pick her up.

"You're daughter is very talented, even at this young age, but she doesn't want to tap, she wants to do ballet. I think this would be very important to her."

"Is this true?" Her mother asked Cassie. And Cassie began to cry afraid, like when her parents told her they weren't going to take her to dance class at all.

"Thank you." Said her mother to the tap instructor and took her daughter out of tap class and they never came back.

The next week they drove across town to the ballet school and she began training for her life: For her life was dancing. As other kids played basket ball and soccer Cassie would insist she spend another evening at the studio.

After juggling the finances the basement was done over into a mini dance studio.

At her birthday, her parents asked her who she wants to invite to her party and she shakes her head, and says, "can we go see the touring ballet company instead of a party?" And so they would go.

"Don't you want to invite some friends to the ballet?" asked her father.

"I don't want them to be better than I am."

At age 16 local theatres and dance companies were asking her to be in shows.

Directors would knock on per parents door after lengthy telephone conversations. Cassie said the director, "I want you to dance as if you've lost your whole world..."

To everyone in the room the world had ended.

Another director would say "show me happy I want to see joy" And everyone would smile and stand up and clap when she was done.

By sixteen the 18 year old boy next door who played guitar and piano and sang was very interested in her. He would ask her out on dates and she would turn him down, there was no room for a man. They would have nothing in common.

"Cassie you will not go to the studio tonight." Said her mother as she locked the door to the basement, "you will call that boy and go out on a date with him,"

She called that boy and they went to a little coffee shop and drank tea and she had a banana while he had a muffin dripping with butter. She actually laughed once during the conversation.

"what are you doing next Friday."

"Dancing" she said

But the next Friday her mother locked the studio on her and she and the boy went bowling and this went on for two years, every Friday night the studio was locked out, and they went to a coffee shop or bowling or for a walk.

One day she kissed him and laughed a little. He told her that so many woman wanted to date him, but he loved being with her and she's the only one he wanted to be with. She liked that he wanted to be with her.

Then he asked to marry her and she said no. She liked saying no, having control over more then just dancing.

There was a meeting between Cassies parents and that boys parent.

They agreed "this was no world to live alone in and they were made for each other and there had to be a way for them to be together."

Pick put a beautiful white dress for a wonderful marriage, a wonderful production. Said her mother "You trust me right?"

Cassie picked out the dress but she threatened "I will destroy it, to roll in the mud to cut it with scissors."

A week before the wedding they started to feed her "the pill" told her it was dr's orders.

She refused at first and told her it would be the only way she could keep dancing once she was married. "You trust me right?" Said her mother.

And every day for week she took the pill and she kept dancing Her wedding came along fast. The dress arrived in a car at the church while she arrived in a limo, no make up because of the tears and screaming.

She got the dress on and her mother said :he's a very nice man you'll love him"

Mother reached out her arms and she cried and cried. And for the first time in two years she thought maybe all of this was the wrong decision.

Cassie 'I'm sorry" she said "it's too late to back down now do you trust your mother?"

"No mother no," she said "I hate you I hate this."

Her baby sister sat on the floor colouring her pictures with crayons and began to cry.

Her mother frustrated left for a moment to get some fresh air. When she came back Cassies dress was all the colours of the 64 package of crayons.

"I guess the dress is ruined." She said

"Oh Cassie think of this as a production on the way to life, this is as marvellous as a dance."

They walked down the isle her father leading her. It was a quick wedding with a quick and emotional "I do" as everyone was watching her.

"Did I do good mama?" She whispered as they walked down the isle.

Then her and her husband went to some place fucking warm for a week.

In the morning, after sleeping on the plane, they had breakfast at the restaurant. She took the coffee with her and hoped the room was large enough to dance in.

That boy began to undo her dress and leaned in to kiss her and she threw the coffee at him. She locked her self in the bedroom and didn't come out all day, she just cried and cried.

He started to unpack their things which included all her personal belongings. He found a piece of music a pop song he had brought his guitar and began to play the song and sing it.

She came out to listen, still in her wedding dress of 64 colours, and sat on the floor and listened

"I love they way you play that, I've never heard it played like that before."

"Will you dance to it?" Asked Conner.

He played it again and she danced to it : she danced and then she took his hand and taught him to partner with her and he sang the song, in tune while they danced together

"Then she let him unzip her dress."

Monday, April 6, 2015

Blanket and a Dream

I should refuse
Your pass and take my own turn
I got no secrets in my pockets
no weapons but my mind

I just am who I am
Angels and fairies
Watching over me
I am who I am

I should take you up
On that date you set
The rain got no galoshes
Got not time to spare

I am who I am
No matter what name
I use today
You can't hide behind a name like Duncan

I should lay down
Simply surrender
A gun shot like a clock alarm
The heart in the whetted stone

But I decide I can make it
One more day
I can't hide from life
With a blanket and a dream

Friday, April 3, 2015

Dragonfly on my Shoulder

 found this photo on the net
I've been thinking about putting some of my real name on twitter, wondering what will happen if I do. Not my last name, just the first two bits.

Maybe in the time it takes for a dragonfly to land on my shoulder. I'll put a name with all the personal strife and happiness I share with the world. Maybe I'll own in with a little CMC.

But I wonder if I know who I really am. And if putting my real name on my pieces, on my heart will make it more dangerous more real. There are secrets I have kept from even me things that I push down. I'm sure I would be scared and fascinated by the real me.

Maybe when the dragon fly lands on my shoulder, that magic will unlock my need to pretend. Pretend so many things. Maybe my fear of letting people see who I really am is the same fear I have with people in the 'verse knowing my real name.

I've learned many tricks over the years and taken many pills to counteract the magic but maybe this dragon fly with all his grace will let me be who I really am and I won't be afraid of who I really am.

But then again Something about me, being my honest self frightens me: I hear echoes and thoughts; my own and what other people say that frighten me. And there are so many things that without medication that with the wrong poison entering my body I can't control.

There are so many nights I sit alone and wonder what demon will spill from me: what needs and wants and mistakes will take over my soul and so I trap myself in silence. And pretend to be what I think other people want me to be.

Even though I don't use my real name this is the one place I can really be me