Monthly Archives: March 2012


He buffs and polishes my nails

White mask held tight around his ears

as his vigor sends white powder flying

In a cloud of  dust around our heads

The drone of betrayal and anger

splays itself on to  the wide screen Tv

Held high against the back wall  

The soap opera marches into his fingers

as he sands and buffs my nails


Muffled comments emanate from behind

The swath of white cover over his mouth

I can feel his heat rise on the bed of my nails

“I hate those shows.  I hate how they treat each other.”

I imagine his lips taunts in the hiss of the words

behind that mask that denies toxic inhalation

He exhales the toxic conversation coming

In his ears from the wide screen Tv

He gives the burn of it to my nails


I give and ‘Ouch’ and a twitch

“It’s evil.”  he says  “Family should never

treat each other like that. It’s evil”

His eyes never meet mine in this intimate

Space we share in the buzz and buff

of my nails in the heat of his anger

And the septic conversation rolling

over us from the wide screen TV

I give agreement to his sentiment

It is an Opera that no amount of soap

will ever clean the toxic dump of it

from a man that honors and holds

his family in the tender truth of his love


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aaaah well… The path to knowing the self more deeply does not rule out those times when you have to just go and get your parts and body checked out for the ‘just-in-case’ of life’s unexpected.  This is one of those mornings.  Let me just call it out like it is.. Titsmashin’  huh huh.  you got it.  Walks into the soul’s deep places requires self care and info.


It’s not like we want to 

us of swaying breasts

Needing a tit smash to find 

if things our outta place

For those that might wonder, 

like you boys out there

We strip down to naked 

lay each breast down for a cold stare

All vulnerable and exposed

We lay our tits down

Cause who wants breast cancer

to be the thing that takes us down


From the caring indifference

of a nurse doing their job

Lifting each tit up one at a time 

On to a cold metal slab 

They position that tit just right 

flopping it around for the whap

Here comes the lowering for the smash

Trying to flatten you tit with that crash


Then they zap with radiation

Take a picture just right

Hoping to capture a view 

of your titties internal strife

It happens in minutes

Thank god for that

Here’s hoping that picture

Makes my tits look fab



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A Pantoum …  I have become very fond of this style of poetry.  I think because I can write simple lines without knowing exactly how the poem will unfold and when it’s finished I find a great deal of beauty to it’s simplicity.  Thanks for reading.  



Waiting for his breath to cease

Sitting here quietly breathing

Noticing tender feelings

I image his final rest

Sitting here quietly breathing

His will end so very soon

I image his final rest

Will tears come to my eyes 

His will end so very soon

I feel his blood flow in my body

Will tears come to my eyes

I’m not inclined to cry

I feel his blood flow in my body

I will turn it into wine

I’m not inclined to cry

I will celebrate his life

I will turn it into wine

Noticing tender feelings

I will celebrate his life

Waiting for his breath to cease


Please enjoy some Haiku at my Tarot/numerology blog…   peace and namaste’


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What one liner would you put on your grave stone or would like others to remember about you?  Now,,, sippy that coffee.

I KNOW… it’s one of those things to think about,Right?  I’m not sure how to put this idea into poetic form so probably I’ll give it one of my special rambles.  As my brother fades into the ethers, soon to make his transition, my sister-in-law asked me what might be a good line for him at his gravesite.  I suggested…. “If I tell ya I’ll have to kill ya.”   Believe me, there is reason for this line.  another story, another day.




I Will be back

I laughed to my last breath

Here today gone tomorrow

Bartender, a round for everyone

Who put the damn light out?

Does this make my butt look fat?

I’ll be watching from heaven

I have my eyes on you

Forever in our hearts

Rest now my love

There’s no place like home

I did have great teeth

I’m funny now don’t forget that

Infinity is my playground

Be Here NOw… I am

Ha Ha Ha Ha hahaha

You’re killin’ me… oh.. right

I played it for the song

Beam me up Scotty

I don’t think this Is Kansas 

Some where over the Rainbow

If I told you once I told you a thousand times

Git over here and let me give ya big hug

I think I can I think I can I think I can

I’m still precious don’t forget that

I’m Free, free fallin’

Poetry in Motion

She always had a story to tell


I could write these all day.  And I bet you’re glad I stopped here.  



