Decided to catch up on sharing some of my writing today.
enjoy...
2/24/13
I am Alive
Every dot and every stroke
I paint
build a bridge
span a gap
heal a wound
open heart
open eyed
we are all one
or all none
I am
all one
now.
Ships in the night
Together
we were never more than happily awkward
I am flighty and naive
you are just a bit uptight
and sometimes its okay to suffer
through a too or two
and maybe time and space matter
more than I ever thought
or maybe they don't...
The butterfly crash landed after
a bumpy but beautiful ride
and in the end I realized
that our real eyes are a matter
of perspective.
There is no Answer.
There are many...
I get carried away...
thought you might want to come too.
I would have loved to hear that song
you almost sang
in the middle of that dark, alone night
and I've pulled it together...almost.
Nineteen states, six Canadian provinces
A stale and lonely house left half alive.
A couple tiny disasters
and a few massive escapes.
Is it okay to mourn something
that was but a fanciful dream of the heart?
A few sunrises... TOO few sunrises
a squeezed in moment or two as you hurried on by me.
I could induldge a hearty game of "What-Ifs" with myself
but would it hit undo or unsend?
I was never good at playing hard-to-get
with those I suspect I might like to be got by.
One more song for you...
this one sung without a tune.
Thanks for passing through.
October 2013
observations, thoughts, poems, and perspectives... from within my fishbowl and without...
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
He said...
He said my beauty was all in my hair. Long flowing locks, he'd leave me if I lost.
I shaved it all off and found a girlfriend. Fuck you.
He said my bare head brought out my eyes, the sexy fullness of my lips.
He said girls don't play guitar.
I taught myself on the guitar he gave me, and though he didn't remember saying it, and though it was a joke... These are the things that cut a woman down...
He said I couldn't play because I was a girl. Couldn't be Han Solo or Luke. I could be an Ewok though... Ugly little thing. Cute little thing covered in fur that can't even talk.
He said " Girls don't play baseball." I caught the ball that got him out on first and then tagged his stealing teammate in a double play all by my little female self.
He said that he loved me and not the best friend that I adored... In that mistake I lost her. Watched her walk away with his devious hand in hers.
He said he wanted to date me because I had big boobs. He said he'd never date me because my butt was too big. He said I was so tight but I couldn't jack off a squirrel. He said I just laid there like I was dead.
I was 16.
I was scared.
He said he dreamt that I had died... He dreamt of me.
But I didn't have the self worth to take that for what it was...
He said his truck was more important that my heart or my orgasm. He said my brother's girlfriend was more worthy of his time. He said he'd call. He said the only reason any man would speak to me was because they wanted to fuck me. He said I was hot covered in blood. He said I was fucking every man I said hello to. Even the greasiest, slimiest, short, old, balding, beer bellied, salesmen. He said I was fat. He said I had a mustache. He said I was dirty. He said he "Had me" when I was still a virgin and didn't even know his name.
He called me a crack whore, though the title belonged to him, told me I was crazy. How crazy that I almost believed his lies when he called me a liar.
He said my no really meant yes.
He said I wanted him...
He said to cry was girlish. To show feelings is to be weak... To be a "pussy" is to be weak.
He said my brothers could do it better, by virtue of the penis between their legs.
He said..
He said...
I said, I hate that my vagina makes me worthless.
He said he loved my face...
My poise and goodwill, my blue hair.
He said I'd be the first lady President, play in the major leagues.
He called me sweetheart in his Lakota tongue. He said I was beautiful, special, I was quite the catch wasn't I? He said I am the smartest person he knows, gifted with words. He said I was the coolest human he'd met. He said I was brave, admirable.
He said my beauty was so much more that the pile of flesh before him when I sat sickest in my ugliness. He said my life was a miracle and he was amazed by my strength. Sang with the voice of an angel when I sang my song... an angel, with a demon standing beside me.
He said I'd make an amazing girlfriend... And though he barely knew me it made my heart sing.
He says he loves me. He looks at me with eyes full of wonder sometimes. He calls me the sweetest name I've ever heard: Mama.
He said my words, my thoughts, my opinions had value. He said he appreciated me. He called me a fierce mama bear. He said I am enough. I am loveable, calm, mysterious and enchanting.
