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Friday, March 16, 2012

My Real BFF’s



 

Every Sunday we would dress in our finest and Gran would usher me and my little sister to church. At the time we were Catholic so there was no talking. The priest would recite his script and the congregation would answer.  We stand, sit and kneel at the proper times.  I don’t remember when exactly, but I found myself sitting next to this girl my age. She was also with her grandmother. Somehow we were able to communicate under the watchful eyes of our grandmother and the priest on the podium. There was no lingering around the church, when it was over everyone left. 
The girl, ‘M’ and her grandmother were walking the same way we were walking. I don’t remember details. I’m going back almost forty-five years.  We went to different schools. I was in Catholic school and she went to the public school a few blocks around the corner.  M is Guyanese mixed with Chinese. She was shy and didn’t really fit in. Everyday afterschool she would get chased home, by ‘KC’. KC lived about five houses from me and my ‘bougie’ (bourgeois) family.
My grandmother called KC’s family the ‘Rinky Dinkys’. Basically she meant they had no class. In the front yard they bar-b-que’d, they were loud and fought and partied at all hours of the night. They were my kind of people. But I was forbidden to associate with them.  A few years later they had the best refer around and of course I couldn’t go to get my own. I had to get somebody to go for me.
Anyway back to my story. M use to run home from school because KC use to chase her. By the time M got to my house she would be tired and run to my back yard. She wouldn’t come in because she was afraid of my gentle dog, but we would talk over the fence until we figure KC was gone.
Over the years M and I have remained friends. We confide in each other, support each other and love each other.  We have shared our children’s births and adventures. We spoke about our relationships, our jobs and now that we are aging we talk about menopause and our aging bodies.  Last year M was looking for a Bible. She wanted to read Revelations during Lent and she found a Bible I gave her in 1974. I signed it, telling her I hope she could use it someday. Who would thought 38 years later, would be someday. Over the years M and I have done our own thing, but we were always a constant in each other’s lives. She was straight lace, okay she was a nerd. Me I was a party girl.  But our lives always intermingled. She was there when my mother died and I was there when her grandmother died. I was with her when we mourned her fiancé’s death on 911 and thank God that she went to work late that day.  The memories we have are long and I am so grateful for her friendship.
In the 5th grade I had a friend, ‘C’.  We went to school together and we shared so many secrets. We shared cigarettes. She was the first person I told when I had sex for the first time. She told me about her first time. The school we attended closed when we were in the 7th grade and we went to different schools.  We talked on the phone but we rarely meet up. You see she lived on the other side of town and it was too dangerous to venture into each other’s neighborhood back then. (Gangs)  We ended up going to different high schools. After high school C and I got together and hung out when I lived upstate NY. She visited me when I moved back home with my mother with my kids after my second child and second failed relationship. But we lost touch with each other. I’ve connected with another one of our classmate on FaceBook and she say C is still in the old neighborhood but she doesn’t know what’s up with her. I’ve searched for her but like so many of my friends they aren’t in cyber world.
In high school my sister-in-law, sister, ‘S’, and I became good friends. We shared secrets. We experimented with drugs and drank, back then, quarts of beers. We use to go on the handball courts, get high as kites off our joints then drink our quarts of beer and kick everyone’s ass on the handball court.  The higher we got the better we played. We use to tell everyone we were sisters and we use to say our father would go between our mothers and make babies. I have a younger sister and her brother and sister were younger then my sister. We use to go shopping or bowling and pretend that our siblings were our children. We would pretend we spoke a different language, what came out our mouth was gibberish. We had fun I could fill these pages up with all the fun we had.
When I gave birth to my son S brought all these baby things for him. You see my mom wouldn’t let them give me a baby shower because I wasn’t married. Remember my family was ‘bougie’.  They had these set of values, today I find myself accepting some and rejecting others. I know I’m not better than anyone else, maybe that’s why I lived the life I did. But that’s a discussion for the shrink. If you are interested in my dysfunctional life read my blog Me Verse Lupus.
S went to school up in Oneonta. I moved up there when my son was about 6 months. I lived with S and her man. We partied and played house. I met my daughter’s father and I ended up playing house with him.  I don’t remember what happen but S and I had some kind of falling out and we stopped talking to each other.  I use to pass her house on the way to where I lived. One day I knocked on her door and asked her if she was going to still be my son’s godmother. She said. “No, I don’t think so.” I can’t remember what our quarrel was about but I do remember that conversation, because it hurt, a lot. As I turned my son’s carriage around she called me and told me her cat had babies and asked if she could show my son. Our friendship was reunited but it wasn’t the same.
S was my friend in the neighborhood. When I started high school, I had two friends from my new elementary school that went to the same high school as me. They were ‘T’ and ‘D’. We got in trouble together when somebody told the nuns we were by the train tracks smoking. T had a friend from her neighborhood that went to the same high school with us, that would be ‘Y’. She was my friend for all of 4 months. I wish I had never met ‘Y’. She introduced me to cutting classes and playing hooky. I did more drugs then a little bit with her. I was wild. I wouldn’t go home after school. Well I actually wasn’t going to school. Y was a bad influence but I thought she was cool. I was sheltered my whole life up until my first semester in high school. I was stupid back then, but the pass is the pass.