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Burrrrrr… Sippy the hot coffee. This is what Spring is suppose to be.  I’m good with that.  Hoping the damage to the early blooms is minimal. Nature had her ‘Fool ya’ hat on like nearly 5 weeks early.  It sure has been pretty.  And…the Sun is rising in another blue sky.

I’m not so sure on the 32cd day of my ‘pilgrimage’ within me and around me, how successful I’ve been.  And perhaps that has nothing to do with it.  Actually, I’m pretty sure that I might as well give that thought right up.  Going with changes and flow in the Be Here Now, and you do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around… That’s what it’s ALL about.   I think there’s a song coming on…   oh my…


I put all my appendages in one at a time

At last flinging my entirety into the center

I shook and shimmied accordingly

Turned in circles, hands to the heavens

Making declaration to the All About

Cause it seems like that’s what it’s all about

I tried to not have expectation in the don’t assume

Letting the glow of praise fill me up

In the rapid heart beat of the turning all about


I use to think it might be ‘42’ and maybe it is

If you take the galactic ride across the universe

Thumb extended hitchin’ a ride with some alien yahoo

Orbiting galaxy after galaxy around and around

Certainly it is going around about the All About

Taking the long way from here to there and back

We’re still circling either way to find The Way.

All appendages accounted for attached to the body


The wagon-train of finding yourself is on the move

One way or The Other Way of your choosing.  

Circle up people, cause we’re gonna do a little dance

We never had to protect you from the Indians

Or the desert sands, or them rattlers and scorpions

Nope, it was your fear that was the renegade

Your fear that stole you away from peace-full

Fear circled you and you lost the All About

I’m here to tell you to ‘Turn yourself around’


Put your whole self in and shake the fear right off

Raise your hands to the heavens alleluia all about

Shimmy shake to face your neighbor

See the love and and Light within their eyes

That’s what it’s All About












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REMEMBERING MOM… 26 March 2005

7 years ago my mother transitioned to the Great Beyond.  I love you mom.  This poem is about the first date I ever remembering her having.  I was in 8th grade.




I hear the door open downstair

A giggle echos up with a thud

I’ve been waiting for her anxious

Waiting and wondering

ear to door, ear to door listening

She doesn’t date and has a date

A date with a father of a girl I know

A girl I know and don’t like so much

Not so much at all.


I throw open the door, I open it wide

Her shoe lays on the top step, 

On the top step all pointy and 

pointing at me standing there

“Mom, mom is that you? Is that you?”

More giggling and her other shoe flies

It flies over the bannister lands at my feet

Of course it is her, I know it is her

There are her shoes. There she stands 

On the landing, standing there looking at me

Eyes all twinkly with laughter flowering out


She stands there staring at me with blooms for eyes

Mouth tightly puckered, zipped tight staring

I was horrified of her shoes laying there

Right there laying at my feet at the top of the stairs

Sue’s daddy took my mommy 

Took my mommy to shoe-flying school

It  put sparks in her eyes and makes her silent

And what was I to do?  “MOm?”

She snorts and unzips her mouth

Her teeth are on fire, a burning Sun

Pouring the heat of her out and all over me

I scream in horror, she gives a muffle of laugher

and spits the Sun out at me, right at me


It hits my leg burning me deep. I am on fire

I stop breathing. She pours her laughter

Up those last few steps on to my burning legs 

Cool laughter that quells the fire in her embrace

She picks up the Orange peel at my feet

Waves it, waves it in my face laughing

We plop on the top step.  On the top step

We laugh, we laugh and laugh at the orange peel

Her pointy shoes still pointing at the two us

Sitting there on the top step, laughing tearful

I am sure I never will like Sue or her father ever

Never ever never. But then my mother 

My mother hadn’t been than funny in years

So many years.








