Can You Imagine the Silence


a wonder of wonders spread before

a chorus of life lifting praise

a waft of beauty rampant in curling petals

lips, silent and learning, always learning

for speaking changes everything



Can You Imagine the Silence

if we knew the power of our words?

Ordering someone to “go to hell!”

What if we were opening the door,

pushing them through?

Or gossiping about another,

tearing them down,

insulting them from a safe distance,

making them sick or depressed

or increasing their illness?

You may laugh and say,

“that’s just silly,” …

but how do you know?

Words can fill with love,

or curse with hate.

Watch the other person,

when you tell them in person,

“you look like shit today.”

Watch the pain cross their face.

See the hurt lower their strength.

Watch them wilt like a dying flower…

right in front of you…

and then tell me… words have no power.



Dead Sea Scrolls

A Messianic Apocalypse

Fr. 7
… [the ear]th and all that is on it; and the sea [and all that is in it] and all the ponds of water and rivers who are doing good before the Lor[d] … … like those who curse and are (destined) for death [when] the Lifegiver will raise the dead of His people. And we will thank and proclaim to you the righteousness of the Lord, who …


The Terror



Do you feel the Terror

the deep darkness swirling

fingers of death pinching your soul

dragging you away from the light

howling for your flesh and will

Do you hear the Snare

the call of the wasted life

twisted into proud emptiness

grasping at your bright spirit

with claws and clubs of fear

tripping and ripping at your heart

Do you see the Pit

full of screams full of terror

echoes of hate and endless pain

slimed on the sides with cruelty

overflowing it reaches for you

void of light

void of hope

void of love


based loosely on Isaiah 24-17

Snagged by Thorns



like a voodoo doll, poking and stabbing

your friend one moment

your frenemy the next

the gossip shared behind another’s back

crushing, slicing through

with endless unknown effects


the Holiest mountain stands just out of reach

while you’re stuck below

snagged by thorns piercing everywhere

your mouth firmly rooted in jealousy

held in place by envious boulders

you never once noticed were there


beguiled into thinking you can climb

past the cruelty

past the unsympathetic crime

a devil of a feat to overcome

this shutting off of evil words

slaying your heart and soul for all time


where blackness is the least of magic

driving up from deep below

your mouth moving in a downward spell

the trick behind gossiping

is you thinking it’s harmless

raising the mountain above your own hell


Psalm 15 A Psalm of David.

LORD, who shall sojourn in Thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell upon Thy holy mountain?

He that hath no slander upon his tongue.


Technically, it’s the commandment stating, “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.” but it seems to get less attention than, thou shalt not murder or thou shalt not lie. But Yeshuah said, all sins are equal.  Like I always say, joking, when someone lies straight to my face and I know it… “You know, you go to hell for lying, same as you do for stealing and murder.”  Just my little way of reminding people… all the commandments are equal!

All demanded by GOD!

Not just one or two….

Oh so stubborn


Oh but he’s so stubborn

wanting to live outdoors

under no man but every man

living off the land

filled with garbage cans

dumpsters and oh ick

how can he eat that

he hasn’t showered

I can smell him from here

shooting the moon

hanging around all day

grazing as if he’s free

through the piles of ashtrays

rolling around

in God knows what

shooing away the flies

swirling in his swirling eyes

oh yes he chose this life

to be free

he chose this life


Maw of Darkness

Maw of Darkness


evil is nothingness

unable to nurture

a tainted void

a black hole of emptiness

echoing without a sound

even as it flees itself

gaping in the absence of light

an empty maw of darkness

truly it holds nothing

its arms cannot embrace

the nothingness it feels

just a deadly vacuum

of zero worth

multiplied to infinity



Please PRAY!

You can probably tell from my postings, I’m a little down today. And even though I have begged God to take care of my son, and Yeshuah has His greatest Archangel Michael protecting his life…

I am asking that you all, all 900 of you, say a prayer for my son Douglas. He truly needs every single prayer you can offer up. It’s been ten years now… ten years of watching my son slowly kill himself. There is no other way out of the darkness, other than with the Lord’s help!

I’ve been poised on the edge of hell for so long now, I can’t see a way out of the darkness anymore. It will take GOD to bring him back to me. Only God!

As some of you already know, I’m at the point of waiting for that horrifying phone call. We’ve tried repeatedly to get him help, but the evilness that has him in an iron grip, just won’t let go.

I thank you in advance, all of you who will pray.

And in return I pray none of you ever have to lose a child like this… cruelly, slowly, oh so painfully.

With tears streaming down my face, I beg of you… please PRAY!

Right now, with all your heart, please, please pray!

Thank you, with all my heart!

Drape Him in Angels

for tanya2

the love of a child is the greatest love of all

second only to the love I feel for The Lord

it has the ability to break my aching heart

into pieces of pain sliced up with a sword

yet life moves on in the severed silence

bringing me closer and closer towards hell

as moment by moment he slips further away

I’m watching his soul become a lifeless shell

forgive me Lord for despising the enemy

who gives him heroine and meth every day

for I know I may lose my very own soul

as I hate and I hate the evil blind way

they steal his life and chance at hope

as my heart screams out it’s so unfair

a century now he’s been lost and alone

years lost in darkness and blatant despair

yet I know You are watching him far below

holding out Your hand in a gesture of amore

but he’s still drowning in this evil and sorrow

please drape him in Angels to fight this war

The Darkness You Anoint

cacti with eyes 2

Lost in a dry desolate life

void of the gentle touch of kindness

tortured by thorns turned inward,

those you may see or not.

Tossed aside for its deeds

and ignorant actions

when you could teach love

instead of disdain

and shame and pain.

For it is you who cast them

into dust and hopelessness

suffering hate, failure and loss

greater than a broken heart

greater than a wounded soul

as they are forgotten and rejected

by all who pass by.

Stepping aside quickly

to avoid apathy and guilt

until these thorns you see pointing

a straight path to love

have grown weary and fall

into the darkness you anoint…

For each soul etched with rain

forms more thorns strengthened

with each drop of pain.

I’ve been browsing stories I wrote last year, to submit to a publisher, and came across this one… although its not what I needed, I thought you might enjoy it, in case you missed it the first time. :)

Behold Love!

I went in search of something, I wasn’t really sure what. I ended up at the top of mountain, sat down, leaned against a rock and thought; This is what God see’s, from His point of view. Every thing so tiny, colorful, yet we only see about 1% of the color spectrum, so I thought He must see even more glory. I inhaled slowly, inhaling the brisk, even the molds and damp grasses tickled my nose, the heather just starting to purple. I hear birds calling to me, and wonder what they say; go away, go away. My mind continues on, I let it ramble, ignoring all the junk in my life, down there. I’m above it, I think. Rise above it, I think, and look upwards naturally following my own thoughts.

I finally notice the glow nearby, off to my left, the clouds are almost burning. It startles me out of my mundane thoughts, and I begin to watch it closely. The white is blinding, yet yellows glow even brighter, just as a voice says to me, “I Am here.”

I nearly crack my head open, jerking back into the rock, the pain waking me to instant reality. In a tiny voice, I choke out, “Hello…Father.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

My heart has stopped beating, I’m gasping for air; I think I’m going to have a heart attack. Then my Father says, “Calm, child. Calm.”

I force myself to slow my breathing, feel my heart slowing down a tiny bit, then spit out foolishly, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” For some reason, I think if I’m going die, I better be ready. And this is the only line that pops into my head. I could swear I hear laughter. Deep, chuckling laughter, like my own biological Father would have sounded. It eases me a bit, pretending the voice is my own Father’s, putting my mind to rest that I may not be dying after all.  Hearing what I think is my biological father’s voice actually reassure’s me, even though he passed many years ago, and a part of me knows it’s not him. It doesn’t occur to me that he’s here to usher me on… instead it calms my nerves, perfectly.

My mind starts racing, I’m talking with God, what do I say, what do I want to ask Him? The one question I’ve always wanted to know, I ask, “How did you do all this?” I look at the valley below me, the mountain peaks still covered in snow, the rivers coming together like huge snakes meeting at the bend around a hill.

“I Am.” was all He said. Well, duh, I thought. I heard the laughter again, and smiled, knowing He had read my thoughts.

“Then why?”

“Why not?”

“Because… we’re idiots. We’re destroying it ALL.”

“I create moment by moment, second by second, eternity by eternity.”

“But why us?”

“Why not? Why the bee’s? Why the cougar? I have a grand imagination, just as you.”

I was getting frustrated. I don’t know what kind of answers I wanted or expected, but these were just not detailed enough. Staring into the bright yellow light for too long, I looked away to blink, the dot blocking my vision. When I looked back the clouds were swirling. The yellow was growing, churning, and getting larger. I looked West into the sun, realizing I needed to head down soon, or I’d be hiking in the dark. But how could I possibly leave as long as God was right here, talking to me like my next door neighbor? I know instantly, He will make sure I get home safely, so I relax a bit again, back against the rock, and think. 

I’d been reading this crazy conspiracy story yesterday about what actually happened after 9-11, and the scripture it kept referencing was Isaiah 9:7, so I asked Him, “Lord?”

“Yes, my child.”

“Is it true, what I read in that book yesterday, about the scripture of Isaiah?”

“The word is always true, when I give it.”

“Is the word in the Bible true? All of it?”

“True as they saw fit to write about it.”

