That I'm sorry... And I'm sorry..... And. I. Am. So. Very. Sorry. I keep trying to find the right words... And. I suppose any would have been better than none. But there were so many to choose from and yet they all sounded so very lame when I spoke them out loud... In my own head. And the thought of trying to put them on paper was more courage than I could summon... And the longer time goes on the harder it gets.... And the truth of it is simply: that I am a Coward. And that I had my reasons... But maybe it simply is that whenever things get heavy... I tuck tail and run... The world is a complicated place... Energy... Primary... Secondary... Gender... Offspring... Marriages and divorces... What it means to be supportive... And it's all so much more than I can wrap my Head and Heart around sometimes... Hurtfulness was NEVER my intent... Especially to one I know was already in a world of pain... I know what it is to be the wholehearted... Only to discover those arms belonged to a halfhearted.... And I can never say how sorry I am to have made you such... I wish only beauty for you.... And I hope truly always and forever that the next pair of arms you find yourself within are just as eager to hold onto you for a good long while as yours are of them.... You are a beautiful soul and don't ever doubt it my dear one....
Love...
Kalee
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
observations, thoughts, poems, and perspectives... from within my fishbowl and without...
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Know....no?
Sent off with love?
Did I taint your bed?
Invade your space
N' leave you lovers dead?
Sorry mama... Mamalove...
Sorry papa.. N' Son who Never was...
How could we know...
Or did we know?
Did we all know
The rows we hoed?
Sent off with love...
When I kept your seed
Enveloped in the safety
Of my motherly needs?
Watching now,
This garden grow
And hoping love
Was what was sowed...
Sent off with love and bills to spare
Sent off with silver threading through your hair
Sent with blessings,
Sent with care?
Can't be second... Not again...
Room for how many mama hens?
Where's the other?
Will he come?
Raise and rises settling son...
Whispered words unspoken yet...
Broken hearts we've never met
Will I see you this time clear
Or misstep the moment time is near...
.Kalee.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Did I taint your bed?
Invade your space
N' leave you lovers dead?
Sorry mama... Mamalove...
Sorry papa.. N' Son who Never was...
How could we know...
Or did we know?
Did we all know
The rows we hoed?
Sent off with love...
When I kept your seed
Enveloped in the safety
Of my motherly needs?
Watching now,
This garden grow
And hoping love
Was what was sowed...
Sent off with love and bills to spare
Sent off with silver threading through your hair
Sent with blessings,
Sent with care?
Can't be second... Not again...
Room for how many mama hens?
Where's the other?
Will he come?
Raise and rises settling son...
Whispered words unspoken yet...
Broken hearts we've never met
Will I see you this time clear
Or misstep the moment time is near...
.Kalee.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:On The other Side of empty space.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
It has value.
How do we calculate the value of something? Money? Time? Joy? Human lives? Perhaps our own individual answer to this question tells more about our humanity than anything else on earth.. Not the color of our skin... The clothes we wear or a hair on our head.... It's not the sex we prefer or the sex organs we possess... Not our economic status... Nor our social standings... Not the God we call by name... Nor the sport we follow... It's not the hobby that we have or the city that we live in... Stockbroker or bag-boy. Long and tall, short and stout. Wether we are parents or the childless... Married or single... Aquarius or Pisces...
No... Not those details.... But how we price life's intricacies.
So how do we value things.... What do we value... And how do we calculate the true cost of the choices presented us every moment in our daily life? Only you can answer for you... And only I can answer for me.
For me, value does not lie in elaborate weddings that impress only those whose value lies in the same and at enormous cost to your financial state, your emotional health and wellbeing, and stress to all those you hold dear... what price is that to pay for a ceremony of love... Love is a ceremony in and of itself. And your beautiful life together is your honeymoon...
I see no value in brand name clothes constructed by poorly paid, poorly treated human beings an entire world away from the glossed over boutique i purchased it in..... My neighbor sews shirts three streets down, and has a family of seven to feed.
I have no interest in gaining the affections and approval of Hordes of my bar brethren, there is no joy in those friendships, only a common misery and spiraling out of control existence...
What might we actually do with the time left on our ticking clocks were it not for high tech gadgets that do not serve us by adding to the quality of our life but instead hold us as slaves to our compulsions... What mountains might you have climbed if not for your duty to your IPhone?
Lipstick only covers the pale lips that come from a body in a deteriorating state of health... Foundation the sallow skin... Conditioner, the dull hair resulting from poor nutrition and chemical toxin load in one's food...
Elaborate homes serving no purpose other than to impress ones enemies and drain ones vital energy... I hold no love for that either...
Money.... Cold hard cash... It has been my measure, just as I was given me by my schooling, my culture, my flag, and my genetics, and probably yours too.... It is mine. It is yours... it is all of ours.... And that is our poison.... That is our fatal flaw... Money will not buy you a heart that sings.... It will not buy you a child who smiles with such a genuine nature that it can melt the hardest heart.... Money will not keep death from knocking on your door... Money will not stop those who you love from leaving.... And it will not make those who do not love you feel an ounce more for you in their hearts...
But it is our god...
And if it is our god, than it is an unjust god we serve indeed.
Money talks...
And it speaks ignorance and hate. Where it calls out in it's tongues, indecipherable by most, it spreads disease and despair...
Money feeds greed like oxygen does fire... And swallows human lives whole as it goes...
People live for money... Die by money.
Money rapes towns... Shits in our rivers and oceans... Decapitates our ancient trees... Burns villages to the ground... Massacres by the thousands...women, men, and their crew cut sporting babies-in-arms...
Money scatters us... Divides and conquers... Picks us off as a sniper's rifle...Crabs in a barrel.
Money. Our religion. Our team in the playoffs. Our favorite of all celebrities..
Money, indeed, is your master.
And thus, in the game we play, paper covers this rock. And Paper wins.
So what if instead of being a servant to paper... A slave to our money, we became a servant to the values that bind the human race?
The value of having a shelter over our head suitable for protecting our children from predators and natures harsh realities...
The value of having unadulterated, fresh and healthy nourishment for our bodies and our loved ones.... And the forever unappreciated value of having clean water to drink, without which our bodies can't live a week....
The value of having clothing to protect our bodies from the elements when we leave the shelter of our homes...
The value of having a dear friend to hug you close when your heart breaks...
The joy that comes from watching your young ones come to a new realization of life's many mysteries....
The value of caring for the elderly and those incapable of carrying a full load... And knowing that if our days lead us to the same, we too will be cared for with love and tenderness...
The value of a day of rest and a warm, dry space for our heads and bodies.
The value of a day spent playing well.
The value of something created with your own two hands or those of your friend.
The value of an unrequested, unmanipulative, unmanipulated hug from your child.
The value of a life lived fully alive.
So what has value? You tell me.... You voted on it in the last election.
"Election day" is a sham. You vote each and every day... Your Money IS your voting ballot... And the cash register casts your vote in consciousness.
Your religion is money and your paper is your holy book... It is how you share the word of the god you serve. With every dollar spent you send out a prayer in this religion of ours... A prayer for the world you are believing into reality... Willing into existence.
With my dollars, I vote for the human race. I vote for the political party of Earthlings.... With my god's word, I speak for our common humanity... And I pray that you will join me in spending your prayers wisely... Spending your prayers and sending your prayers out with expectations only that they ripple out and create love in their wake... Prayers that effect change.
You can effect change... It's all in what you value.
No... Not those details.... But how we price life's intricacies.
So how do we value things.... What do we value... And how do we calculate the true cost of the choices presented us every moment in our daily life? Only you can answer for you... And only I can answer for me.
For me, value does not lie in elaborate weddings that impress only those whose value lies in the same and at enormous cost to your financial state, your emotional health and wellbeing, and stress to all those you hold dear... what price is that to pay for a ceremony of love... Love is a ceremony in and of itself. And your beautiful life together is your honeymoon...
I see no value in brand name clothes constructed by poorly paid, poorly treated human beings an entire world away from the glossed over boutique i purchased it in..... My neighbor sews shirts three streets down, and has a family of seven to feed.
I have no interest in gaining the affections and approval of Hordes of my bar brethren, there is no joy in those friendships, only a common misery and spiraling out of control existence...
What might we actually do with the time left on our ticking clocks were it not for high tech gadgets that do not serve us by adding to the quality of our life but instead hold us as slaves to our compulsions... What mountains might you have climbed if not for your duty to your IPhone?
Lipstick only covers the pale lips that come from a body in a deteriorating state of health... Foundation the sallow skin... Conditioner, the dull hair resulting from poor nutrition and chemical toxin load in one's food...
Elaborate homes serving no purpose other than to impress ones enemies and drain ones vital energy... I hold no love for that either...
Money.... Cold hard cash... It has been my measure, just as I was given me by my schooling, my culture, my flag, and my genetics, and probably yours too.... It is mine. It is yours... it is all of ours.... And that is our poison.... That is our fatal flaw... Money will not buy you a heart that sings.... It will not buy you a child who smiles with such a genuine nature that it can melt the hardest heart.... Money will not keep death from knocking on your door... Money will not stop those who you love from leaving.... And it will not make those who do not love you feel an ounce more for you in their hearts...
But it is our god...
And if it is our god, than it is an unjust god we serve indeed.
Money talks...
And it speaks ignorance and hate. Where it calls out in it's tongues, indecipherable by most, it spreads disease and despair...
