I'm done with this livejournal. Best wishes to all.
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My Wax Grandmother
She melts
01 January 2010 @ 12:52 pm
Fear
I rip you out of my chest and hand
you back,
still beating bloody,
to those who delivered you there.
I send you back with a message.
The burden is theirs.
Fear,
I send you back
to the stars,
through rocks alive with fire,
to be transformed into love.
Fear,
who called me your own,
you are the circle we travel at night,
letting our fingers trail down lovers' backs
as hideouts.
You posess no guns and you are all smoke and mirrors.
Fear, your cape of madness
that circles our globe
I cast off and cut
with shearing scissors.
I scream you away.
I pray you away.
You are away.
Fear,
you are breathing your last.
I rip you out of my chest and hand
you back,
still beating bloody,
to those who delivered you there.
I send you back with a message.
The burden is theirs.
Fear,
I send you back
to the stars,
through rocks alive with fire,
to be transformed into love.
Fear,
who called me your own,
you are the circle we travel at night,
letting our fingers trail down lovers' backs
as hideouts.
You posess no guns and you are all smoke and mirrors.
Fear, your cape of madness
that circles our globe
I cast off and cut
with shearing scissors.
I scream you away.
I pray you away.
You are away.
Fear,
you are breathing your last.
01 January 2010 @ 12:48 am
She forgot her sleeping pills again,
so kissing her baby asleep, she headed out in the freezing cold.
Stopping out the back door,, she put down some tobacco and prayed that all
trickster activity cease.
Oh, and thank you, please protect us from evil.
She prays like a child.
Mounds of snow under the big bright halo moon.
The stars give her flashbacks
because one never knows what they really are.
Stars only.
Or owl eyes.
Or starships.
She becomes suddenly aware of being very alone in that backyard where stuff keeps happening and she buried the cedar waxwing before the ground froze over.
Just the other day a bluejay was on the feeder and she can't figure out what he's trying to do.
Warn her in a good way or cause trouble.
Her whole body starts shaking.
She wraps herself in the night of her scarf and starts up the car.
She is engulfed in her own screams.
Screams of the past year.
Screams of her past entire life.
There is a name that escapes her lips.
She screams it to the ghosts that are haunting her, and in that name encapsulated is a young girl
a young girl finding her voice again
on a dark cold night
on a New Year.
She screams it, and screams it again.
Each time convulsing as if she is claiming back bits of soul scattered around the earth, rubbed with dirt and nightmares.
When you have a piece of heart you never give it away.
Torn heart lockets for Valentines.
Cut open hands smearing bloody palmprints.
She finally feels the anger.
All day her breath has been like a bull.
She was snorting with rage and fear.
Matador red, she has been played and hunted like prey.
But all along she had horns she had forgotten.
She is throwing them here and there.
More animal now.
Sleeping pill zombie doll is dead.
Bull.
so kissing her baby asleep, she headed out in the freezing cold.
Stopping out the back door,, she put down some tobacco and prayed that all
trickster activity cease.
Oh, and thank you, please protect us from evil.
She prays like a child.
Mounds of snow under the big bright halo moon.
The stars give her flashbacks
because one never knows what they really are.
Stars only.
Or owl eyes.
Or starships.
She becomes suddenly aware of being very alone in that backyard where stuff keeps happening and she buried the cedar waxwing before the ground froze over.
Just the other day a bluejay was on the feeder and she can't figure out what he's trying to do.
Warn her in a good way or cause trouble.
Her whole body starts shaking.
She wraps herself in the night of her scarf and starts up the car.
She is engulfed in her own screams.
Screams of the past year.
Screams of her past entire life.
There is a name that escapes her lips.
She screams it to the ghosts that are haunting her, and in that name encapsulated is a young girl
a young girl finding her voice again
on a dark cold night
on a New Year.
She screams it, and screams it again.
Each time convulsing as if she is claiming back bits of soul scattered around the earth, rubbed with dirt and nightmares.
When you have a piece of heart you never give it away.
Torn heart lockets for Valentines.
Cut open hands smearing bloody palmprints.
She finally feels the anger.
All day her breath has been like a bull.
She was snorting with rage and fear.
Matador red, she has been played and hunted like prey.
But all along she had horns she had forgotten.