“But was it Your Word?”

“It was inspired by My Word.”

“Well, what should we do: should we be Jewish, or Christian, or Catholic or Muslim or…..or what?”

“You should Be Love.”

“Do we have to believe in Jesus, to go to Heaven?” I know these were childish sounding questions, to even me, but I had to get as many questions in as possible, as I didn’t know how long I had to talk to God like this. My mind was racing, chasing every single thought I had ever had about God and Jesus around in circles in my brain. I placed my hand over my heart to calm it, hearing the word “Calm” again, this time inside my head.

“Do you believe in Me?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Do you understand what it means to be Holy?”

“Umm, pure, honest, good, loving, kind…” I answered in a half-hearted attempt. Because really, what does Holy mean? In my eyes growing up in a Christian based dousing of beliefs, no one had ever explained to me what Holy really was. The purest of pure … what?

“Holy means I AM. To be I AM you must Be Love. I AM HOLY LOVE.”

“You are pure love? That’s what I AM means? I thought it was ‘the all knowing being’ or something.” I smile along with His laughter again.

“You have more wisdom than you share.” Ouch, I got that. Ok, straighten up, ask proper questions, don’t anger Him whatever you do.

“So many other religions don’t believe in Jesus, are they wrong?” I asked.

“I have sent many Profits, Teachers, even Yeshuah to help you. Even He couldn’t make you see the Light.”

“Have you given up on us?” I started to pray in my head that He wouldn’t say no, then realized I was about to pray to Him, who was right here, and added, “Please don’t give up on us.”

“I Am.”

“Oh thank G… God. Thank You.” This is weird. Really tripping me out. I so want to pull out a cigarette, but think I will be struck by lightning if I do, so I wring my hands instead, cross my legs and sit up, preparing myself for what I really want to know.

“May I ask another question?”

“You may.”

“What am I supposed to be doing?”

“You already know, My child.”


“Exactly what your heart is telling you to do.”

“But what it’s telling me to do, is spread your Word, and I’m trying to do that. Don’t you want me to do anything else? Start a church; hold rallies; be a conduit for You to heal people; scream it from the mountain tops, what?”

“I want you to follow your heart, and Be Love.”

“But that’s so easy. I do that all the time.”

“Do you?”

I had to stop for a moment, and admit to myself, no, not always. Not even most of the time. But I had been trying. For several years now, I had been trying to find the truth about God and Yeshuah. Both… oh, now I know what I have to ask.

“Are you the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost? All three, yet One?” This answer alone could shock the world, if I were to repeat it. So I waited with out breathing for His answer.

“I AM HOLY! I AM LOVE! Do you understand?”

“Yes, sort of.”

“No matter the name you put to it, the teacher who teaches it, the follower who follows it, or the script you try to write about it, Love is truly all that matters.”

“So don’t waste my time on worshiping Yeshuah, just focus on You?”

“Yeshuah taught you to Love I Am First, did He not?”

“Yes, He did.”

“Is Yeshuah My Son?”

“Yes,” I answered. I truly believed He was. I could answer that honestly, because Yeshuah was the ONLY man in all of human history who had walked the Earth in pure love. Others had tried. Others had said they were, but they weren’t. For some reason, I have no idea what, but in my heart I truly believed this. He was special. Different from profits that have come and gone.

“Is the Holy Spirit my Word?”

“Yes.” I answered, half guessing this time, because I still believed they were three separate things.

“It is My Breath, My child. Yeshuah is My blood. So yes, We are I Am.” He stopped for a moment, and I stood up to draw a bit closer to the edge of the mountain, drawn to the light mesmerizing me, and sat at His feet, or what I thought were His feet.

“Was He the Truth, the Light, the Way?”

“Everything He taught was truth and light. His way is My Way.”

I felt very close to God at this point, sitting there looking up at Him. Or at His clouds, with fire in them. It didn’t matter what He looked like, I knew in my heart with out one single doubt that I was talking to God. So I asked him, like I might my own Father, “Are you disappointed in us?”

“I Am.”

At this point I wasn’t sure if He meant He was, or if He was saying again that He was Love. So I said, “Is it near the end?”

“Every second is an ending and a beginning. BE LOVE! HOLD LOVE! BEHOLD, LOVE! Every second of your life. Then your end will not matter or concern you.  There is no tomorrow. There is no yesterday. They are only in your imagination. There isn’t even ten minutes from now. There is only NOW. Every second of your life, Behold, Love.”

I paused here to think a minute, because I couldn’t get that nagging book out of my mind, so I asked Him again, “So like in that Isaiah scripture, that matches up so nicely to current events, and the Judgment you brought against them, will that happen here in the US? Have we removed You from our nation? Denied You repeatedly? Are we facing Your Judgment right now, just like they did?”

“You are one second away from all Eternity, every second of the day. Your Judgment will come when you stand before Me.”

“But have we angered You? Have we pushed You away so far, we face Your Judgment now, like in the scripture, ‘You remove the wedge of safety, You let the terrorists in, through the wall.’ Our leaders have stood and quoted that scripture, like morons, NEVER KNOWING the whole story behind it, and how each time they said WE WILL REBUILD they were only defying YOU! Repeatedly copying that scripture to the letter; they replaced the debris with a new cornerstone, the Sycamore/Fig tree was ripped up from the roots, and then they actually planted a Conifer tree in that same spot, just like a cedar, defying You again! Not once knowing they were fulfilling that ancient scripture. I just can’t believe we’re safe from Your Judgment after they vowed repeatedly to defy YOU, knowing our leaving You is our real problem, and so we did what just they did. Rebuilt higher walls, keep doing the evil shit we’re doing, and blaming it on terrorism.”

“I Am. If there is but one of you left, after the chaos you have wrought that Loves, My Mercy will cover you.”

“So individually, if we don’t believe as some do in the US, in greed, and hate, and murder, we’ll be fine.”

“If you Love, in ALL that you do, you will become love. As you become love, you become Holy. As you become Holy, you become I Am.”

“What if we don’t?”

“When you stand before Me, you will have all eternity to think about it.”

I laughed at that, and heard Him chuckle again. God had a sense of humor. He was not only pure love, but He laughed. That alone made me feel so safe and secure. Why, I don’t really know, except that I had an odd sense of humor myself, so maybe I was just relating to it. Or God actually was like my Father. So caring, so forgiving, so very loving.

I AM His child. I may be half way through my human life, but in His eyes, just like my biological Father’s, I will always be His child.

“Thank you SO much God, for all that You do for me … daily, minute by minute, I can’t even begin to thank You enough.”

“I know. I Am. Now go write a new script about Love. Be love. And know I will always Love you!”

“Yes, Father. Will You give me the Words?”

“I always do.”

I laughed again, tears eking out the corners of my eyes. I felt so good inside, I wanted to stay for ever just chatting with God, but He said, “You must go, or I will have to carry you… again.”

I laughed again, just couldn’t quit grinning up at God, just sat there basking in this wonderful overflowing Love for a minute or two. Finally I signed and asked, “You’ve been carrying me for years, and years. I hope You have one of those back braces, or something?”

“I’ve held worlds in My Hands; you, My child, are like a butterfly’s kiss. A precious butterfly I cherish.”

I stood up brushing off my pants, and smiled hugely up at the clouds, and said as I slowly backed away, just like I always do to my own sons as they head out the door, “Love you SO much.”

