I sway; a willow in a wind of sanguinarious cravings

Ashes to ashes

Rest well, love, until I come for you

Alone, in the night


Blinded by longing that refuses to fall by the way

Till you’ve offered your scarlet, and I’ve had my fill

Be quiet, love

Dream of me, drenched in ruby kisses

Cradling your body in loving arms

Close to me

Dust to dust

As your gift quenches a thirst, never-ending 

Releasing us, for a magical moment

Two, perhaps

Soul to soul, one dispatched and one to remain

Until Time closes sleepy eyes

And then, my love

You come for me 


It’s 2:15am, Texas time. I can’t sleep…not much use in trying. It’s quiet, save for the sound of my nails tapping away at the keyboard, and the TV, providing enough sound to drown out the lil noises that the night brings. Jay and M just got in. Jay and I shared a few laughs before he went out to his trailer. The band he’s in had their second gig tonight. I’m proud of them. I think they’re really starting to gel as a group. Whenever he worries about messing up, I remind him of Ina Gadda Da Vida. You never know what amazing artistic opportunity arrives at your feet looking like the mother of all screw ups…

Today is my birthday. I’m 51…officially a senior citizen. AARP bait, at the very least. I don’t FEEL 51. Hell, I don’t even feel 31, except that I still feel the same pressure to IMG_20171210_005610388 (3)123accomplish the almighty ‘something’ that I did at that age. Yeah…I still haven’t managed to achieve that particular goal. I haven’t been as much an accomplisher as a supporter to others trying to accomplish something. I enjoy that. It’s one of the few things that make me feel something inside.

I have no clue what I should do with the rest of my life. People in my family tend to live long lives, so I’m barely over middle age for all intents and purposes. If I just lose a lil weight and clean up my life a tiny bit, aside from any accidents or what have you, I have a good thirty years left before I start having old people issues. Thirty freaking years. Damn, that’s a long time. I have another ten after that, towards the end of which I will seriously decline mentally, far ahead, and out of step, with my physical decline. I’ll be like my dad; hunched over, shriveled up, demented and frail. I hate the thought.

I think I’d like to get my tattoos all finished up this year, before my skin is too thin and weird to handle it. I’ve intended to get things finished for quite some time, but I never have the time, inclination, and money at the same time. I figure I need another 30-40 hours in the chair before I really feel as though everything is totally finished. I also want new boobs and a face lift. No…not a face lift. Just boobs. Actually, I just want the girls returned to my chest, where they once lived before I had all the medical trouble with them. Not cancer. Believe it, or not, breast cancer is not the only things that tatas are vulnerable to. In any case, I think I’ll start with my ink and move on from there. Now to find about twenty grand…hmmmmmm….

Goodness, time is flying by tonight. When I get off here, I’m going to straighten the house a bit. I’ve been sick since the week before Thanksgiving and haven’t been able to do much. I guess that’s one good thing about living alone…you don’t have to try so hard to keep things straightened up. When I get finished, I’m going to color my hair and take a long shower, then sleep as late as I want to. It’s nice and cold and a great night to wrap up in my comforter.

My mom wants me to move back to the coast so we can see one another more often. I do miss her, but I love Mayberry so much. I don’t get out much, but when I look out of my window I see so much beauty…I see what other people have to get out and drive for hours to see. And there isn’t any mystery on the coast. No Bigfoot stalking about…no wolves to howl, or coyotes to yap and squeal. The moonbeams don’t fall on trees and fields down there. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell the moonbeams from the light of the street lamps. I just don’t think I can face living down there again, no matter how much I love my mother.

Ah, well…I guess I should get going and start picking up my lil nest. I’m not big on birthdays, but I am big on peaceful Sundays and hot chocolate and Golden Girls marathons. If I don’t straighten things up tonight, I won’t enjoy any of those things tomorrow. Later today, I suppose.

Okay…I’m off to be 51 for the first time! GAWD…










unedited word vomit


i’ve watched your hair begin to grey
as the years left their mark upon your face
woman, what will you do with the time you’ve got left?
woman, what will you do?

i’ve seen you struggle and fight to be free
to have things the way that you want them to be
you’ve been denied much more than approved
woman, tell me, what would you do
if , today, every wish were granted to you?
woman, what would you do?

your face stares back, from the mirror, at me
friend, or foe? i can barely define
as i read every expression and touch every line
i wonder what you will do with this time
another day granted is another that’s passed
you can’t get them back; not your first, nor your last
it’s the things that you do in the moments between
that remind the world that you ever had been
it’s the man that you loved who didn’t love you
the children you bore when grey skies were blue
there are so many questions i want to ask of you
woman in the mirror, would you tell me true?

i want to know if you plan to love
ever again in your life
do you imagine yourself as a lover, or friend?
a girlfriend, best buddy, or wife?
is there any man who could hold your attention?
a man whose name is worth the mention?
how will you know if you’ve met the one
who will love you till your time is done?
or would you rather simply bet on yourself
alone inside these four walls?
or do you find it more likely that you’ll have someone to hold you
when life trips you up and you fall?
why does love even matter to you?
you’re old enough to know
that pain is always just a breath away
and the man you love with your all today
will be the one who crushes your heart
and destroys you inside before he departs
dearest, you have to consider these things
now, tell me, what will you do?
woman, what will you do?








