earthly momentos

tapping keys into masked coherency
lost myself in the shuffle of learning
they will call me elder in a few years
i have earned my own guilt and shame
i shun the nag of self destruction
i have earned this day
no ego to claim as my victor
just the scars that rip open when the night falls
forced to remember who I am
caressed with earthly momentos
left to be swept worn by winds and dust
not lost
not found
just there captured in the inhale
and passed to the next breath
reconnecting the buried past
with tomorrow's history
never lost
never found
just there captured in the inhale

...had to start with me.

There is no way to really know what is going to unfold in a day. Yet, the world will continue on out there...passed my screen doors....passed the few feet of 'my yard'. (Listening to Believe In Dreams by Flyleaf)
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The snow is falling good right now.
The walk was cleared yesterday
and now fully covered again. The foot prints
pressed into the white banks are filled and replaced
with a new day of winter strollers.
Most of me remembers the peace that came
after the night dream wake.
Still, part of me clings to yesterday's hurt.
Its those little blessings that keep me
from a self induced cave-in of despair. My grandson
a constant teacher . A reminder of those teachings
of life that helped me survive this long.
He may not get any of the philosophical blurts
but he has the tools when its time. He puts them in
where he feels they fit for 'him'.

So, what is it that holds my day captive
as I fight to see bits of daylight?
I am one of the lucky ones. I came out
of the streets with all my 'needed' wits
and no limbs or organs lost. I embraced
a vision that promised to keep me safe
from my suicidal binges. I kept the faith,
as some would say, that the world would become
a better place but had to start with me. I
am grateful, the world is a better place therefor time
left to heal and strengthen. A legacy I can only pray
will be left for my children and grandchildren. I don't
reject my history or use it to blame my life on its events.
I have taken every 'positive' step that I know to take.
My life is not perfect with its daily challenges
and heartbreaking moments. I have little money and no job.
I worry each day about how long this house will be
called home. I fight off thoughts of drunken drug escapes.
I keep a tightened grasp on the forgiveness
needed for the hate controlling those outside my door.
I know this day is mine. I see the daylight through
the cracks of my home made curtains. I have this moment
and that is all that matters. And the smile returns
from the inside out. The world is better
and it had to start with me.

Eat Pray Love

A night with my daughter led to diving into the movie Eat, Pray, Love starring Julia Roberts. I have been waiting to see this movie - attracted mainly by the title itself and ofcourse knowing Roberts will always deliver a worth seeing performance.

Verdict? It was enjoyable with a couple thought provoking moments. Honestly, I waited for "the moment" to happen. I felt a glimpse of what it would be like to be in Italy, the architecture, the food, the language, and the people. A travelogue with a few intimate flings to spice up the "find myself" journey. My favorite part is just the dreaming of being on the trip she was taking. Maybe that was the point. From the point of being numb and unexcited about life to exploring and expanding personal limitations to spark the life back into the day. I can understand that. I can appreciate that. But honestly, I expected more. Will watch it again. Just because I did expect more and feel jilted.

So, as for my life. I am confident with the day if I have faced it with a hint of passion. The days that scare me is when I see the end and all the in between is just that "grey filler" that means nothing because it will end when I end.

I went to the library yesterday and browsed the poetry anthologies for something that would jump out and awaken something in me. Taking out aged hard covered Elliot, crisp Atwood, and colorful names I had never heard of. Then, there she was, Anne Sexton Complete Poems. I had heard the name and wanted to explore more women authors. How did they handle their crazy. I continued the evening being a taxi and waiting in my little black bucket of bolts reading the introduction to Sexton's work. A history of a troubled sucidal woman who dared to spill her confessionals during a time when women's secrets were just that - secret. A natural flowing string of words devulging her love affair with death - specifically her own death. The scary realization is I relate to so much of her life and why she writes. She wrote to survive, to live, to stop from wanting to kill herself. I don't relate to the woman who walked with a barbie doll presence or the middle class view on the world. I relate to the loneliness and death that seemed to consume her days and led to her eventual suicide. I have walked with this cloud over me and survived with scars from my own attempts to escape my chaotic mind. But I did come out from that storm. I struggle each day to keep from drowning in my own mind. So I write.