God answered, “Love you more.”


~~~~Scripture referenced is Isaiah 9:7 to 9:11 Quoted from Qumran Isaiah Scroll:

(7) The Lord sent a word upon Jacob and it fell in Israel. (8) And the people know, all of them, Ephraim and the inhabitants of Samaria in the pride and largeness of heart saying: (9) The bricks are fallen but with hewn stones we will build. The fig trees are cut down but we will change them to cedars. (10) And YHVH will set on high the enemies of Rezin against him and his foes. He will gather together (11) Syrians from the east and the Philistines behind and they shall eat up Israel with open mouth.  For all this His anger is not recalled but His hand is still outstretched.

the brume

the brume:

He chose the shallow shadows swirling crushing gripping his soul and in one jolt of electric pain

the shattering sound of hope exploded in my heart.

Twelve days of Christmas joy thrown to the dogs of hell

chasing him all the way down a road with no end in sight.

I hear the demons hot laughter as burning incessant insistent fire

rages through his rotting bones in a torrid expansion of desire.

My tears chase him exhausted blistering at the edge of a pit that no hand can grip

without scorching the flesh dragging all who try to ruin.

I see the murk like the slime of a thousand slugs dripping across his path

as he slips and falls and his will flails.

A nebula of gloom and dusk clouds over his clear eyes

like the brume of erebus blinding him from the light

binding him once again in the darkness known only as

pure unadulterated evil.

Please pray one and all…


climbing the walls

enduring the pain

he’s trying again

just like the rain

he wants to come back

suffering through it all

drenched in doubt

curled into a ball

up to day four

counting minutes past

the dark holding on

clinging to the last

drop of his strength

still reaching for light

sick and worn out

still trying to fight

the evil that has held

his life in endless hell

please pray one and all

he’ll soon be well

(… and make it this time …)


No Matter the Reason



standing alone in a cold brisk wind

shivering beneath the clouds

a wave of shimmering snow falls

as they moan barely holding on

trying to stay warm

under a blanket of avoidance

with no one noticing them

as they pass by without

saying a word or kind thought

struggling every single minute

their world shattered

by indifference and disregard

yet we all know deep down

they shouldn’t be there

no matter the reason or way

still we pass by over and over

never once with true compassion

in our hearts

With the Dawn


With the Dawn


after months of nothing

no call no word

a Mother sinks in darkness

worried sick

nothing at all to do

only fear rearing in ugliness

then panic sets in

as she gazes at a notice

about a foot and a shoe

the only found remains

floating silently adrift

cresting above the blue

the authorities baffled

as she reads the news

filled with heart stopping despair

making call after call

reaching out to everyone

blocking the passage of air

she prays through the night

her God her only hope

fearing the worst come true

a friend searched relentless

until in the wee hours

his call finally comes through

he’s fine or at least alive

still drug addicted and lost

as his life in darkness goes on

yet once again he wants to try

he says can I come home Mom

as his Mother weeps with the dawn

Reality vs. Riding the Train

When they say “Leave the driving to us,” they intentionally leave out the rest. Or maybe that’s the catchy phrase for the Greyhound bus service, not sure, but it fits nicely to the Amtrak train ride from hell. I can completely relate to the old term, “Hell on wheels.” 

I listen to a guitar picker playing “Yes, we have no bananas,” at least 15 times, I lost count after 9. I can’t sit in my seat any longer, the perfume thick as thieves is choking me. So I’m stuck hanging out in the dining car after the bar closed the first night. Hungry, sober, tired and bored, book finished… now what? I plug in my laptop and play Spider Solitaire ‘til my eyes meet the Jack’s, only stopping when I begin to have feelings for him.

Another hour or so until the next cigarette stop. This is where we stop in some deserted town, everyone scrambles outside, to stand in the cold foggy mist at least 30 paces from the doors. I don’t know where, don’t care, just stop…please let me out.

This was only the beginning of the 36 hours of almost continual hell punctuated by two hours of humor and 34 hours of nasty smells. The re-circulated air of 200 people should be illegal. I can’t get comfortable, seats are straight up church pews, for the money I paid to let them drive for me, they should be Lazy-boy recliners.

Fast forward 6 hours and the conductor says over the intercom, “We apologize for the inconvenience, but the dining car bathroom is plugged up,” to which I leave the dining car area and head for the other end of the mile long train. The aroma wafting throughout chases me mercilessly and could kill a bull elephant.

3 minute cigarette break in the middle of Los Angeles, aaah… fresh air.

I purchase a bottle of water for a mere $3.50, then contemplate the same amount for a bag of chips, or $9.00 for a slimy Italian sandwich from a vending machine. I choose the sandwich, much to my dismay. The sideways rocking of the train makes me want to hurl said sandwich within minutes of finishing it.

The view out the window of Honey Boo-Boo houses on one side, or cardboard condominiums and rotting sofa’s upside down for shelter on the other, has me saying a quick prayer to God that we don’t break down. I realize a lot of America is being left behind and ignored.

The sun finally comes up and I watch the poor Mexicans bent over in the fields, picking corn rows of chard and kale for one last paycheck of a whopping $25.00 for a week’s worth of back breaking work in the hot baking sun, and think about how they must be taking all the jobs from hard working Americans before they dare to be added to the welfare line for winter. How dare they do work we, Americans, would never once consider doing. We need to build a taller wall! (That was pure sarcasm in case you didn’t pick up on that!)

I strike up a conversation with a teenage boy who says, “This is nothing like in the movies!” Really? Does he honestly believe life is ever like it is in movies? We need to teach our children better than this, as I watch him dreaming of the cute girl 2 rows up: where’s the magic, he wonders?

I wonder too, until night has come again and I’m getting drunk in the bar car. This hot guy, at least 20 years younger than I am, slides in next to me in my booth and starts groping me. He obviously has a thing for wrinkles… from head to toe. Tells me he wants to rendezvous in the bathroom, right before I accidently spill my drink in his crotch. Damn, now I have to go buy another $10.00 watered down drink. But at least he sets sail for some other hot grandmother.

I end up sitting across from this crazy homeless looking dude, who keeps offering me his peanut butter sandwiches. I realize after 8 more hours, he’s totally cool, even if he is a bit smelly, so I keep to my side of the booth. He is homeless on purpose and is a traveling Minister for his church. He walked from Seattle to San Diego before and is planning on walking back this trip. He spends his time living in a tent and trying to help the homeless find God. We spend hours in the dining car, while he plays beautiful Christian songs on his guitar, which seems to be pretty common on train rides. We get to know each other, talk about everything from God to my adorable sandals, which I stupidly wore not realizing it would still be cold in California in December. Silly me, as my toes are now hypothermic; I thought I was going to hit the beach and catch a tan. I totally forgot I was not in Hawaii when I packed. Also forgot a blanket, a pillow and head phones for my laptop. Not to mention my swimmers nose plug! That would’ve come in handy!

My advice to you, use the same $500.00 you end up spending on the train and fly! Not only do you get back 30 hours of your life, but you might get a friendly pat down and probe from the NSA! All of which would be better than riding the Amtrak!


She could text as she walked, without looking up. Bubblegum lip-gloss sparkling in the sun. Her soft boots crunched in the gravel. The only sound other than a soft ‘swoosh’ each time her legs brushed against each other.

Her fear rose with each step. Dread her only friend as she made her way to the back of the line. Rounded shoulders arching up, head down she stares intently at her phone.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” A voice quiet, yet startlingly cruel. She looks up into eyes that match his dark tie and striped suit. Turn around, so I can strangle you with that tie. She lowers her head once more. The line moves a foot.

A bouncing ponytail swings by. A giggle, a dangle of bracelets tinkles. “Probably her second time through the line,” is shot over a departing shoulder. Another loud giggle. The line moves a foot, then a half. She types, “I hope Kara’s ponytail gets caught in a wood chipper.” Sends it to herself.

Black Nike’s with orange stripes slowly turn. “Hey Desiree, whatcha doin’ here?” She knows that voice, knows what’s coming. Still, she looks up into pretty green eyes. “Same thing as you, Mikey.” A low snicker. An elbow to his friend. She waits for it. Pretends to read her new message. The Nike’s turn, the line shuffles forward. “Yeah, but we need to be here.” It never ends, on and on. She pictures him in a hideous car accident, types, “I hate you all.” Sends it to herself.

She slides her tray along the rails. The line moves. She tucks her phone in her pocket. She hates salad. Looks at the pizza. Picks up a salad, a packet of dressing, places it on the tray. A carton of milk. She wants a soda. Takes a straw. Looks at the chocolate cake. Looks at the apple pie. Takes an apple.

She weighed herself this morning, she was at 150 lbs. She’d lost 20 lbs. in the last month. She googled the average weight for women in the US, it was 156 lbs. She smiles, but it only lasted until first period when she heard Sara say behind her hand, “Ya want us to push two seats together for ya?”

She walks through the doors, and sits outside by a tree. Stares at the birds pecking for worms. Thinks about the Alfred Hitchcock movie she watched last night, The Birds, and wishes they were all worms.

At the end of the day she stands on the curb, waiting for the city bus. The birds are singing now. The sky is blue. She knows her bus isn’t due for 10 more minutes, but she watches the cars and trucks blast past her at 45 mph., as she listens to four other students sitting on the hillside behind the bus stop. One says, “Hey Desiree,” as two giggle. She waits for it, doesn’t bother to look. “HEY Desiree, wanna go out sometime?” All four laugh out loud, still she waits without turning. “HEY DESIREE, I SAID, ya wanna go out some time? I can use my Dad’s Tow Truck!” All four laugh louder now, elbow each other, so proud of their wit.

She sends one more text, this one to her Mom at work. It says: I love you. She looks to her left, and turns slowly to look at the four laughing on the hillside. She smiles once more, looking directly at each one, her eyes shining with tears, and steps backwards off the curb. 

