Friday, December 6, 2013
Barefoot Through The Snow
Maine is as northeastern as you can be and still be in the United States. I chose Maine because it is as close to heaven as hell gets in my opinion. Its still wild and beautiful as am I even though we've both been badly abused these past several decades.
Maine is so much older than this old crone's body but the spirit that lives within me is so much older than Maine. My blood remembers both sides of the Atlantic ocean and crossing it above and below.
I was burned for a witch somewhere along the darkest corridors of my time. I was a medicine woman then and other times. I've been pagan and Indian but always SHE.
I remember the earth beneath my bare feet as they followed game trails through woods and fields beside the rivers where my people always settled.
Always, others would come with their strange ways and beliefs. We tolerated them in the beginning, but we quickly realized that they were not as we chose to be. The more we shared, the more they wanted as though they were empty vessels that couldn't hold content, as though they could never be filled to satisfaction. It was a sickness among them that made them pale and so weak that they needed to use other people to do their heavy or domestic labor.
We taught our children to stay away from strange people who offered strange gifts to entice them away from the safety of their homes. These men had no respect for themselves nor for their brothers.
One summer so long ago that the memory is scarcely more than a nightmare, I was gathering roots and herbs along the woodlands when I heard loud knocking echoing across our valley. Before the fall, the walnut grove across that valley disappeared into bare patches so large that they could be seen from miles away. I decided to investigate more closely when I gathered nuts for our winter stores if any of the trees still stood.
I left before daybreak crossing the river at an area called 'the washing place' where it narrowed and slowed.
The sun was midsky when I reached an alarming sight. A stone hearth and timbers were being assembled for a rather large cottage. Two smaller buildings already contained livestock and a generous garden was nearly ready to harvest. The sound of a woodsman's ax, close by quickly made me abandon my mission. I had heard wild stories of these men and what they did to lone women found bathing in the shallow pools beneath the waterfall.
Soon smoke could be seen rising from that stone chimney. Thereafter, I vowed to stay away from that side of the valley except that it was where I always found the best mushrooms and my only source for mandrake roots.
It was several seasons after, when my only other sources had also been compromised that I ventured the journey again. I stayed as far away from the clearing as I could but I could see and hear that the woods were also changed. I immediately regretted breaking my selfmade vow.
A horse and rider appeared through the trees with a gutted deer. I heard a low husky voice speaking unfamiliar words. I began to run but his horse quickly caught up to me. Its rider slid off and grabbed me around my shoulders. I tried to cry out but he suddenly clamped his hand over my mouth. A woman emerged from the cottage headed for the garden. I was terrified but he held me still and quiet. The woman was dressed in a long dark dress that covered everything except her face and hands; even her hair was tucked up under a white cap that matched the bib apron tied at her waist but it was still obvious that she was in the late stages of pregnancy. She went along the lower rows with a handled basket filling it with an assortment of produce until it was full. It was only moments then she returned to the house.
The man wasted no time throwing me to the ground and tearing my peasant dress away from my naked breasts, They were firm and erect in the chill of gathering storm clouds. I was raped so abruptly and brutally that his sudden ejaculation and the blood of my virginity ran down my legs and mingled with the icy rain of a sudden violent thunder storm that sent the horse racing toward the barn riderless. The man gathered his britches as quickly as he could and ran after it without another glance in my direction.
I had known since I was a child that weather patterns followed my moods. I loved to dance in the rain and snow.It wasn't until I became a young woman that the more intense storms became common in my vicinity. Village mothers warned their sons to behave themselves around that medicine girl because she was in training and would likely never marry. Besides, she wasn't Christian!
When my grandmother who had raised me died, it was peacefully. She had raised me with the wisdom of the animals as her grandmother before her had done and with a well developed understanding of which plants could heal and which could kill and how to survive with nothing more than my medicine bag, my skinning knife and a deep respect for every lesson. Nature is as harsh and gentle as any mother must be. Death waited in the most beautiful hearts; a flower, fish or tiny lizard could kill you more quickly than any dragon. I did not fear death since it was more natural than the cruelties of men. A dragon's breath would have consumed me more compassionately than the slow torture of the stake. They called me a witch and praised their God as they put me through Hell.