Falalalalaaaaa, etc.

It’s freezing today. The temp gets lower as the wind blows through Mayberry, giving the trees a good lil shake. I have faucets dripping and fingers crossed. I hate it when it freezes. It makes me feel like all the pipes will burst and fall through the ceiling. That happened to Bennie and I once…in a tiny rent house where we lived when I was pregnant with J. I had no idea that pipes froze, and Bennie was on nights and forgot to tell me. There wasn’t a pipe in that house that was in tact. I thought the landlord was going to have a heart attack when he saw it. I mean, the pipes didn’t fall through the ceiling, thank goodness, but it weren’t nothin nice, I’ll tell ya that much!

I had planned to go see Mom this weekend. Last weekend, actually, but I was still sick, as I am currently. This bug is so weird; one day, you’re fine…the next, you’re as sick as you ever were. I don’t want Mom to catch it, much less Dad. He looked so frail when I saw him Thanksgiving. It’s shocking…how time has its way with us. He used to be so big and IMG_20171122_165416126~2strong. He was a violent man. Brutal in his way. I suppose this is how the universe settles up with men like him. It’s breaking my heart. He barely recognizes me anymore and he seems to know he should. He gets so frustrated and embarrassed when he can’t remember. He does remember the war, though. Of all things…war. He remembers meeting Chesty Puller and boot camp…Guadalcanal…Fonte Ridge. He remembers that he was a scout sniper and that ‘Japs are really heavy when they’re stuck to your bayonet’. He’ll talk about the war for a few minutes at a time, then he drifts away again. I don’t mind. I know all of his stories by heart, but I still love to hear them from him.

I don’t think my dad had much to come back to after the war. I mean…he had a family…got a job…did the regular Joe thing as long as he could stand it. My grandmother was a rich girl in love with a U.S. Marine uniform. I don’t think she ever gave much thought to the man who wore it. That’s all ancient history now. I just wish that he would stay with us for a while longer. That’s all.

Mom’s giving away a ton of her Christmas collectibles and I am lucky to be at the head of that line. I don’t really celebrate Christmas, as I think it’s a crock of shit, but I do enjoy some of the decorations and the feelings they bring out in people. Not that there will be anyone but me to see them. Well, J and M will. But…no children or grandbabies to do for…no little hands grabbing at things on the tree. Hell, I don’t even have a cat anymore to bash the tree about. I hate being alone. Anyway…I’ll be at Mom’s for Christmas Eve to watch my great-nieces and nephews tear open gifts they’ll never play with. Christmas Day, I’ll leave for home so I can get back before the meth heads rob my house. lol! Joy to the freaking world!!! lolololol!

It bothers me that so many people are alone for Christmas. I mean really alone. Children in need of shoes to go to school in…needing coats to keep them warm. Veterans bundled up in alleys, stoned out of their minds just trying to keep it together. And, on that day, as every other day, more than 20 of our vets will kill themselves. Bam. Done. Over with. Just like that. Holy shit.

Well, that was nice…Not. I just find it hard to celebrate anything anymore. Bennie was the one who loved Christmas. He was like a little kid, even when we didn’t have money to buy extravagant gifts. He just dug it…the lights and smells and food and movies. I’ll never forget the first Christmas after our oldest was born. I’ve never seen a man so happy. Content. Then, along came J, and there was another lil boy to share the wonders of Christmas with. You should’ve seen it when our grandson was born! Oh, Lordy…Bennie was the best father. You can forgive a lot from a man like that. I did and I do not regret it. Not anymore. I just remember the look on his face every 20140722_070231Christmas morning when he’d come down the stairs and set up the camera. He loved to catch the looks on the boys’ faces when they saw their presents. We’d spend hours watching his home movies and laughing our asses off with a bottle of Vodka when it was all said and done. And he always got me something special. Even when it was a little something, he still let me know that he was grateful that I’d given him sons. The last gift he gave me was Christmas before last. Maybe the one before. A pair of diamond hoops. Very delicate and pretty. I loved them, but didn’t understand why he’d gone to the trouble, considering the state of our marriage. So, I asked him why and he said he’d gotten them to say ‘thank you’ for giving him sons, per tradition. That was so sweet of him. I wish I could go back and appreciate it for what it was. I honestly figured he’d just nailed some hussy and felt bad about it. Omg. I hate myself for that. But, that’s how he was. And, he was also a man who thought the sun rose and set on his boys. Besides, he never felt bad about nailing a hussy. lol!!! Not even once!!! I should’ve known better than that…

I guess I should get going. I’ve been up for a couple of days now and need to try to simmer the Hell down. There’s just so much to think about in this world. It’s so large and there’s so much to learn. No matter how fast the mind flies, it just can’t keep up…Such is life.