A huge box van hits her less than a second later.

No Matter the Darkness

Boring people to tears on a Sunday

I never really wanted to be a preacher

I’d rather be a happy camper example

much like a bubbly first grade teacher.

Filled with love and great joy each day

passing along my happiness and cheer

bouncing around the room like colors

of a rainbow splashed across a mirror.

When I write the truth I smile inside

filled with a sweet holiness to bursting

trying to pass on to those missing out

who plainly to me I see are thirsting.

But this wall they place firmly around

not only blocks out my flowing love

but they don’t see how it isolates them

in a bubble of loneliness also from above.

They don’t need any silly beliefs or faith

they continue to say they’re fine this way

they’ve got money, a nice house and car

a good job, a family and their friends all say,

they’re a nice person just leave them alone

they passed on their useless fortune instead

giving the only thing they thought worthy

then died and were buried with few tears shed.

They passed on nothing of real true value

they left behind an empty cold shell

not realizing their selfishness and determination

would lead them in the end to a cold dead hell.

Sadly they never know that this is not all

they will end at this moment in rotting bugs

when instead they could’ve made one last climb

to spend eternity filled with love and hugs.

They were so sure that this was all there was

just this short 100 years of painful existence

having no idea it was just a short test

to prove they were worthy of God’s Presence.

So each day I continue to shine my light

no matter the darkness I run into each day

my rainbow colors sparkling across the sky

I reach out reflecting in a warm array.

Hoping to teach and reach just one person

my quota low in 5 billion souls unconscious

knowing if I shine bright enough I might save them

from their final death, already paid for by Jesus.

This I Know

This I Know



At the age of five or six my Father held my tiny hand

through terrifying incest and nights of unholy unrest,

even then as small as I was I knew He had a plan

if only I could rise above this evil disgusting quest.

Then again in my twenties due to decisions I had made

I found myself beaten to a pulp and barely hanging on,

reached out and found His hand upon my soul He laid

I walked away from this man no longer his stupid pawn.

Guilt filled me that time as I broke the most solemn vow

hurting my soul inside my faith tested deeper still,

I could hear His whisper through the hell even then

He reassured me sincerely this would never be His will.

Half a century later now walking on this hard worn path

twisting and turning away as I spread seeds trying to sow,

not once have I incurred the tiniest bit of my Father’s wrath

He’s held my hand since the day I sang…

“Jesus loves me this I know.”

Kissing Kits

one will let me kiss his nose

but its always cold with dripping snot

he sneezes regularly, something

I gave him in a revengeful plot

across my cheeks vowing love

one will rub his nose to mine

showing his love in the same way

he sits at 4 am with a howling whine

then there’s one who turns his head

away each time I try for a kiss

he’d rather snuggle under my chin

or hide behind the couch for a piss

so that leaves just one who will

out of the devoted Fantastic Four

she loves to lick me after licking her ass

and will soon be headed out the door

(There ya go Doc, the Fantastic Four rise again! lol)



horses hooves will pound

a ghostly mane will swirl and shiver

as He rises up, thunder crashes

lightning strikes illuminating

darkness like a sun

leading a legion across a range

storming up hill and down

over oceans and canyons

while beasts paw at the sky

roaring vengeance against beasts

a herd of mighty cavalry bolting

pealing, rising out of Calvary

pursuing torment at a gallop

a steed of judgment mounted

driven with scarred hands

wielding a mighty sword slashing

blood spraying pure white

commanding a host to the end

a stampeding herd of righteousness

hurtling power let loose at last

soon, neigh, very soon

Up and Down

Up was when his brother showed up

and they hugged each other tight

the first time they had done this

in a very long time last night.

Down was when his brother bought

him chips and soda’s to graze on

not realizing this would accent

his regular trips to pawn.

Up was when he happily said

he applied for a job in town

his hopeful voice from one person

who didn’t turn him down.

Down was when he woke up

angry and climbing the walls

screaming for no apparent reason

just serious painful withdrawals.

Up was when he said I love you

and heard the same from his brother

something he usually only hears

from his crazy cat lady mother.

Down was when he couldn’t stop

himself from leaving and I knew

he was heading back to the misery

and horror he’s grown so used to.


it was a tough week folks

sorry I can’t write anything positive today

may God Bless You All with children

who never ever try meth!

At the Edge

he walked such a dark road

sinking in isolation

dense with disappointment

falling towards the rift

at the edge of his life

every day closer to death

emptiness and pain

his only friends

his life meaningless

sad, lonely, barren

yet one day a torn voice

pleaded for protection

guidance, love, help

strength, truth, hope

and on this same day

amidst pain wracking

knee deep in horror

surrounded by wickedness

a bright light

softly lifted him

wrapped him gently in love

a sword now drawn

holding off the vicious beast

as the real battle

just began to rage wildly

holding tightly

but he glanced just once

looking into the light

and clutched with longing

turning down a side road

for now

tirelessly and patiently

endlessly held

by the greatest warrior

the Archangel Michael

When I say…

Michael is my warrior friend, watching over my lost son, I am not lying.  I have felt very unsettled all week, which believe it or not I rarely worry about my son, because I have given him and his addiction to God and Yeshuah to take care of.  If I hadn’t I would’ve sunk under the weight of despair.  I’ve done all I can, and after I originally prayed and gave the problem to God, I was filled with peace and the worry just left my mind.  Thoughts of my son are always hovering close by, but really, I don’t worry or even think about it for long periods of time, long like weeks.

So last night when I went to bed around 10, after putting in 36 hours in three days at work, I thought I would sleep like a log.  But I didn’t. I tossed and turned, and thoughts of my son plagued my dreams.  I woke up this morning with the worst nightmare still playing in my mind, someone had shot my son and thrown his body in the river, and would never be found.  Probably the worst dream a mother can have…..but typical of the types of dreams I have, the kind of horrific nightmares I’ve had all my life.

I sat up in bed and said a quick prayer, my usual, which isn’t full of bullshit, but short and to the point, because I really don’t think God, the Holy Spirit or Yeshuah want to hear us ramble on and on, listing out every single praise we can imagine, going on and on about how wonderful they are.  I really don’t.  So my prayers usually go something like this:

“God, please continue to watch over my boys.  I know you will, you are always so good to me.  Yeshuah, please keep your minions of angels watching Douglas, and Michael, I know you must have been working hard last night, so thank you again for taking care of him.  Thank you for all my blessings, Father, I love you!”

That was it, and then I got up and went into the kitchen, nuked some water for my coffee, and then sat on my couch to boot up my laptop.  Before it booted up, my son called me and said,

“Mom, I’m in Issaquah and catching the bus, can you pick me up at 9am?”

I said “ok.”  He hung up and I thanked God for several minutes, with many heartfelt deep praises.

I picked him up and brought him home, and after I said to myself out loud again, ‘God you are so good to me’, he turned to me and said,

Yes He is.  Mom, I thought I was gonna get shot last night….” and went on to describe an event that scared him so much he took off on the last bus to Issaquah and then slept behind the Target to wait until morning… to come home.

Michael, my warrior friend, once again saved my son.  As a mother, or father, or even adoptive parent, this scenario seems like it’s what was on the TV last night, and you may think to yourself, this kind of thing will never happen to my children, I won’t let it!  But, let me tell you, it does happen.  It happens without your consent, and when you sit and think about it nonstop as it’s happening and ruining their lives, it will rip you to shreds if you don’t have the strength to handle it.  I tend to think God knows I’ve become a strong woman over the years, and can handle this, but even to me THIS is devastating.  To me, my heart, and my son.

So when I say, God is SO GOOD TO ME….I MEAN IT!

And my greatest wish for any of you out there, who don’t have faith, is that someday soon the light streams into your heart and fills you with the LOVE and JOY I have in my life.  EVEN while surrounded in darkness…the LIGHT shines through and I feel the Glory.


Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my younger son, too…

Just in completely different ways.  You all know he’s addicted to meth and lives on the streets of Seattle most days, or with friends he makes and shares a floor or campsite with.

But I don’t mention his heart often enough, and I want you all to know I’m proud of him because he has a heart of gold.  He cares about his friends, tries to help them whenever they ask, and has given up food, clothes and sleeping bags, tents, whatever he has if they need it, he’ll give it.

I’m proud that he hasn’t given up yet, and continually tries to keep a job, and find a way out.

He’s strong, strong willed, and a determined young man, who has been destroyed physically day by day by meth.  He can’t stop, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he has a good soul.

The meth is slowly going to kill him; I know this, and so does he, but even as it takes its toll, he continues to try to fight it, and will go for days and days without it, fighting it with everything he has.

Its just a heinous drug, that no one I’ve ever met can walk away from.  Its a huge problem here in Washington, with people making it and giving it to minors….like my son.  He was just 12 when first exposed to it, and became addicted around the time he was about 16 or so.

What most of you don’t know, is he was only 3 lbs when he was born prematurely, and took several years to catch up.  He was then told repeatedly that he was ADHD, and like a stupid sheep, I tried to put him on Ritalin and some other generic drugs like Ritalin, as we tried to find a correct helpful dose.  Ritalin is basically just speed, and was supposed to help him but didn’t; instead they drugged him out so bad he couldn’t function.  This only lasted a year or two before I refused to medicate him anymore, and began to realize that these drugs were nothing more than pharmaceutical high grade speed. 