Love? What is love? I want to understand this concept that is so eternal that great books are written about it and men shout it from every pulpit ever built. Is it not the tender way that a mother licks her newly born or shelters them beneath her wings in a forest fire? Must it be shouted to be felt? What does it feel like when it dies and how can it if it is eternal? I can not learn of love from those who practice it in confusion of understanding. I must decide for myself what to believe from my own experiences.
I have lived many lives but I have no memory of choosing to be HE. He is the object of my own desire and fulfillment. It has always been so. Without HIM, I am incomplete and can not continue my purpose. My purpose is to nurture life so that it wants to continue.
With each awareness comes greater wisdom and acceptance. It is the freedom that we value that is also the trap which we set for ourselves when we deprive any of it. The moment that we take it away from others, we lose it for ourselves. We exist in an endless quest to understand our own nature while never allowing that which is natural to exist without restraint thus creating chaos and a constant need to restore balance.
Out of one, many are possible. All must be allowed. That which we struggle against is ourselves. There is no struggle in acceptance.
It is the the last month of thirteenth year of the second millennium. I have been in this body for better than sixty three years. It is difficult to maintain and has become more of a trap than I can appreciate but I function in it. I wish that I could have appreciated it more and taken better care when it was new. Much of what ails it is my own doing but a lot is not. It serves as a social tool as well. What would happen if...seems to be a social question best played on others. Experimentation is cruel when you're using another's body. Longing for simplicity fills my dreams with a world of great beauty and wonder. In my dreams, I am sometimes, alone but never for too long. The children awaken or arrive and I am sometimes, among them. I'm the little girl telling stories full of imaginary beings and circumstances because I am a creator of such things. I always am. I'm so full of tears that they leak into planets full of life that is ever changing, always evolving. I am life giving because that is my choice. I am mother of GOD.
Last winter, there were footprints beneath my window in the freshly fallen snow. Sometimes, I walk barefoot in the snow and the birdfeeder needed filling. My feet were too swollen and hot to dress so I simply iced them more naturally for a few minutes by taking advantage of nature's bounty.
My father's people were the original Americans who greeted the newly arrived ships that had come from across the mighty Atlantic when this beautiful land still had clear rivers and plenty of fish and game. Somewhere, along his lines, I was a medicine woman among my people and walked barefoot so that I could remain in touch with my earth mother.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Howling Again
I'm still learning. Never let it be said that you can't teach an old bitch new tricks even if she isn't performing as you think she should. I have my own needs and agenda based on them. Stop what you think I need and pay close attention. I need happier times for the children. I need those children laughing and playing and learning to love not wage wars or earn wages. They are children of a lesser god than you, boy! More importantly, they are children of the goddesses. I am Luna by night. I fly better in the dark, too. I am flying higher these days. I am finally, at last and forever singing with genuine joy. The humming birds bring it to me and I share it. Everything IS beautiful if you give it a chance. I picture me howling as a lone wolf bitch since I became a crone on my own. My hair is nearly as silver as that moonlight on the bay. I intend to heal faster and get better because my grandsons need their NanaBev to shine down on them with all the love of my fathers and mothers before me and there after. U Go Girl is the bumpah stickah on that Maine licensed millennium edition Jetta and its my silver wings and the sun is just now setting on a most wonderful day. It took some pain and suffering succahtash but I am moving on up and no one is gonna stop me until I get there, this time. EEEHAH!
Monday, July 22, 2013
George's Big Brother, Washington
Yes, he's watching. He has eyes in the sky and everywhere else that matters most. I am amazed at how easily we have been led. Whoever would have thought that the sixties protesters would have followed such blind alley cats? How did we come to this? Propaganda and media coverage is global and they've been warming us in the ovens of climate changes. Maine has never known such as summer as this. I am really surprised that more isn't being said about that. Where are the mosquitos? I live in an area where there should be plenty. What happened to the ticks that were everywhere last year and the year before? I am happier without them, certainly but it bothers me when nature is disturbed by human hands. Changes are inevitable with more and more technology replacing our senses. Web cams can see what we might not want to miss but they are also invasive of our privacy. Are we too trusting of our governments? How well controlled are our liberties and justices?