Money feeds greed like oxygen does fire... And swallows human lives whole as it goes...
People live for money... Die by money.
Money rapes towns... Shits in our rivers and oceans... Decapitates our ancient trees... Burns villages to the ground... Massacres by the thousands...women, men, and their crew cut sporting babies-in-arms...
Money scatters us... Divides and conquers... Picks us off as a sniper's rifle...Crabs in a barrel.
Money. Our religion. Our team in the playoffs. Our favorite of all celebrities..
Money, indeed, is your master.
And thus, in the game we play, paper covers this rock. And Paper wins.
So what if instead of being a servant to paper... A slave to our money, we became a servant to the values that bind the human race?
The value of having a shelter over our head suitable for protecting our children from predators and natures harsh realities...
The value of having unadulterated, fresh and healthy nourishment for our bodies and our loved ones.... And the forever unappreciated value of having clean water to drink, without which our bodies can't live a week....
The value of having clothing to protect our bodies from the elements when we leave the shelter of our homes...
The value of having a dear friend to hug you close when your heart breaks...
The joy that comes from watching your young ones come to a new realization of life's many mysteries....
The value of caring for the elderly and those incapable of carrying a full load... And knowing that if our days lead us to the same, we too will be cared for with love and tenderness...
The value of a day of rest and a warm, dry space for our heads and bodies.
The value of a day spent playing well.
The value of something created with your own two hands or those of your friend.
The value of an unrequested, unmanipulative, unmanipulated hug from your child.
The value of a life lived fully alive.
So what has value? You tell me.... You voted on it in the last election.
"Election day" is a sham. You vote each and every day... Your Money IS your voting ballot... And the cash register casts your vote in consciousness.
Your religion is money and your paper is your holy book... It is how you share the word of the god you serve. With every dollar spent you send out a prayer in this religion of ours... A prayer for the world you are believing into reality... Willing into existence.
With my dollars, I vote for the human race. I vote for the political party of Earthlings.... With my god's word, I speak for our common humanity... And I pray that you will join me in spending your prayers wisely... Spending your prayers and sending your prayers out with expectations only that they ripple out and create love in their wake... Prayers that effect change.
You can effect change... It's all in what you value.
Location:Sheltered from the cold rain...
Thursday, April 14, 2011
We're all naked when you turn us inside-out...
If I live another 30 years, I don't know that I'll ever understand: why do human continue down paths that are not and will not bring them to the great depths of happiness that are so readily accessible to them...
Am I immune? Probably not...No.
But I find so many reasons to smile every day.... See so many hearts worth loving... and on this path I'm dancing, I aspire to have a gazillion laugh lines and crinkly wrinkly eyes... 50 more years of blessings, Here I come... Oh lovely human won't you join me? :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Am I immune? Probably not...No.
But I find so many reasons to smile every day.... See so many hearts worth loving... and on this path I'm dancing, I aspire to have a gazillion laugh lines and crinkly wrinkly eyes... 50 more years of blessings, Here I come... Oh lovely human won't you join me? :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Watering hole.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
The 27th letter: Love.
A letter to you.
Can you imagine that YOU are the you I am speaking to?
Well YOU are.
YOU.
Yeah, YOU.
You, my lonely loner lover, loving blooming girl with the long long hair and the crumbling stone tower around her bandaid heart.
You, the band geek boy with the boner behind the notebook, the topsy turvy smile, and the heart of gold the most valuable bit in your pocket.
You, the wounded broody mama, without the energy or desire to still nurse baby chicks but without the will to leave the crowded nest.
You, the one I grew with… the one I died by… fingers to the bone and crying eyes, who has begged the empty skies to open up and take him instead of the rest…
You, the sister and brother behind your glass walls, littered in red stamped letters, dollar signs and fake smiles… Choking back tears and forgetting dreams of mountaintops…
You, the brother and sister who feel something is missing, and something is very wrong with everything you know. Filling holes and spaces with more play, nothingness, and a beer.
You, the brother and sister-who-never-was… I LOVE YOU. I love you truly. I love you BOTH. I love you all. And what more need be said that is not already known.
You the brother and sister, young still in heart and mind, but stuck in all the couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, don’t, won’t, can’t, haven’ts of a broken world, numbing the pain and dulling your wits.
You, the sister sometimes with an s… always trying to catch up to the long tan legs in front of you… turning heads and taunting hearts… running from the wrinkle in time…
You, the friends of times gone by, still carved on each others memories, names and faces, dates and places,
Torn by change… “I knew she’d never change”, “I wish she woulda or wouldn’t have changed” and the occasional “I wish I could change”.
And yes, maybe it’s even You, the baseball cap or blonde bangs in passing… the 5 “hello”s at a party, in the hall, or in the IGA. Or the pair of eyes attached to the mind I may have linked with for 30 seconds at a festival 5 days or 5 years ago…
It could be YOU. It might be you? It is YOU.
YOU.
YOU are fucked up. You are cut and scratched. Dented and bruised. Malicious, Manipulative and Manipulated. Used and Reused. Unholy thoughts and unintentional lies. Unfathomable jealousies and indisputable insecurities. You are the tortured and torturer in turn. You are the very same breeding ground of everything vile and nasty within the human race. You are the embodiment of every abomination… in your mind. You are somebodies fool. You are just another nobody in a sea of faces….
And I LOVE YOU.
You are BEAUTIFUL. You are BLESSED and a BLESSING. You are magnificent in your UnIqUeNeSS, You are POWERFUL. You are STRONG and SENSUAL. You ARE Energy. You are AMAZING and BRILLIANT. You are LOVED beyond your wildest dreams, and you are capable of astounding, astronomical, amounts of LOVE. You are YOU and you are the best and most qualified at that job, even if in your own way, YOU aren’t quite up to the task at the present…. And my hope for you is that you know that, discover that, and always believe that. You are a lovely, lovely, loving, creature created of LOVE. And LOVE is the one and only answer my Dearest.
So my BELOVED YOU…. I want to ask you a few questions about wants and needs… What do YOU want. If you could have it all…. What do YOU really want? If you got it would you know it? Would you want it? Would you abuse it? Fear it? Love it? Would you turn and bolt? Would you embrace a new reality? A smile in your heart or a new burden on your shoulders? Thoughts? The lottery? The perfect mate? Sixty pounds and new pair of knees? The super fly car with all the fixings? The house on the hill? The farm down the road? The shanty in the mountains? The workshop in the sunshine? The same last name? The respect you deserve? The perfect religion? If you had it tomorrow.. If it arrived on a train or on your bank statement… what baggage would be dangling from it’s hands? Would it be what you thought it would? Would it lighten your life? Add light to your life? Or would it be another cloud to block the sun? another nail in your coffin? Another bug in your spoiled, spilled milk? You could still be happy couldn’t you? I’d bet you could. So what is it you want? ……You know you want something. SOMETHING. What is it? What is IT? Is it what you NEED? So what DO you NEED? Is it the same as what you Want? Do your needs and wants see eye to eye? Or given the chance would your wants and needs arrange to have each other drawn and quartered? If you got what you needed but it wasn’t what you’d wanted to need would you still keep it? Adjust your wants to fit your needs? Wants…. Needs… they sound so much alike… and yet so different. Do you need anything? Do you have everything you need? If not, what are you lacking? Why is it crucial to your happiness? How can you change yourself to either find or have what you need or so that you need less. Want less? What will it take for you to be happy? Perfect Health? Money? Love, my love? My love….If you don’t know……… isn’t it time to find out?
Love ALWAYS,
Kalee
God, Goddess, and CEO of Heartswiseaunti Industries.
Can you imagine that YOU are the you I am speaking to?
Well YOU are.
YOU.
Yeah, YOU.
You, my lonely loner lover, loving blooming girl with the long long hair and the crumbling stone tower around her bandaid heart.
You, the band geek boy with the boner behind the notebook, the topsy turvy smile, and the heart of gold the most valuable bit in your pocket.
You, the wounded broody mama, without the energy or desire to still nurse baby chicks but without the will to leave the crowded nest.
You, the one I grew with… the one I died by… fingers to the bone and crying eyes, who has begged the empty skies to open up and take him instead of the rest…
You, the sister and brother behind your glass walls, littered in red stamped letters, dollar signs and fake smiles… Choking back tears and forgetting dreams of mountaintops…
You, the brother and sister who feel something is missing, and something is very wrong with everything you know. Filling holes and spaces with more play, nothingness, and a beer.
You, the brother and sister-who-never-was… I LOVE YOU. I love you truly. I love you BOTH. I love you all. And what more need be said that is not already known.
You the brother and sister, young still in heart and mind, but stuck in all the couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, don’t, won’t, can’t, haven’ts of a broken world, numbing the pain and dulling your wits.
You, the sister sometimes with an s… always trying to catch up to the long tan legs in front of you… turning heads and taunting hearts… running from the wrinkle in time…
You, the friends of times gone by, still carved on each others memories, names and faces, dates and places,
Torn by change… “I knew she’d never change”, “I wish she woulda or wouldn’t have changed” and the occasional “I wish I could change”.
And yes, maybe it’s even You, the baseball cap or blonde bangs in passing… the 5 “hello”s at a party, in the hall, or in the IGA. Or the pair of eyes attached to the mind I may have linked with for 30 seconds at a festival 5 days or 5 years ago…
It could be YOU. It might be you? It is YOU.
YOU.