He said my words reminded him to cry... And HIS words made me cry.
And though I am thankful for all the he's who have loved this she.
I say, one of these days my self worth will not be defined by what he said.
Kalee Featherwise Prue
1/22/14
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I shaved it all off and found a girlfriend. Fuck you.
He said my bare head brought out my eyes, the sexy fullness of my lips.
He said girls don't play guitar.
I taught myself on the guitar he gave me, and though he didn't remember saying it, and though it was a joke... These are the things that cut a woman down...
He said I couldn't play because I was a girl. Couldn't be Han Solo or Luke. I could be an Ewok though... Ugly little thing. Cute little thing covered in fur that can't even talk.
He said " Girls don't play baseball." I caught the ball that got him out on first and then tagged his stealing teammate in a double play all by my little female self.
He said that he loved me and not the best friend that I adored... In that mistake I lost her. Watched her walk away with his devious hand in hers.
He said he wanted to date me because I had big boobs. He said he'd never date me because my butt was too big. He said I was so tight but I couldn't jack off a squirrel. He said I just laid there like I was dead.
I was 16.
I was scared.
He said he dreamt that I had died... He dreamt of me.
But I didn't have the self worth to take that for what it was...
He said his truck was more important that my heart or my orgasm. He said my brother's girlfriend was more worthy of his time. He said he'd call. He said the only reason any man would speak to me was because they wanted to fuck me. He said I was hot covered in blood. He said I was fucking every man I said hello to. Even the greasiest, slimiest, short, old, balding, beer bellied, salesmen. He said I was fat. He said I had a mustache. He said I was dirty. He said he "Had me" when I was still a virgin and didn't even know his name.
He called me a crack whore, though the title belonged to him, told me I was crazy. How crazy that I almost believed his lies when he called me a liar.
He said my no really meant yes.
He said I wanted him...
He said to cry was girlish. To show feelings is to be weak... To be a "pussy" is to be weak.
He said my brothers could do it better, by virtue of the penis between their legs.
He said..
He said...
I said, I hate that my vagina makes me worthless.
He said he loved my face...
My poise and goodwill, my blue hair.
He said I'd be the first lady President, play in the major leagues.
He called me sweetheart in his Lakota tongue. He said I was beautiful, special, I was quite the catch wasn't I? He said I am the smartest person he knows, gifted with words. He said I was the coolest human he'd met. He said I was brave, admirable.
He said my beauty was so much more that the pile of flesh before him when I sat sickest in my ugliness. He said my life was a miracle and he was amazed by my strength. Sang with the voice of an angel when I sang my song... an angel, with a demon standing beside me.
He said I'd make an amazing girlfriend... And though he barely knew me it made my heart sing.
He says he loves me. He looks at me with eyes full of wonder sometimes. He calls me the sweetest name I've ever heard: Mama.
He said my words, my thoughts, my opinions had value. He said he appreciated me. He called me a fierce mama bear. He said I am enough. I am loveable, calm, mysterious and enchanting.
He said my words reminded him to cry... And HIS words made me cry.
And though I am thankful for all the he's who have loved this she.
I say, one of these days my self worth will not be defined by what he said.
Kalee Featherwise Prue
1/22/14
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Alienation
I live in an Alien Nation
surrounded everyday by miles of steel and windshield
mazes of glazed eyed faces
when I dare to venture from behind my castle walls
I live in an alien nation
where I have to sing loudly, have to speak loudly or be drowned
by the deafening silence, the roar of white noise
I live in a nation where my child can be taken at the drop of a dime
where doing right by my son is a crime
where teaching the truth about this paradigm
is a potential life sentence
where child abuse is a refusal to poison his blood...
where normalcy is corrupted genes, and flashing screens, and gory scenes
where we're trained to sleep but never to dream
taught to listen but not to hear
not to fight, but embrace our fear
told to look but not to see
the curtained men behind TV...
and the lies, all the lies of the blood, white and blue
are sang out as gospel, while condemned whisper truth.