The schools were horrible about it, demanding I place him on them, and began to label him a problem child, rather than try to help him.  This labeling followed him through school, and continually made him feel like shit!  He hated school, and I understood perfectly why.  They put him down daily, both teachers and principals.  And that is no way to help a child.  And since his school days, he has always felt that the world was against him.  His childhood was very difficult for him, and scars him to this day.

I truly believe these drugs are worse than being hyper, I think they even altered his brain, giving him this addictive personality, which of course made him crave speed.  Meth is the epitome of speed.

So take my word for it, people, if your child is ADD or ADHD, IGNORE the doctors, and find a natural way to slow them down.  For once they take speed as a child, they crave it the rest of their life.  At least this has been my experience!!!  And I can literally list off at least 10 of my friends who are and have been addicted to it from the first time they tried it, God help them all. 

He’s fearless when it comes to survival, and I thank God we went camping when he was a child, because he learned valuable skills from that, about surviving in the wild, which is much like living on the streets or camping out near a river.  He has survived more horror than I can say here, and deep down still believes in God, which tells me he just may make it.  If anyone can walk away from Meth, and continue on in life, I say, “well done!”  “you the man or woman!”  Because it takes more guts and deep willpower to walk away from, than anything else on this Earth. 

No other drug is as destructive to the brain and body as Meth….and no other drug is as addictive. 

So don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of him for who he is, not what he’s addicted to, and never what the drugs make him do to survive; but the love that is always there rooted deep inside him for others, that I am very proud of. 

One day, I pray, he will make it.  I’m proud to know he’s managed to survive this horror for 7 years, and I will celebrate endlessly on the day he can finally say, “I’m clean.”

Until then, keep praying my friends, each voice reaches God, and each day he survives, is one more day he has to change his life. 


looking back


not really lost but wandering in circles

confused as if in a maze

taking on the world alone

filled with a darkened haze

up hills across valleys over yonder

and in between

rivers cutting oceans raging crashing

into mountain green

waiting to breathe staring into distance

wistfully looking back

not knowing how to change things

or take a new tack

a heart of love, injured soul in pain

the world casts away

a vicious cycle of highs and lows

a hurt spirit gone astray

young and innocent curiously pushed

then pressured into hell

by evil adults and addicted children

the truth they forget to tell

it will hurt no more than right now

if you just walk away

you are not alone while facing it

but will suffer alone many a day

fallen through the cracks for a time

shamed into enduring it since

still there is hope for a future life

look up and scale that fence

a personal update, for those who were kind enough to pray for my son:


(this tree has been falling for many years, stretching half way across the river already, it’s roots must go really deep! I call it Douglas 😉 )

First I want to thank you all immensely, for prayer does work.  Although he is still in the same situation, once again he has called home to inform me he is alive.  He had broken his foot a while back and was suffering through the pain for weeks on end, before he recently had surgery to fix it, and is now healing nicely.

His teeth are still a major source of pain for him, not only is the meth destroying them, quickly rotting more than one at a time, but he grinds his teeth at night during his intermittent withdrawals.  He has broken a couple off, and is in constant pain.

He is struggling to keep a job, a part time minimum wage job, but he is trying. 

He’s been trying to walk away from the meth on his own for a couple years now, and can’t do it.  I keep trying to get him into a rehab, but there are NO medications to help someone get off meth.  All they can do is give him pain killers, which he will eventually be addicted to also, and watch to make sure he doesn’t have a heart attack.  That’s about it.

If ANYONE out there knows of a way to wean someone off meth, please PLEASE CONTACT ME IMMEDIATELY!

So I thank you for your prayers, I know he’s safe for the moment and not lying dead in an alleyway somewhere, and let me tell you, this is great news for me.  My joy level has risen to new heights, and my peace level is right behind it.  These last few months were beginning to nag at me; he usually checks in each month.

So I also want to apologize for any RANTS and RAVINGS I may have made, I was clearly on edge.  Most of what I’ve posted today though is on some VERY important topics, and if I was ranting on those, I do NOT apologize one bit.  lol  some things deserve a good ripping into and exposing!! 

Most importantly for me, please continue to pray for my son Douglas when you have time or even just once now… for Michael to protect him with his mighty sword, and for Yeshuah (Jesus)to lead him to a place of peace.  I also add in for Yeshuah to give him strength too, for what he faces each day is horrifying, granted he made the decisions in the beginning, but he is long past that point.  The meth rules his life now…so your prayers to help him walk away from it once and for good…are still desperately needed.

thanks all, and that is enough writing for me for one day!!! 

have a glorious day ya’ll!  Bless just one person! 🙂

Without Humanity!


I woke up in the morning to wispy clouds

but soon saw the intruder,

spewing his arrogance and greed clearly

as the evil dumping deluder.

In one path he spews our destruction

yet no one seems to care,

his thoughtless un-planning un-knowing

become my repeated nightmare.


Then another strip of life killing chemicals

is spread in an unchallenged dare,

by our own military ordered to comply

as an alien pauses midair.

Does he wonder just how stupid we are

or why we poison our own skies,

or does he wait for the day when no humans

are left to fill us with lies.


The sky clouds over as another shoots up

spraying a third layer of hell,

does the pilot look down with evil also

filling his empty soulless shell.


By ten a.m. the fourth arrives blazing

a trail of sun blocking death,

weaving the blanket to suffocate us all

ending our era in the twentieth.


Today I woke up to a hazy sky

almost glittering in a corrupt lethal way,

an overcast of death and destruction

falling on our only home in toxic foreplay.

Our children the last generation to exist

they decided for us its over already,

only the evil will hoard and kill to survive

to carry on without humanity!


1 blue jay stellar

(not my picture, googled)



She was young, had her whole life ahead of her. But on that day, as she walked home the 5 miles from school, rather than be made fun of on the bus, she made a decision. She’d been thinking about it for weeks. Just ending it all. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had two miles to go, before she had to walk through that door one more time and endure it, again. Then she would go to her room, and slash her wrists all the way through this time. She was done. He wouldn’t stop; her mother didn’t care: she was done. Fuck that, she decided right then, as she stumbled over a tuft of grass; kicking at it…I’ll just go in the garage and get the box cutter, maybe head down to the river instead. Fuck him. Fuck this life. I swear, God, I’m done. You will just have to forgive me, like Sarah says you always do. Course, she also said we aren’t supposed to kill. It’s one of the biggies, so shit, fuck it!

She walked on slowly in the grass along side the road, head down, shoulders drooping, backpack hanging from the strap she held in her right hand. No thumb out to hitchhike, she just trudged on, slowly, hoping he was at the store or something. Anywhere but at home. She wanted to do it in her bedroom, where no one would see. But if he was home and she walked in, he would corner her within minutes. Her mother was at work, and still refused to believe he would ever harm her daughter. He was such a good liar. Smooth, like rotting butter.

She had tried to talk to the counselor at school, but he was too busy to listen, and she couldn’t get the words out before he lost patience and made her leave, taking a call and shooing her out, saying, “Come see me tomorrow when I’m not swamped, we can talk then.” But the second time she got up the nerve to go, he was in a meeting with an office supplier.

She didn’t know she could just walk into a church, and talk to someone; she’d never been to a church.

Crossing over the bridge she stopped to look at the water, thinking, I could just jump in, and wait to hit my head on a rock, or wait until I freeze to death. brrr, no, I’ll sneak in and get the box cutter.

Taking a deep breath she sighed deeply, then turned and started walking again. She walked to her right, staying in the grass, to go around a large long area of gravel along the road, where cars pulled off to park. She was glad she had her sunglasses on, because it was bright out, even though it was overcast. She also hoped they hid her identity. The kids at school didn’t like her much, her only friend being Sarah, but even she wouldn’t miss her when she was gone. She’d just hang out with Terry instead. She’d hated having to go to a new school half way through the year. Everyone had already ‘friended up’, and she was left out completely. She felt like a bug; ignored completely unless you crawl on a prissy girl, and then they stomp all over you.

She was too ordinary; nothing at all exciting about her.  Brown hair, brown eyes, only pretty when she smiled, not too skinny, not fat, not too smart, not stupid; just enough of everything to disappear.  She was the paint, the woodwork, the peeling rubber around the  windows.  Only special, well not even special just necessary, when she got home.  And that was only for about 5 minutes of the worst hell imaginable, then it was back to being ignored.

She truly hated life.  Hated being alive.  It had sunk deep into her soul, this hate she felt.  It was the only emotion she’d developed into a stronger emotion than the others.  The others weren’t used.  Just this one had begun to take over, fill her up, and ruin her young life.  Filled her like dirt, in a grave.  All around.  That’s what she wanted.  That filling.  Something other than hate.

As she walked she gazed at the ground, rarely looking up until she heard a loud bird call. Like a really big crow, only it wasn’t a crow sound. She stopped walking and looked up, searching for the bird until she spotted it just as it called again. It was a dark Stellar Jay, with a black head and shining silvery blue body. It ruffled it’s feathers, cleaning under a wing stretched out, then sat up and looked directly at her, and called again, “yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup.” With each “yup” sound, it’s tail would flick around, like it was straining to call to her.