We heard those cliches until we spout them out at every angle. "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." So long as we aren't personally threatened, we tend to move right along since we don't want such attentions focused on our endeavors. Bullying thrives on that basis. Are governments bullying the masses? What do you think?
We heard those cliches until we spout them out at every angle. "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." So long as we aren't personally threatened, we tend to move right along since we don't want such attentions focused on our endeavors. Bullying thrives on that basis. Are governments bullying the masses? What do you think?
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Musing
I am a muse in my own mind. It's meant. It's not always fun or funny. I write to create feelings or a safe place to dispose of them or to record the events that created them. Sharing is a social necessity. It needs to be balanced against the greater need for effectiveness. The goal is to feel compassion and understanding while seeking them.
Maine has never been free for this woman or many others. It wasn't ever just for aboriginal families or members of so called cults. What does just mean if not fair?That is my point.
My mother was a Mormon and that is considered a cult in these holier than thou uptight societies which are predominantly northern Baptist. The biggest difference between them and their southern counterparts would be the sheets that many southerners wear. Northerners are more secretive and harder to identify. Woman and children are to Maine men what persons of color used to be for too many; personal property.
During prohibition, a local pedophile was even elected sheriff. I'm not certain whether this was typical and acceptable behavior since it was still going strong and so was he throughout the fifties and sixties, though he was no longer the county's sheriff..
My first decade of life was a time for family bonding and discovery. I was fourth daughter in a large family but pedophiles were not ever discussed. My mother taught respect for our elders, proper manners, self discipline, consideration and survival. My father taught us to survive in the woods and beside the river. We only had one set of grandparents because my mother and her younger sister were orphaned before my mother was six years of age. My father had no brothers and only one of his two sisters ever married though marriages were lifelong for both she and their parents.
It wasn't a factor taken into account by the state of Maine when it ruled both of my parents unfit for custody and made eight children wards of a corrupt and abusive society. Pedophiles were placed in positions of authority over my siblings and me. Keeping us together in The State Military and Naval Children's home became more expensive than splitting us up into corrupt foster homes. Only three remained together at the Bath Children's home after that first five years. By the new year, there would only be two. I spent 'sweet 16' and a total of twenty months in a 'reform' school for girls on 'the hill' in Hallowell, Maine 'upriver'. It was administrated by a lesbian who was allowed to adopt her favorite girl and to resign under protest of inadequate funding. I heard where she went from the grapevine since my sister was best friends with this girl. My understanding is that improprieties continued to follow this woman but it was never completely disclosed due to the backlash of protests that would ensue.
I survived to experience more injustices. It has made me a crusader for justice or even just ice. I speak for the under spoken who have been intimidated into silence or bullied into social conformity.
Truth is relative to the perspective of the viewer. My family was utterly destroyed at a crucial time in its development. It was not allowed to grow stronger and more secure. We were discouraged from following either of my parent's religions. In the United States, where my father attempted to serve in the Navy and where he was honorably discharged due to a 'constitutional state of emotional instability', my father remembered his true ancestors as Indians of the Chickabee tribe (sp?). He was a peaceful man with an addiction to alcohol which made him dark and moody. He drank to forget the horrors of war since he worked on destroyers every work day at The Bath Iron Works. These ships were built by the best Maine had to employ and even by workers 'frum away' as we say in these pahts. Dialect accounts for the misspelling.
My father was the last of his line so he needed a son to carry the family name.
My mother and her younger sister were orphaned before school age. Their mother was from Massachusetts but their father was from Bath where my aunt was sent just after she was born because her mother was too ill to care for her. The girls never bonded and were never as close as only sisters can be. My mother tried to bond with her children but she lost her motivation after the first three were all girls. She remained pregnant for the entire decade of of 1946 through 1956 when her Jewish doctor mercifully fixed her since Ed couldn't bring himself to do so. Of course, he said he would and did but he remained capable after such claims and another daughter and son were the consequences.
