drifting...

staring safely
out the window:
forecasted depression
more of it.

she ponders
potential demise

hers
his
theirs

while children
plunder under

foot steps
keep her walking
in circles
and her chains
are her choice

voice male
ignores
the underground
wiring
and uproots itself
into a mess she cannot
step over
around

driving the ocean
waves and she
recalls her astrological
sign, it's element.

she is connected
to this ocean
her behavior
it is the same
type of work
her inner self

waving in pattern
seemingly rough and
erratic with calmness
and beauty dressing
the whole

hole.

she knows where
not to go
inside or out

storms that begin
out of doors
always commence
within.

Fat on Fiction

Propoganda pukes on my family
and we eat it for dinner

we tune into the
latest coverage on the
"showdown",
shove it down,
never to slow down,
never to Die-gest.

we eat and eat
and when we think
we are full,
we unfasten our pants
and a commercial
cleverly cleanses our palates,
flavors our tongues with
sprinkles of capitalism.

we get ready for the next
big meal,
deal
as He decides what to steal-
what's left, really?

do we not have it all?
big
small--
oh no,
that right,
the building so tall
ripped from the sky
like an anti-war flyer
from a wall,
a reminder that it is
WE who lost it all

and to pay for it:
someone,
so many,
too many,
GONe.

Just as your heart,
so they will be-
DEAD.
Us too,
fat on fiction.

like mother...like son? tandem nursing!!!

Praxis

poetry
deserves
more from her
and yet
she spies retreat
skies of defeat

fear of
rejection
alteration
projection
articulation.

the
type
type
type: words

in pattern and song,
a dance

expansive and rich is
her mind
and it funnels
spiralling
into the eye

storm breaks her,
fakes her
into moving
right along.

without it she would
call all together
small

fall to pieces

yet to it,
she owes a
lifetime's love
more

today she
will notice
her feet on
the floor

Another Mother's Hoverboard

Remember Back to the Future? well...remember the sequels? there was one i forgot which one, where michael j. fox acquires a hoverboard...it's all futuristic, sorta like a skateboard and sorta like a surfboard...and it just hovers...but do you remember how it gets him places real fast and makes him pretty super?

this blog is my hoverboard...it gets to me to another place and time...outside of my tiny home, with too many diapers to change and not enough of my own intellectual stimulation...

so...cool! here it is...

i like to write...often rant...sometimes offer poetry...sort of...sometimes quotes or lyrics...but mostly i just need escape...and to outlet my creative self...