My mother sent me to Oneonta with my brother and sister-in-law. It was cool they were young, I helped with my nephew. I could drink, smoke weed and cigarettes. But I still hung out during school hours. My brother sent me back home after that year and I ended up living in Pleasantville, NJ with my Aunt T and uncle V.  They were cool, as soon as my mother pulled off my uncle called me in his room and asked me if I knew how to roll. I told him I did and he throw a baggie full of refer. My eyes lit up. We smoked right there in his room while my aunt was in the back yard in her screen house, My aunt T was older then my mom. She didn’t care that I smoked and drank. She told me later, ‘you can cut a class here and there but go to school.’ She let me drink, smoke and party all I wanted. I didn’t stop cutting but I didn’t do it so often I had supervised freedom. Aunt T use to put a birth control pill next to my breakfast plate.
When I started school that September I knew ‘B’ she was my aunts’ friends’ daughter, we were close but she didn’t party. I miss B today and wish I could find her. No one seems to know where she is. I knew a few people because my sister and I use to go to P’ville during the summer growing up. But I didn’t have a BFF, I was basically a loner.
One day I was in the 3rd floor bathroom smoking a joint. In comes ‘J’. (I’m smiling as I type this. I had no respect for authority) J smelled the herb and said, “ooo it smells good in here.” I offered her my joint and a new friendship began. J and I are still friends. My son and her two oldest sons are first cousins. J was pro black, she’s dark skin and she was one of those black girls that didn’t like light skin girls. Today she would tell you that I was the blackest friend she had. Back then I was so into black power that I was militant.  I was like free Bobby, free Huey, burn the pigs and step off honkie.  What did I know I was 16 and chasing drugs and men/boys. I had to have something else to talk about. J and I became joined to the hips. We grew up together. We were so close everyone started calling us lesbians. Today we are still friends. We always have each other’s back. J got caught up in the crack life and would call me and give me these stories about needing money for rent or bill or something and I would run to western union and send her $50 to $100. I wouldn’t hear from her for a while. Then I’d get another call with same kind of story and I was at western union again. She would start out I know I owe you, but and I promise.
When I became sick and couldn’t work anymore J was sending me dollars here and there. Trust me they came in handy. Today J is working in the educational system and working on her masters. I am so proud of her.
There have been friends in between all these years. Friends that came and gone, those I’ve mentioned were my oldest friends. They knew the young and confidant me.  My mother died when I was 33 years young. I moved into the family house with my children and my youngest daughter father, ‘F’ who I was with for 23 years. His son moved in with us and everything was cool until F started smoking crack again. F’s cousin, started hanging out with us. The cousin had a girlfriend “Ch”. We hit it off, her mom died recently and she wasn’t close with her family. She had 3 children with 3 different fathers too.  We became family, sharing holiday dinners at one or the other’s house. 
We use to vent about our men and kids. We started hanging out together, hitting the clubs, sniffing coke and just partying. Our men were doing their thing smoking that crack and they weren’t helping to pay the bills. We took care of our homes. CH and the cousin broke up but our friendship continued. We are still friends and both of us are suffering with auto-immune disease. I have lupus and she has Lyme disease. I remember when she was bit by the tick. We were sitting on the balcony of her apartment just chilling one summer evening and something bit her and she complained about it for days. Ch gets bored easily and she’ll change her job. She would even pack up and move. But she always gets back in touch with me. She is a strong woman. Our friendship has last almost 20 years now.
I met another friend, ‘B’, on the city bus. Call me naïve, I wasn’t sure if she was flirting with me or just being friendly. She invited me to come and hang out at the bar with her. Every time I saw her she would invite me. So this one Friday after work I went to the bar and waited for her. B came in and sat next to me. She asked me to tell her about myself and I told her I was married, had three children was an administrator at a home care agency. The first thing B told me, “well I’ve been gay since I was 15.” I wasn’t really surprised but I was shocked. During my whole life I was never approached by a woman. I rolled with the flow and ended up having a good time. It surprised me how excited I was. She treated me like a man would. She wined and dined me.   She gave me gifts and flowers. All those romantic things that make a woman feel special. We went away on weekends. I would take sick days and spend them with her. We had a thing and it was exciting. I loved that bar scene.
I was dealing with my home life and that was kind of rough. F was seeing this woman and it was apparent he had been seeing her for a while. Ch told a long time ago she saw him with this woman and that they had a baby.  I choose to ignore it because I was doing my thing but they never became serious. My youngest daughter and her man had a baby and they were living in my house and they weren’t contributing to the bills. F wasn’t either and I couldn’t keep up with the mortgage and everything else that went with keeping up a house. B put me in touch with this guy who did mortgages and there wasn’t anything he could do to help me refinance. Thanks a lot Fannie Mae. My next avenue was to sell. My daughter and her family went into the shelter. F moved in with his girlfriend, now his wife. Me I went to stay with B. It was suppose to be temporary. But I ended up losing my job. I collected unemployment for the 6 months and had a hard time finding a job. I finally found something but I was now broke and my permanent residence is now with B. We have our ups and downs. We aren’t lovers like we were. We are more close friends now. So I guess you can say that B is my best friend.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: The Possibility Probability of Hope