Eat, Pray, Love....I guess that is a good start. I like the title. A morning cup of coffee, a plate of breakfast 'something', and cigarette while being an observer from my kitchen window. I may not have Paris today but I smiled. I smiled because I still feed. I still crave for candy apples and flavored coffee. I still yearn for the knowing only spiritual awareness can provide. I still can shed a 'real' tear when a child cries. I can still dream of being loved and sharing love. Yes. That's a good start for the day.
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And I Write

I now have 44 pages of 'poetry' or strings of words that vary in stream and rhyme. Must not sabotage this move forward.

I never know when the moment will arrive. In that moment I write and even I don't believe it came from me.

Not much the hand wants to type today in generalities. I want to edit and write more strings.

Key: Write. Write. And write some more. No thought to the direction but once the direction arrives flow into it with no restriction. No editing. No correcting or deflowering the freedom of the unfolding journey of writing.

This Moment Is Mine

There are days like these. Too many to count. I still have dreams and passions. Yet, society has put me on the shelf. I fulfilled the academic expectation to my best ability. I flew into the workforce wanting to be part of the solution. I raised my family to be independent and knowledgable. I kicked the crutches of alcohol and drugs. I forgave the monsters and hugged my enemies. I don't have a criminal record. I embrace my imperfections and use them to strengthen my passions. Yet...yet...I am still here the same way I was ten or twenty years ago. Still asking the same questions. Still hearing the same answers.

Every morning appears to be a new opportunity provided to me. I can make a change in a direction that will be different from yesterday. Then I am flooded with the reality of how much work it will take to achieve my dream or reach a goal. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to be judgemental. I don't want to blame the white man, my mother, a politician, my children, my neighbor, the rich, the poor, the racist, or me. I just want to make my life mean something. I want my children to look back and be proud to say that was my mother. I want my grandchildren to walk with honor knowing I gave what I could to ensure they could carry on strength in knowing who they are.

The world will not know my name. My nieces and nephews won't even say my name. When the years pass that is all that matters. "Who will remember?"

There isn't much I can say about his day that is different from any other day. I can say I am giving it another try. I know my blessings. I am aware of the escape I have perfected. I live with smiles, love, and passion.

This moment is mine.

Being Alive!

The mornings are my favorite time of day. I love the feeling of coolness and quiet in the kitchen. The scent of brewing of coffee and sweetgrass smoke triggering childhood memories - those good memories.

This morning, I lay with eyes closed attempting to convince myself of the reasons why I should get up. No job. Goals lined in failed attempts. Broken dryer. Piles of laundry. Plans replayed and never realized. Promises made and not kept. Teenagers in drugs. Teenagers dropping out of school. Teenagers dropping back into school. My son calls me a hypocrite. My grandson tells me he hates me. My daughter isn't speaking to me. My other daughter is pregnant 'again'. Where did my son get that money last night? Were the police watching the house? He hates that I think that of him. My bed is broken. I am sleeping on the couch again - where my grandson wet in his sleep. I am gaining my weight back. I am afraid to exercise. I am afraid to take risks. I have many good intentions. I do more in my head than in my physical reality. I am still struggling to make ends meet. I dye my hair. I can't look in the mirror. My grandson barely knows how to read. The world will never know me. I will never know the world. How is my mother? My brother sent me sixty dollars. Will I lie to get money? Will I drink like that again? The closet needs cleaning. The window needs fixing. The door needs repairing. The screens need replacing. Can't avoid looking poor. The city is filled with racists with a voice. I don't have a job. I can smell the coffee. I can smell the sweetgrass. I can hear ...... the mornings are so beautiful. I am here. And no matter what I still care, want, need, plan, love, smile, and face the morning. I am grateful for all of it. That's what being alive means.

