Written word.

Perfect twisted gilded me,

Looking down at myself from a precious tree.

It’s unreliable roots and choking shoots,

Form my “too good for me” boots.

Looking for a high,

Plotting my demise…over chocolate chai.

Once building myself up by tearing me down.

A falsetto song and a hand made crown.

What I lack for in talent I make up for in blame.

Won’t you still play my game?

Floating back to reality,

Over the whole pity party.

Ferocious hug,

From a little bug.

Not desperate,

But deliberate.

Pandering, Pondering, Wandering through.

Thankful I am me and not me according to you.

Strong warm hands got my back,

Picking up me and all my slack.

Sinful, useful stories fade.

Swept up dead flowers from the passing parade.

So glad to know from absolutely absurd.

My outlet release in written word.

Looking a grown up bit absurd.

Testing Blue…Grey…Grey. Another miserable day.

Broken dirty nails continuously crawling away

but can’t keep the darkness at bay.

Conscious conversations over tea

just me and me.

Can’t shake it or wake it or myself.

Another day on the shelf.

Don’t remember letting you in.

Wasted time and crooked skin.

Can’t breathe or feel,

like watching a movie reel.

Played out and spinning,

through the looking glass I’m “winning”.

Looking for the magic words,

looking a grown up bit absurd.

Knowing it will past

wishing it were fast.

Not looking to drag this extra shadow around town.

I stand up it sits down.

If I were not so strong you may have a chance

but I’ll get clean, I’ll forget and dance.

Just need to shake this trance…

Losing moments and building bad memories

Patience..patience..yes and please.

Peeling off this heavy cape,

Working to turn and twist the fate.

Clean it all away,

Tomorrow, thank goodness, is another day.

Weight

Feeling forced. Trying so hard to portray endless light and happiness for you and me too. But I am cynical and apparently offensive. Strong of heart but sarcastic as all hell I find humor a comforting protective shell. I would be horrified to know if I hurt someone in my ignorant play and sometimes I worry I do it everyday. But I thought you knew and I thought I knew too. Many a victim befall my thoughtless wreckage of slight. Maybe I am not as funny or bright? No, but I know I am, all victims line up at the traffic jam. Always looking for someone to blame. Have you no shame. I have been wounded by daggers tounge, you really want to come and get some? I fought to ignore that I was pushed out the door unless ofcouse there was something for someone else to score. And like that a lifted weight. Wheu..that was heavy freight. But for this year I'm gonna write it, and move on to the next hit... cuz if it don't need you..you don't need it.

Thinkin it is time.

I don't need help. I don't need anything. That is with the exception of extreme silence. Swept up into the machine, feels unclean. Not natural but material. Running on the wheel. So fake I cant take it. I hate it. I want to break it, no...break free from it. 


It's voluntary participation you know, mine and yours to let go. But it doesn't feel like so. I am short on air and can't grow. And short on sun bro. I don't want to point fingers but the blame lingers on you -> land. This sand in my hand is ironic and bland. Tastes like confusion, an optical illusion...that weighs a ton. We got a problem Houston. 


Up and down my mind rows through emotions and nothing and the baggage it tows. I never danced with the devil and I should hope I never will but this sometimes feels like a bitter pill. 


I dream of wholeness and it looks the same but its sand taste better and it has a different name. A million people succeeding and I am "wow". Not jealous of their triumph but confused some how. Their commitment, passion and dedication seem so easy, natural and god forbid fun. I build walls and blocks to keep them all out and to keep myself safe from myself and the doubt. I will figure it out but I don't know when, it wont happen for me if I do nothing.

Thoughts on thoughts.

Curious my choices and the things I do. Looking for approval but from who? I am so sure no one is watching you. Feeling like a cartoon but not one that I drew. Stamping, stalking, stomping through. Not alone but no one is behind you.

Not lost, heading somewhere, but don’t ask me where. I’d share on a dare, if I thought you might care. So leveled off. Feeding from the same limitless trough. But acting, knowing, that this is not me, it is me for you or me like she.

Desperately aware of limits and faith, of options and capabilities and problems I make. My mind wonders so far from the here and the now, outside of myself I reach for power. Rein it in. Take a breath. Monstrous defeat. It is I not you that moves these feet. And the soul depletes.

Built up again by this wall of home. These people I made are so vulnerable. Walking side by side with my partner, with pride. And oh what we’ve seen, still holding hands like we were fifteen. Bless him for living with all my personalities and me. A constant barrage of insecurity and purity.

A fistful for friends wound tightly around my wrist. Giving support in small ways but not knowing it. So I fucked up here and there I am sure you did too. And maybe we didn’t get to do all we wanted to. But it ain’t over yet, and ain’t ain’t a word. But the end is coming, or so I have heard. 

In the end this is funny, words on a page. Confusion expressed to avoid the rage. You don’t know me or I you. And if you had the choice would you really want to? But we are all out here in cyber space trying to rationalize existence or find our place. Knowing, growing and towing ourselves around. Answers abound. What was that sound?

Creative Hoarding Pays.

As I am shedding trepidation and trudging past procrastination I am informed that my main business name choices are taken. Having already designed my logo and site I would normally use this as a good excuse for designers block. An excuse I could drag out for 3 months or so. But lucky for me I have highly motivating friends with passion and work ethic that inspire me daily with their updates and posts. I have also found this small bit of want in the pit of my stomach like I have been sitting on a secret and can't wait another moment. And to top it all off I have this partner now who promises to kick me in the ass if I don't get my shit together this weekend. He is really not that aggressive but just knowing that someone lie in wait helps me set a deadline and treat myself like a client. 

So feeling a little discouraged and regrouping with my PVR and a donut..or two, I flip through an old journal. Not a "Dear Diary" type but more of a creative thoughts piece that had been hiding in my sock drawer for 6 months. It is from my last burst of motivation, when I thought I might still be able to change the world. Within its pages are clues normally hidden deep in my mind. I laid my creative mind there on the paper for 8 months. Like an addicted hoarder the treasures normally masked by junk are visible when strewn across the lawn. Or in this case the crisp blue lined pages of my $3 shoppers drug mart scribbler. There it was. On page 2. and 6 and again on 18...My third name choice, now officially approved. It was there the whole time. With it are various creative concepts, developments and rationales. Is it fate that I would push it out of my mind and work so feverishly against the grain only to be stopped in my tracks and reminded of where it is I should being going. Maybe its nothing but I don’t think so. I know it is not the standard name but maybe that is why it works. I don’t know…

Another birthday takes the cake!

Ahoy! So as my son embarks on his 6th year of life. I again venture into the stormy seas of cake making. But in the end we had a treasure and shared it with the whole crew.

I actually saw a sample of this cake on a blog which I can no longer find. But she referenced  http://familyfun.go.com/recipes/pirate-ship-cake-686286/ as her inspiration. So much fun and not too hard. Now I need not walk the plank again until next summer.