I LIVE IN AN ALIEN NATION
where rights are recognized and you are a free being,
so long as I AGREE with your preference, your perspective
all subjectives must align with Government approved objectives
in order to be allowed to apply
to sit in an office
to get on a list
to wait for your turn
to exercise your freedoms.
in the home where the BRAVE RAVE about the land of the free.
I live in an alien world where the rain that falls upon my roof
must be paid for with tithings
of bloodied bills and silver chips
before I let it cross my lips...
and quench the thirst for God knows what
where raped and battered all are sluts
where LOVE is damned on hateful signs
is it any wonder? the crumbling of times...
In this alien nation, this glittering town
where buildings are blown up then blamed on the brown
while the flock doesn't notice that murderous clown...
AND now Jesus has COME!
but he's still dropping bombs...
but his crimes are forgiven because of his skin
because every thing's twisted and virtue is sin.
where aging is a terror
and death is a failure
despite the pain or the shape that we're in.
In this alien nation this world I live in
can't anyone tell me where to begin
how do we fix up this mess that we're in?
but NO... I live in an alien nation...
I live IN alienation
where awkwardness conceals kindness
where insecurities leftover from last years dinner
obscure a heart two sizes too large.
My alien nation is tribeless
though full of love and a family clan heaped with beauty and good intentions
but stuck in the ruts and ditches of a long hard road
generations of blue collars, red necks, and white privilege
in the land of blue blood, mountains of green, and foundations of war machines.
I live in an alienation where confidence is bought, inherited, or peer reviewed.
In my closet are dozens of variations...
outfits of confidence I try on for size.
take off, hang back up for another day
or leave crumpled, crying in a heap on the floor in my closet.
In my closet I rent to own.
Spoken word, fumbled songs,
borrowed confidence I hope to someday own
Of the radiant woman I aspire to be...
one day when the fit is right.
I live in an ALIEN NATION
where the story in my open book is not received
made into a movie for TV,
but instead deceived
the heart on my sleeve
made into a sly and slick game of charades
a subtle parade of mockery
where vulnerabilities are exploited and heckled
as gross imperfections displayed by artists
who seek to hurt but claim to heal
I LIVE
in an alien nation full of broken children
struggling to place those missing pieces,
stuck in boxes,
crawling under tables
digging in bins in the back of our closets....
looking... searching... hunting
for those missing parts, those broken toys
broken girls... broken boys...
I live in an alien nation where color
where vibrancy and smiles conceal pain and very real scars
no judgement on who bears the heaviest burden
and no pity requested or even tolerated
just the acknowledgement of the presence of those scars
in hopes that they will be seen as open to healing
not scabs for the picking because....
after all,
I LIVE IN a scarred nation
a scared nation, a falling nation, a sleeping nation, a weeping nation.
A nation where some sing sweetly and some sing to a different tone
not deaf, but strum a different song, hum a different tune
A nation where words can maim
can cause great pain
to those who have both ears and tears,
in this nation of sharp tongues and jealous eyes.
In this nation of forests and trees,
birds and bees,
of sticks and stones and broken bones,
of war and blood, and kings on thrones
this alien nation that WE don't own
that's littered with oil, with greens, but not ferns
that's pushing and pulling and bending and breaking
with some who are giving but more who are taking
and talking not doing, and talking and FAKING
and I just can't stand it!
I struggle to stand, and I struggle to walk
and I doubt what I see, what I think, what you talk...
and I read and I plan
and I scream DAMN THE MAN!
and I give, talk, and beg, and I offer my hand...
but I can't say for sure, just with whom should I stand?
In this revolution
This conscious evolution.
-Kalee Prue
12-30-13
Dedicated with so much love and admiration to my family at the Gesundheit Institute, West Virginia
surrounded everyday by miles of steel and windshield
mazes of glazed eyed faces
when I dare to venture from behind my castle walls
I live in an alien nation
where I have to sing loudly, have to speak loudly or be drowned
by the deafening silence, the roar of white noise
I live in a nation where my child can be taken at the drop of a dime
where doing right by my son is a crime
where teaching the truth about this paradigm
is a potential life sentence
where child abuse is a refusal to poison his blood...
where normalcy is corrupted genes, and flashing screens, and gory scenes
where we're trained to sleep but never to dream
taught to listen but not to hear
not to fight, but embrace our fear
told to look but not to see
the curtained men behind TV...
and the lies, all the lies of the blood, white and blue
are sang out as gospel, while condemned whisper truth.