Bukowski

Life is funny. One minute you are feeling like the party started without you and the next you realize the party was planned just for you. I have lived a full life with alot of adventure, pain, happiness, tears of sadness, and unending smiles for living. Alot of cliches, more than I can stand, but a life all the same.
I read an interesting poetic statement by Margaret Atwood the other day. It describes her journey to the writer in her. The inevitable pull to the wine drinking, cigarette smoking, paris seeking writers of her time and time passed. The desire to mingle with the risk takers and create the voice of a poet that would shock and portray an interesting 'writer's life'. Well, she found it, in the details of her life after the delayering of personalities acquired through the search for the writer in her. It is the presentation and perspective of the writer that entices the reader to continue reading. Bukowski presented the world with a dirty old man with a crude mouthful at every spit of drunken philosphy. Yet...it was interesting to experience his perspective of the world through the eyes of one in the middle of what most tried to avoid. It was no risk to him it seemed just his way and perspective and it caught on. I speak of Bukowski because he seems to surface in the work of new emerging poets where ever I go. I do admit I went through a time when he intrigued me to the point of purchasing all his books where ever I could. It was the feeling of raw truth...albeit his truth...that kept me wanting more at the time. I was pulled into his madness with a desire to find my own madness. This is where I found the writer in me. I projected all my filth, misery, and sweetness into lines that projected my reality. For a short while i experienced a freedom. Then I realized the journey was just in its infant stage. There would be more to come as my memory replayed forgotten or buried remnants of madness that just wouldn't be served best without continued maturing in the craft. I continue. I venture into the perspectives of writers to remind myself of that freedom....to be mad....my madness is a safe place for me. There is no good to it nor is there bad to it...it just is for me. I need it to be the writer I am. My words thrive on the madness around me. I write to live in the madness around me.

So Bukowski, the dirty old man spitting drunken philosphy, knew what he was doing in his own mad way.

....programmed into the brain where the spirit lived

it is time to register my teenagers in highschool and establish the schedule for my grandson's homeschool plan. i enjoy the creativity involved in putting the list of activities we will be taking on for the week or months. An important aspect of education is the social interaction. So much is learned in a conversation, an expression or body movements. Opinions are formed in conversations.

One plan was to get signed up for an autumn craft and art program at the gallery. I would also take advantage of the time there with a photography course. It is the move toward viewing the world in adventurous and possible ways. Well, I know I can't afford any of this without making small payments. So I had a pleasant conversation with the young woman taking on the greet and know of the gallery while the manager was away. I walked away feeling so great. The classes were set and the October youth craft bash promised to be educational and fun. The best part - our names were down and the payments could be made on the start date - which is the next time and only time in the month I would have money. So spending a few moments sharing smiles with a helpful humanbeing got the ball rolling for a positive move forward. "Not having money was not going to stop me from enjoying my life..."

Now, as the time draws nearer to the start date of the gallery programs, I decided to call to double check our registration and the exact amount that would be owed on the date agreed. Well, the telephone like the email, text etc...has damaged the already disfunctional act of communicating. Now I spoke with the manager. She sounded rough, older, and less interested in my excitement to start the programs. Dragging her voice she proceeded to inform me that the fees would need to be paid before they could confirm my enrollment. The financial aid program was not available ( I had not asked for financial I inquired about payment plan). " I have dealt with problems before so I cannot help you." So in a stuffy breath she made her decision in non chalance air....arrrrr. She flexed her power.

Why does it matter if the gallery won't wait for the fees or if we even take the program to learn, experience, create, communicate? It was just that moment of feeling like something we 'wanted' not necessarily 'needed' was unfolding in our favor. I had my teenagers excited a feat in itself expecially when they are more accustomed to disappointment. I felt like I had accomplished something. I did - I made the kids smile, talk, plan, and most of all - dream. Then because someone listened in the city....a communication between two people resulted in smiles, hope, confidence. Good feeling as the days went by and we knew we had 'that' day to look forward to. In a short technological line of black endless wire the words grated from her aged lips into a grinding echo that reached my ears, then my mind, my heart and my spirit. I waited in between the cold wire words for a moment she might soften and understand, trust, compromise, humanize. That moment never had a chance. She was like a robot. An answering machine programmed into the brain where the spirit lived.