YOU are fucked up. You are cut and scratched. Dented and bruised. Malicious, Manipulative and Manipulated. Used and Reused. Unholy thoughts and unintentional lies. Unfathomable jealousies and indisputable insecurities. You are the tortured and torturer in turn. You are the very same breeding ground of everything vile and nasty within the human race. You are the embodiment of every abomination… in your mind. You are somebodies fool. You are just another nobody in a sea of faces….
And I LOVE YOU.
You are BEAUTIFUL. You are BLESSED and a BLESSING. You are magnificent in your UnIqUeNeSS, You are POWERFUL. You are STRONG and SENSUAL. You ARE Energy. You are AMAZING and BRILLIANT. You are LOVED beyond your wildest dreams, and you are capable of astounding, astronomical, amounts of LOVE. You are YOU and you are the best and most qualified at that job, even if in your own way, YOU aren’t quite up to the task at the present…. And my hope for you is that you know that, discover that, and always believe that. You are a lovely, lovely, loving, creature created of LOVE. And LOVE is the one and only answer my Dearest.
So my BELOVED YOU…. I want to ask you a few questions about wants and needs… What do YOU want. If you could have it all…. What do YOU really want? If you got it would you know it? Would you want it? Would you abuse it? Fear it? Love it? Would you turn and bolt? Would you embrace a new reality? A smile in your heart or a new burden on your shoulders? Thoughts? The lottery? The perfect mate? Sixty pounds and new pair of knees? The super fly car with all the fixings? The house on the hill? The farm down the road? The shanty in the mountains? The workshop in the sunshine? The same last name? The respect you deserve? The perfect religion? If you had it tomorrow.. If it arrived on a train or on your bank statement… what baggage would be dangling from it’s hands? Would it be what you thought it would? Would it lighten your life? Add light to your life? Or would it be another cloud to block the sun? another nail in your coffin? Another bug in your spoiled, spilled milk? You could still be happy couldn’t you? I’d bet you could. So what is it you want? ……You know you want something. SOMETHING. What is it? What is IT? Is it what you NEED? So what DO you NEED? Is it the same as what you Want? Do your needs and wants see eye to eye? Or given the chance would your wants and needs arrange to have each other drawn and quartered? If you got what you needed but it wasn’t what you’d wanted to need would you still keep it? Adjust your wants to fit your needs? Wants…. Needs… they sound so much alike… and yet so different. Do you need anything? Do you have everything you need? If not, what are you lacking? Why is it crucial to your happiness? How can you change yourself to either find or have what you need or so that you need less. Want less? What will it take for you to be happy? Perfect Health? Money? Love, my love? My love….If you don’t know……… isn’t it time to find out?
Love ALWAYS,
Kalee
God, Goddess, and CEO of Heartswiseaunti Industries.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Where U represents an unknown entity; U and I= Venn Diagram; LOVE= A ∩ B
I don't want another
other half
cause we won't ever roll...
I don't want another
other half
to fill my gap-toothed soul
I don't want another
other half
I can't patch up your holes
and I don't want another
other half
I'd love an other Whole.
-Mama Trashheap 05/13/2010
other half
cause we won't ever roll...
I don't want another
other half
to fill my gap-toothed soul
I don't want another
other half
I can't patch up your holes
and I don't want another
other half
I'd love an other Whole.
-Mama Trashheap 05/13/2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
TRUE LOVE
I have a confession...
of a torrid love affair I am having....
...
....
...
with myself.
after years of merely being an acquaintance
perhaps even "a friend..."(though of the love/hate variety...)
I finally saw that special something I thought I'd been missing..
because I'd been so convinced that I didn't have it.
A Love story:
I stood upon the mountain... and I looked back... at all the miles
my own two sturdy feet had carried me.
over rocks.. ledges.. lush greenery and broken branches...
MY FEET... my hobbitish feet with the crooked toes and
the marks of my illness forever etched in them...
my yucky feet with the three tiny black hairs that sprout from each big toe
my gigantic feet that grew two sizes from the surging hormones of my crowded womb...
my feet...
MY feet.
And now I see the stripes of scars upon them... the imperfection in not having red glossed toenails and a pumice stone... and I LOVE them.
I climbed and crawled down through the darkness...
distracted by the glittering display of light on cave slime...
stumbling stiffly along... uncomfortable in my own body...
relying first on the love of my family...
then as my comfort and understanding grew, on my own eyes and mental acuity...
and finally on nothing but feel... trusting in my own senses in this unfamiliar realm
ears alert to the sound of the drops of water to my right...
fingertips grazing the slimey cold texture of the wall to my left...
breathing deeply and peacefully in and out...
each step careful and deliberate... stepping.... stepping.. step. step. step...
and then I fell.
One thousand solid steps and in my complacency... monotony... lulled into security...
suddenly the ground failed to be found by my right foot...
and in the darkness I crashed down to the rocks below me
stunned... and then in pain I lay there...
mentally feeling for the bruises and wounds
searching for a light to see where I'd went wrong.
my downfall... I'd hugged the comfort of the wall too tightly...
and in my self imposed blindness I'd not seen the narrow ledge I'd been ascending
bruised but not broken, I stood.
turned out the light once more...and pressed on...
this time more carefully and more aware of the dangers to be had in becoming dulled by routine...
eternity ticked by... one carefully placed step after another...
step... feeling with the dirty toe of my right tennis shoe... determined not to make the SAME mistake... stepping.... stepping... convinced of my righteous journey...
and suddenly it hit me.
I was descending into a dead end in pitch darkness.
I'd seen that sign telling me so.
and all the time I'd KNOWN that just behind me, I'd briefly seen AND PASSED a staircase UP.
CAVE DWELLING: A mad dance to be tackled occasionally... but NOT without a purpose.
I emerged into the dusky night air...
knuckles missing... knees torn...hip bruised... ankles strained... eyes raw... and thirstier than I'd ever been before... and as I crowed out loud in JOY at my salvation... I KNEW that I was, am, and always will be not only the own worst enemy I'd believed... but also MY OWN BEST SAVIOUR.
Our bodies and minds are funny things... fueled by what we GIVE them, they can only give back the same... crap begets crap... and I'm tired of crapping on myself.
Better than GOLD is GREEN...
Better than couches and channels of discovery are mountains beneath your shoe soles...
and better than continued breathing of stale cave air is to toil through and emerge worn and victorious... knowing that you can survive the lowest of places... but that it doesn't mean you have to take up residence...
It is St. Valentines day....
and I am in LOVE with the most beautiful girl I've ever known.
of a torrid love affair I am having....
...
....
...
with myself.
after years of merely being an acquaintance
perhaps even "a friend..."(though of the love/hate variety...)
I finally saw that special something I thought I'd been missing..
because I'd been so convinced that I didn't have it.
A Love story:
I stood upon the mountain... and I looked back... at all the miles
my own two sturdy feet had carried me.
over rocks.. ledges.. lush greenery and broken branches...
MY FEET... my hobbitish feet with the crooked toes and
the marks of my illness forever etched in them...
my yucky feet with the three tiny black hairs that sprout from each big toe
my gigantic feet that grew two sizes from the surging hormones of my crowded womb...
my feet...
MY feet.
And now I see the stripes of scars upon them... the imperfection in not having red glossed toenails and a pumice stone... and I LOVE them.
I climbed and crawled down through the darkness...
distracted by the glittering display of light on cave slime...
stumbling stiffly along... uncomfortable in my own body...
relying first on the love of my family...
then as my comfort and understanding grew, on my own eyes and mental acuity...
and finally on nothing but feel... trusting in my own senses in this unfamiliar realm
ears alert to the sound of the drops of water to my right...
fingertips grazing the slimey cold texture of the wall to my left...
breathing deeply and peacefully in and out...
each step careful and deliberate... stepping.... stepping.. step. step. step...
and then I fell.
One thousand solid steps and in my complacency... monotony... lulled into security...
suddenly the ground failed to be found by my right foot...
and in the darkness I crashed down to the rocks below me
stunned... and then in pain I lay there...
mentally feeling for the bruises and wounds
searching for a light to see where I'd went wrong.
my downfall... I'd hugged the comfort of the wall too tightly...
and in my self imposed blindness I'd not seen the narrow ledge I'd been ascending
bruised but not broken, I stood.
turned out the light once more...and pressed on...
this time more carefully and more aware of the dangers to be had in becoming dulled by routine...
eternity ticked by... one carefully placed step after another...
step... feeling with the dirty toe of my right tennis shoe... determined not to make the SAME mistake... stepping.... stepping... convinced of my righteous journey...
and suddenly it hit me.
I was descending into a dead end in pitch darkness.
I'd seen that sign telling me so.
and all the time I'd KNOWN that just behind me, I'd briefly seen AND PASSED a staircase UP.
CAVE DWELLING: A mad dance to be tackled occasionally... but NOT without a purpose.
I emerged into the dusky night air...
knuckles missing... knees torn...hip bruised... ankles strained... eyes raw... and thirstier than I'd ever been before... and as I crowed out loud in JOY at my salvation... I KNEW that I was, am, and always will be not only the own worst enemy I'd believed... but also MY OWN BEST SAVIOUR.
Our bodies and minds are funny things... fueled by what we GIVE them, they can only give back the same... crap begets crap... and I'm tired of crapping on myself.
Better than GOLD is GREEN...