She watched it for a minute, fascinated by it’s colors, wondering why it was a dull gray on it’s head, but it’s body was spectacular.  Shiny almost, the bright blue reflecting in the sunlight was on fire, if fire was ever blue.  She sighed, the moment over and began to walk on.

“Wait!”  A voice called to her.  For a second she was so startled she thought the bird had said it, but then her brain kicked in and she realized it was human.  Turning around she froze as a gorgeous guy on a bicycle pulled up, panting slightly.  Damn, she thought!  Might be my lucky day after all.  She smiled up at him, and asked,


He inhaled deeply a few times, then said,

Are you Kale?”  She immediately tensed up, waiting for the punch-line that usually followed after she said yes; ‘I’ve got some dressing for you!’  Ha Ha Ha!  But this guy was smiling so nicely she didn’t get that dreaded feeling, so she said,

Yes.”   He un-straddled his bike and leaned it against the tree before bending over and stretching a bit.  He said,

I’m Jacob.  Sorry, but my back is sore from practice yesterday and I was haulin’.”  She stood there awkwardly, wondering what the heck to do, finally saying,

Ok then, well, take care.”  She started to leave but he said,

“No wait.  I need to talk to you.  I know this is weird, but I have to ask you something.”  He painfully lowered himself to the ground, and said, “Have a seat, OK?  For just a sec.”

She felt bad that he was in pain, and after a second, sat down a few feet away, looking up at the bird, who was completely silent now; just watching her.  Jacob said,

Have you ever been to church?”

No,” she answered.

Would you come with me to mine?”

Why, I don’t even know you.”

Because I ‘m asking you to.”  He looked at her sheepishly, and said, “Ok, so here’s the thing.  I was praying a while ago, and a noisy ass bird,” he also looked up at the bird now, and grinned at her before going on, “kept bothering me while I was praying.  I have strong beliefs in God, and Jesus, and I pray each day for strength, for others, stuff like that.  Anyway, this bird kept calling out, got closer and closer to me as I was sitting on our deck, and just wouldn’t shut up.”

Kale smiled and said,

He says ‘Yup’,  I know, it’s too funny.”  Jacob smiled back, and said,

That’s not all he says.”  Jacob had finally caught his breath, and leaned towards Kale and said, “Do you believe in miracles?”

NO!” Kale spit out harshly.  But then she smiled, because Jacob was smiling hugely and said,

Well, I do.  ‘Cause a biggy happened just now.  I don’t know for sure, I may just be losing my freaking mind, but that stupid bird told me to come find you today.  Nagged at me for half an hour, until I finally gave up and came looking for you.”

Right.  You’re loosing you’re mind.  You need serious help.”

No…you do.”  Jacob said, seriously, with the sadness in his eyes making her feel like he pitied her, and making her skin crawl.  She wanted to jump up and run home right now, to escape him, but what was at home was worse.  And at this moment it was the last place she ever wanted to go.  Her head dropped, so he couldn’t see her eyes anymore, and she sagged visibly.

“I kid you not Kale, I was praying to God to show me who to help today, and the bird went nuts, said repeatedly: Help, help, help, Kale, Kale, Kale, Now, now, now; then after he nagged non stop at me, calling out Now over and over again, he hopped over to my bike and sat on the seat.”  She was looking up at him now, through her hair.

“I looked up at God and said, ‘ok, this is a new one, but ok.’ and got on my bike.  See, Jesus says if you help others, it makes you feel good inside.  It’s like, leading others to Jesus Christ is what we are supposed to be doing, and when we do we are so-o-o blessed we feel great, and good things happen to us.  So I try to ask God to send me one person a day to help.  It’s my little bit to help, until I’m on my own and can start missionary work.”

“So anyway, I followed the bird here, and here you are.  The only person on the planet named Kale, I think.” he smiled hugely.  And then added, “So how can I help you Kale?  I really mean that.”

She couldn’t think of one thing to say, and said quietly,

“No one can help me.”

“Oh but you’re wrong.  God can.  And I will try my best.  Whatever you need right now, or later, or whenever, if I can help you I’m here to help.”  She almost wanted to cry, he was so nice, but she couldn’t loose it in front of him, he was too cute.  And if this turned out to be a joke, she knew she would be the butt of it.  She had too much pride to let that happen, and decided she had better go.  She stood up and said,

“Thanks for the offer, but no.  I gotta go.”  Jacob could feel her sadness and despair; she reeked of disappointment and pain.  He stood up quickly and said,

“Wait.  Please, just come with me to church, just this once, right now, and see what you think.  What do you have to loose?  If no one can help you, then going home isn’t going to make it better, right?”

“Yea.”  She stood there thinking, really, why should I go home?  If this doesn’t work out, maybe I won’t ever go home again.  Ok, so why not.  This guy is so cute, what can it hurt to spend a few hours alone with him?  She decided, why not, and said, “OK, why not.”

He smiled hugely and said, “Lets walk, my back is killing me.”  Then he reached into his pocket and got his phone out and called someone and said, “Yea, it’s Jacob.  Have you got the pickup?” He paused to listen and said, “I’m on West, can you give us a lift to the church, I have my bike but my back is killing me.”  He waited for an answer, and then added, “Great.  Thanks, you’ll see us walking.”  He turned to Kale and said, “Michael’s coming to pick us up.  I’m sorry, but I can’t hardly walk right, I pulled a muscle or something.”  She smiled and said,

“And yet you still rode here to see me.  You’re a strange one.”

“Not really.  I can see the sadness in your eyes, Kale.  I know God guided me here, to help you somehow.  The bird, now that was just freaky.”  He smiled and laughed.  “No one is gonna believe me when I say ‘a little bird told me’.”

She looked at him straight in the eye, and said,

“Well, at the least its a diversion.”  Jacob smiled at her, looking straight back into her eyes and said,

“It’s a start.”

Daily Prompt: The Road Less Traveled

Pinpoint a moment in your past where you had to make a big decision. Write about that other alternate life that could have unfolded.

At 20 years old, in the military and single, I stopped at the store for groceries and as I walked down the aisle pushing my cart, I passed out.  Flat on the floor, I woke up to two paramedics kneeling over me.  I sat up, seemed fine and wanted to leave, so embarrassed I wanted to crawl into a hole, and never see this crowd of people again.

They insisted I go to the doctor immediately, so I did.  Nurse Nice, as I called her, was our base nurse and insisted before we do anything, we do a pregnancy test.  Ten minutes later, I was informed I was a mother.  Over 4 months along, I was in serious shock.  Nurse Nice insisted I stay right there, and talked me through the toughest day of my life, which turned into a several hours of emotional upheaval.  I’m ashamed to say I can’t remember her real name, because it’s been 30 years, but I still have the beautiful music box, shaped like a tiny dutch windmill house, that she gave me as a present, to hold onto and give to my child someday.  Funny, but I’ve never once thought to actually give it to him.  He knows about it, but as a guy, it’s not something he would want in his early years, so maybe someday I’ll pass it on to his daughter.

But I will never forget that day.  The sinking feeling, knowing in a heartbeat, due to a heartbeat, I had just altered my life in ways I couldn’t even imagine yet, but knew would be devastating.

The horror of this day, I knew instinctively began due to my stupidity, my mistake of forgetting to take my birth control, about 3 days worth or so.  I remembered that day also, because the love of my life walked into the bathroom as I was just popping them out of the container, and dropping them into the sink.  I had completely forgotten to take them, and in the instructions it said something like, “if you miss a tablet, don’t take it, just continue on with the rest of the pills.  The drug is already in your system from previous use, and taking extras could result in harm…” blah blah blah, and 7% of all women on the pill will still get pregnant anyway.  I had been using the pill for a year or two and never in my wildest dreams had I thought of having a child at my age.  I knew I wasn’t ready.  And I wanted the fairy tale, husband first…!

The gentleman, and I use the term loosely, immediately thought I was trying to get pregnant and trap him into marriage.  To this day, he still believes this is what really happened, but I gave up years ago trying to explain it to him.  When I missed them, I just continued taking them and thought nothing about it until that day.

That day that brought tears, astonishment, joy, sadness, amazement, embarrassment, fear!  Everything all at once, swamping your heart and mind!  It was incredible, to say the least.  The only day more emotional than that, was the day my son was actually born.

But I digress, getting back to the theme of the daily prompt, IF I had chosen differently, the only other options to me were abortion or adoption.  But those options weren’t really available, because I dearly loved the father of my child.  All I could see was the tiny hope that we would somehow be together one day to raise this child.  This beautiful amazing being we both had created, in what I thought was love.

If I had chosen abortion, I know now as a true adult, it would have killed me.  I would never have gotten over it, never been able to walk away from the fact that I knew I had committed murder.  That’s how I feel about it, very strongly, and doubly due to the child already being 4 months along.  I would have never recovered from that.  This I know.  Not only do I know this in my heart, but because several years ago I lost a child, at 5 months along, and it ripped apart my soul.  My heart was shattered, truly into a million pieces, never to be put back together the same again.

Choosing adoption didn’t seem possible to me either; to give away a part of me, of my love, of my family.  I couldn’t do it.  Knowing this child was half me, how could I leave it to chance.  Not that I’m a great mother, or ever was, but there are much worse parents than I out there, and most importantly, the first moment I knew I was pregnant, I knew true love.

Love flooded through me first, then joy, then fear…..

Any other life that could have unfolded wouldn’t have mattered or would have resulted in suicide because I would’ve been miserable.  I would never have recovered.

So I can almost certainly guess what my life would’ve been like if I had made a different decision, it would’ve been hell.  Plain and simple.  Whereas 30 years later I look back and only see a few moments of true hell, the parental kind.  hahaha


the dark cave moved a shiver

as he walked coming closer