She is throwing them here and there.
More animal now.
Sleeping pill zombie doll is dead.
Bull.
21 December 2009 @ 04:46 pm
21 December 2009 @ 04:42 pm
This is the song that speaks to my soul. One song to sum it up pretty much.. especially the girl in the snow part..
Fox in the snow, where do you go to find something you could eat?
Cause the word out on the street is you are starving.
Don’t let yourself grow hungry now.
Don’t let yourself grow cold. Fox in the snow.
Girl in the snow, where will you go to find someone that will do?
To tell someone all the truth before it kills you.
They listen to your crazy laugh
before you hang a right and disappear from sight.
What do they know anyway?
You’ll read it in a book.
What do they know anyway?
You"ll read it in a book tonight.
Boy on a bike, what are you like As you cycle round the town?
You're going up, you're going down
You're going nowhere
It's not as if they're paying you
It's not as if it's fun
At least not anymore
When your legs are black and blue
It's time to take a break
When your legs are black and blue I
t's time to take a holiday
Kid in the snow, way to go
It only happens once a year
It only happens once a lifetime
Make the most of it
Second just to being born
Second to dying too
What else could you do?
When your legs are black and blue
It's time to take a break
When your legs are black and blue
It's time to take a break
Fox in the snow, where do you go to find something you could eat?
Cause the word out on the street is you are starving.
Don’t let yourself grow hungry now.
Don’t let yourself grow cold. Fox in the snow.
Girl in the snow, where will you go to find someone that will do?
To tell someone all the truth before it kills you.
They listen to your crazy laugh
before you hang a right and disappear from sight.
What do they know anyway?
You’ll read it in a book.
What do they know anyway?
You"ll read it in a book tonight.
Boy on a bike, what are you like As you cycle round the town?
You're going up, you're going down
You're going nowhere
It's not as if they're paying you
It's not as if it's fun
At least not anymore
When your legs are black and blue
It's time to take a break
When your legs are black and blue I
t's time to take a holiday
Kid in the snow, way to go
It only happens once a year
It only happens once a lifetime
Make the most of it
Second just to being born
Second to dying too
What else could you do?
When your legs are black and blue
It's time to take a break
When your legs are black and blue
It's time to take a break
20 December 2009 @ 09:40 pm
When the snow falls through her fingers like starlight,
she stretches out her mothering arms and gathers each moment to her,
drilling memories
into ice.
She is an ice princess
and her lips have turned quite blue.
She has seen poetic hair turned to glaciers
with tattoo guns.
They were quite beautiful and made her sit unflinchingly still for painfully long periods of time.
Perhaps milleniums
in her castle of snow.
Now when she closes her eyes she sees lightning bolts cascading from avalanches behind her eyes.
They are there when she coughs the wind into being.
A while ago, our princess dreamed of writing names all over her arm in hearts.
But why must it always be a dream of red.
She dreams in red and sees frozen.
The thundersnow comes in rapid fire and she witnessed sacred flames while hiding under coats.
This princess respects the fire now.
But she is always alone.
Frozen until rocks make her come alive for a time.
She follows roads back to their origin, always circling on the ice.
Her mad doughnuts creating eternity.
She covers herself in beasts made from opals
And thinks often on words spun of frozen hair.
Tracing the flowing blackness as she walks away into the sky.
she stretches out her mothering arms and gathers each moment to her,
drilling memories
into ice.
She is an ice princess
and her lips have turned quite blue.
She has seen poetic hair turned to glaciers
with tattoo guns.
They were quite beautiful and made her sit unflinchingly still for painfully long periods of time.
Perhaps milleniums
in her castle of snow.
Now when she closes her eyes she sees lightning bolts cascading from avalanches behind her eyes.
They are there when she coughs the wind into being.
A while ago, our princess dreamed of writing names all over her arm in hearts.
But why must it always be a dream of red.
She dreams in red and sees frozen.
The thundersnow comes in rapid fire and she witnessed sacred flames while hiding under coats.
This princess respects the fire now.
But she is always alone.
Frozen until rocks make her come alive for a time.
She follows roads back to their origin, always circling on the ice.
Her mad doughnuts creating eternity.
She covers herself in beasts made from opals
And thinks often on words spun of frozen hair.
