What may come

Searching through
histories of ourselves
raw and unedited
with the soundtrack
to die for.
He’s been gone so long
yet still so close
like a hangnail festering
alive like a pain to the soul
still here
after all.
Damn, to see that face still can
make me feel
and cry as I wonder
where would he be
if he had not given it all
and lost it all
and left us behind
like a faded street sign wondering
which way do we go
As I’m standing here on the ground
skies always waiting in the sidelines
to all fall down,
but to look at you
in reckless moments
always sparks the fire…
the soul calls for change
while the heart says don’t….
some feet under don’t make anything in the mix
‘cept tears for yesterday,
as we wipe them away and wonder
where does the time go…
where will we go when all is said and done,
and though were not so very young
and oh so pretty,
what a pity to dwell in these pages
songs and lyrics
and voices of yesterday
that still haunt from the depths
of disillusion.
And so we dream on,
Beginning with a word we should not
per the rule books
but what do they mean
if nothing at all
in the grand scheme of things,
for love is what I say,
and by my side
in rooms of faces
we will be ourselves,
clouded images of a history
a before you and me
a collage
of a dream through images
perpetually and always
meant to be.

Watching old INSX videos and reliving my younger years….poor Michael Hutchensce and songs that were a integral part of my consciousness…..Don’t Change, To Look at you, etc….coming up on my birthday and feeling and reeling in the years….The one thing, etc…..yep, still going there….and everywhere๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ’œ

Dog poop and yummy food

So our neighbor inquired if we had been, how shall I say it, putting dog poop bags into his garbage can. I stifled a laugh and of course said Nope, wasn’t us. Our neighbor doesn’t use his garbage can, he makes one tiny bag per week that sits on his lawn, soaked by his sprinkler system and I suppose the garbage men get to pick up wet and drippy but “clean garbage” when all is said and done. Well, apparently he had just looked into his can for the first time in forever and found a dog poop bag with a gift within. He was a mite upset about the whole ordeal, and it’s not like he’s an old cranky codger or anything, in his early sixties at best. Now I pick up our dogs gifts that they bestow daily like clockwork, tie it tight and slap it on my back in the pack I carry. I take it home where I have a metal can specifically for these gifts. So flash forward a day and he asks my husband again if he’s seen anyone in his yard depositing Fifi’s little gifts into his trash can. Of course we have not, and once again, no it isn’t us. I figure he must have upset someone in the neighborhood, how I do not know but we hope he puts up a camera and catches the suspect soon. He is not a dog owner or he would obviously be making more garbage per week, I should know, our two are never-ending machines at making gifts. I am still chuckling about it and at least someones picking up their dog poop besides us.


On another note, but a much nicer one, hubby made a scrumptious breakfast today and I thought I’d take a pic and share. My girl Lady G had a post the other day asking about what people are cooking up these days and today we were blessed to partake in this:


Now that there is cinnamon apple bread french toast with real New York maple syrup with chicken breakfast sausage to compliment. See, and you thought this whole piece would be about dog poop, didn’t you? So what’s happening in your neighborhood that’s given you a laugh lately or what’s cooking good-looking? Please share, the world needs more chuckles and growling stomachs.

At 17

At 17 I set thought orbs in glass jars on window sills

hoping to catch the light to add color and life to the dark marbles

endless piling up and spilling over,

rolling out and down the roof

lost in the lawn to be found by cutting blades,

mowers make hasty work of beauty,

chipped and broken I picked them up

one by one depositing them back in place

now able to fit in more as pieces take less space

when no longer whole.

At 18 I no longer needed the jar, or the light to see

through the darkness piled up for they had turned

to fine grains of sand,

each hurt, each infliction of pain

castles built of a fragile mind

tipped over to the wind and set free,

no longer serving who/what had been me,

standing in the rain with an empty jar

I caught puddles of rainbows

swirling them about I found the smile

I thought I could live without.

Reflections of things here and gone,

no longer adding debits or credits

but being at one with what was

and what would be

the essence of me no longer contained

in jars on sills

and broken marbles cut to bits,

no words to describe the ever changing tide

that I had become

moving through and over

never looking back

no longer needed to see what was left behind.

Not sure where this came from but saw the image and these words came to mind. No worries, I am a happy girl in the light. No darkness here, just talking with words from the stratosphere of the cosmic mind.