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: The Possibility Probability of Hope: I n my world there is always a glass, sometimes, like last night the liquid in that glass evaporated and became half full. My glass ne...

The Possibility Probability of Hope



In my world there is always a glass, sometimes, like last night the liquid in that glass evaporated and became half full. My glass never ever becomes empty. Because in my world there is always hope. Since there is hope I can fill the glass up and it becomes full. Full with hope that man will one day learn the true meaning of brotherly love, sister unity and world peace. You see in my world there’s tranquility when the sunsets with a promise of tomorrow.  When the tomorrow comes, there’s rejoicing with the rising sun, that kisses away the dew and arise to the singing of the birds songs of new life being reborn day after day.

Today is a new day, with its own new adversities to weigh heavy on my heart. An eighteen year old kid three arrests for gun possession and he was still on the street. Cut loose by blind justice.  So blinded that it allowed him to be on the streets and finally shoot that gun. He shot a kid in the buttocks. Thank God he did catch a body. It’s still sad that this child will be will go to jail and instead of learning from his errors he will be a more dangerous criminal. I can't help but think that he was cut loose and given enough bullets to fuck himself. Teen collared in Far Rockaway

I read this morning that our Governor wants to create a data base of DNA’s for all criminals which would include misdemeanors. I don’t know really how I feel about that. They say it will help the police solve crimes easier and exclude innocent people at the same time.  However, it sounds more like policing even the innocent. We have cameras all over the place. Even one of the security companies is offering to put camera's in your home. Big brother's always watching.  You’re sitting at your computer? How do you know if anyone is watching you or not? Huh? Get your finger out your nose. I how all of this will helps, but I also see how our rights are being violated. It’s scary to me.

I became a little side tracked, this essay is on hope I read the blog this morning Believe Away and she helped me out that funk I was. By reminding me through her words that we all see the world through different eyes, yet there is always hope.

Then I read a blog from The Motley News in this article it speaks about all the killings that have occurred in New Orleans so far this year. All the victims and shooters are under the age of 30. It is heartbreaking.The Other Side Of New Orleans/ Murder Capital of the Country

I wonder myself, how can I have hope, when so much hell is growing around me. Our environment isn’t even safe. I touched on that briefly in my blog ‘I Want My Winter’ 

 When reading Four Blue Hills, She re-blogged from Wistfully Wandering whose blog spoke about the most beautiful trees in the world. Then guess what I read in the paper. A woman named Sara Barnes burns down the fifth oldest tree in the world, while she was high on meth.

Despite all this I read, I can’t believe there is no hope for us. Should we start building an ark? Should we start gathering the animals in pairs and wait for God to destroy us all? Or are we going to destroy ourselves? 