Tracing the flowing blackness as she walks away into the sky.
06 November 2009 @ 12:03 pm
"There's a battle in his head that he cannot win. There's a man that he can never be."
He surrounds himself with ego and phone calls.
Calling people poseurs and wannabes.
There is a mirror in her eye when he says these things and he drowns in it like
a pseudo prince from a snow white fairytale.
He thinks himself a titan, when
the more he talks, the more people shrink
away in his presence.
A fizzled lightning bolt gone mad in the solitude of his synapse lapses.
And brimming with lies, so mad that he believes them himself.
A mad hat to be sure, brimming to the top with mercury, a rabbit falling
out of his pants.
And stingy as hell,
stringy hair falling out of his head.
Each strand a measured time of his youth slipping away.
Mad mad mad as hell.
A fallen mother, a fallen wife, fallen women all around and always
the finger pointing in another direction.
The wind is going to blow that finger back in someday.
"Ooh, it's scrambled eggs what he says
He accuses me of treachery
Got the nine lies, got the wide eyes,
got a failing grade in chemistry
If you count back to the balcony
when all we saw was a mystery
of a blonde-haired boy brought his mother joy
with his pedigree and family tree
Oh, lay it all out on a wicker couch
that you wove in a loony bin
Cut it out, it's a second-round bout
not the way of a gentleman
Ah, give it up, get a job,
take a pill and leave me be
He's got a synapse lapse he don't think he has
but it's been proven empirically
"If they take something precious from me,
I'm gonna take something precious from them."
Oh now he's losing his constituency,
we thought "Oh, this could never happen again."
If I take something precious from him,
he try to take something precious from me
There's a battle in his head that he cannot win
There's a man that he could never be
Oh no
Way to go
He's the mayor
Oh, I'm quite tired of this lunatic
Why must we suffer ''cause the mayor's sick?
He say: "All abandon from this sinking ship."
and he's off on another trip
No, he don't care about environment
He has made this a shitty place
My interest rate shrinks at a rapid pace
compounded daily on my worried face
"If they take something precious from me,
I'm gonna take something precious from them."
Oh now he's losing his constituency,
we thought "Oh, this could never happen again."
If I take something precious from him,
he try to take something precious from me
There's a battle in his head that he cannot win
There's a man that he could never be
Oh no
Way to go
He's the mayor
"If they take something precious from me,
I'm gonna take something precious from them."
Oh now he's losing his constituency,
we thought "Oh, this could never happen again."
(You're gonna hang your head and cry)
If I take something precious from him,
he try to take something precious from me
There's a battle in his head that he cannot win
There's a man that he could never be
(go ahead, go ahead and cry)
You're gonna hang your head and cry
Your gonna hang your head and cry
you're gonna cry
(He's the mayor)
(Oh no, way to go, he's the mayor)
He surrounds himself with ego and phone calls.
Calling people poseurs and wannabes.
There is a mirror in her eye when he says these things and he drowns in it like
a pseudo prince from a snow white fairytale.
He thinks himself a titan, when
the more he talks, the more people shrink
away in his presence.
A fizzled lightning bolt gone mad in the solitude of his synapse lapses.
And brimming with lies, so mad that he believes them himself.
A mad hat to be sure, brimming to the top with mercury, a rabbit falling
out of his pants.
And stingy as hell,
stringy hair falling out of his head.
Each strand a measured time of his youth slipping away.
Mad mad mad as hell.
A fallen mother, a fallen wife, fallen women all around and always
the finger pointing in another direction.
The wind is going to blow that finger back in someday.
"Ooh, it's scrambled eggs what he says
He accuses me of treachery
Got the nine lies, got the wide eyes,
got a failing grade in chemistry
If you count back to the balcony
when all we saw was a mystery
of a blonde-haired boy brought his mother joy
with his pedigree and family tree
Oh, lay it all out on a wicker couch
that you wove in a loony bin
Cut it out, it's a second-round bout
not the way of a gentleman
Ah, give it up, get a job,
take a pill and leave me be
He's got a synapse lapse he don't think he has
but it's been proven empirically
"If they take something precious from me,
I'm gonna take something precious from them."
Oh now he's losing his constituency,
we thought "Oh, this could never happen again."