Better than couches and channels of discovery are mountains beneath your shoe soles...
and better than continued breathing of stale cave air is to toil through and emerge worn and victorious... knowing that you can survive the lowest of places... but that it doesn't mean you have to take up residence...
It is St. Valentines day....
and I am in LOVE with the most beautiful girl I've ever known.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
From 32,000 feet... OR "aren't we each a who?"
I try really hard to picture it differently... the Brown furry patches instead spread across the whole of this living breathing speck... sprinkles and splashes of imperfectly perfect blue green scattered about... No Patchwork... no flecks of white and flashes of cold silver... Wrinkles from the strain of trying to up heave her illness... or piles dumped there by an elephant flicking the dust of his shoulder... And then the haze thickens and for the time being it is hard to see clearly again...
All I know is that with each answer received the questions multiply. Maybe we cling to each other because we are so desperate to convince ourselves of our significance on this little ball of muck where it is so obvious that we are naught but some sort of freakishly mutated out of control virus... Significance to stoke our egos...even if it is simply in the eyes of another mite. Are the ant's lives more important to most of US just because it is quite probable that they “love” each other? Does it stay the 6 year old’s canvas hightop?
I kept picturing this huge foot coming down from the sky… as it would look for the bugs when I trek though a patch of damp mossy ground… It’s amazing how much trees look just like moss from this height….. It scares me and fascinates me… the possibilities for what it all means are terrifying… But if we see that we could be hurtling out of control talking to the great pachyderm in the sky… how can we not be terrified? And if we are terrified how can we function? Better yet, what is the function of a smudge on the tip of a bullet? So is it living to function? Or to fight against the external pressure to function… and if the bullet has already left the gun than what is the point of EITHER? ….. I ask myself “If you have to ask ‘what does it mean to truly live’ does it mean that whatever you are doing isn't it?” The paradox presents itself once more… the insanity of the juxtaposition of the sheer horror and unbelievable beauty of this world within and without us... If we recognize that we are a tiny part of a very small smudge on something so much larger than anything we can comprehend, how can we continue on with “normal” life? How can we see one without also seeing the other.... I believe the answer is that we can't... Either our eyes are both open. Or they are BOTH closed, and we are lost in our slumbers... living in our dreams.
Some days I wonder if I am still asleep... I've heard the alarm clock enough times that if I'm not awake yet I must be a pretty heavy sleeper... I sure hope I’m not… I’d hate to miss out on all the "living" I might do… The canned air is becoming harder to breathe… And the seat beneath me jolts me from my page for a moment… From two rows forward I watch the stream of golden drops collide with the silver hair of the woman in the seat just in front of me... saw the mama cringing and heard the baby coo... and then we all laugh. Because we've ALL been there.
-K Prue
Written November 8th in transit from CT to GA...
All I know is that with each answer received the questions multiply. Maybe we cling to each other because we are so desperate to convince ourselves of our significance on this little ball of muck where it is so obvious that we are naught but some sort of freakishly mutated out of control virus... Significance to stoke our egos...even if it is simply in the eyes of another mite. Are the ant's lives more important to most of US just because it is quite probable that they “love” each other? Does it stay the 6 year old’s canvas hightop?
I kept picturing this huge foot coming down from the sky… as it would look for the bugs when I trek though a patch of damp mossy ground… It’s amazing how much trees look just like moss from this height….. It scares me and fascinates me… the possibilities for what it all means are terrifying… But if we see that we could be hurtling out of control talking to the great pachyderm in the sky… how can we not be terrified? And if we are terrified how can we function? Better yet, what is the function of a smudge on the tip of a bullet? So is it living to function? Or to fight against the external pressure to function… and if the bullet has already left the gun than what is the point of EITHER? ….. I ask myself “If you have to ask ‘what does it mean to truly live’ does it mean that whatever you are doing isn't it?” The paradox presents itself once more… the insanity of the juxtaposition of the sheer horror and unbelievable beauty of this world within and without us... If we recognize that we are a tiny part of a very small smudge on something so much larger than anything we can comprehend, how can we continue on with “normal” life? How can we see one without also seeing the other.... I believe the answer is that we can't... Either our eyes are both open. Or they are BOTH closed, and we are lost in our slumbers... living in our dreams.
Some days I wonder if I am still asleep... I've heard the alarm clock enough times that if I'm not awake yet I must be a pretty heavy sleeper... I sure hope I’m not… I’d hate to miss out on all the "living" I might do… The canned air is becoming harder to breathe… And the seat beneath me jolts me from my page for a moment… From two rows forward I watch the stream of golden drops collide with the silver hair of the woman in the seat just in front of me... saw the mama cringing and heard the baby coo... and then we all laugh. Because we've ALL been there.
-K Prue
Written November 8th in transit from CT to GA...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
What else but Wish.
I wished a wish I knew,
the ends from the starts
ins from outs
and what's real in who's hearts
I wish, I wished I knew,
which ways to go
where each way leads
and what's for show
and I wish, I WISH, I knew
what means what to you
what he is thinking
fibs from truths
I wish and I wish
and I wish foolishly
that I wish I had wished
I had eyes then to see
and I wish I knew
and We've wished the wish so long
I wish I knew which wish is real
and which is fodder for a song.
- Kalee - 10-17-09
the ends from the starts
ins from outs
and what's real in who's hearts
I wish, I wished I knew,
which ways to go
where each way leads
and what's for show
and I wish, I WISH, I knew
what means what to you
what he is thinking
fibs from truths
I wish and I wish
and I wish foolishly
that I wish I had wished
I had eyes then to see
and I wish I knew
and We've wished the wish so long
I wish I knew which wish is real
and which is fodder for a song.
- Kalee - 10-17-09
Friday, June 12, 2009
Websters Dictionary Version 2. AM
A definition: Alone (Noun)
my own hand and 2 AM
and pillows hold lots of tears
desperately trying not to become desperate
approaching lengthening years
when night falls I can hear it
a sadness that lingers near
is it raining there, cuz it's raining...
and it sure is raining here.
the fictions and the fantasies
the vividness so real
I wonder this I wonder that
I wonder how he feels...
and loneliness oh lonely
her face once just a song
but everyday (every night) I know her more
and she's beginning to stay too long
it's 2 AM... and I can't sleep.
I can only think in verse now
and I'll try to forget what I'd wanted to keep
but I can't remember how
rock me to sleep with a pillow and a hand
on my breast and on my head
so the dreams, all the dreams
of a patchwork heart
may descend upon my bed....
my own hand and 2 AM
and pillows hold lots of tears
desperately trying not to become desperate
approaching lengthening years
when night falls I can hear it
a sadness that lingers near
is it raining there, cuz it's raining...
and it sure is raining here.
the fictions and the fantasies
the vividness so real
I wonder this I wonder that
I wonder how he feels...
and loneliness oh lonely
her face once just a song
but everyday (every night) I know her more
and she's beginning to stay too long
it's 2 AM... and I can't sleep.
I can only think in verse now
and I'll try to forget what I'd wanted to keep
but I can't remember how
rock me to sleep with a pillow and a hand
on my breast and on my head
so the dreams, all the dreams
of a patchwork heart
may descend upon my bed....
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Politicks
I woke up this AM to a glass of Orange Juice pouring in my face.... Lennon, bless his heart, thought mommy needed a drink is all I can figure, and the resulting stickiness was pure accident. Nevertheless, I SCREAMED at him. For the next 5 minutes as I washed us both down and pulled off bed clothes I went on a tirade that left Lennon understandably upset... finally after a few moments of acting like a complete Asshole, and leaving Lennon whimpering, it occurred to me... He didn't do this on purpose.. he was likely just as half asleep when he did it as I was... In actuality it was my fault for leaving the glass by the bed in the first place, especially since I am keenly aware of his current need to do everything for himself.... SO I snapped myself out of it mid sentence and changed my attitude and tone. Within a minute I had cleaned up the bed, threw down another blanket, washed us both and calmed Lennon.... now he lays beside me dreaming once more... alas I am wide awake, not still brooding over the orange juice, but overwhelmed with thoughts and disgusted by how poorly I behaved.... I hope someday I am a better mom, and a better person... and that Lennon can count on me to keep a level head in such times.... I hope.
Sometimes I get really down on myself for my failures as a parent (and as a person)... especially when I see these super parent types.. you know the ones I mean... You will run into them from time to time on playgrounds or Parent networking sites.... The ones that appear on the surface to have the perfect mix of skills, love, energy, determination, patience, and respect... It's not that I wish the supers any ill... nor do I feel like I have any overwhelming jealousies of them (though maybe a bit)... but I can't help but wonder if they are really as amazing as I believe them (or they believe themselves) to be? Does anyone handle the million little situations that crop up throughout the day exactly as they probably should? I'm inclined to think not.... at least if other aspects of human behaviour are to be taken in to account....
My mother recently told me "If you stick around ANYWHERE long enough, you will see the drama"... and she is right... Even the most "accepting" "understanding" and "loving" of social groups has their politicks... I don't want to believe this to be the case, but I keep seeing it proven over and over... I have bounced around through so many different, well meaning and good intentioned, organizations and social situations... from the non denominational churches "cause jesus loves everyone..." (except those who question the senior church members or pastors).. to the hippie communes and cooperatives... to the groups of friends gathering for some fun, good food and grand conversations ... it seems everyone has an agenda, and no matter how righteous it appears on the surface, once you pick up the shovel its the same shit.....the very same "every man for himself" self serving attitudes... the same food chain of command... the same weak dominating the strong... the same scapegoats for hiccups... the same ostracizing if you break the code of conduct.. How very depressing that the few places that are supposed to made up of the people who are trying to "FIX" this shit... can't even rise above it in the simplest of our dealings.... how human we all are...