About two weeks ago my nephew gave birth to my great nephew. We all celebrated the birth of a new baby. Was it really a good thing? He’s another life, in this cruel and heartless world.  Will this earth become a safe haven for all? The beauty of my nephew being born gives us the hope I'm talking about. A new life brings new possibilities. So have a drink of my full glass that will never become less than half full. I hope to be around to pour some more if it does.




Waking Conscious

The devil is amused,
by all the fools who lose their cool
        in the arena of shattered dreams.

Lost in the lust of want before the must.
Pleasing the greedy, that preys on the needy.
Concealed in the source, of freedom of choice,
        full of remorse.
Precious jewels, of no value,
bursting with diluted morale.

It’s all about me, can’t you see?

Material gain, my private fame.
Family illusions, a future of confusion.

What is joy? An emotional toy?
        A paranoid schizophrenic void?

Half pass the race of thought,
        personal existence is short.

The clock of time slows to an end,
        a battle of amends.
Fortune accounts fill with selfish needs.
A chest full of guilt, regret and treasures of greed.

Praying for a cheating win.
Paying tithes, with hopes of liquidating sins.
A vanishing pass,
        And breath takes its last.

Final thoughts of waking conscious.

By:  K. Wilhelmina Floria
12/10/07


Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Are We Mad Yet?

http://feministing.com/2012/02/28/homeless-mom-sentenced-to-5-years-in-prison-for-stealing-sons-education/

I don’t know why I let things affect me. I shouldn’t give a damn, after all me and mine are okay right now. So why should I care that children being killed by other children. Why should it bother me that a woman is going to jail for five years because she wanted her son to have a better education. It bothers me because it’s too close to home. You would think that in the year Two thousand and twelve the human race would have developed and become civilized people, not the rinky, dink selfish sons of bitches they are.


Why can’t we learn how to live by what the preachers and ministers teach? I don’t have to quote the Holy Books to know how to be humble and to how treat my brothers and sisters. I don’t know about your God, but my God teaches love, compassion, hope and fear of his waft if I should disobey the laws. They ain’t hard, love they neighbor, do not steal, kill or bare false witness (lie). He also teaches me to forgive those who trespass against me, by forgiving me. I know forgiving is so hard when I read the morning paper and an eight year old boy is shot while buy chips, for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A kid goes to school and thinks he’s Rambo and shoots up the school cafeteria.

The politicians talking so much shit, I don’t know what’s going on. Its 2012, why are we talking about abortions rights? And there’s question about birth control, whether it should be offered it their insurance package. What about jobs and education? Woman going to have all these babies, they are going to need support. No they’re talking about cutting welfare and medical coverage. But that’s okay make the woman have unwanted babies that they can’t afford. They will grow to be fuck ups and go shoot a school up or just do some drive by shootings on their tricycles. Don’t worry the rich bastards who pay to get what they want, will toss out their new furniture boxes for the homeless to sleep in. They’ll give the old and unwanted provisions to the pantries to feed the poor. Hell the rich may even come and donate their time in the soup kitchen. This way their conscious will be clear.

The all the entertainers will go to Africa to feed, clothe and educate those poor children. In fact they’ll bring a few home, raise them as their own and westernize them. They’ll be good little nigger’s, oh, that’s not nice, excuse me this one time. It doesn’t matter that there are children right here, hungry, uneducated and in need of a family.


We all have the same opportunities but not all of us know how to utilize them. If you live on the wrong side of town you ain’t getting school education, you get, advance ghetto survival skills. Poverty doesn’t discriminate. Racism doesn’t have anything to do with your skin color or nationality. It’s the rich vs. the poor. It’s the have and the have not’s. It’s about who has the survival skills. You either learn how to hustle and make it on the streets or you hustle and learn to get an education to get off the streets.


Something has to change. People have to open their eyes and pretend to be blind so they can hear what is being said. Cry for the hell that is in our back yards and get out there and try to clean up the mess. Dig up the weeds, turn the soil and plant seeds of righteousness. All this poison out here is slowly killing us all quickly. How long before slavery will be back in affect. The rich will buy and sell the poor like yesterday's rotten fish.


I have to turn off the world for a few days and turn on the TV and let fantasy entertain me.


The following poem was written while Bush was still in office.


