no matter how you slice it, a sandwich is as a sandwich does

this morning ...manure manicured finger sandwiches are being constructed as we speak in my kitchen.

can't hide and can't deodorize their stink.

gotta dig quickly and deeply into mommy-roots and pull up the strongest ones

and wrap those suckers around my head until the words of positivity and strength and self idealization emerge,

encrusted and slimy and damp and ugly

almost forgotten

almost buried treasure, unexplored.

family trees are the hardest to see through.

the forest may run for miles and be transparent as the lace worn on my wedding day

not THE tree

ghosts of unknown relatives line branches, adding weight

separated, thin saplings reach out for extra light and the girth widens

difficult to prune

impossibly unmanageable

connections and origins and budding confusion

dry and cracked, brittle by years of wind storms and lightening strikes, and fallen beneath the forest's canopy

 farther away from belonging and hope,

remembrance and pride,

respect and delight;

or hang precariously and alone 

awaiting the boy to visit and randomly choose his newest fishing implement.

Read below an earlier post, written years ago, when I opened my heart, opened my soul, and shit sandwiches were served on platters to the ones I loved.  I'm perfecting my recipe, just in case you want it...

can barely see through the tears

must write to feel

must write to sort and think and see through

reality tears

acceptance of what i declared

and what responses followed

will follow

more to come

sure thing

reality

admitting purpose has price

to pay

in real time

with real people

real feelings to hurt

real intentions make real consequences

rather throw this keyboard through that window

rather hide

i'm good at it

hiding from reality

and bites

incompatibility of self with you

fit into one and not the other

help and hurt together

wishing i learned this already

might be easier

might not

reality bites

hard

"my heart can't wait to meet you on the other side"~mmj

to have and to hold

I'm not gonna stand and wait

I'm nothing on my own

~Coldplay

what feels right,
right here,
next to, in front, and around every corner
the one who knows,
knows
who I am
why I am here
what I need to work on
and working
together

talk and tell and teach,

feel what I feel 

listen, learn, like me

best

not when I'm holding the conch shell

not when I'm falling asleep while you read

not the minute I walk in the door

you understand

you just forgot

so did I

happenstance has changed our plans...






we share
we hear
we feel
we know
we are together

everlasting

everything

I’ll run. I’ll fight

"who are you to tell me it'll always be this way?”

~the martinis

When all I want is something different and you can’t give it to me

liar

linked by chains

chained 

levels of life

intersections of hardwoods and cotton balls 

sparkling tips of wheat colored grass

standing tall enough to mask true height

field of dancing glitter

bending blades pointing 

at stoic greens and hills made of sand

where deer appear in the lost rays of sun’s set

“so free for the moment

lost somewhere between the earth and the sky

so free for the moment

lost because I wanna be lost

don’t try to find me"

~the martinis

How did I get here?

I am the face of depression. 

I am the face of mental illness.

I am the face of mental health.

I am the face of recovery.

I am the face of emotion.

I am the face of misunderstanding.

I am the face of change.

I am the face of passion.

I am the face of humanity.
I am the face of generosity.

I am the face of frustration.

I am the face of negativity.

I am the face of a wife.

I am the face of a mother.

I am the face of a sister.

I am the face of a daughter.

I am the face of family.

I am the face of your friend.

I am the face of creativity.

I am the face of a nurse.

I am the face of reality.

No longer can I hide. 

No longer may I crawl away.

I started writing here two years ago, when I felt like I found buried treasure.  My writing voice tucked away and safely stored.  My passion, masked by the veil I so proudly learned to cover my inadequacies.  My feeling, my soul, my longing for more, all gradually reappeared as I looked inside myself, as I honestly asked, and stubbornly demanded answers.  I have some now.  I will hear more soon.  I’m on the path of redemption.  I am serving penance for my missing years.  Years began a lifetime ago this month.  Years I was granted by God and years I lived unconsciously, mind and soul split into pieces, like torn paper floating downstream.  I was lost and now I’m found.  Or something equally dramatic and less prophetic.  How did I get here?

send in the clowns

Where the neon lights electrify signs
Of bilateral paralysis
When the head of the bed is raised
above the beast
Who roars uncharted melodies
Steered and seared walking on flames
For the golden child lost
Afraid and shadowed
Manipulated
Molded
Marauded
Maligned
scratched by the icicles of winter’s discontent
where the heart beats attack
Like Poe’s thump, thump, thump
Alighting the darkness of insanity
Artistically provoked into psychosis
Dream no more
The record stopped turning
With the needle’s rip
Music no more
Sound galore
Where the muffled cacophony begins
Her journey ends
She has permission from spies and lovers
Incognito, nameless, faceless
Touching the screams
Touching and scratching and ripping and thumping
Humping and touching and stroking and joking
Hysterical grin cuts the symphony’s salute
And the clowns bow at their ringmaster
Where the primary colors create rainbows of sweetness
The grey elephants produce steaming piles of life regurgitated
And the children scream and pull on mother’s teat
Get out now!

weight

 I work on extracting my thoughts from my brain.
Carrying false messages.  Dead weight.  Believable.
Sticky.  Messy fingers pulling at silky strings of hurt.
Struggling to sort the welcome from the un.
Writing because I force myself.  Forcing substance into the holes.
Moles holes.  Rabbit den tunnels.  Secret hiding places.  Hiding hell.


You tire easily.  Your flames fanning.  Patience waning. 
In a little while I’ll fall into you and exhale.  Soon.

the big lake

Whitecaps wash my shore.
Parallel foam lines push my limit
Rolling.
Reaching.
Lone moves in the dull darkness, shadow boxing stars.

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