If I take something precious from him,
he try to take something precious from me
There's a battle in his head that he cannot win
There's a man that he could never be
Oh no
Way to go
He's the mayor
Oh, I'm quite tired of this lunatic
Why must we suffer ''cause the mayor's sick?
He say: "All abandon from this sinking ship."
and he's off on another trip
No, he don't care about environment
He has made this a shitty place
My interest rate shrinks at a rapid pace
compounded daily on my worried face
"If they take something precious from me,
I'm gonna take something precious from them."
Oh now he's losing his constituency,
we thought "Oh, this could never happen again."
If I take something precious from him,
he try to take something precious from me
There's a battle in his head that he cannot win
There's a man that he could never be
Oh no
Way to go
He's the mayor
"If they take something precious from me,
I'm gonna take something precious from them."
Oh now he's losing his constituency,
we thought "Oh, this could never happen again."
(You're gonna hang your head and cry)
If I take something precious from him,
he try to take something precious from me
There's a battle in his head that he cannot win
There's a man that he could never be
(go ahead, go ahead and cry)
You're gonna hang your head and cry
Your gonna hang your head and cry
you're gonna cry
(He's the mayor)
(Oh no, way to go, he's the mayor)
15 October 2009 @ 03:10 pm
(Thank you Carol for sending me this)
A little something to put things in perspective....
After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park , forest rangers
began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage..
One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched
statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat
sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick.
When he gently struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under
their dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of
impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the
tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise.
She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her
babies. Then the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her
small body, the mother had remained steadfast ..because she had
been willing to die, so those under the cover of her wings would live..
'He will cover you with His feathers,
And under His wings you will find refuge.'
(Psalm 91:4)
Current Mood: 
happy
happy13 October 2009 @ 11:03 pm
"Not being able to trust anyone is central to complex PTSD."
When you have a fragile baby deer, a fawn, who had been terrorized her whole short life, what do you do?
Her mom killed by a hunter and she herself was wounded.
She runs away from people, but then you friend her.
You listen to her cries.
You marvel at the beauty of her soul. She slowly learns to trust people again.
Slowly but surely she lets you hold her, embrace her and all her past nightmares disappeared.
But then one day you tire of her.
Too much work.
Sure, she is a beautiful deer, but she's older now and you don't want to have to deal with responsibiity.
So you grow cruel to her, even through illnesses she has.
You lie to her, saying you love her while at the same time you are picking up a rifle to hunt other deer like her.
How can she believe she is special anymore when she is just one of many anonymous deer down the barrel of your gun.
You never took a gun to shoot her, but she felt the near fatal bullet of betrayal enter her heart over and over again.
She heard your lies.
The deer wants to say thank you for showing her the truth.
Hunters and deer should not mingle.
She has to flee from his lies for her own sanity
While he constructs more walls of justifications that perhaps he uses so often that he believes them
She hears that is rather common.
And a man who betrays the thing he claimed to love the most is quite a common man.
Nothing special there.
Still, the lesson learned is disturbing, even to her.
The poor deer may never be able to bring her defenses down ever sgain. How can she when every man she meets is secretly or outrightly wearing camoflauge...ready to hunt..and it could happen anywhere at any time.
Moral of the story:
Never trust hunters if you are a deer.
Current Mood: PTSD
13 September 2009 @ 09:31 pm
So many people think their purpose in life must be a grandiose one. That they must be a famous artist or actress. Become President or have enormous wealth..
They think their lives will be failures without this.
But really, our real purpose, The Creator's purpose for us, is to help one person. Just one person. And how much more special is it when we get to go home to the spirit world having helped more than one person?
So be happy with your own little corner of the earth and look at all the beautiful ways you can help it and the people, animals, and plants in it..from there you might even expand your horizons to help more people around you...
Be an angel here on earth in whatever way your heart calls you..
They think their lives will be failures without this.
But really, our real purpose, The Creator's purpose for us, is to help one person. Just one person. And how much more special is it when we get to go home to the spirit world having helped more than one person?
So be happy with your own little corner of the earth and look at all the beautiful ways you can help it and the people, animals, and plants in it..from there you might even expand your horizons to help more people around you...
Be an angel here on earth in whatever way your heart calls you..
Current Mood: 
cranky
cranky