The Harbor Whore
Oh harbor whore,
welcoming the weak and weary
to your shores.
no remorse you came,
toting ideas of greed,
and not a bit of shame.
You lifted her gown,
lowered her panties,
and fucked her around.
Christened Miss Liberty,
raised by rapist and thieves,
her lust pimped freely.
She solicited cheap labor,
with intentions to deceive,
you accepted her favor.
You spoke ill of her character,
she’s just a whore,
it didn’t matter.
She educated you well,
and neglected her own,
now her domain has fell.
She pilfered your gold,
and steals your oil,
to the highest bidder it's sold.
After years of hoodwinking,
her secrets are exposed,
her shit is stinking.
The harbor whore,
outsmart herself,
now losing the financial war.
Her factories are on your land,
to save the mighty US dollar,
but it has gotten out of hand.
Once a great kingdom,
now growing weak
and losing her freedom.
So……
Get your bags packed,
flee from her fast,
don’t look back.



By: K. Wilhelmina Floria

Monday, February 27, 2012

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: I Want My Winter

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: I Want My Winter: I missed my winter. In two weeks we will be turning our clocks forward and the sun will be out longer. I’m feeling cheated, I loved the ...

I Want My Winter


I missed my winter. In two weeks we will be turning our clocks forward and the sun will be out longer. I’m feeling cheated, I loved the dark days of winter, the gloom of impending snow. I miss the satisfaction of eating the heavy comfort foods and cuddling under the covers. Lazy cold days relaxing reading a good book, or watching TV.  The sound of the radiators banging as the heat comes up.

I don’t understand all the scientific words used to explain this global warming. I do understand, however that because of this warming I didn’t get to enjoy my winter this year. The weather maintained and average of 45 to 55 degree weather. That is not winter. I did see a few 32 degrees and lower but not enough to enjoy. There was just too much sunshine.

Almost everyone was lovin’ this insane change it the atmosphere. I heard, I don’t remember where, probably the news.  That it’s the methane gases causing the winter heat.  I don’t have to be a Caltech graduate to understand that methane gas is from the fuel we use to heat our homes, drive our cars and run the planes that fly right next to the ozone layer. It’s not natural. If we continue at this rate we will find ourselves in the middle of a science fiction movie. We won’t be able to go outside a man made doom because of fear of burning up.  I wonder if that’s why NASA is trying to see if Mars will be suitable for man. They burned up one planet, hey lets go get another one.

I remember in high school learning that the earth was tilting on its axle and eventually the north would be warm and the east will be cold.   Didn’t I hear that Texas and California had some snow? Did we on the east coast experience an earthquake that started in Virginia, it was a 5.9 magnitude, which rocked all the way to New York, and even people in Ohio felt it, I heard. It even went south to the Carolina's. I know that there have been quakes in the east before, but to the magnitude? I don’t know.  Let’s not forget the tornadoes in the last couple of years.

The glaciers are melting the poor polar bears, penguins and seal and what other animals the live in that environment are suffering. They can’t find food and have to keep migrating. It’s sad. Something has to be done.
I want my four seasons back and most of all I want my winter!

Seasons of Love


New wonders blossom, awaking from a dark cold sleep.
Mating songs travel through gentle winds.
Fragrance of clean fresh air, fill the atmosphere.         
Morning dews kissed away by radiant sunrises.
Rain showers, the cleansing tears that fill ponds of hope.
Leaping frogs, robins with their breast swollen in pride.
Butterflies sampling fresh nectar, before the honeybee invasions.
Love labors birth this spring.

Steam sizzling, black top melting.
Blazing sun, Johnny pumps splashing.
Humidity thick, mosquitoes feasting, flies annoying.
Pretty flowers, shading trees, whispering breezes.
Sunset a welcome relief, evening treats.
Crickets singing, fireflies blinking.
Pregnant moon, shooting stars.
Love sweats with passion this summer.

Chilling Goosebumps, blowing wind.
Squirrels forging, sparrows preparing.
Yellow, orange, brown, leaves a falling.
New gear, laughing children full of cheer.
Insects dying, behind clouds the sun is hiding.
Afternoon gloom, evening soon, glowing moon.
Apple picking, stew chicken.
Holding hands, making plans.
Love grows strong with comfort this autumn.

Biting cold, darkness unfold.
Dull sun, banging pipes, whistling wind.
Smoking chimneys, blankets of snow.
Scurrying mice, cat’s delights.
Cream of wheat, warmth the feet.
Ho ho, ho, merry friend or foe.
Cuddling close under Downy fresh quilts.
Love kindles the heat this winter.