it roared silently in triumph

the deep emptiness it felt

melting in it’s gashes below

now dripped upwards grinning

anticipation screaming an echo

he stumbled on a dead root

engrossed in the sand

darkness reached out a hand

etching its claim upon his palm

pulling him inside the cold

damp sliming soberness

choked him into a backbone of grit

holding him frozen just feet

from the sunlight

Spreading Darkness

His eyes were deep blue

when he was in the shadows

hiding his anger and hate…

He flowed into darkness wildly

a monster from a deeper time

until his fear would finally abate…

Paranoia taking the sky blue out

the fresh light breeze in his smile

fading into dark ripples of malice…

Mirroring moments of doubt

shadiness cooling his grip on reality

his venom spreading wide in bitterness.

I’ll Take Care of You

BEHOLD MY MUSE:  I’ll Take Care Of You

For more beautiful paintings by Katleen’s Brushes, click below:

I’ll take care of you



flames raging wickedly

matching His disappointment

as embers flicker out

in shock, screaming silence

burning with regret

falling slowly, fading fast

beyond hope

yet still

He looks on yearning

cries out once more

I’ll take care of you


they stood waiting like a forest of ghosts, bowing with a sway

wondering why they couldn’t get in, going below I dare say

a shepherd appeared to round them up, just about midday

if only you had truly believed, you wouldn’t have gone astray

they cried and raved and ranted, down the long gangway

swearing at the shepherd, we had no one to show us the way

he shook his head at their lies, knowing how they betray

showing them the path they chose, with much pain and dismay


its doomsday

no more foreplay

they chose an alleyway

maybe the wrong doorway

many moons will pass as they repay

staring back in time at the bright crossway

longing eternally for the Truth, the Light, the Way

Face of Darkness

I change into a different person each time I walk through those doors

the darkness envelopes me, drowning me in it’s black slimy feel

I pray and sing all the way there, trying to build up resistance

yet every time ****** I walk towards that pit ****** I slide deeper

the grease covered edges *** take away *** any higher clawing grip

unregretting voices grate on and on in vindictive unforgiveness

the stabbing is much like a butcher shop / with fresh meat

putting others down and stomping / on their self-esteem

ruining any chance of good ** growing into grandeur

yet it seems to be the only way they see to exist

daily negativity is how they’ve always done it

blinded by — their — own — disappointment — and — character

// they must drag me down to their low low level \\

snakes slithering in a pile — at the bottom of the pit

I won’t allow my soul to join that slow death

I’m so thankful God guides my life

and has stained glass windows

and is throwing them open

to the fresh spring air




failing into an unworthy ethereal

life wisps by endlessly surreal

floating here or flying there

no point now having to care

a tuft of sparkles burdened fall

leaving behind a ghost of gall

enduring forever completely alone

bearing unimaginable grief atone

glitter disturbs what’s actually seen

flutters from the past shift between

darkness, shadows, or glorious light

rub against the anguished twilight

wafting whispers torture the air

a draught of smoke curling unaware

flying here or floating there

existing eternally in ethereal despair

No Honor

depressing hate grips our lives

disgusting disgrace with no honor

animals abound out of millions

it only takes one


enjoying cruelty like candy

raping the souls of children

ripping their tiny hearts apart

encouraged by evil’s dark son


torturing innocents with venom

sucking they thrive on poison

spreading the vile ooze of evil

to hell they shamefully run


stupid morons never measure up

don’t know the meaning of soldier

blaming their god for their actions

who will send them to hell when he’s done

In a Second

they say… someday soon

this may all be gone

just one crazy person

could send us all home

in a blink of an eye

a push of a button

survivors living in dust

a desert all the sudden


they say… are you ready

at this exact moment

without a single prayer

or one begging lament

to face the Holy One

who created the mountains

who’s loved you long enough

who’s done forgiving your sins


they say… He’ll be merciful

but He will judge you fair

I too can’t imagine it all gone

surely He will still care

today is all we ever have

look at the beautiful view

you may go home in a second

you may not in two

After Wards

what are you doing looking back

watching the peacocks strut about

what are the silly fools doing now

wasting their only chance

that one’s mask is perfected

she even colored it royal blue

did she care all that much

not at all

vain crows blinded by them selves

unaware and a shallow swamp

ignorant arrogance beyond a fault

introspection evolved into self-importance

and look at us now with nothing but us

watching while they blindly crow

we’ll see them sooner than they know

they’ll be just as disappointed

we were just as stupid

I know I didn’t get it

want to try to reach them

it’s a waste of time

what else do we have

just a whole lot of nothing

does the dark ever end

it appears to go on and on

is this all there is for us

I believe so


My Name is Not Mary

I must admit, some days are better than others; today is his birthday, but I won’t see him.

He was just here for a week of joy then off he walked into a sunset of doom… again.

Each time he come’s he stays longer, yet each time he goes, he’s gone longer.

My heart aches, I remember this day so long ago, fearing for his life that day, too, and many more.

His whole life has been hard, a one way up hill, through snow, barefoot, in an old Nor’Easter.

Michael has been guarding him for years now, a warrior friend of mine keeping him alive.

But why?

For another day of living hell?

Should I give up and let it become an eternity of hell, for both of us?

It’s one thing to know, I might not make it, but how can I reconcile giving up on him?

How can I walk away from a tiny limping bird, with broken wings?

Do you end its misery; its sad little dragging and crawling in pain?

Or do you think, only 2 or 3 months of horrible pain and you should be all healed and… walking.

I’m at a point where… I’m so tired, I want to give up.

But then… my faith steps in, demanding to be heard and says…

He’s teaching him, He’s holding him,

His plan is always better than yours.

How many times have you fallen?

None of this makes me truly feel better.

Although, I AM thankful, my name is not Mary.

Ms. Bea Elsa Bobb

“Said one horse to another, ‘Hay, wanna go for a ride?'”

“Is that all you got?”

“How about kiss my ass?”

“That would be a donkey, dumbass.  Lets get outta here.  Too many freakin’ old people.”

They slipped around the corner of a building, out of sight of the teacher.  She was an evil being, from Hell they figured, the way her black eyes would watch you from under her dark caterpillar brows.  Everything out of her mouth was mean and nasty, except when another adult was around.  He’d tried to explain it to his Mom again the other day, and even though she was frowning when he got done, no matter how many times he complained, she still only said,

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, sweetheart, but I’ll look into it.”

The people streamed by them, they melted into the crowd, but they didn’t worry about ditching the field trip, because she hoped they would get kidnapped by some pervert, or were forced to work in some ‘horrifying sex trade’ place, like she had described earlier before they left the classroom.  She said she wouldn’t even notify our parents until the kidnappers had hours to get away.  She was pure evil, and there was nothing any of us kids could do about it.  We had all tried at one point or another to get out of her class, a few even got detention just to get out every so often and breathe the fresh air.  It was stale cigarette smoke, burning your eyes, making you cough, giving Erin asthma according to her, and no one smoked in the room.  It followed her like a mist of hate.  The parents didn’t see it for some reason, but all the kids did.  They knew.  They all saw the black and felt it like a blanket draped over your shoulders.  It was tiring just to sit in class.  We had all tried, repeatedly nagging our parents, but none would listen because she was different when adults were around.  Totally!

They walked the 4 miles back to the school, got their backpacks and head for home.  It was spaghetti night, and Theo acted like he loved his Mom’s spaghetti.  She had to start making more and more, as each week Theo seemed to eat more and more.  Mom worried he wasn’t getting any food at home, but I knew better, he was a freaking pig.  That was all.  He didn’t LOVE spaghetti, he loved packing his face with food.  His dream of being a linebacker included a strict schedule of eating, eating and sitting.  Pig.  He had Mom convinced, so there was no use trying to fight it.  Plus he always had my back, with a freaking wall.

Theo lived above me in the apartment on the corner, with the cool corner balcony, so he could throw shit at me when ever he went outside.  We played football this way, tennis, baseball, only not so much anymore after he blasted the corner window.  Sara made it against the law to throw anything hard, with jail time cleaning everyone’s toilets!  She wasn’t kidding.

They went inside together,

“Wanna come over?”


His Mom was doing dishes, she turned to see who was coming in.

“Oh my, look at you two all grumpy faced.  I made Texas Chocolate Bars.  But… they cost, big time.”

“How much?”

“Lets see… how about 3 Getup’s… each.”


“Yep, those bars…oh you’d think you were drowning in chocolate, ahhh, I already had two.”  Mom said and giggled.



Mom dried her hands and shewed them to the table, taking the spatula and snagging one for each of them.  They had green napkins this week in the middle of the table, so they each snagged one before Mom had to remind them about stupid crumbs.

After a few bites, I said,

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Theo.  There has to be some way we can prove she’s evil to everyone, and get her out of school.  I can’t stop trying to think of ways we could prove it.”

Mom stopped going round and round the blue plate with the sponge, and asked,

“Bad day honey?”

“Yea Mom, we just walked home from town just to get away from her!  Why can’t you EVER believe me.  Why DON’T you believe me?  Why would I lie.  Why would I make up this kind of shit?”

“You watch your mouth, I have a bottle of Dawn right here.”

“Tell me then, WHY don’t you believe me?”

Mom didn’t answer, she went back to washing a minute, so I said,

“You should’ve heard what she told us before we left on the field trip!  DO YOU KNOW what a PERVERT IS?  Or what the “Horrifying Sex Trade” is???  Well, we do.  She explained it in detail!”

Mom was frozen in time.  I think she even stopped breathing.  She didn’t approve of TV let alone mentioning the word SEX.  She slowly turned and looked me straight in the eyes, and asked,

“Are you telling me the truth?”  I said very quietly, so she’d know how serious I was,