My dream above all else is to have a community of individuals working for the common good... playing for the common good... concerned for the greater good.... The older I get, the more it occurs to me that this scenario, as beautiful as it may be, just might be IMPOSSIBLE... I really hope not, because a girl needs something to hope for... something to dream of and to strive high towards... I really hope that I am wrong, and am missing some greater truth.. because after 30 years of nothing but, I am TIRED of the politicks.... and dreams like this die HARD. I so want to believe that given the chance there are a few souls out there who will do right..... Just imagine it.....
Fuck John Lennon for giving me unrealistic expectations.
Sometimes I get really down on myself for my failures as a parent (and as a person)... especially when I see these super parent types.. you know the ones I mean... You will run into them from time to time on playgrounds or Parent networking sites.... The ones that appear on the surface to have the perfect mix of skills, love, energy, determination, patience, and respect... It's not that I wish the supers any ill... nor do I feel like I have any overwhelming jealousies of them (though maybe a bit)... but I can't help but wonder if they are really as amazing as I believe them (or they believe themselves) to be? Does anyone handle the million little situations that crop up throughout the day exactly as they probably should? I'm inclined to think not.... at least if other aspects of human behaviour are to be taken in to account....
My mother recently told me "If you stick around ANYWHERE long enough, you will see the drama"... and she is right... Even the most "accepting" "understanding" and "loving" of social groups has their politicks... I don't want to believe this to be the case, but I keep seeing it proven over and over... I have bounced around through so many different, well meaning and good intentioned, organizations and social situations... from the non denominational churches "cause jesus loves everyone..." (except those who question the senior church members or pastors).. to the hippie communes and cooperatives... to the groups of friends gathering for some fun, good food and grand conversations ... it seems everyone has an agenda, and no matter how righteous it appears on the surface, once you pick up the shovel its the same shit.....the very same "every man for himself" self serving attitudes... the same food chain of command... the same weak dominating the strong... the same scapegoats for hiccups... the same ostracizing if you break the code of conduct.. How very depressing that the few places that are supposed to made up of the people who are trying to "FIX" this shit... can't even rise above it in the simplest of our dealings.... how human we all are...
My dream above all else is to have a community of individuals working for the common good... playing for the common good... concerned for the greater good.... The older I get, the more it occurs to me that this scenario, as beautiful as it may be, just might be IMPOSSIBLE... I really hope not, because a girl needs something to hope for... something to dream of and to strive high towards... I really hope that I am wrong, and am missing some greater truth.. because after 30 years of nothing but, I am TIRED of the politicks.... and dreams like this die HARD. I so want to believe that given the chance there are a few souls out there who will do right..... Just imagine it.....
Fuck John Lennon for giving me unrealistic expectations.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Thin Ice
My little sister Addi, my son Lennon, and I were playing... I had drove the van out and parked it on the ice and now we were out of it... walking along the ice... Addi and Lennon each wandered off a bit in different directions.. I stayed back... suddenly I became aware that the ice under my feet was giving way...groaning and crackling like it could break at any moment. Carefully stepping, I headed for Lennon, calling out to Addi as I went.. 10 feet from him... I can still picture his little figure. The back of his Grey Hood and Jacket and his Red snow pants as he disappeared into the hole in the ice. Trying to run and calling out to Addi to grab him... As I ran the ice beneath my feet fell away, and suddenly I was in this huge gap of water... I had no sensation of the cold, all I could focus on was Lennon... 5 feet away, but beyond my reach, gasping, kicking, and crying. Trying to hold on and unable to grasp the ice... Addi, trying to reach him... getting to him just a second after he had disappeared into the icy water. Me, trying to maneuver my stiff, lumbering body to catch him as he was being swept down-current... then we were both starting to sink...I watched Lennon falling down into the murkiness... just below me....couldn't reach... everything getting darker... an icky green.... and then. I WOKE UP.
For the next hour I lay awake... trying to shake the feeling of the ground gving out beneath my feet, hugging the sleeping baby boy beside me. I can remind myself that it was just a dream... the mere reflections of my sub conscious mind.... but it doesn't help. I am not yet 30... but already there have been more times than I can count where I was painfully, keenly aware that this whole thing is out of control... that I am falling.... we are ALL falling... and that there is nothing I can do to stop it.... Childhood glimpses... and then since the moment I lay on that operating table, the responsibility of another life on my shoulders..and my world started spinning... faster and faster... I came home with my child and I was hurtling through the emptyness of space.... I lay on the couch dying of an illness last year and I was spinning faster yet... again in the hospital... drug induced coma... falling into the blackness.... So what the hell does this all mean?
I have these dreams... and they are becoming more frequent... Zombies chasing my family... Giant bears lurking in the woods just outside my home..... People I love falling just beyond my grasp... we ALL do right? I am not a bad person... I am quite sure that I have made my share of mistakes... I have hurt others and I have in turn been hurt ten-fold... I have moments of sadness, depression, stress, selfishness.... But all in all I feel healthier and more aware that it appears that many on this earth are....So I don't believe that this is solely a reflection of my own pain or health.... We are ALL CONNECTED... we ALL HAVE THESE DREAMS... maybe there is something sinister that we are ALL AWARE OF... even if it's just subconsciously....
This planet is giving out on us... and just like my van on the ice, we have been the catalyst behind the imbalance that will be our own undoing.... It scares me... it scares me how little many people seem to see outside of their own house... past their own eyelashes even... How long can we take this all for granted before it comes to a screeching halt? How long can you neglect your home before the ceiling caves in on you while you sleep? How long will those of us who still have a choice allow our neighbors to be slaves... and how many must be imprisoned before there is no one left to defend us when the shackles are fixed to our own ankles? I wish I knew how to wake all of my brothers and sisters... I wish I knew how to fix this all... I wish I could create a world that is stable beneath my son's feet... I wish that I wasn't so powerless in this icy water we are all sinking in... and I hope that anybody out there reading this... gets it.
For the next hour I lay awake... trying to shake the feeling of the ground gving out beneath my feet, hugging the sleeping baby boy beside me. I can remind myself that it was just a dream... the mere reflections of my sub conscious mind.... but it doesn't help. I am not yet 30... but already there have been more times than I can count where I was painfully, keenly aware that this whole thing is out of control... that I am falling.... we are ALL falling... and that there is nothing I can do to stop it.... Childhood glimpses... and then since the moment I lay on that operating table, the responsibility of another life on my shoulders..and my world started spinning... faster and faster... I came home with my child and I was hurtling through the emptyness of space.... I lay on the couch dying of an illness last year and I was spinning faster yet... again in the hospital... drug induced coma... falling into the blackness.... So what the hell does this all mean?
I have these dreams... and they are becoming more frequent... Zombies chasing my family... Giant bears lurking in the woods just outside my home..... People I love falling just beyond my grasp... we ALL do right? I am not a bad person... I am quite sure that I have made my share of mistakes... I have hurt others and I have in turn been hurt ten-fold... I have moments of sadness, depression, stress, selfishness.... But all in all I feel healthier and more aware that it appears that many on this earth are....So I don't believe that this is solely a reflection of my own pain or health.... We are ALL CONNECTED... we ALL HAVE THESE DREAMS... maybe there is something sinister that we are ALL AWARE OF... even if it's just subconsciously....
This planet is giving out on us... and just like my van on the ice, we have been the catalyst behind the imbalance that will be our own undoing.... It scares me... it scares me how little many people seem to see outside of their own house... past their own eyelashes even... How long can we take this all for granted before it comes to a screeching halt? How long can you neglect your home before the ceiling caves in on you while you sleep? How long will those of us who still have a choice allow our neighbors to be slaves... and how many must be imprisoned before there is no one left to defend us when the shackles are fixed to our own ankles? I wish I knew how to wake all of my brothers and sisters... I wish I knew how to fix this all... I wish I could create a world that is stable beneath my son's feet... I wish that I wasn't so powerless in this icy water we are all sinking in... and I hope that anybody out there reading this... gets it.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Teaching... and Lessons.
Nights like this, the sleep that has carried my young son off eludes me and my mind races with the trials... triumphs and failures of the day... Tommorrow I face a challenge unlike any I've attempted... I have signed on to teach a writing class for local youth...and though I have less than 18 hours until I step foot in the classroom, I still haven't figured out what to say or do... I know what I want to convey... and, even though its been nearly a decade since I myself was in a "school", I know there are resources aplenty to pull from, as well as access to all the traditional tools of a teacher... But though I know what I want to convey.... I also know that it is not anything to be found in drilling formal terms, proper punctuation, and conjugated verbs.
So what DO I want to teach...
... the heart and soul that goes into writing.... the stability it provides in a world seemingly gone mad, the outlet for your thoughts.. the path it shows us to exploring the deep dark recesses of our own minds.... and the window into our conciousness for any who care to know.... I want to tell them that sometimes in life things do not go as we hope or plan, but that writing (and reading) can become a light for us... guiding us towards the lessons to be plucked from every bump and ditch in the road.....