Maine has never been free for this woman or many others. It wasn't ever just for aboriginal families or members of so called cults. What does just mean if not fair?That is my point.
My mother was a Mormon and that is considered a cult in these holier than thou uptight societies which are predominantly northern Baptist. The biggest difference between them and their southern counterparts would be the sheets that many southerners wear. Northerners are more secretive and harder to identify. Woman and children are to Maine men what persons of color used to be for too many; personal property.
During prohibition, a local pedophile was even elected sheriff. I'm not certain whether this was typical and acceptable behavior since it was still going strong and so was he throughout the fifties and sixties, though he was no longer the county's sheriff..
My first decade of life was a time for family bonding and discovery. I was fourth daughter in a large family but pedophiles were not ever discussed. My mother taught respect for our elders, proper manners, self discipline, consideration and survival. My father taught us to survive in the woods and beside the river. We only had one set of grandparents because my mother and her younger sister were orphaned before my mother was six years of age. My father had no brothers and only one of his two sisters ever married though marriages were lifelong for both she and their parents.
It wasn't a factor taken into account by the state of Maine when it ruled both of my parents unfit for custody and made eight children wards of a corrupt and abusive society. Pedophiles were placed in positions of authority over my siblings and me. Keeping us together in The State Military and Naval Children's home became more expensive than splitting us up into corrupt foster homes. Only three remained together at the Bath Children's home after that first five years. By the new year, there would only be two. I spent 'sweet 16' and a total of twenty months in a 'reform' school for girls on 'the hill' in Hallowell, Maine 'upriver'. It was administrated by a lesbian who was allowed to adopt her favorite girl and to resign under protest of inadequate funding. I heard where she went from the grapevine since my sister was best friends with this girl. My understanding is that improprieties continued to follow this woman but it was never completely disclosed due to the backlash of protests that would ensue.
I survived to experience more injustices. It has made me a crusader for justice or even just ice. I speak for the under spoken who have been intimidated into silence or bullied into social conformity.
Truth is relative to the perspective of the viewer. My family was utterly destroyed at a crucial time in its development. It was not allowed to grow stronger and more secure. We were discouraged from following either of my parent's religions. In the United States, where my father attempted to serve in the Navy and where he was honorably discharged due to a 'constitutional state of emotional instability', my father remembered his true ancestors as Indians of the Chickabee tribe (sp?). He was a peaceful man with an addiction to alcohol which made him dark and moody. He drank to forget the horrors of war since he worked on destroyers every work day at The Bath Iron Works. These ships were built by the best Maine had to employ and even by workers 'frum away' as we say in these pahts. Dialect accounts for the misspelling.
My father was the last of his line so he needed a son to carry the family name.
My mother and her younger sister were orphaned before school age. Their mother was from Massachusetts but their father was from Bath where my aunt was sent just after she was born because her mother was too ill to care for her. The girls never bonded and were never as close as only sisters can be. My mother tried to bond with her children but she lost her motivation after the first three were all girls. She remained pregnant for the entire decade of of 1946 through 1956 when her Jewish doctor mercifully fixed her since Ed couldn't bring himself to do so. Of course, he said he would and did but he remained capable after such claims and another daughter and son were the consequences.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
John the Barman: Poem - Paradise is only in the imagination.
John the Barman: Poem - Paradise is only in the imagination.
Across The Atlantic,
she reads musings from a bard
and closes her eyes to feel
a fantasy of freedom to fly
to have wings
to scream like the eagle
preparing to dive
(this dive is too hot
i might singe feathers
or tickle fantasy
with a shake and a shower
of shedding water)
Let the good times roll
right over
that Beatles Beethoven.
Across The Atlantic,
she reads musings from a bard
and closes her eyes to feel
a fantasy of freedom to fly
to have wings
to scream like the eagle
preparing to dive
(this dive is too hot
i might singe feathers
or tickle fantasy
with a shake and a shower
of shedding water)
Let the good times roll
right over
that Beatles Beethoven.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Dark Angel Came, Again...