I don’t know what it is about this time of the morning that I like so much. I always feel…something…the most I’m ever going to feel for the entire day, between this time and dawn. Then, meds. After that…numb.

I always imagine Day and Night to begin snipping back and forth by now, trying to one-up each other. The Night laughs a deep and eerie laugh as Day struggles to nudge its way into its rightful place in the sky. It can’t run late because life on this planet is depending on it. Heavy is the burden Day bears. Even so, Night laughs on. After all, he has nothing better to do. So, for the slightest hour, Night gives Day all Hell. Never once to be outdone, Day wins out and takes its place above, giving way to nourishment and famine and all things between; shining down upon the good and the evil until, at last, it’s had its fill, and relents to Night, once more.

By dawn, Night shrugs and moves on, still laughing at Day. Night understands evil things and they don’t bother him as much as they do Day. In fact, Night adores the grief that the shadows bring. His greedy eyes gorge on their dance as they move about, taking peace and love and life, making each their own. The shadows covet but one thing that living men have. They care not for money or status…only for the lifeblood. Night lets them have it, good and plenty, if only to satisfy his own Dark needs, knowing that Day will have to deal with whatever is left behind.

And so begins another day, when Day and Night are distracted by their petty ways and a rare peace falls upon the earth for just a bit. It’s a particular peace that is not present at any other time. It’s beautiful and unspoiled and perfect. At least it is to me. It is my time to feel alive and free and so happy to be present on this planet. This morning, the wind blows through Mayberry with a firm chill and all, but that, remains silent. Except for me and the tap tap tapping of my keyboard and the beating of my happy heart.

Grey Skies…

The skies over Mayberry are grey and lovely. It looks as though it should be freezing outside, though it is very warm. The sun peeks out, now and again, trying to wrestle the day into its selfish grip. That’s the never ending story, I suppose; shiny/happy vs real/beautiful. Ah…and there it goes again, behind the grey. Sometimes, I just feel like smiling…

Life has been a lil different lately. I’m different. I don’t know why, or how…but, I am. Being a woman who doesn’t like change, changes within are rather trying. I like sure things and kept promises. Who doesn’t? I guess I’m simply tired of being alone. Tired of it to my core.

Time expresses itself differently when you’re alone, as I’m certain many of you are aware. Even when you have a well-meaning friend, or two, they don’t make up for having someone special in your life. I keep telling myself that that person will come along…just fall right out of the sky, or something. Highly unlikely, although I’ll rule nothing out. What is even more unlikely is that I’ll meet him somewhere, as I am growing more agoraphobic by the day, it seems. There are days on end when I cannot force myself to step beyond my front door. It makes no sense to me, but it is my reality at this time in my life.

There is one man in my life that I absolutely adore, but he’s got his own troubles and doesn’t want a relationship now. I have a feeling that he tells every woman in his life the same thing, and there are quite a few of us. We flock around him like he’s a wounded puppy. lol! He is pretty cute and just brings that out in women. Some men are like that, I guess. And, some of us women need someone to care for. It makes us feel good inside. While he is very special, indeed, waiting in line has never been my strong suit.

This Sunday is my 51st birthday. I’m going to go see Mom…and my dad. My youngest brother, Captain Crazy, is also at Mom’s house. Fun! That sonofabitch scares the shit out of me, but being around him still beats spending another birthday alone. Another day alone…



day bleeds into night as i make ready to sleep, at last
yet, i lie here, drowning in pillows and comfort
a mist of jasmine here and there
in an empty room to suit my empty bed
i toss and turn until it exhausts me
alone, again, till morning light
when i awaken to birdsong and the sweet smell of pine
to begin another day of living
my tiny life
in my tiny home
stark reality sinking in
i may as well have slept upon a bed of nails


Wanted: Dead or Alive?


It’s quietly beautiful in Mayberry this morning. The cool air gently blows thru the window. It replaces the scent of my worst habit, (smoking), with the smell of life, clean and simple. The sun is lazy this morning as it takes its sweet time to rise, offering time for a nice stretch before its vulgar glare blasts onto the scene.