I want to teach that a pen and paper is the only weapon we will ever need in the neverending human quest to be free... that in a world of gadgets, a pencil has at least twice the life of an ultra-super-dee-duper Lithium battery, and will never become obsolete. I want to teach that in a book we can experience many more lives than the one given us by our skins.... and that by writing we can share a small piece of our short time on this earth with those left in our wake. That the words we allow to spill forth from our pens can be a release from the power those ideas and words had over us. That sometimes when you can't find the right thing to say... you CAN find the right thing to write. That it is one of the few ways we can communicate with and understand our fellow man... in turn, reading and writing is the KEY to empathy for our fellow inhabitors of earth... and maybe, just maybe, empathy is the ONLY way change will ever be brought
about, and peace will ever manifest....
I want to teach that it is my sincerest belief that the writers of this world are the keepers of one of the last of the great human rights, and protectors of a freedom that hangs on by a thread.... along with the music seers and makers, the artists of form and of paint...of soil, of Wood, Steel, fabric, and fibers.... each in their own way, the "creators" of this world are truely the last pioneers left... I want to teach that, in the view from my window, if there is a "God" to be preached..than the gospel is in the very roots of every poem ever spoken... Every book ever wrote....every song hummed in our showers, and every color created on a palette...
So, how does one "teach" an understanding such as this? The best I can figure is that there is no form of planning that will work in this case.... So my "plan" is simply to show up.... and be prepared to shoot from the hip and speak from the heart. But just in case, does anyone know if there is a textbook on all of the truth of the universe that I haven't yet stumbled upon? I'm pretty sure it must exist...and I'm guessing it must be on that super high top shelf that I just can't reach yet.. right alongside that book about a foolproof method of being the perfect balance of loving parent and guiding beacon... of tenderness and strength, intelligence and intuition, beauty and individuality, all the while raising a perfectly happy, healthy, understanding, compassionate, and oh so perfectly sensible child! Fortunately I've never been good at accepting such foolish limitations as height...
So what DO I want to teach...
... the heart and soul that goes into writing.... the stability it provides in a world seemingly gone mad, the outlet for your thoughts.. the path it shows us to exploring the deep dark recesses of our own minds.... and the window into our conciousness for any who care to know.... I want to tell them that sometimes in life things do not go as we hope or plan, but that writing (and reading) can become a light for us... guiding us towards the lessons to be plucked from every bump and ditch in the road.....
I want to teach that a pen and paper is the only weapon we will ever need in the neverending human quest to be free... that in a world of gadgets, a pencil has at least twice the life of an ultra-super-dee-duper Lithium battery, and will never become obsolete. I want to teach that in a book we can experience many more lives than the one given us by our skins.... and that by writing we can share a small piece of our short time on this earth with those left in our wake. That the words we allow to spill forth from our pens can be a release from the power those ideas and words had over us. That sometimes when you can't find the right thing to say... you CAN find the right thing to write. That it is one of the few ways we can communicate with and understand our fellow man... in turn, reading and writing is the KEY to empathy for our fellow inhabitors of earth... and maybe, just maybe, empathy is the ONLY way change will ever be brought
about, and peace will ever manifest....
I want to teach that it is my sincerest belief that the writers of this world are the keepers of one of the last of the great human rights, and protectors of a freedom that hangs on by a thread.... along with the music seers and makers, the artists of form and of paint...of soil, of Wood, Steel, fabric, and fibers.... each in their own way, the "creators" of this world are truely the last pioneers left... I want to teach that, in the view from my window, if there is a "God" to be preached..than the gospel is in the very roots of every poem ever spoken... Every book ever wrote....every song hummed in our showers, and every color created on a palette...
So, how does one "teach" an understanding such as this? The best I can figure is that there is no form of planning that will work in this case.... So my "plan" is simply to show up.... and be prepared to shoot from the hip and speak from the heart. But just in case, does anyone know if there is a textbook on all of the truth of the universe that I haven't yet stumbled upon? I'm pretty sure it must exist...and I'm guessing it must be on that super high top shelf that I just can't reach yet.. right alongside that book about a foolproof method of being the perfect balance of loving parent and guiding beacon... of tenderness and strength, intelligence and intuition, beauty and individuality, all the while raising a perfectly happy, healthy, understanding, compassionate, and oh so perfectly sensible child! Fortunately I've never been good at accepting such foolish limitations as height...
Saturday, March 21, 2009
WANT SOMETHING? :)
ARCHIVE
The first seven (7) people to respond to this blog post will get something made by me. (seven because its my favorite number)
This offer does have some restrictions and limitations so please read carefully :
1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. but I hope you will :)
2. What I create will be just for you, with love.
3. It'll be done this year (2009).
4. It will be something made in the real world and not something cyber.
It may be weird or beautiful. It might or might not be edible. I may
even create something totally unbelievable and surprise you at work, or sneak up on you in a dentist chair with a giant check just for you (but probably not)!!
Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
5. I reserve the right to do something strange or quirky, but I promise
not to embarrass you in public ... well, no more so than usual. I also
reserve the right to do something fairly predictable and boring, but
with flair, fun, and love!
READY SET....
The first seven (7) people to respond to this blog post will get something made by me. (seven because its my favorite number)
This offer does have some restrictions and limitations so please read carefully :
1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. but I hope you will :)
2. What I create will be just for you, with love.
3. It'll be done this year (2009).
4. It will be something made in the real world and not something cyber.
It may be weird or beautiful. It might or might not be edible. I may
even create something totally unbelievable and surprise you at work, or sneak up on you in a dentist chair with a giant check just for you (but probably not)!!
Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
5. I reserve the right to do something strange or quirky, but I promise
not to embarrass you in public ... well, no more so than usual. I also
reserve the right to do something fairly predictable and boring, but
with flair, fun, and love!
READY SET....
Saturday, February 28, 2009
love...and love.
there are moments when I ask myself...
would I do this all over again?
become the womb to carry our joined souls...
uniting us once and for all in this little child that now runs about me...
and the simplest answer to this question is:
in a heartbeat.
I knew in those moments when I prayed for his seed to plant..
I knew in those moments when I saw how lost his eyes would become...
his slipping sanity... and his fractured spirit... his inability to trust...
to see my reality...OUR reality.
almost broken. but not quite.
and I knew... as I cried and made bargains with the universe...
that all I could hope for was to save a piece of his soul...
and whatever good could still be salvaged from a hardened heart...
I knew.
so does this make me selfless or the ultimate in selfish?
I still do not know the answer to that... and it may be that I will never know.
but I watch the sparkle in my son's eyes... and I see the same possibilities
I once saw in my lover's face...
the very same tenderness... innocence... intelligence.
but lacking in the sadness... the desperation... and fear.
his kind and gentle heart, untarnished by the years of torture,
mind unblemished by chemical...
his face untouched and unbruised by a father's hand...
and I can't help but be grateful that in spite of all I knew...
I still chose to walk this path.
It's been nearly three years since I walked out your door for the last
time.. this time refusing to turn back...
closing my ears to your pleas
for my help.. for my love..
and I still have not come close to closing the place in my heart I keep for you.
It's been three years since I decided that you were not accepting of that love.
I still watch sometimes... from afar... at the madness taking your life...
singing those songs tonight I realized that I still sing them to you...
and that I still mourn for all that you could have been...
I see you some nights in my dreams.. a part of my family... a father to our son.
I always kiss you tenderly. hug you tight, and promise you that I will never let him down.
and then I awake... to the tears on my pillow... and a piece of you beside me..
would I do this all over again?
become the womb to carry our joined souls...
uniting us once and for all in this little child that now runs about me...
and the simplest answer to this question is:
in a heartbeat.
I knew in those moments when I prayed for his seed to plant..
I knew in those moments when I saw how lost his eyes would become...
his slipping sanity... and his fractured spirit... his inability to trust...
to see my reality...OUR reality.
almost broken. but not quite.
and I knew... as I cried and made bargains with the universe...
that all I could hope for was to save a piece of his soul...
and whatever good could still be salvaged from a hardened heart...
I knew.
so does this make me selfless or the ultimate in selfish?
I still do not know the answer to that... and it may be that I will never know.
but I watch the sparkle in my son's eyes... and I see the same possibilities
I once saw in my lover's face...
the very same tenderness... innocence... intelligence.
but lacking in the sadness... the desperation... and fear.
his kind and gentle heart, untarnished by the years of torture,
mind unblemished by chemical...
his face untouched and unbruised by a father's hand...
and I can't help but be grateful that in spite of all I knew...
I still chose to walk this path.
It's been nearly three years since I walked out your door for the last
time.. this time refusing to turn back...
closing my ears to your pleas
for my help.. for my love..
and I still have not come close to closing the place in my heart I keep for you.
It's been three years since I decided that you were not accepting of that love.
I still watch sometimes... from afar... at the madness taking your life...
singing those songs tonight I realized that I still sing them to you...
and that I still mourn for all that you could have been...
I see you some nights in my dreams.. a part of my family... a father to our son.
I always kiss you tenderly. hug you tight, and promise you that I will never let him down.
and then I awake... to the tears on my pillow... and a piece of you beside me..
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Why? .... a few thoughts....