This love welcomes the next season that comes.



01/19/08


Thursday, February 23, 2012

I Wanna’ Do What I Wanna’ Do


I Wanna’ Do What I Wanna’ Do

Yesterday I had to go out after being in for the last six days. I’ve been disabled for the last three and half years and I had to go out almost every day to see different doctors. Then there was physical therapy and pulmonary rehab. Don’t get me wrong I wanted to feel better and I am doing much better today.  I’m happy that I no longer need to tote that 10 pound oxygen tank around, it felt like fifty pounds. I’m not going to rant and rave about being sick I did that in my blog Me Verse Lupus http://lupusverseme.blogspot.com I’m disgusted because I don’t have time to finish all the things I have to do.

While this thought was running through my head, and I was thinking about my next blog is going to be about me not have enough time to do all the things I want to do, not what I have to do them. But for me it can be the same thing. I check my emails when I got in yesterday and start reading some of the blogs I follow and ran across
  
The Ramblings of an Intellectual Sistah
  http://tmgoddess.wordpress.com/author/tmgoddess/
 
She shared what she thought about being an angry black woman. Why don’t you click on the link and check it out. I read it and had to laugh, though I’m not working 9-5 anymore, and for now, I’m blessed that I don’t have to. Still my time is in demand.
 I remember running three home care agencies, dealing with the office employees, field employees, the owners the clients, nurses and on top of all them I had to go over time sheets, facilitate and attend different meetings I was available to my employees 24/7, but I smiled enjoyed the stress and pressure. I was important and needed. That’s another story. Then went home and raised my dysfunctional teenagers. Sometimes I even took on second and third jobs to pay the mortgage and heat, and that’s another story. Oh yea I probably talked about it in Lupus Verse me blog, I told my life story I was pretty honest.

Maybe my to do list is too long, but I worked for over 30 years, I should be able to do what I want when I want. What do I want to do, I want to write and I am writing this blog, my novel, my poems and my inspirational and encouraging letters to my beloved grandchildren.

Less start with the blogs, I wrote my first blog on BlogSpot easy as pressing enter on the keyboard. But I wanted more exposure, so I started blogging on Word Press, this is where it complicated, I have to do more then press enter on it.  I don’t know how to work it, I don’t understand the instructions, you have to show me like I’m 92 year old woman. Blogger Jueseppi B. who writes the The ObamaCrat.com, check it out, he is great, he’s is helping me get some widgets on my page. I use to be able to figure these things out but I don’t know, blame it on lupus as my sister lupies say.

Mr. Jueseppi has been steering traffic to my blog on Word Press and I love it, those who follow me on BlogSpot know how I fiend for attention. That being said I have to produce more entries to share. The more readers I have the more I’m compelled to write for. Thank goodness I have a lot of poems to share for when I’m writing. I found many blogs I enjoy reading. So I spend time reading those.

I found Stumble and I like that. I see nice art, photographs; I learn a lot of interesting things. I can Stumble for hours. I have a twitter account but that’s one thing I can’t seem to really get into. I’m kind of long winded and twitter has a limit.

Then I have my on-line writing groups. I read other people’s work so they will read mine. 

Can’t forget about, Facebook I go on to see what’s up with my family and friends, okay and to play the “ville’s” you know the farm, city and now castle. After a while I do get annoyed with them, and stop playing. Funny, when I stop playing, I end up with more free time. Hum, go figure, but I like playing those stupid games, and that’s what my life is about these days, doing me. I like doing jigsaw puzzles, haven’t done one in a while because I don’t have time, too busy doing other things I enjoy.

Last year around this time I started making Mother’s day cards, I did such a good job the 25 or so I made sold out quickly and started getting orders, it became demanding. I started making cards for birthdays, graduations and weddings just name it.  I like make the cards but I didn’t like the demand, nor did my hands because I developed bad carpel tunnel syndrome. I couldn’t make the cards fast enough. In that short period of time I made over a $1000.00. I could supplement my income well with the cards but the demand is too much for me. I rather write my novel and supplement my income that way.

My family is very small but growing with my grand children’s’ generation. We are all scattered across the country and a cousin in New Zealand, we don’t get together much and don’t really know each other.  So about 2 years ago I started a newsletter to try and get us close. I was doing the bulk of the work.  Everyone loved it and wants me to start it back up, my niece told me a week or so ago that she will help me. So this is another assignment for me to do.