July 12, 2013- I stopped trusting my balance about seven years ago. Seven come eleven is a roll of the dice. Four is my lucky number. Seven plus four is eleven. This is the equation of Me. which is not including the state by that abbreviation. I am Crazy Loon of the village of Many Moons in that state of the union. The great spirit tells me that I am chosen for my endurance and patience. Wisdom has come as it must through experience. I have experienced Hell so that I may understand forgiveness.
Forgive us, father for we have disrespected our earth mother. Maine is experiencing a wet and powerful summer season this thirteenth year of a new millennium. Nearly tropical heat and humidity isn't natural for New England's climate. Climate changes have been ongoing as have the abuses and misuses of power. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could just leave all of you in the messes that you keep making and just go home and wait for each of you to come to your common senses. Since this is my story, I get little reminders of how easily or traumatic a passing can be. An episode just happened while I was destressing with my favored preferences under the influence of fun with Pat and Cat. Curley's Place is cool and entertaining. I don't know what besides a choice came over me but I suddenly felt ill. Its that same feeling women recognize eventually as morning sickness whether it happens all day long or not. There is no way that I could be pregnant unless you believe in miracles since I was sterilized at the ripe old age of twenty five. The state of Maine was paying for abortions that year and I didn't want to go through that Hell ever again. It wasn't that I wasn't on birth control or even that I couldn't keep my legs crossed; I couldn't keep my ex out of my house. People thought differently about women years ago. Some men figured no judge was gonna tell them who or what was theirs to do with as they pleased. Once a wife, always a wife according to their way of thinking and God's too, if it comes to testifying on the bible. Ever since they took Eve out of Eden, paradise has been a vacationland somewhere other than Maine in its natural state. That has always been wild and free as the eagles that nest in Merrymeeting Bay. You can imagine why its called by that name. Five rivers meet there. As for the merry? Party time is when families get together. I secluded myself away from too much of that but I miss the communion of conditional love just the same. I am addicted to sad love but I am no drama queen. Queen Bee, hell call me a bumbling idiot! I know what I need and I know what I deserve and I don't deserve any more pain or suffering. Its hard to imagine that this is what it means to have free choice but it is and I chose this. Its time to come in out of the agony. Too much despair will make you crazy enough to forfeit your own life before your contract is up. That is a cardinal sin (is red sin as natural as making love during her cycle?) This loon is lol at all the sin and trouble I'm in. What are they gonna do with me? I won't shut up and I won't move away but I'm not sueing anyone just now either. I sued Margaret. That was my first mistake since Dorothy had already used that name for Melanie. Sibling rivalry is a closer fight than is good for any family. Stop playing favorites with children. You give them the wrong impressions. Your children are your future but whether or not you'll live to see it will depend on his children and what they think about their neighbors.
I've made it abundantly clear that this stopped being fun enough when I lost all that I had to share with my grandsons except myself. Then my kids moved away and I've learned to stay away. I can't ignore the living situations but I've seen what happens when society judges and more and usually worse abuses happen when the lawyers become judges. More than a few have paid dearly for those robes whether they are red or black. Interestingly, it really doesn't come down to color when people judge. It comes down to your knees cuz you better be on them if you expect forgiveness. That is BS, of course since the only way any of us will stoop so low is if we choose to serve and there better be just ice in that drink. Those wild ones never could hold their firewater.
July 14-
I maintain a very powerful faith in my father's unconditional love. It provides me with all that I truly need though not a great deal of what I want. I suspect the reason is that what I want isn't what my mission is about. Being me in this form is the only way to learn to appreciate the human condition and its diseases. I understand more completely, though awareness is often excruciating and ripe with cliche. I can easily appreciate why people choose to intoxicate reality. It is an ongoing nightmare for somebody, somewhere. I am grateful for Christy and for Pat who do what they can to show that they care especially when I want to quit. Excess stress and trauma is too much drama. Family distance occurs in perverse societies. Friends are the the key to social acceptance. Loneliness may be a preferred condition when the choices are dramatically stressful. Older generations are less able to adapt. Here come those cliches. They run around in my thoughts as every warning ever committed there. You hear them too. No wonder we seek peace and quiet in crowds of friends and festivities. In its misguided way, that is what society tries to provide to control the teeming masses while still maintaining law and order at home. Its all so unnatural. Biblical is another version of reality that I recognize as the meaning of Hell; Yes, with a capital and in every state of the union.