“Yes, Mom!”


“Yes!  Just no one believes us, cause she pretends when you guys are around.”

“What about the dark mist of evil, you both said you see?”

“We do!” They said in unison.

“Now see, that’s where you lose me.  I just can’t believe that.  So why would I believe the rest?”

I couldn’t believe Mom didn’t believe me, so I said,

“Because she’s fucking evil.”  I got up and went to my room, before she could send me.  Theo looked at my Mom and quietly added,

“Why would we make it up?  We get good grades, it’s not like we’re ditchin’ class and stuff.  How often do we ever lie to you?” He looked genuinely hurt, just for a second before he turned to make his exit.  He thought, I should be in movies! Hell, Yea!

Mom just stood there, lost in thought, so Theo followed me to my room.  He shut the door softly, and sat on my bed, and said,

“She’s thinking.  It’s a start.  I should be in freakin’ movies!”  He laughed.

“Yea, we’ll see.  Wanna head to the river, get the hell out of here?”


Both were busy for the next two days outside looking for leaves for their Fall Project, just an excuse to get out of the house they figured, and didn’t have a chance to bring it up again, without making Mom angry.

She worked hard, standing on her feet all night, at a bar down town that was open 24 hours.  BushWhackers, obviously named by the bathroom doors.  A real classy place.  With classy people pissing her off most days.  Men treat women like dogs!  I’ve heard that statement about 250 thousand times since I was about 5.

The next morning, Theo came early, and Mom called us into the bedroom and said,

“Oh, I need some coffee and toast.  Could you two get it for me?”



The brownies were almost gone, and it was just beginning.  I made the coffee and Theo made six pieces of toast, so we could both have some too.  I took her the coffee, then had to go get cream and sugar, another “get-up”.  Ha, scored there, and she didn’t even realize I did it on purpose.  Two down one to go.

Theo took her the toast, grinning, and asked sweetly,

“Did you want Jam?”

Mom grinned and said,

“No thank you!”

We said goodbye, and slowly made our way to school.  Each step drew us closer, drawing us down into the pit of depression.  Theo said,

“Shit, wanna ditch today?  What’s the worse that could happen?  We get detention.”

“No, can’t.  Mom was on the phone yesterday with some lady, and I heard her say “school”, so maybe we better go today.  In case she set up some meeting or something.  I don’t wanna screw it up, by ditchin’.  I get the feeling she’s on our side.”

“Shit.”  This was his reply to most everything.  Theo always said it to sound older, like he was just short and fat for his age.   His older brother Thomas would’ve been in Jr. High this year, if he hadn’t died two years ago at the lake.  So, as the man of his house he was always trying to sound like he was older.  But, he just sounded stupid to me.

Around 10:00 a.m. class was interrupted when a sad little girl was ushered in by the principle, introduced as Mary Monty.  She looked awful, sick to her stomach, face flushed, hair messy, dark circles around her eyes;  she had a big stupid looking daisy pin on her blouse, that was pulling her shirt to the side.  She also carried a huge bag, which she sat on her desk to hide behind; until Ms. Bobb slapped it off her desk.   I felt bad for her, thrown into the Abyss on her first day at a new school.  Theo and I had been studying up on Hell in our spare time at the Library.  We thought maybe we could come across a spell to kill Ms. Bobb with.  But no luck so far.

After school that day, we decided to hit the Library for reference books on Paleolithic Man and snoop in the Evil isle, and didn’t arrive back at home until 5:30 p.m.  Mom was sitting in the livingroom with Mary Monty beside her on the couch, and a very tall skinny man in a black suit, with a younger woman who was writing what Mom was saying down in her little book.  I thought, oh, shit, cops.

“Come here sweety, I want you to meet these nice people.  This is Mr. Merrick, and Mrs. Turnbull with the FBI.  And you know Mary?”


Mom was smiling hugely, waved me in closer and said,

“Well, they didn’t see the evil black mist,” Mom smiled widely at this, “but they did record everything Ms. Bobb did today, on the little video camera Mary was wearing.  Mr. Merrick comes to our bar sometimes on business, and when I saw him the other night, he offered to send Mary over, as an under cover agent.  Isn’t that cool?”

“Oh my God, are you kidding me?  She recorded everything Ms. Bobb said today?  Oh, that’s AWESOME!!!”

“Yes, dear, now calm down.  The FBI are reviewing it right now, and the first few hours were enough for them to come over and tell me they were arresting her immediately.  She’ll lose her job also, if she hasn’t already!”

“She’s going to jail Trudy, for terrorizing and the emotional abuse of minors charges, plus I believe Charlotte said she had gotten the job under false pretenses, so yes, at the least she will never teach again.”

“YES! YES! YES!  Oh man, I gotta go get Theo!!!  Oh, YES!  Oh, WOW!  I LOVE YOU, MOM!!!”

He gave her the first hug she had been allowed in a few years, since he’d been about 9 and decided he was too big for that.  It was a quick one, but she glowed with happiness.  He continued on out the door, screaming, “YES!” repeatedly, punching the air in pure joy, like he’d just received his first kiss.


He warned us there would be fire

and brimstone when angered,

purifying from the deep,

a  seeded heat.


from another dimension,

disguised as a volcano,

creating and destroying life;

a meteor rod

from out of the blue,

rendering judgement.


scalding sanctions,

we’re not meeting

His expectations.

Will He let loose

the fire and brimstone

of evil’s daughter…

or is it just water?

The Feds ~ Can you say “ironic”?

A Federal Building,

guarded by gargoyles,

arching over an entrance to Hell.

A portal of shady deals,

the threshold of corruption.

What happened to those who

swore to help us right before

they waved

as they walked through this door?

The evilness in the center position,

clearly visible to all,

flanked on each side by an

angry evil lion,

standing guard over


Dishonesty, Dishonor!


to those of us

who would like to be proud

of our homeland.

Daily Prompt: Hate to Love ~~ The Bane of my Existence

The Bane of my Existence

This is the normal view of the mosh kitpit.  They drive me insane daily.  You just can’t know.  It’s either a million hairs in the eyes, which reminds me I should call my broker about the Visine stock, or finding a puddle hidden under the dining room table, or the worst ever…on the STOVE!  Yes, I said it, they have pee’d on top of my stove.  You think, disgusting.  I think, I’m gonna commit murder.  This is typically when 4 “Bad Kitties” are thrown forcefully out the front window!  I cook my food there.  Have you ever had the pleasure of turning on a burner, and smelling hot burning pee?  Well, if you haven’t, it makes rotting burnt fish smell heavenly.  If I owned a gun…. well, lets just say, thank God I do not.

I hate them.  I love them.

I didn’t want to become a crazy catlady.  I swear.

I love animals, all animals, which is why I haven’t been able to get rid of the little darlings.  Ever since I removed all the carpet from my home, due to my many allergies, I have discovered that they were never fully litter trained.  Now the 3 older kits, Twinkie, Romeo and Sweetheart are all around 11 years old, and lil Misster Kitty, their nephew, is only about 8.  Until I put down the new floors, I had no idea.  They’ve been at it for years and are pretty comfortable with going behind the chair, in the closet, in the tub, on the back door, under the kitchen sink, on the FURNACE, another great joy,  next to the toilet … God if I could only get them to use the toilet.  What’s the name of that cat whisperer?

Technically I suppose, they are not litter trained.  They are only using the box like most people go to church….just for looks.

I developed asthma about 5 years ago, and when I say they are going to kill me, I am not exaggerating.  I have been to the hospital numerous times with attacks I cannot control, because the cats are my greatest allergy.

I love them.  I hate them.

I raised them from birth, bottle feeding each one.  My son thought they were abandoned, the mother out looking for food, and brought them inside.  Hiding them for a day or so, he finally brought them to me because he couldn’t get them to eat the mushy cat food he had made.  By then, the Mother would only take one back, and left the rest to me.  The one she took, just happened to be Misster Kitty’s Mother, who ended up being hit by a car.  Thus, Misster Kitty was forced on me, once again, by children who should never have had a cat in the first place.  There used to be 5, but little Forest, named thusly due to his horribly crossed eyes, got hit by a car.  He never saw it coming I’m sure, he ran into everything….and then a car.    Funny, but I miss him terribly, he was my favorite.  I was always consoling him for his many boo boo’s.

Some people say cats live to be in their 20’s, and this terrifies me.  I don’t know if my lungs will hold out that long.  My doctor no longer has patience for me, she has lost the ability to empathize, not understanding that love over rules sense.

I hate them.  I love them.

But what can you do, when you have one kit who loves you so much she doesn’t actually meow at you, but instead she says, “Mom, Mom, Mom?”  Or when she’s on my lap, she physically leans up to lick my lips.  Of course this lasts only a few minutes before my entire face is fair game.  Or Romeo, who is continually sitting on my shoulder or directly behind me, laying his head on my shoulder, licking a bald spot into my scalp, tucking his little head up under my hair.  Total Heaven for him.  Or Misster Kitty who actually puts his little nose right on my lips, and lets me kiss him repeatedly.  Then he rubs his head across my cheeks.  Twinkie who isn’t content until he is snuggled next to me, at least one paw resting on my leg, pulling closer even while he sleeps.  He follows me around like a dog, everywhere.  If I go outside, he’s there, watching me, waiting for something to play with.  Inside, he’s up my butt 24-7, tripping me constantly, meowing for attention.  If I take out the trash, or check the mail, he trots along with me, only stopping here and there to scratch.

I love them.  I hate them.

Look up at the picture again, of the mosh kitpit, and you’ll see, my legs are burried under the catquilt somewhere….

where I am sure they will be when I die.

One thing I HATE!


One thing I HATE


The loneliest forsaken soul,

given up on… by all,

sleeping in an air conditioner box,

enduring the agony of a rotting tooth.

Breaking heart outcast by seconds,

can’t think in a straight line,

must have, need, crave every second,

an evil element beyond cruel.

Begging, stealing, always running,

glimpsing the past with each stride,

disoriented, saddened, spirit in pieces,

not able to ever come back.

Torn, beaten, bruised and broken,

filthy dirty, smelling like death,

wretched misery, inhaling horror,

day-mares and fears never rest.

This is the hell that is Meth.