Movement in thought

Motion through minutes passing
seconds into minutes into hours
moving into days and forever,
the feel of tightness slipping away
caution of the wind blowing
the tired stress away.
Low tide of muscles sleep
as the light slowly finds us
tucked into the cotton of dreams
we emerge refreshed from darkness
to greet a year and a new day.
Machines to tell us move along
as we had sat here a bit too long
and below the winter sun
leaves blow gently greeting
each step taken
with no thought broken
by anything other than
the quiet peace of now.
Empty streets we wander
as restless feet move in anticipation
turning corners to find
no familiar faces,
no new four legged friends,
as the world woke later than we
our feet kept moving forward in speed
racing to catch the time
kept by the small keeper,
logged into bases
miles still to go
before we sleep.

Thoughts on my new Fitbit….finally downloaded on the husbands ipad and now feeling like a slacker….should have done it this am and captured the whole day….I shall call it Beulah, and she will kill me I’m sure when all is said and done….Gotta keep moving….perhaps more spoken word on walks with the recorder, hmmmm….theres a thought๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ’œ peace and fitness building in 2017.

a Mind Set Free

We bounce about in our bliss,
charting courses throughout the cosmos
things we see in our minds,
and dreams we know we were meant to create,
to fulfill and see through to completion.
We listen to our history
straining against the ties that bind,
that stunt the factor of longing,
to touch the sky
we only need fly,
but first we must try.

Voices from across the miles
tears and smiles
we gather like flowers in vases
knowing in vain they too shall pass,
like the thoughts that we carry,
the heavy sacks of guilt given,
yet to set aside
takes strength inside
and as we walk away we know
the way which we shall go.

I hear his voice in my mind,
songs of yesterday mellow and mild,
remembering the passion felt
on discovery of a rhythm new,
how I could never explain to you
the need to be free
and the years now passed
I don’t know where I’ve been,
but the distractions aside
and living beyond the inside
the soul has gone free
from it’s jar on the shelf,
and there’s no stopping now
when the clock is set in motion,

She sits beyond the dunes,
somewhere out there
walking in the rippled sand
by an ocean moving like only it can,
it calls to her gently
come move with me,
we will float on waves of blue
charting our course,
me and you.

Steve Winwood is stirring my thoughts tonight, as I said my goodbyes to the book of face community, devoting time to what to me is imperative and formost, achieving my goals without distraction of drama and aimless activity. A quote from the song haunting me this fine evening, blasts from the past not forgotten. Forgive the mispellings as the ipad of yesterday has no check….but eh, I’m not too worried, it is what it is, elements of me untamed by the dictionary…..Life is too short to be mired by nitpicked grammar….ha! Still smiling, one day down, a lifetime to go๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’ซโœจ

“If you see something that looks like a star
and it’s shooting up out of the ground
And you just can’t escape from the sound
Don’t worry too much, it’ll happen to you
We were children once, playing with toys…

If you had just a minute to breathe and they granted you one final wish
Would you ask for something like another chance?
Or something similar as this? Don’t worry too much
It’ll happen to you as sure as your sorrows are joys.

But spirit is something that no one destroys.”
Steve Winwood- Traffic….the low spark of high heeled boys


In the heart of darkness
Each soul will rise to the occasion
Letting go of the little words that pinch,
edges grated against the shield built,
so easily we could fall once more
into the vortex which is manipulation,
once more we could cower and give in.

It takes strength to stand up,
to be strong against those who preach the prophesy
of someone else,
the unnamed face of blight,
but if not enough credit is given,
for the pool that lived within the depths for half century,
The wise shall see through the looking glass shown:

the warrior will still rise, unbroken.

For no protection is needed,
there is no maiden in distress,
there is no mind in need of salvation.

New days are on nigh,
and the clock will chime regardless
and the bell will indeed toll,
but the keeper of the madness is always very aware.
The lock and key will hold the strong fort
for the changes that will come
I have no fear.

I have learned my lessons well
and though one of few spoken word aloud,
when prompted, and provoked,
I have no need to fill your mind
with justifying babble
when only mere silence is truly due,
for One cannot be a creation built
of anothers will and constitution,
a road must be walked alone ultimately
and on that path we gather
those of love and soul
and simple like mind,
never judging,
never trying to recreate into an image,
freedom of self will rise as is the birth right to all
peace indeed always will reign
in one who believes,
who truly is fine in the skin that shelters
the essence of a good soul.