Forgive us, father for we have disrespected our earth mother. Maine is experiencing a wet and powerful summer season this thirteenth year of a new millennium. Nearly tropical heat and humidity isn't natural for New England's climate. Climate changes have been ongoing as have the abuses and misuses of power. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could just leave all of you in the messes that you keep making and just go home and wait for each of you to come to your common senses. Since this is my story, I get little reminders of how easily or traumatic a passing can be. An episode just happened while I was destressing with my favored preferences under the influence of fun with Pat and Cat. Curley's Place is cool and entertaining. I don't know what besides a choice came over me but I suddenly felt ill. Its that same feeling women recognize eventually as morning sickness whether it happens all day long or not. There is no way that I could be pregnant unless you believe in miracles since I was sterilized at the ripe old age of twenty five. The state of Maine was paying for abortions that year and I didn't want to go through that Hell ever again. It wasn't that I wasn't on birth control or even that I couldn't keep my legs crossed; I couldn't keep my ex out of my house. People thought differently about women years ago. Some men figured no judge was gonna tell them who or what was theirs to do with as they pleased. Once a wife, always a wife according to their way of thinking and God's too, if it comes to testifying on the bible. Ever since they took Eve out of Eden, paradise has been a vacationland somewhere other than Maine in its natural state. That has always been wild and free as the eagles that nest in Merrymeeting Bay. You can imagine why its called by that name. Five rivers meet there. As for the merry? Party time is when families get together. I secluded myself away from too much of that but I miss the communion of conditional love just the same. I am addicted to sad love but I am no drama queen. Queen Bee, hell call me a bumbling idiot! I know what I need and I know what I deserve and I don't deserve any more pain or suffering. Its hard to imagine that this is what it means to have free choice but it is and I chose this. Its time to come in out of the agony. Too much despair will make you crazy enough to forfeit your own life before your contract is up. That is a cardinal sin (is red sin as natural as making love during her cycle?) This loon is lol at all the sin and trouble I'm in. What are they gonna do with me? I won't shut up and I won't move away but I'm not sueing anyone just now either. I sued Margaret. That was my first mistake since Dorothy had already used that name for Melanie. Sibling rivalry is a closer fight than is good for any family. Stop playing favorites with children. You give them the wrong impressions. Your children are your future but whether or not you'll live to see it will depend on his children and what they think about their neighbors.
I've made it abundantly clear that this stopped being fun enough when I lost all that I had to share with my grandsons except myself. Then my kids moved away and I've learned to stay away. I can't ignore the living situations but I've seen what happens when society judges and more and usually worse abuses happen when the lawyers become judges. More than a few have paid dearly for those robes whether they are red or black. Interestingly, it really doesn't come down to color when people judge. It comes down to your knees cuz you better be on them if you expect forgiveness. That is BS, of course since the only way any of us will stoop so low is if we choose to serve and there better be just ice in that drink. Those wild ones never could hold their firewater.