Why?
why are we all so afraid of speaking what we know in our hearts to be the truth?
why are we so afraid to love ourselves.. much less another...
why are we afraid of our neighbors?
why do we shun others for crimes and outrages that we know... if we are honest with ourselves.. that we could be capable of in a different moment...
why do we laugh and gloat over others misfortunes while believing ourselves somehow more deserving and worthy of good fortune...
why do we recognize in our own lives the misery and injustices perpetuated upon our homes and our loved ones...
but when faced with the realities of a storm in another town we simply turn a blind eye... or comfort ourselves to sleep better in the night hours with the always effective "there is nothing I can do about it"?
why do we content ourselves with running on our hamster wheels?
always the push to work just a bit harder to put food in our families mouth... a roof over their heads...
why do we obey it.. the orders of another... the thoughts we are told to think through the words and faces on the screen... trusting as if they have done anything to earn it...
... eat the garbage they sell for our stomachs instead of learning the forgotten art of bringing forth our own food from the fertile soil all around?
why do we chase after the ever unattainable wants... never finding lasting happiness in any goal reached... only to move on to the next...
we have all we will ever need in our two good hands and solid sturdy legs... in the dirt beneath our soles... the sun behind the clouds of smog...
why do we swallow their medicines for every newly created disease? slather on their magic creams and ointments... swallow the empty rhetoric... making over and covering up the sources of our dis-ease...
instead of finding the roots... and pulling the weeds from our lifestyles...and finallly trusting in the perfectly designed miracles which are the human body.... and in the plants sprung of the same dust which we each came from and aim to return to...
Why do we accept a silent slavery... which eats away our years with the promise of easy street just a bit further down the road...
no longer allowing ourselves the luxury of experiencing our children growing... teaching them all our fathers and mothers taught us... and theirs before them...
believing that the system somehow knows better for our families... and can more effectively put our babies on the path to a life that is good and right....
what quality of life have we bought with such a heavy price...
why do we allow banks to come knocking on our doors throwing our children out into the streets when there is land aplenty in this world for everyone?
allow politicians to play their games with the lives of those we hold high... as a nation... as our sons and daughters
allow ourselves to believe that we do not share the same humanity as those on the other side of the earth... the same joys at holding a newly birthed child...
the same agony at our loss of love.. of life...
why do we seek to see the demons among our peers... instead of looking within our own hearts for whatever evil may be lurking there...
why do we treat other living creatures.. no matter how many legs they possess... as if they are objects... unable to feel the torture perpetrated upon them...
why do we demonize the ideals and pursuits of others... while believing our own thoughts and opinions to be the indisputable gospel truth...
why do we put our faith and hope for change behind a suit and a smile instead of searching inside ourselves for our own hero... our own leader...
why do we, who can see beyond our own noses, allow fear and paranoia to stop us from living our lives in the pursuit of a better world for tomorrow...
from speaking out against all of the wrongs of this culture.... of this world.
our voices were created to be heard... to be raised in times of danger...
what is it we fear?
death? someday she will come for us all....
prison? There is no greater prison than your own skin, if you so choose it to be your cell...
the loss of status? What honor is there that is greater than our own understanding that in our hearts we have strived in our lives, in our own way, in every way possible to create the ultimate existence...
the affections of friends... or family? Who is anyone else to decide the way for you? to put roadblocks of disappointment and discouragement in YOUR path...
the threat of hell... the promise of heaven? Each is here. now. within and without you... if you cannot recognize them here and now.. how will you know to see them after this life has passed....
or is it indifference? apathy?
we, as our children... and their children, will never see what paradise can be made from the rubble of a broken world... if as individuals we are not ready and willing to live for... to fight for... and eventually, to die..... for our freedom.
k.prue 02/15/2009
why are we all so afraid of speaking what we know in our hearts to be the truth?
why are we so afraid to love ourselves.. much less another...
why are we afraid of our neighbors?
why do we shun others for crimes and outrages that we know... if we are honest with ourselves.. that we could be capable of in a different moment...
why do we laugh and gloat over others misfortunes while believing ourselves somehow more deserving and worthy of good fortune...
why do we recognize in our own lives the misery and injustices perpetuated upon our homes and our loved ones...
but when faced with the realities of a storm in another town we simply turn a blind eye... or comfort ourselves to sleep better in the night hours with the always effective "there is nothing I can do about it"?
why do we content ourselves with running on our hamster wheels?
always the push to work just a bit harder to put food in our families mouth... a roof over their heads...
why do we obey it.. the orders of another... the thoughts we are told to think through the words and faces on the screen... trusting as if they have done anything to earn it...
... eat the garbage they sell for our stomachs instead of learning the forgotten art of bringing forth our own food from the fertile soil all around?
why do we chase after the ever unattainable wants... never finding lasting happiness in any goal reached... only to move on to the next...
we have all we will ever need in our two good hands and solid sturdy legs... in the dirt beneath our soles... the sun behind the clouds of smog...
why do we swallow their medicines for every newly created disease? slather on their magic creams and ointments... swallow the empty rhetoric... making over and covering up the sources of our dis-ease...
instead of finding the roots... and pulling the weeds from our lifestyles...and finallly trusting in the perfectly designed miracles which are the human body.... and in the plants sprung of the same dust which we each came from and aim to return to...
Why do we accept a silent slavery... which eats away our years with the promise of easy street just a bit further down the road...
no longer allowing ourselves the luxury of experiencing our children growing... teaching them all our fathers and mothers taught us... and theirs before them...
believing that the system somehow knows better for our families... and can more effectively put our babies on the path to a life that is good and right....
what quality of life have we bought with such a heavy price...
why do we allow banks to come knocking on our doors throwing our children out into the streets when there is land aplenty in this world for everyone?
allow politicians to play their games with the lives of those we hold high... as a nation... as our sons and daughters
allow ourselves to believe that we do not share the same humanity as those on the other side of the earth... the same joys at holding a newly birthed child...
the same agony at our loss of love.. of life...
why do we seek to see the demons among our peers... instead of looking within our own hearts for whatever evil may be lurking there...
why do we treat other living creatures.. no matter how many legs they possess... as if they are objects... unable to feel the torture perpetrated upon them...
why do we demonize the ideals and pursuits of others... while believing our own thoughts and opinions to be the indisputable gospel truth...
why do we put our faith and hope for change behind a suit and a smile instead of searching inside ourselves for our own hero... our own leader...
why do we, who can see beyond our own noses, allow fear and paranoia to stop us from living our lives in the pursuit of a better world for tomorrow...
from speaking out against all of the wrongs of this culture.... of this world.
our voices were created to be heard... to be raised in times of danger...
what is it we fear?
death? someday she will come for us all....
prison? There is no greater prison than your own skin, if you so choose it to be your cell...
the loss of status? What honor is there that is greater than our own understanding that in our hearts we have strived in our lives, in our own way, in every way possible to create the ultimate existence...
the affections of friends... or family? Who is anyone else to decide the way for you? to put roadblocks of disappointment and discouragement in YOUR path...
the threat of hell... the promise of heaven? Each is here. now. within and without you... if you cannot recognize them here and now.. how will you know to see them after this life has passed....
or is it indifference? apathy?
we, as our children... and their children, will never see what paradise can be made from the rubble of a broken world... if as individuals we are not ready and willing to live for... to fight for... and eventually, to die..... for our freedom.
k.prue 02/15/2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
you are me... I am her... we are it... it is...
I am not trying
to be anything but me..
I knew her once... before this body found me...
knew the language she spoke... the melody in her heart
the answers to all of existence... the key to the every secret we seek
and I know that from the day I entered this world
thrust and pushed from that gentle warm embrace
in pain... naked... gasping for life... cut off from the womb of love itself
and In my terror
I lost her.
I lost the ability to speak...
suddenly in a world full of bounds and chains
surrounded by beings of a primitive way... clouded visions
and minds who could not hear nor understand my cries
I grew to understand the language of necessity
and as I spoke their words my understanding faded
the more I learned, the more I forgot all the things I had known
yet somehow
I remember it all...
some days buried so deep I'm sure it has gone
but somewhere inside the the truth, the story still resonates..
I know when I hear it now... in the words spoken by my fellows
fellow prisoners and guards, fellow lovers, fellow dreamers
fellow victims and killers, fellow keepers, fellow seekers...
little by little I relearn
all of that I once knew without question
when I'm not looking they arrive upon my threshold
the unplanned, yet welcome guest in a standing invitation
when I stop trying so hard to be whatever it is I've been trained to be
when I pause for a moment to take a breath
when a voice outside of my own body connects and my ears open for the moment to hear
listening quietly to hear the voices amongst the trees as the birds speak
when I sit by the ever changing river... watching how she dances and skips along...
no fear.. no self
no constant trying to grab at the walls
chasing after ghosts and the walking dead
no created wants running me in futile figure eights
no expectations on what I deserve for all my goodness
or self mutilation sprung from lists upon lists of Karmic debts I believe I may owe
forgiving myself
my humanity
and all those who offend my senses
seeing the lovely eyes in spite of the lame foot
and in that moment speaking from the universe within
learning more myself from the words on my lips than likely teaching the other
I knew her once
and I hear her voice call
every now and then in the songs drifting from the guitar
the lyrics pouring from some other heart through the speakers of the radio
the sister or brother, mother, father or friend
or from the stranger sitting on a bench beside me
yes, I hear her...
and though I no longer speak her native tongue
I am quite sure she hears me when I cry out with every particle of this dust
to tell me her name... where she is... and how I can find her again some day
to be anything but me..
