I feel I am making progress

As I mature in my life

And I know that one day

I will be a great wife


I no longer depend on my computer

Or the demonds inside

I no longer feel guilty

Because I no longer have to hide


I love the way it makes me feel

This feeling is surreal

Kendrick explains it best with

'Im really really real'


I work hard to afford

To make our house a home

Like a new table, beds, decor

And dont forget the throne.


I love you so much

'You are my sunshine'

but you can't be up in the sky

Or you'd make the world blind


I can hardly wait to marry you

Like I said.. We're making progress

But while we wait, all I can really say is..

God bless...

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Old School

I grew up in Twinsburg, Ohio I was born in ’52

And like the Old School I attended I’ve gotten older too


You might say our structure’s dilapidated and perhaps with age we’ve slowed

Some people might even make the assessment that we’re not up to code.


We might not have the same energy as we did when we were kids

And you can bet our plumbing doesn’t work as good as it once did.


Just look in any mirror and you’re stuck with the sensation

That our structure has some wrinkles and our roof needs renovation.


Although our exteriors may not have stayed pristine, and fresh and polished

There is not a one of us, just ask, who’s ready to be demolished!


The Old School I attended in my wonderful little town

Is a lot like me, but the city now, wants to tear her down.


The city’s planning director thinks the Old School has past it’s prime

To preserve this 92 year old building is too costly a paradigm.


It’s funny but many people travel to Europe just to see

The old and ancient buildings and be part of history.


But here in our own country, in our cities, burgs and towns

Since it costs too much to preserve them we’d rather tear them down.


My vote if for the Old School to undergo a preservation

So she will stand as a monument to future generations.


To relish those memories we had when we were girls and boys

And preserve them for our children and their children to enjoy.


For there’s more to this old building than all it’s defects to be mended

You see the history of the Old School lies in the people who attended.


We may not all be famous alumni...but do not, my friends, be fooled

We are who we are today because of our Old Schools!


So be mindful all you cities when these vestiges of our past you take


It’s not just the building you’ve destroyed, it’s your own history you forsake.

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The beast within

Beasts come in many forms,

they can be made or they can be born.

When your strengths become your weaknesses,

This can push gifts toward the worse.


So many questions to be answered

Yet there was no one to turn to.

Uncertainly blocked any progress,

The beast thrashes in return.


Proceeding instability,

Emotions set in quick.

Falsify, or repeat rejection of true self.


Normal normal,

What more could anyone want you to be?

Be quiet, be patience,

Be able to control thy self.


Little pedestal child,

With misunderstood needs.

Craved attention, meaning, and knowledge,

But was left to her own unease.


15 years later...


What? WHAT?!

I've never read about myself in such a fashion.

Overwhelming sensations appear.

Thoughts and feelings become clear,

only to bring on a new fear.


What now? and how?

So many thoughts,

So many steps.

I will make peace with the beast if its the last thing I do.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my feelings and thoughts about rediscovering I'm gifted on 6/19/2013

Self-Made Boundary

Fall back and take a chance to slow time to a still,
Rushing into a decision, a conclusion before the first steps are made.
Am I doubting myself, or changing my perception?
Two steps forward, then pushed back against the wall.

White flags waving, unheard victory in the war,
Lovers collide in colour-blind kaleidoscopes.
Soul mates that met at opposite ends of the hourglass fight to get somewhere far;
Metallic taste of blood hardens against hate-spited lips,
Lost in a desert waste ground, sand covering the footprints that they’ve made.

Falling into the deep cracks within myself,
A spinning madness, paranoia is the wheel.
You hate what you have and love what you miss,
Two leaps forward, then jump across the wall.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hindisght and retrospect are the clearest of visions.

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Weeds in Melting Sand

Roots bore into glass and found no running taps.
It cracked, and shards fell sweeping, in wide sheets,
like a living blanket that can only crumble, never warm.
The air was drowned in glimmer, poisonous to breathe,
relegated down and stamped beneath our feet just as
we see it as decor, clearly placed for we, who are
the superlative of being, though we cannot find
a softness in our seeking - a crevace that may house;
a rift of cozing doldrums that we may bleed between.
We age and we expand, driving through and forth
toward the soothing warmth, breaking every surface
that dared to hold our weight. And while we tend to forage,
and ruthlessly progress; our roots will never still,
our twigs will turn to fangs; our menagerie of truths
will soundlessly fall, while the thinning blocks of clarity
break and scatter far from these gardens made of nothing.

Atom's View

Standing atom under glass

Tasked with eyes that understand

The rationed state of things alike

That drive a man to burn alive

Created by a force of steel

Sterilized betwixt the frames

Brought to life by light and flame

Given code in lieu of name

Birthing bit of mother star

Anti-matter held by hand

Meant to alter time itself

Swell to bold our fading strand

Mankind peaks in micro scope

Evolving to the grayest sea

Departing from mortality

Denying all causality

Glowed amidst  the fading skin

Housed us once before the change

Leaving bone to feed the dogs

Chewing 'til their jaws may break

Atom sits as yet unused

Under lock and key of choice

Promising to save our lives

Yet to realize its voice

Highest bid of world at war

May condemn or grant our vice

To feed upon immobile sky

Ascending to our reasons why.



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Self Destruction


The sound deafens me; weakens the knees, eyes bleed.
Rivers of red run down the faces
All innocent within their own mortal cases
The future is here but now
We see only pain and fear, but how
Does it end?  Will we all just fall from our own vices?
Or rot within the confines of our own devices?

The sound deafens me; weakens the knees, eyes bleed.
Their tears will fall for all eternity
No longer is the earth a maternity
Our Skyscrapers: Our Gravestones
Reclamation in the acid bleached bones
Within the chemical Graves, that we self-made....                                                          
On this world these markers are our only stain

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