July 14-
I maintain a very powerful faith in my father's unconditional love. It provides me with all that I truly need though not a great deal of what I want. I suspect the reason is that what I want isn't what my mission is about. Being me in this form is the only way to learn to appreciate the human condition and its diseases. I understand more completely, though awareness is often excruciating and ripe with cliche. I can easily appreciate why people choose to intoxicate reality. It is an ongoing nightmare for somebody, somewhere. I am grateful for Christy and for Pat who do what they can to show that they care especially when I want to quit. Excess stress and trauma is too much drama. Family distance occurs in perverse societies. Friends are the the key to social acceptance. Loneliness may be a preferred condition when the choices are dramatically stressful. Older generations are less able to adapt. Here come those cliches. They run around in my thoughts as every warning ever committed there. You hear them too. No wonder we seek peace and quiet in crowds of friends and festivities. In its misguided way, that is what society tries to provide to control the teeming masses while still maintaining law and order at home. Its all so unnatural. Biblical is another version of reality that I recognize as the meaning of Hell; Yes, with a capital and in every state of the union.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Getting Through
Have yah evah sed, "Here I am again?" That's sort of a bastardized style of writing imo. Like those damned cockroaches, I adapt and its Hell. I know all about Hell. Maine in ways they don't want me to tell about because they're either ashamed for me or of me. Me. is the abbreviated way of writing it. Men abbreviate too but I wouldn't wanna be one. They aren't the creators or the incubators. They are the animal husbands. I stand accused and now, I lay me down to die protesting your innocence since this is MY story. So, I come full moon circle with Kitaro playing in my mind and wonder what just happened? People are so perverse with their pleasure. Hell knows all about pleasure. How can it be deprived with the most agony? No one wants to entertain depression but we'll drink a round and a toast tah that morning aftah, chummy. If you're the author, you get to choose your own ending and you can let her down easy or she can go off like a steam whistle, Damn, that bitch can be whateveh! Just be damned glad YOU didn't get stuck answering to her. Some folks never expected her. Her own mother hoped to high heaven that she'd be her firstborn son. Her own firstborn died before they were two months old nearly two years apart. What would Hell feel like if you can imagine? Would you be totally aware or would it grow on you or in you? What if that huffing and puffing isn't your own breath? What if yours stopped and its the sound of something lugging you off to be eaten? Welcome to my imagination aka as wonderland, Alice.
I think that its time to settle down before I become overwhelmed. There's a word to make you wonder. Its not as if you hear of anyone who is whelmed over. Do I hear voices? Don't you? Have you no memories? How do you silence a memory? There's that mute button on the remote but what about all those background noises. I imagine that senses aren't fifth dimensional just because we only list five sensory points. Our diction hasn't adapted to include the supernatural as reality even if life on this planet is always miraculous. If you can just get through, the rest of us will be certain to miss you. Don't let that door knob hit yah on your way through...♪ alone again? Naturally♪ Lyrics to favorite songs are tuned in on memory waves. There is a bird whose call I do not recognize trying to drown out the soft snore of the Boston Terrier bitch curled like a black and white caterpillar in the dirty white overstuffed easy chair/bed that is hers. She is not spoiled anymore than well rewarded children are spoiled. If they are rewarded well enough, they become better adults. I have been a trainer since my parents and better teachers taught me to love learning. Every now and again, I pause to consider where this is going and remember that I truly don't need to concern myself with too many details since most folks are too caught up in their own dramas to worry about me. I only need to figure out why this summer is either too hot and humid or too danged chilly. I never seem to know how to dress. What is the purpose for living? Will your life make a difference that matters? Are you getting through anytime soon?
I think that its time to settle down before I become overwhelmed. There's a word to make you wonder. Its not as if you hear of anyone who is whelmed over. Do I hear voices? Don't you? Have you no memories? How do you silence a memory? There's that mute button on the remote but what about all those background noises. I imagine that senses aren't fifth dimensional just because we only list five sensory points. Our diction hasn't adapted to include the supernatural as reality even if life on this planet is always miraculous. If you can just get through, the rest of us will be certain to miss you. Don't let that door knob hit yah on your way through...♪ alone again? Naturally♪ Lyrics to favorite songs are tuned in on memory waves. There is a bird whose call I do not recognize trying to drown out the soft snore of the Boston Terrier bitch curled like a black and white caterpillar in the dirty white overstuffed easy chair/bed that is hers. She is not spoiled anymore than well rewarded children are spoiled. If they are rewarded well enough, they become better adults. I have been a trainer since my parents and better teachers taught me to love learning. Every now and again, I pause to consider where this is going and remember that I truly don't need to concern myself with too many details since most folks are too caught up in their own dramas to worry about me. I only need to figure out why this summer is either too hot and humid or too danged chilly. I never seem to know how to dress. What is the purpose for living? Will your life make a difference that matters? Are you getting through anytime soon?
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