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Sippy the coffee… 30 days in.  A month of not quite feeling the burn of the hot desert sand.  Just a little singe here and there.  Mostly, boiling of my deep sea.  How can I even explain that?  Probably not.


Waiting for explanation may never come

Somethings don’t have reasonable attached

They may always find a rhyme to make work

The ego wants a damn answer be sure of that


Rational gives a mad giggle to your trying

Her ability to play hide n’ seek remarkable

Can’t expect much from her when she never knew

How could she when there was never a place for her


If that makes you irrational, unreasonable

As your mind suffers in the yearning

Be the good story teller that you have always been

Make the best of it to quell the question’s want


Make it up as you go a long you always have

The unexplainable will never cease to exist

Your damned it you do and damed if you don’t

Be as unreasonable as you want everyone else is


Living is like that, breathing will do that to you

Love and hate, violence and peace, pain and pleasure

All in the same deck of cards a random deal

If you believe in random acts of anything


The mind wants an answer, it just does

It will run you in circles like a rat in a trap

Give it the good answer, tell it a good story

Do what ya gotta do before it starts to eat it’s paws


There is no reasonable reason to bleed to death

In the unexplainable explanation of things

When a perfectly lovely story waits for your telling

And your mind is a happy camper

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On the first of April, that foolish folly day, I will have written everyday for one whole year.  365 days.  WAWhooo.  I intended to  gather some of my writings and make a small book of my poetry.  Do any of you remember liking any in particular?  If you have the time, might you take a quick peruse and jog your memory?  I welcome help.  thanks so much.


The quiet doesn’t move the mobile

It hangs there suspended in my stare

Will the cat’s play stir the air

Will my tapping here ripple up a storm

I think that I might give it an exhale

Maybe push it just so that it will move

In this still breath of my home 

I think I’ll leave the room and come back


My stare must have wind to it

Rolling right out of my eyeballs

Cause the Orange circle and the crescent 

have just started to move the whole sculpture

toward the west counter clockwise 

pointing a metal finger right at me

A pause and now with nothing but a look see

It moves backwards holding the pose 

of “There, are you happy now I moved?”


It hangs there suspended unmoving now

just like a few moments ago when the

storm from my eyes gave it a little smack

and it teased me to it’s slow, ever so slow

Rotation.  Damn there it goes again.



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Good morning people… sippy the coffee.  Smell the world.


Lost in the morning rise serenade

Of bird song and the smell of damp earth

lilting through the opening windows 

Teases at my bare legs in a cool shiver

Squirrels squirreling around in mad scamp

Sending the cat on a wild spree window to window

Desperate and hopeful for a beheading


Spring rising with no winter betrayal

LIcking the air in a  wave of green and bloom

Unseasonal temperatures caress the skin

Calling out for early blossom arrivals

And the tempt to garden sooner than later

It’s only March and betrayal will come

Frost will have one more go on your blooms


Convertibles ride down the main drag and

Bicyclists hug the margins with intention

Joggers take their neighborhoods block by block

Dogs walk their people with nose to grass

Butts get sniffed, neighbors connect,

Talk is about global warming and weather weirdness

And gee I sure hope this doesn’t mean a hot summer

But damn it sure is nice this a.m. so enjoy it neighbor









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Give in to the busy mind

Let it have a go at you

It’s the grab onto a thought 

That disrupts that mad flow


Spirals the circle pattern

Down into the rough gravel

And you skin your knee brain

Wondering why the clumsy


You get clumsy when you halt

It’s a brain pile up on the roadway

When you’re bound to the mind-way

Expect the crash that stops the flow


Unless of course it’s the perfect hit

The speed bump flung you and yours

On to a mountain of paint chips

A trombone, banjo, and Edgar Allen Poe


What could you do but busy up 

Wipe up that blooded knee brain

And play us all a song in perfect colour

lyrically cawing for the ever never more 


You can see how simple it all can be

Letting go, giving in, hump bumpin’

Along that mind-way highway

Going with the flow and then not


Have fun and be nice


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