The silence reminds me that I am witnessing something sacred; something taken for granted day in, and day out. If only I could remember that each new day is truly a gift from God… Life gets so busy, I suppose that having this time to reflect is also a gift. Also, I’m nearly pain-free this morning, and my fingers glide across my keyboard without hesitation. That’s a great feeling…not feeling pain. Be it physical, or mental, it seems to control everything about me these days. I’m growing quite tired of it and don’t intend to abide either physical pain, or heartfelt distress, for much longer. It is no way to live.

My oldest son and, hopefully, his wife, will be coming up to visit at October’s end. We will, at last, be putting Bennie to rest; his boys, spreading his ashes over this land he loved so much. It’s about time…he’s been gone one and a half years, after all. Lately, I’ve seen him roaming around this tiny house fairly regularly. I don’t even believe in such things, yet I find it disturbing that he is unaware that I’m here. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s the one who passed, or was it me? There’s really no way of knowing, when you think about it. We have no idea what happens when we die. Not really. We believe in this, or that, and we live accordingly. Even so…not one person can tell you what life after death is like from firsthand experience. Hmmm…

If I am dead, I can’t decide if I’m in Heaven or Hell. Of course, if I’ve expired, the bad things mean nothing…which would mean I’m in Heaven. If the bad things really do mean something, then I’m still a fortunate one, because they aren’t so bad that I’d say I’m very deep in Hellfire and such. Winning! Although, in the lovliness of this morning, I now have a new burning question: Am I dead, or am I alive? Is the Bennie I see walking around here real and I’m looking from the outside in? Or…hmmmm. Shit. Just what I need; Another question.

I think I’ll get busy and try to forget that I even thought that thought. But, truth being what it is, I will most likely scour the web for information on how one might be certain whether, or not, they are alive. If you find that to be silly, then you haven’t taken even a minute to consider it. Really. Think about it. Who’s to say that we, or anyone we interact with, are truly living? Even in a metaphorical sense, what would the answer mean? Any answer to that question should be life changing. It involves gratitude and sentimental leanings that tug at our core. Faith…lack thereof…more questions about us and God and all that surrounds us in this big, big, world.

I’m certainly not even close to being the first person to ask this question. Much larger brains than mine have taken their best shot at the answer. Yet, in the stillness of a Mayberry morning, it bears asking, once more…

1 1/2


all is silent here in Mayberry. i sit here, quiet as a church mouse, chain smoking and thinking of you. your memory shrouds my heart this morning, as golden sun falls upon grateful ground

as i look across the room at the bed we shared,
i recall when you and i were ‘we’. my rocking chair creaks a bit
as i consider the things we shared in that bed. passion and pain; tears and laughter…all packaged like a lovely gift, wrapped up in the pillows and comfort. even so, as much as i stare at that bed,
you are never coming back.

i remember the last time i held your hand in mine. it was cold…swollen…lifeless. next to your deathbed, i stood, realizing that i held the hand of a corpse. i was so angry at what they did to you; those ghouls in their white coats. i was angry with you for what you did to yourself, hating myself for never finding the courage to walk away so that you could have a better life with someone new.

it’s been a year and a half now, but, every day, when my eyes open i see your face and i feel your cold, dead, hand in mine. i don’t know if i’ll ever let go of that hand. i love you so much. no matter how bad things were between us, that is still my truth, as it has been for the last 34 years of my life.

were only my love to love me, too…


blood by blood
nay, bone to marrow
by Cupid’s arrow i’ve been slain
yet, my beloved loves me not
in tortuous solitude i remain

could their be a spell so prickly
that it might appease the gods
and, were i to cast it,
would love come quickly
or will it, first, find me ‘neath the sod

times like these call for things
that faded from memory, long ago
so i’ll send word on angel’s wings
and await an answer from One who knows
in deepest sleep, i’ll hear from her
in sing song, laughter and joy
she’ll take my hand and lead me on
she’ll sing to me this story…

first take the tiniest lock of hair
and bind it with a paste of clay
the redder the better, my dearest one
for we have not come here to play
let’s add a tear from a lover’s eye
one who tore your heart to shreds
now, be the one who makes him cry
but not the one who leaves him dead
which brings me to the very thing that makes this spell divine:
tis the scarlet, my precious pet
the delicious quench; sanguine
for, within it, lies the hope of man
the life, the death…the joy and wrath
all things lovely and profane
his entire world for you to gain
place all these within your vessel
and, at no time, let it leave your view
when you pray, grasp it tightly
then all things, love, will come to you

as above
so below
and, in all things, blessed be
blood by blood
and flesh and bone
a promise made
is one to keep

la la la la la laaaaaaa…. 🙂