I LIVE IN AN ALIEN NATION
where rights are recognized and you are a free being,
so long as I AGREE with your preference, your perspective
all subjectives must align with Government approved objectives
in order to be allowed to apply
to sit in an office
to get on a list
to wait for your turn
to exercise your freedoms.
in the home where the BRAVE RAVE about the land of the free.
I live in an alien world where the rain that falls upon my roof
must be paid for with tithings
of bloodied bills and silver chips
before I let it cross my lips...
and quench the thirst for God knows what
where raped and battered all are sluts
where LOVE is damned on hateful signs
is it any wonder? the crumbling of times...
In this alien nation, this glittering town
where buildings are blown up then blamed on the brown
while the flock doesn't notice that murderous clown...
AND now Jesus has COME!
but he's still dropping bombs...
but his crimes are forgiven because of his skin
because every thing's twisted and virtue is sin.
where aging is a terror
and death is a failure
despite the pain or the shape that we're in.
In this alien nation this world I live in
can't anyone tell me where to begin
how do we fix up this mess that we're in?
but NO... I live in an alien nation...
I live IN alienation
where awkwardness conceals kindness
where insecurities leftover from last years dinner
obscure a heart two sizes too large.
My alien nation is tribeless
though full of love and a family clan heaped with beauty and good intentions
but stuck in the ruts and ditches of a long hard road
generations of blue collars, red necks, and white privilege
in the land of blue blood, mountains of green, and foundations of war machines.
I live in an alienation where confidence is bought, inherited, or peer reviewed.
In my closet are dozens of variations...
outfits of confidence I try on for size.
take off, hang back up for another day
or leave crumpled, crying in a heap on the floor in my closet.
In my closet I rent to own.
Spoken word, fumbled songs,
borrowed confidence I hope to someday own
Of the radiant woman I aspire to be...
one day when the fit is right.
I live in an ALIEN NATION
where the story in my open book is not received
made into a movie for TV,
but instead deceived
the heart on my sleeve
made into a sly and slick game of charades
a subtle parade of mockery
where vulnerabilities are exploited and heckled
as gross imperfections displayed by artists
who seek to hurt but claim to heal
I LIVE
in an alien nation full of broken children
struggling to place those missing pieces,
stuck in boxes,
crawling under tables
digging in bins in the back of our closets....
looking... searching... hunting
for those missing parts, those broken toys
broken girls... broken boys...
I live in an alien nation where color
where vibrancy and smiles conceal pain and very real scars
no judgement on who bears the heaviest burden
and no pity requested or even tolerated
just the acknowledgement of the presence of those scars
in hopes that they will be seen as open to healing
not scabs for the picking because....
after all,
I LIVE IN a scarred nation
a scared nation, a falling nation, a sleeping nation, a weeping nation.
A nation where some sing sweetly and some sing to a different tone
not deaf, but strum a different song, hum a different tune
A nation where words can maim
can cause great pain
to those who have both ears and tears,
in this nation of sharp tongues and jealous eyes.
In this nation of forests and trees,
birds and bees,
of sticks and stones and broken bones,
of war and blood, and kings on thrones
this alien nation that WE don't own
that's littered with oil, with greens, but not ferns
that's pushing and pulling and bending and breaking
with some who are giving but more who are taking
and talking not doing, and talking and FAKING
and I just can't stand it!
I struggle to stand, and I struggle to walk
and I doubt what I see, what I think, what you talk...
and I read and I plan
and I scream DAMN THE MAN!
and I give, talk, and beg, and I offer my hand...
but I can't say for sure, just with whom should I stand?
In this revolution
This conscious evolution.
-Kalee Prue
12-30-13
Dedicated with so much love and admiration to my family at the Gesundheit Institute, West Virginia
Monday, December 16, 2013
Oh death.., your irregularly scheduled program.
Your irregularly scheduled program
Sometimes I am so weak and life is so profound...
Softening... Softening... Soon we destined for that cold ground.