Well, moving on. We always bounce back from these things. I just don't look forward to seeing the fade out of the little 'spark' that has been lit for the passed little while. They won't complain. They will nod and discuss other things. One of those things that was just in our grasp but was put there for someone else.

best drink I ever had

I have these thoughts that I can achieve outrageous goals in a short time. Sometimes it works and other times I wake up and think "it will never happen". Well I am in that mode of making things happen so lets see what happens.

Alot of love and peace this passed weekend. Felt the energy of what was described to me as the 'sixties". Anything is possible! Just smile and watch the world change one person at a time. Open a door and feel the ripple turn to a wave of human kindness. Let the human spirit of kindness be the leader of the day. I live in the center of the despair of families without, youth left out, women kept out, children left alone...a poverty of the mind and spirit breeds misery and despair. There is so much fear and anger there is no place to escape to. So it only makes sense to face it head on and kick it in the ass....I sat with one man and one woman who lived in a shack that wasn't theirs. They have no job, no food, no money. Yet they have the most loving way they have chosen to live and share. We shared moments that were priceless. Life is simple. Living is the tough part. Live. Just live. Smile. Cry. but smile again. A four day fast without food or water....brought the teaching of humility and appreciation for those everyday things we take for granted...i drank from a horn with insects swirling in their swim and it was the best drink I had ever had.

Distant from the Being as Humans

And the World is in poverty now! A reality in so many ways. We have starved ourselves almost to death by disconnecting with our main life force 'the Earth'. It is only in the reestablishing our connection as allies of the earth can we save ourselves. I have watched documentaries and read articles that reflect a hint of hope for the human 'beings' even after all the damage that has been done. BP oil spill "murderer of the ocean". Mother Nature's wrath spreading her cleansing hands with wind, storms, and earth shakes. An unrest with the people as they confront their governments once again to protest the neglect and disrespect of the commonman's plight to survive. These are enormous issues that span the whole planet. Yet in the shadows are the those whose voice has been taken during the decline of their lives. Asleep in alleyways, feeding from backdoor bins, stealing a can meat from a corner store, hunting sick and poluted animals, serving affordable junk to their children, drinking colorful water, and still dreaming it can change atleast for the children. What now happens to those who have been born into poverty? This is the thought that stirs my need to stand up and gather all the information that is out there and say "lets do this!" Turn the information into knowledge through doing, and wisdom through living.

It is easy to say grow your own food if you have the tools and the experience.
So....provide the tools and experience. Share the knowledge in every community! Let it be the way it has to be. Every neighbor to have a healthy meal for themselves and their family. And for those carnivores well hunting is still a great way to feed "families". It is the pollution and sicknesses that is making it difficult to trust this old survival way. But protect areas to ensure the natural habitant is available is a start.

I have a wish list and one item on the list is like many other families..'a home' to call my own. I have done alot of research on the variety of alternative housing projects being developed around the world. I don't understand why it wouldn't be considered as an alternative on a wider scale for impoverished families. An energy efficient home where the one time bill comes only in the materials. A home built with renewable resources to cut the cost to more than half for the finished product. Not For Profit organization run by citizens of the rural/urban area with a goal to ensure every family has a home. A barter system or mortgage payment as an option to assist in securing the home for the individual/family. For example; the new homeowner will now share the new homebuilding skills with future homeowners and share in the building of a new home. There are so many positives that could come out of feeling you have something worth while to offer and also have the pleasure of seeing the product of your hard work. Training and education for the building of the home and the continue learning in areas such as gardening (community gardens for example). A committment by Governments for the financial support for the training and resources to fulfill this goal. When one considers the cost of services put toward government housing, financial aid, and the thousands of programs developed and redeveloped to feed and house the homeless, this would be an investment in more ways than one.