I knew her once... before this body found me...
knew the language she spoke... the melody in her heart
the answers to all of existence... the key to the every secret we seek
and I know that from the day I entered this world
thrust and pushed from that gentle warm embrace
in pain... naked... gasping for life... cut off from the womb of love itself
and In my terror
I lost her.
I lost the ability to speak...
suddenly in a world full of bounds and chains
surrounded by beings of a primitive way... clouded visions
and minds who could not hear nor understand my cries
I grew to understand the language of necessity
and as I spoke their words my understanding faded
the more I learned, the more I forgot all the things I had known
yet somehow
I remember it all...
some days buried so deep I'm sure it has gone
but somewhere inside the the truth, the story still resonates..
I know when I hear it now... in the words spoken by my fellows
fellow prisoners and guards, fellow lovers, fellow dreamers
fellow victims and killers, fellow keepers, fellow seekers...
little by little I relearn
all of that I once knew without question
when I'm not looking they arrive upon my threshold
the unplanned, yet welcome guest in a standing invitation
when I stop trying so hard to be whatever it is I've been trained to be
when I pause for a moment to take a breath
when a voice outside of my own body connects and my ears open for the moment to hear
listening quietly to hear the voices amongst the trees as the birds speak
when I sit by the ever changing river... watching how she dances and skips along...
no fear.. no self
no constant trying to grab at the walls
chasing after ghosts and the walking dead
no created wants running me in futile figure eights
no expectations on what I deserve for all my goodness
or self mutilation sprung from lists upon lists of Karmic debts I believe I may owe
forgiving myself
my humanity
and all those who offend my senses
seeing the lovely eyes in spite of the lame foot
and in that moment speaking from the universe within
learning more myself from the words on my lips than likely teaching the other
I knew her once
and I hear her voice call
every now and then in the songs drifting from the guitar
the lyrics pouring from some other heart through the speakers of the radio
the sister or brother, mother, father or friend
or from the stranger sitting on a bench beside me
yes, I hear her...
and though I no longer speak her native tongue
I am quite sure she hears me when I cry out with every particle of this dust
to tell me her name... where she is... and how I can find her again some day
Sunday, February 8, 2009
a hopeful birthday...
Current mood: strong
a childish rhyme...
Birthday oh birthday you've come yet again
each time push me further from what I want to be: TEN
Too many years past days I'd play in the woods
building tree forts and skunk bombs for the kids in the hood
The ghosts in the graveyard getting closer each day
and I look in the mirror to find yet another hair's turned gray
The energy I once had to keep running till nightfall
the crisp clear sound of the peepers and each mother's call...
the memories bring sighs... disappointments...even tears
chasing away futile thoughts.. desperate that I could roll back these years
The comfort I find though as I sit here tonight
typing this poem by sleeping babe and night lights
Is the dreams of what someday may light up this place
the years upon years of crinkling laugh lines spread over my face...
here's hoping...
a childish rhyme...
Birthday oh birthday you've come yet again
each time push me further from what I want to be: TEN
Too many years past days I'd play in the woods
building tree forts and skunk bombs for the kids in the hood
The ghosts in the graveyard getting closer each day
and I look in the mirror to find yet another hair's turned gray
The energy I once had to keep running till nightfall
the crisp clear sound of the peepers and each mother's call...
the memories bring sighs... disappointments...even tears
chasing away futile thoughts.. desperate that I could roll back these years
The comfort I find though as I sit here tonight
typing this poem by sleeping babe and night lights
Is the dreams of what someday may light up this place
the years upon years of crinkling laugh lines spread over my face...
here's hoping...
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Homeschooling Made Illegal?!?!?! WTF!
Current mood:OUTRAGED!
Homeschooling Banned in California as State Turns Parents Into Criminals for Teaching Their Own Children
David Gutierrez
Natural News
September 23, 2008
A California appeals court has ruled that homeschooling of children is
illegal unless their parents have teaching credentials from the state.
“California is now on the path to being the only state to deny the vast
majority of homeschooling parents their fundamental right to teach
their own children at home,” said Michael Smith, president of the Home
School Legal Defense Association.
The court overturned a lower court’s finding that homeschooling did not constitute a violation of child welfare laws.
“California courts have held that … parents do not have a
constitutional right to homeschool their children,” Justice H. Walter
Croskey said.
The decision stunned parents of the state’s roughly 166,000
homeschooled children. While the court claimed that it was merely
clarifying an existing law and not making a new one, the decision
leaves the parents of homeschooled children at risk of arrest and
criminal prosecution.
“At first, there was a sense of, ‘No way,’ ” homeschool parent Loren
Mavromati said. “Then there was a little bit of fear. I think it has
moved now into indignation.”
Parents’ reasons for homeschooling their children range from religious
beliefs to dissatisfaction with the education received at public or
private schools. But according to the court, all California children
between the ages of 6 and 18 must attend either a full-time public or
private school or be taught by a tutor credentialed for their specific
grade level.
“A primary purpose of the educational system is to train school
children in good citizenship, patriotism and loyalty to the state and
the nation,” Croskey wrote.
California’s largest teachers union welcomed the decision as did the Children’s Law Center of Los Angeles.
According to the law center’s executive director, Leslie Heimov,
children should not be educated at home, because they need to be “in a
place daily where they would be observed by people who had a duty to
ensure their ongoing safety.”
Homeschooling Banned in California as State Turns Parents Into Criminals for Teaching Their Own Children
David Gutierrez
Natural News
September 23, 2008
A California appeals court has ruled that homeschooling of children is
illegal unless their parents have teaching credentials from the state.
“California is now on the path to being the only state to deny the vast
majority of homeschooling parents their fundamental right to teach
their own children at home,” said Michael Smith, president of the Home
School Legal Defense Association.
The court overturned a lower court’s finding that homeschooling did not constitute a violation of child welfare laws.
“California courts have held that … parents do not have a
constitutional right to homeschool their children,” Justice H. Walter
Croskey said.
The decision stunned parents of the state’s roughly 166,000
homeschooled children. While the court claimed that it was merely
clarifying an existing law and not making a new one, the decision
leaves the parents of homeschooled children at risk of arrest and
criminal prosecution.
“At first, there was a sense of, ‘No way,’ ” homeschool parent Loren
Mavromati said. “Then there was a little bit of fear. I think it has
moved now into indignation.”
Parents’ reasons for homeschooling their children range from religious
beliefs to dissatisfaction with the education received at public or
private schools. But according to the court, all California children
between the ages of 6 and 18 must attend either a full-time public or
private school or be taught by a tutor credentialed for their specific
grade level.
“A primary purpose of the educational system is to train school
children in good citizenship, patriotism and loyalty to the state and
the nation,” Croskey wrote.
California’s largest teachers union welcomed the decision as did the Children’s Law Center of Los Angeles.
According to the law center’s executive director, Leslie Heimov,
children should not be educated at home, because they need to be “in a
place daily where they would be observed by people who had a duty to
ensure their ongoing safety.”
Monday, February 2, 2009
how are you?
three little words... simple as language can be
the answer always is... not plain enough for me to see
keeper of the keys... my shackles and my cage
feeling the grave is chasing... getting faster as I age
My heart is not within me....rather running loose and free
and will grow with what I give him... tools to shape, what he will be
so many minutes failing... at providing what he needs
so few being his tender... she sows loving, beautiful seeds
In the dreams I know I've lost him... in room and in my sight
the damage life will deal him... my only failure, in this night
and somehow I know it's within me... to just. be. me.
but I'm not sure who she is...the live and dead,
my puzzle is the picture of my tree
always search, ever seeking... always stumble, never seeing
over ego and grandiose visions... of the color, of the beast
from which I must be fleeing
the flags are all around me... the warning screams over the waves...
but I just can not tell the difference.. which god kills and which god saves?
pennies rain upon us... while we watch them bathe in bills
and they laugh at truths they've told us... plain as day THE MONEY kills.
human intimacy reduced to lol... and singles ads to meet
the hugs, the laughs. they miss them now.. evidence all up the street
or is it? an illusion? just the white band.... upon the arm of the slaves
cause we've got lots in common... and where it counts, we are all knaves.
your breath is mine... or else it will be someday...
just as soon as his wind... carries it her way..
Friends, I'd love your real answer to these three simple words...
the answer always is... not plain enough for me to see
keeper of the keys... my shackles and my cage
feeling the grave is chasing... getting faster as I age
My heart is not within me....rather running loose and free
and will grow with what I give him... tools to shape, what he will be
so many minutes failing... at providing what he needs
so few being his tender... she sows loving, beautiful seeds
In the dreams I know I've lost him... in room and in my sight
the damage life will deal him... my only failure, in this night
and somehow I know it's within me... to just. be. me.
but I'm not sure who she is...the live and dead,
my puzzle is the picture of my tree
always search, ever seeking... always stumble, never seeing
over ego and grandiose visions... of the color, of the beast
from which I must be fleeing
the flags are all around me... the warning screams over the waves...
but I just can not tell the difference.. which god kills and which god saves?
pennies rain upon us... while we watch them bathe in bills
and they laugh at truths they've told us... plain as day THE MONEY kills.
human intimacy reduced to lol... and singles ads to meet
the hugs, the laughs. they miss them now.. evidence all up the street
or is it? an illusion? just the white band.... upon the arm of the slaves
cause we've got lots in common... and where it counts, we are all knaves.
your breath is mine... or else it will be someday...
just as soon as his wind... carries it her way..
Friends, I'd love your real answer to these three simple words...
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