Saturday, May 16, 2015

Hold Your Tongue

The Canonization

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
         Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout,
         With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,
                Take you a course, get you a place,
                Observe his honor, or his grace,
Or the king's real, or his stampèd face
         Contemplate; what you will, approve,
         So you will let me love.

Alas, alas, who's injured by my love?
         What merchant's ships have my sighs drowned?
Who says my tears have overflowed his ground?
         When did my colds a forward spring remove?
                When did the heats which my veins fill
                Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
         Litigious men, which quarrels move,
         Though she and I do love.

Call us what you will, we are made such by love;
         Call her one, me another fly,
We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,
         And we in us find the eagle and the dove.
                The phœnix riddle hath more wit
                By us; we two being one, are it.
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
         We die and rise the same, and prove
         Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love,
         And if unfit for tombs and hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
         And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
                We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
                As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
         And by these hymns, all shall approve
         Us canonized for Love.

And thus invoke us: "You, whom reverend love
         Made one another's hermitage;
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
         Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove
                Into the glasses of your eyes
                (So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize)
         Countries, towns, courts: beg from above
         A pattern of your love!"


I had this thought today.
I am not sure if it comforted me or terrified me.
I think I am unlovable,
I take comfort in this because it allows me to stop ever looking and hoping.
I am terrified because it really might be true.
I might not be worthy of love.
I don't say this so someone will say, OH!! but you are!  I say this because my personal history has shown I might not be,
I felt truly loved ONE time. And he too is gone.
The father of my children cares for me. Of course he does. He cares for my well being. But I never really felt he was in love with me.
My children love me. I know this.
My father, no so much.
My mother, only to restore all the shit she pulled when I was a kid.
Men see me as fuckable, until the tit truth comes out. Then I am a freak show the want to see naked.
So this thought, that started in the back of my head as a whisper is now screaming at me, and I can't make it stop.


Saturday, November 22, 2014


I think I need to blog. I think if I don't get this out of me I will explode.
I have a need. Blogging is my release.
Too much has been going on. The rocks in my head keep tumbling around.
And now I start to type and my mind has gone blank. Oh dear reader are you there? Do you read me? Is this thing on?????


Monday, May 26, 2014

Puttin this on blast

Such beauty in this world. Only to be met at times with such ugliness.
I have not blogged in a long time. Life sometimes gets in the way of blogging about life.
I have someone whom I keep at the outskirts of my life who is acting really ugly. I am not sure what happened to this person in their life that fills them up with hatred. This person has a very sad existence.
This person hates me. With such passion.
This person says, and I quote, I wish that bitch was dead. He is refering to this bitch right here. Me.
As if he deserves to be on this planet more than I do. That my children deserve to be motherless. That my step childen deserve to see another woman die. Was it not enough to see their own mother die?
That my husband should bury another wife because my being on this planet angers this person so much he would rather me dead.
Sad. Just ever so sad.
This person goes around my social peers and spews his hatred. He doesn't care what gets back to our kids. His agenda is way more important that little ears hearing what he says.
This is his religion. His opinions are gospel. His hate is the doctrine he follows and believes everyone should too.
I am not he first to be his target. No no no. I am in the line up of what's wrong with the world.
In his path of destruction he is taking innocent people with him.
So I say, peace be with you sir. You are knocking on the door of karma and she is not kind sometimes. What you put out here comes back to you ten fold...good luck with that.


Friday, January 17, 2014

Blink of an Eye

Life changes. I have no words right now. No one deserves such pain. Such heartache.
Life is so short. So very short.
Am I wasting it????

Please help if you can.


Monday, September 23, 2013

At Dusk

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

There at dusk I found you, walking and weeping 
Upon the broken flags,
Where at dusk the dumb white nicotine awakes and utters her
In a garden sleeping.

Looking askance you said:
Love is dead.

Under our eyes without warning softly the summer afternoon
let fall
The rose upon the wall,
And it lay there splintered.
Terribly then into my heart the forgotten anguish entered.

I saw the dark stone on the smallest finger of your hand,
And the clean cuff above.
No more, no more the dark stone on the smallest finger
Of your brown and naked arm,
Lifting my body in love!

Worse than dead is he of the wounded wing,
Who walks between us, weeping upon the cold flags,
Bleeding and weeping, dragging his broken wing.
He has gathered the rose into his hand and chafed her with his
But the rose is quiet and pale. She has forgotten us all.
Even spring.
Even death.

As for me, I have forgotten nothing,-nor shall I ever forget-
But this one thing:
I have forgotten which of us it was 
That hurt his wing.
I only know his limping flight above us in the blue air
Toward the sunset cloud
Is more than I can bear.

You, you there,
Stiff-necked and angry, holding up your head so proud,
Have you not seen how pitiful lame he flies, and none to befriend
Speak! Are you blind? Are you dead?
Shall we call him back? Shall we mend him?

Not my usual....but I liked it the first time i read it on another blog. 


Sunday, July 14, 2013

For My Favorite 11 yr old!

I love you Elliot, more than air!!!!!!!!!!!!


Tuesday, May 21, 2013

A Survivors Response to Angelina Jolie

I cannot listen to the media anymore talk about Angelina Jolie's choice for a double mastectomy.
I am not unsympathetic to her fear. I know that fear. My issue is this:
She has all the money in the world to be completely out of commission while her home, children and family went on in working order.She has enough money to not argue with doctors and insurance companies to have a realistic reason to use insurance monies.
I live in a woman's house that was killed by breast cancer. I have had breast cancer twice. When you are a slave to the insurance companies you are on the slow track to anything you used to have as a normal life.
Again, I understand her reason and her fear. But for every media outlet to act like her coming out with this information is such an act of bravery, is eye rolling to me at the least.
Most insurance companies would say what she did was elective. She was asymptomatic  I read about her mother, I read about her chances. Average Americans like myself struggle for healthcare. We struggle after lifetimes caps on treatment and cost. We have fundraisers. We gather up meal trains and babysitting. Things that when you have the sort of time and money that this celebrity has, is not a factor.
Again I get her reasons and fears.
All of us want to see our children grow up. All of us want to hold our grandchildren. All of us would LOVE to get this all done in 9 weeks (or so) time. All of us would love to have beautiful new breast. But at certain Stages of cancer you do not get that choice. Most of us have to wait until we get through chemo, while our chest skin tightens and scar tissue is created. Then we begin the reconstruction surgery that take away even more time from our families and jobs. That's just not reality for the average American diagnosed with Breast Cancer to have the experience Angelia Jolie had.
We worry about if our employers will give us the time off and hopefully paid. We worry that if we do get to go back to work out job will be waiting for us. We worry about how our children will get to school or how they will be taken care of during an entire day filled with chemo and doctor appointments. We try not to ask our spouse to take off too much time. We have to keep some kind of insurance somehow  We have to worry of changes in insurance and now having pre existing conditions.
Again I get her reasons and fears.
I really do.
Insurance and the highest of care is not for the poor or middle class.
I cannot blame celebrities for for their wealth That would be silly. I do blame the media for glorifying the choice of a person in this world for coming out with her situation, while millions of people cannot afford something as simple as insurance for a check up on a lump the found.