These are not new ideas. We have become distant from the "being" as humans. Not only have we disconnected from our life source but we have created armor around our lives so we will not feel the pain of the world. Hoping maybe just maybe it will get better on its own. It is not to say we don't have the heart..the spirit...to make a change. I only say it is time to put our differences aside and realize we are all One on One Earth. Our only real Home. What is here was meant to be utilized with respect and honour for its abundance and generousity. There is no need for one person to be hungry in this world today. There is no reason why those who desire a home should not have one. There is no need for a government that only serves its own agenda as long as we have our voice! It's our differences that have created the dark shame over human life.

Living Art

Watching humans dancing
to the music of the earth song
smiling faces drumming with gum chewing vigor
toddlers swaying high and low
on wooden teeter tots
a teenage mother sitting
on side door steps
smoking a cigarette after
her lunch hour sandwich
a bearded man hidden age behind
pepper beard
four jackets for the seasons
and a loaf of bread from the uptown drop in
walking art
sleeping art
sad art
content art
terrifying art
childish art
x rated art
painful art
messed up art
human
walking
living
art...

I screamed last night!

I screamed last night
to the god
in skies of blackened eternity
an icicle cry
with a forever tear.

I screamed last night
to the god
to awake a surrendering
heart.

a wave in an ocean
to drown my sadness
in the skies of blue warmth
a peaceful sigh
with endless faith.

Who cares?

I can see why there are so many people who are just plain tired of hearing the hard luck stories. In a short time I will no longer be on this earth. I will be dust and all my struggles now just doesn't or won't make sense. I am a spec on a spec that only my family will remember for a couple generations. I can only hope that what I am doing in my life now will help make the world a better place for my children and grandchildren, enough for them to pass it on to their children and grandchildren. A mother's love is insane. Why is it we live our day to ensure the life of a little one yet to be born is safe? The insanity is when we forget to live today with out children before time steals the moments away and the children are adults.

I am clammering at the sides of the bucket trying to get a grasp to get me out of this before my life is done. Live. LIve LIve LIve LIve LIve. damn it . Live

Spirit Message

If you have wandered into this site, "welcome". I don't advertise or roam to much to grab attention. But when the attention does come so does the interesting questions and relationships.

I was just reminded of a reemerging message to everyone, us; no particular color, religion, or political stand needed, just an ability to listen. Those who 'know' will understand. There is a time when using what we 'know' will be the most important guide for survival. A spiritual war that began with a division of tribes that occurred during ancient times. During a time when the mysteries of today were not hidden but common knowledge and practice for everyone. The generations of distorted versions of history have attempted to erase all memory or knowledge of these times. A duty that has been passed down to ensure that the unfolding of goals emerge. These goals or ambitions are not in the best interest of those who cherish their freedom. A reawakening of genetic memory that will give rise to the knowledge that will reconnect our existence with our original ancestors for the sake of our survival. This is not a string of words open for debate. If you know then it will make sense. If you don't it is not my responsibility to convince you.

All is good and the way it should be.

Life Passions

Today there is only one thought lingering in and out of my day so far....passion for life. This is so important. The dreams that excite you each morning. The butterflies that quiver the center of your being each time you think of reaching for more.

Today, all I have to do is believe I can have this in my life again. To be passionate about something, anything. I love to write. I love to create lines of my uneducated poetry, ranting maybe but still written thoughts...mind paintings. I love to wander into the life of a character in an unfolding script. I love to read the words of writers from centuries ago sharing emotions, fears, and realizations with the world and oblivious to the fact that these same words would be sitting in front of me .... in 2008! Amazing. A legacy. Their passion. I just want to keep this thought today.

Just hoping the power won't be disconnected anytime soon. Or the phone for that matter. Still looking for a job. Still writing down my ramblings.

'cursed with inherited sadness'