So cold... So, so cold. Her skin was icy to the touch.
I am so afraid, the terror swallows me up.
And we can joke and we can laugh our tears
And try to grasp and catch the passing years
And you will leave me. You will leave, or I'll leave you.
And shells and shelves are left when soul is through.
And what does it mean, and truly: What. Does. It. Mean?
The snow was cold and blue, this sunrise. Peaceful Icy sheen.
And if I never see your face again? And how time will pass...
Will I remember the sound of your voice, your laugh?
I want to cry, you are gone away...
I want to laugh, cause you are free today.
I hardly knew you, hardly know you all..
I barely know within and constantly I fall...
I don't know patience,and I laugh at sin.
Living life in realization of the mess we all live in.
I can feel this human body dying all around me
But where there is pain there is also so much beauty.
And what is God, cause I sure don't know below or above,
But we exist to love. TO LOVE, and oh lord, To love.
-Kalee Prue
December 16, 2013
-
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Crying myself awake...
Paralyzed by possibilities...
Petrified by probabilities
Chaos swirls around me
And I sit
On my thriftstore velvet throne
Watching
Breathing
Just keep breathing
It swirls around me like a storm
Terrifying and wondrous
I struggle to find my center
The eye of the storm
The calm place where the swirling
Leaves off
And I am left with only me
Serene
Waiting
For an answer
For what comes next
For the rug to find it's way under my feet once more
For any sense of certainty
In what has suddenly become a tipsy turvy world
Woke myself up today
With a wish and a prayer
Tears for myself
For the other half,
other whole
I do not know
These are the moments
When this burden is so very heavy
The choices too numerous
And all I want
Is a voice that cares
That carries me
Just for a moment
So that just once
I don't have to take all the weight on
Make these choices myself
So hard to shift gears...
And shift this load while it is still so heavy on my shoulders
Just keep breathing
Just keep breathing
Keep finding that center...
Where is my balance..
Trying to find the eye
But all I feel is this rock wedged in my throat.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Petrified by probabilities
Chaos swirls around me
And I sit
On my thriftstore velvet throne
Watching
Breathing
Just keep breathing
It swirls around me like a storm
Terrifying and wondrous
I struggle to find my center
The eye of the storm
The calm place where the swirling
Leaves off
And I am left with only me
Serene
Waiting
For an answer
For what comes next
For the rug to find it's way under my feet once more
For any sense of certainty
In what has suddenly become a tipsy turvy world
Woke myself up today
With a wish and a prayer
Tears for myself
For the other half,
other whole
I do not know
These are the moments
When this burden is so very heavy
The choices too numerous
And all I want
Is a voice that cares
That carries me
Just for a moment
So that just once
I don't have to take all the weight on
Make these choices myself
So hard to shift gears...
And shift this load while it is still so heavy on my shoulders
Just keep breathing
Just keep breathing
Keep finding that center...
Where is my balance..
Trying to find the eye
But all I feel is this rock wedged in my throat.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Tucked in...
Doesn't matter if we just met
Have we known each other since diapers
Doesn't matter if I know all of you yet
Or have walked with you in the fires
I know what I know and I know that spark
cause I've seen it here in the mirror
And I know what I know and I've seen the dark
and you couldn't shine light any clearer
Doesn't matter if I know you yet
Or still see your face in a decade
And it doesn't matter if our paths weave tight
or only cross cause your twinkle won't ever fade
Doesn't matter if we just met or if I can find right words to rhyme
Words fall short but you, my dear friend, are tucked into my heart for a lifetime.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Have we known each other since diapers
Doesn't matter if I know all of you yet
Or have walked with you in the fires
I know what I know and I know that spark
cause I've seen it here in the mirror
And I know what I know and I've seen the dark
and you couldn't shine light any clearer
Doesn't matter if I know you yet
Or still see your face in a decade
And it doesn't matter if our paths weave tight
or only cross cause your twinkle won't ever fade
Doesn't matter if we just met or if I can find right words to rhyme
Words fall short but you, my dear friend, are tucked into my heart for a lifetime.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:The mountains of Berkshire
Monday, April 9, 2012
The truth is...
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
Love...
Kalee
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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....
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