I’m crocheting a blanket for a niece that’s going off to college in 2013. I’m read books on my nook at night and when I’m sitting in waiting rooms.

Thank goodness I can record my TV shows or look for them on-line or on-demand and watch them when I have a time. I only watch five prime time shows, but in March I’ll be adding one more and when Boardwalk Empire comes back I’ll be watching that.

My main interest is my novel. I’ve been working on it for the last four years, it almost has an ending. But I wasn’t working on it in a while. So in order for me to get to the ending I have to go over what I already wrote and when I do that I start editing. I’m currently editing chapter one, but I have a dear friend who has been waiting to read the ending helping me with editing. When I end this essay I’ll be working on that.  That is if Grey’s Anatomy didn’t start yet.

I guess I need to learn how to prioritize my free time so I can do all the things I enjoy. I didn’t rant or rave too much I guess writing soothed that beast that was causing me to have an anxiety attack about doing the things I enjoy doing. I really don’t have to please anyone but me.  But it’s my nature to try and please everyone, to make everyone happy. So many people see the glass half empty and even at my lowest I see that glass half full. So let me end this so I can work on my novel before Grey starts.

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Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: Poetry Today

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: Poetry Today: Today is one of those days where life seems to be spinning out of control, so enjoy these 4 poems while I work on my next blog. I will t...

Poetry Today



Today is one of those days where life seems to be spinning out of control, so enjoy these 4 poems while I work on my next blog. I will tell you what I'm felling today. For those who know how I can get. I'm not depressed, remember I said I won't feel that way anymore, life is too short for that and I meant it.

QUANTUM

Sunrise buried in dusk,
Prior to the waking night.

Presently standing,
on the threshold of the past,
Facing the future.

No going back,
No staying here,
Forward one way.

A guest of virtual reality,
suspended in animation.

Feelings of numbness,
emotions suppressed.

Wondering which is me,
the lost or the free?

Spinning, spiraling, swirling,
nausea, vertigo, detached,

Stained in mystery,
is my aura.

Birth emerging,
life exploring.

……Death…..

No ignoring.

Psychotherapy babble,
metaphysical quandary,
are the reality of my insanity.

No escape from the prison of self-consciousness,
a life sentence of accepted regret.

From the darkness comes the light,
where the once blind learns to see.

  12/05/08

 FATE BE TOLD

Weeping sorrows,
full of illusions and dissatisfaction.
Stimulating anxiety,
a designer disorder,
yearning sedation,
requiring rehab.
Seeking amends
for a life
unfix-able.
Really too tired to care.
Hiding,
deep in the shadows.
Invisibly trying to be seen.
Now.
Was it fate
that gave me this day?
Or,
was it the life I lived
that became my fate?
Once I tried to steal joy,
sure that happiness would follow.
So said,
that time is gone.
Today,
fires of hell are trying to engulf me.
Blinding my eyes
With oozing tears of strength.
Eliminating the dark flames of hell,
to a path where heaven  shines,
and warms my cold heart.

 
6/9/09


Shouting Voices

Infectious disease,
contagious virus,
communicable, transmittable,
epidemic,
Madness.
Indiscriminate, undirected,
flamboyant, ostentatious,
plausible, erratic,
a quandary of conflict,
War
Jostled from tranquil dreams,
caffeine free jittery,
erratic days,
daubed happiness,
Possibilities.
Sprinkle my daily bread with jubilation,
fill my heart with contentment,
destroy madness,
cease war,
embrace possibilities,
Aspirations.
Louder then shouting voices,
my scribbled ink screams.

03/28/09

Organic Love in the Shadow of Happiness

An invisible creature
Starving for attention
feeding on contentment
Serotonin intoxicated
dopamine sedated
High on concentration
Hangover with relaxation
A world of utopia
in a state of euphoria
A hoax for the gullible
usually undetectable
A mortal enigma
arriving without a calling card or signature
Drowning in rapture
just before the last departure
Surfing the waves of ecstasy
assassinating misery
Warmed in a heat of tranquility
copacetic is the mentality
Swindled into bliss
betrayed with a kiss
An auspicious blessing
not worth testing
Clarity shines bright
a fortune of delight
Is it madness?
No!
It’s organic.
The Quintessence of Love in the Shadow of Happiness.