Thoughts of a mind filled with a tinge of anger tonight, but overcoming and finding the peace, for to give in to the thinking of another and take it as ones own, means to give away self, and in this new year that is drawing to a close, I am sheltering fiercly this strength and force, that I shall overcome the outer slings and arrows, that I shall be myself and no other, and that alone will afford me the peace I hold dear. I cannot, I will not, be someone other than who I am, proudly and without reserve. Looking forward to a new day, as I do each new day, new year or otherwise……gonna be a fun ride my friends, count on it, embrace it, and just be! Peace and all is good….just cleaning out the mental closet before sleep lays claim and dreams invade…always the best indeed. ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ™๐Ÿปโ˜ฎ๐Ÿ’Ÿ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’š๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ’‹ Happy New Year to one and all and catch you in a few hours for a thrilling new adventure in 2017. Peace and love, Kโœจ๐Ÿ’ซ Shine on you crazy diamonds.โญ๏ธ๐ŸŒŸ๐Ÿ’ซ๐ŸŒ™โœจ๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ’Ž

Moving mountains

I move them aside as I move forward

stepping stones before me in my mind

feeling so very far to go

I close my eyes and for a moment


and I am there.

Moving mountains that stand before

like monoliths with crossed arms

saying you cannot go here

you will never get past

yet through shades of beautiful blue

I drift high above you

and lifting off

fly free to the sky

if only in my mind

for just a moment

I know this will be truth

for I am strong and sturdy

and can carry the weight of thousand dreams

as I journey forward

though tired I amble on,

knowing the journey

each day has just begun.

Shining through blue

Magic pieces found
everyday places trampled underfoot,
carefully lifted,
re-formed into beauty
sparkling like new
and carried away in a pocket
treasure again found.
Aspen leaf memory
dappled spaces to let light through
whimsy in shades
against glittering water
art formed from trash
set upon a shelf amongst gems
taken to heart
and given honor
not forgotten after all.
One mans treasure
another mans junk,
as it sat alone waiting for that someone
to see its worth
its value
and the sun hit it gently
a glint upon false embellishment
I returned back to find it
with a simple smile
you will be mine
to share with those of like
tossed aside
gently reborn into purpose
if only to add a small bit
of a quiet illusion
of a majestic piece
taken apart
with only this one last leaf
that fell astray
left behind,
lifting the spirit of the girl who loves
this universe and its gifts,
blessed by the things manifested
shining through blue.

I found this glittering blue(plastic decoration)leaf this morning on our walk, it sat on the edge of the road waiting for me to see its few remaining jems glittering in the sun. I held it up to the ripples of the pool and changed the filter to chrome and this image is what was born. It now sits with yellow woodstock on my desk, simple things found on travels that never cease to make me smile. Just another story of my magical finds.

Food haiku (pizza)

Large slice of comfort
elegantly dressed for me
a toast to pizza.

Hot melted cheese runs
chasing hunger to despair
deliver it please.

Round orb of delight
pepperoni and cheese please
get it here pronto.

I am always blessed
this pie that I love the best
happy meal of joy.

Taste buds will quiver
anticipation finds me
tomorrow too, please?


We settled ourselves on the edge

Balanced on the abyss of illusion

We were surrounded by images spoon fed through dreams

Landscapes of beauty

We climbed up out of the darkness

Knowing the path would finally bring us

To go this way or that.

So we settled in the middle

Feeling the trepidation ease

No hurry

No rush we sang little songs we remembered,

As we wore costumes like actors in a play

Constantly changing

Forever rearranging the furniture and props to fit,

Never realizing that it was a bit of make believe

And with the blink of an eye

It could all turn around

To be our wildest desires and dreams

If only for that moment

We could truthfully believe

That the beating heart within

Knew the secret that would be told

And our spot of balance

Would teeter totter out of control

And we would ask the stars to guide us through

Our waking worlds that never could glow

In the same way as the sweetest dreams,

We burrowed under once more

Escaping into the darkness

In search of light once more.

I had a night of amazing dreams and beautiful worlds, it’s always a bit of a let down to wake to the everyday….some days I think it would be awesome just to stay there a little longer, if only to gather more observations to bring to the light of day, fodder for writing from sleep is always fun, you never know where it will take you till you get there.