 01/03/09

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: A Love Story

Silently Heard Invisibly Seen: A Love Story: . LOVE SICK A vicious glutton, gnawing at the brain devouring common sense foreign to rational thoughts perspiring desi...

Monday, February 20, 2012

A Love Story


.
 
LOVE SICK

A vicious glutton,
gnawing at the brain
devouring common sense
foreign to rational thoughts
perspiring desire
emotional fever
spinning dizziness
 confusion
heart skipping beats
rapidly pulsating
adrenaline fueled
epidemic in proportion
drug resistant


SICK, SICK, SICK

in love.





When I Make Love to You



When I make love to you,
I want you to be crying with pleasure,
shaking in a convulsion of satisfaction.

When I make love to you
I want your mind and body possessed,
with a desire only I can calm.

When I make love to you,
I want you suffering from ecstasy,
unable to hold back the juices of love.

When I make love to you,
I want you pleading for mercy,
that your body be spared for more.

When I make love to you,
I want you to feel the thunder roar,
each time I welcome you within.

When I make love to you,
I want you to know the thrilling pain,
that come from the burning walls of my love.

When I make love to you,
I want tears falling from your eyes,
as you fight the explosion of pleasure.

When I make love to you,
I want you to feel weak and empty,
each time you pull yourself from within.

When I make love to you,
I want you to know one satisfaction,
and that is when I make love to you.


The Audacity of Love


Love is a season,
With all reason,

Changeable and rearrange able.

Lost in a abyss of mystery,
cause war in history.

Predetermined illusions,
     create madness and confusion.

Chills warm the blood.
Tears cause a tsunami flood.

 Piercing pain, am I insane?

A Ferris wheel of emotion,
false devotion.

Unconditional until compromised,
the fallen meets their demise.

Adrenaline pumping desire,
     discovering the players a liar.

Love a glutton demon,
Leaving gifts of semen.

The heart skips a beat,
when the victim surrender in defeat.

Dig a moat around the tower,
dress in armor to fight the power.

Fall victim to the spirit,
a broken heart is what you’ll inherit.

Love’s sweet song
I keep singing along.

Tear out my soul,
With words that console.
Feed the fantasy,
With the audacity,

Of loves’ mastery.





Glass Lady

I can no longer compete,
      with your lady in the glass.
She's your greatest love,
      she means more to you,
                then I or your children.

She's your princess,  
      your shining star.

You'll stay up all night for her.
You'll spend every penny on her.
I'm jealous I can't compete.
I can't send blood rushing,
     through your veins,
             nor can I keep your heart pumping
                        at such a terrific pace.

No,
      I can't keep your attention,
              as long as you can hold her sweetness in your lungs.

I am only a woman,
    a sad, lonely woman,
        with no joy,
                no happiness in me.
 
I can offer you my tears of hurt.
To me you lie, to her you give everything.

Me you abuse,
       her you worship.

Your family you allow to struggle,
    to her pimp you give more than enough.

You tell me not to worry,
    everything's gonna’ be taken care of.

This I believe,
    because in time I'll be able to take care of me,
            then your mistress can give you

one

     final

         HEART ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!



 

Abuse


How do I love thee,
let me count ... the beat downs.

A back hand across the jaw,
so you don't have to think for yourself no more.

A kick in your gut,
will show you how to keep your mouth shut.

Dragging you by your hair,
will show you how much I care.

Hands around your neck,
will teach you some damn respect.

Ahh, baby don't whine,
I do these things to keep you in line.

You know my love for you is deep and true.
don't cry, you can hide that black eye.

Baby what cha' doing with that gun?
What cha' mean I'm done?

POP! POP! POP!


 Fire Of Love

 

A spark ignited a curious fire.
Steadily burning,
               chills tickle up my spine.
The heat got hot.
A raging blaze erupted,
furious flames
   choked my lungs,
           singed my heart,
                          blinded my eyes,
                                  disoriented my mind.

Sirens sounded,
       crippling waters,
                dying embers,
                        cooling ashes.

Polluted waters of hate
                extinguished the fires of love.


Classified

Handsome, single and sexy
Experience in the affairs of the heart.
Patience and thoughtfulness a must
Credentials must include
Honesty, compassion and understanding.
Perfection in the use of sweet words will be considered
Applicants now being accepted
Abusers, alcoholics and drug addicts
Need not apply

APPLICATIONS NOW BEING ACCEPTED