Happy Thursday

Hello friends, family, and fair fine folks! Whether you be purposefully or playfully passing by, thank you and welcome to my blog. I admit, often, I do not keep up with it as I would like, but I do appreciate your stopping by on this dark, warm, and interestingly muggy Thursday morning. I hope this post finds you well, and mosquito free. I am working on a short compilation of children’s poetry, and piecing together a potential autobiography. I was experiencing a little bit of a writing block for where and I guess, how to continue with the biography, when this little thing popped into my brain. Hope you like it, as always, Feed back is encouraged.

Moments of inspiration rise, and my heart then takes me by surprise.

Out of it flowing from somewhere deep, come words across the screen they creep.

As I outwardly type they from within, recreate the world I live in.

I see, as my secrets all reveal, wounds I pick at start to heal.

I feel inside burdens lift off my chest, and outwardly I now may find rest.

As I start to inwardly let go, the outside benefits from what was stored below.

The demons now may sleep and die, as I allow myself to feel, to hurt, to cry.

This is my written therapy, my own unspoken lock and key, the only way that I can free, unleash the best of who I can be.

 

**I am finding it difficult to talk about myself, and my family. Am I the only one out there in writer/blog/internet land who is greatly struggling to talk about themselves, or mildly failing at creating an autobiography?  Sorry for the random ramblings of a raving (w)riter, Here is the little bit of brain goo that popped into my head space.**

Thank you again for stopping by and have an amazing day everyone.

 

What Christianity is Not

Do the prayers of someone like me count to someone like you?
Or do I need to be someone with so much less to prove?

Have I reached a point where my pleas and cries
fall numbly upon your ear?
Have I crossed a bridge that defies
your truths, its me you no longer hear

Broken but deaf to those on “my side” of town
Am I so long gone from you and just cast down
You preach for hours on end
about how we are supposed to spend
Each and every waking moment
but Im here cast as your opponent
though we preach the same thing
about truth and light
it seems your screaming
always ready to start a fight
you seem to want to punish all who defy
instead seeking to understand the why
You’d rather persucute then let people be
exactly as they were meant to be. Free.
A gift is meant to have no cost
a free token of peace and goodwill
You would rather condemn and damn the lost
then allow them a saving grace that even still

After all this time is meant to be free
but slathered in your hypocrisy
who would dare accept a token
bathed in toxic judgements unspoken
do you not see what you have undone
by your show, no lives were won

You do good works but your heart is dead
Faith maybe there but love is not
Though good things may come out of your head
Where is the love you were also taught?

Forgiven soon Forgotten

Dear Glinda,

I need to know what you intended?
What animosity destroyed is at last mended.
The life and love lost as we grew proud,
brings us to this point as fate allowed.
For you, either become who you were meant to be
or remain true to them in blind slavery.
I cannot and will not become a slave to Oz,
I must fight for my own cause.
I know where I stand and what I must do,
and I hope it means you are escaping too.
If this is goodbye then let it be understood
That this dear Glinda, is goodbye for good.

Thoughts in the PM though it feels like AM to me…

I have to wake up and be productive. It was a long night, a restless, uncomfortable, sleep just is not going to happen til’ sunrise, kind of night. I am finding words, speaking them specifically,  difficult today.  I think I am a natural at pointing and guttural noises in regards to communication with the roommates today. Internally, I am battling the demon of sloth. He thinks I should remain on the couch and do nothing until I have to leave for work this evening, but productive me is mildly set on moving the rest of my stuff out of my old apartment before work.  Ugh. I know what I must do. Eat. Watch an episode of Charmed. Clean up. Move things. Get ready for work. Die internally as retail is not my calling, though for now it is my occupation. Ready, Set, Here I… Oh. Sleepy Katie. Stay.

 

Writer’s Block

A lot today is on my mind,

though I search for words to say.

Hidden in these blanks may I find,

the correct medium in which to portray,

the rise and fall of dread and fashion

in times wrought with change.

Documenting loss, joy, life, and passion,

as plans and the cosmos rearrange.

To express the moments of life so swell,

and when it’s of course, unfair,

is what I long to artistically convey,

yet at this screen I stare.

 

Nearly 2 years Later

Hello to whomever still may follow and to those who stumble by. If I had waited til August it would be an official 2 years since I last blogged. Since I cannot allow that, I say again, hello. I fell off the face of the world only to completely lose myself, find kidney stones, what I sincerely hope is not love, a few new and interesting home type settings and an occupation completely foreign to me. I would like to try blogging again. As much as I appreciate all of you who read this, I must once again reiterate the self-help aspect of this blog, it helps me to be, feel, and do better. I have missed a lot of this side of me. I want to create again. Here’s hoping I can remain dedicated to this and become a little less of a work-a-holic, constantly stressed out, too busy to do something I love, artistically suppressed cog in the retail machine… Thanks for stopping to read and here’s hoping!

Here I go… Again.

I am really not good at blogging and staying super busy. Its been an insane summer. Almost ready to completely clean out this house and move to the new one with the kids, their parents, and the growing little one we are all looking forward to meeting in March/April. Being a live-in nanny is pretty great and it has been a wonderful journey. I look forward to what this next chapter has in store for us and I hope I have a little more time to blog, but we shall see.

On the writing front, I did a bit of editing last week, and the week before I found myself with a damaged computer power cord, a few hours on my hands, no kids to watch, and a large notebook with several fun pens. I wrote a lot. I liked a few things, edited a few other things and scrapped the stuff that made me question my knowledge of the English language and general punctuation. Yes, some of it was actually that bad. There was a piece I, for the most part liked and it sort of pulled me from the writer’s block I was previously experiencing.  I wrote it knowing writer’s block can send me spiraling down into a deep dark hole, that only intensifies the more depressing attributes of my personality. I have come to understand that being able to write really is better for me, than any anti-depressant I have ever tried.

For your written pleasure and more importantly, my own, I present,

Always Keep Fighting.

I once dreamed long ago, that an artist I’d be
someone who makes beauty for the world to see.
The ink in my pen is the paint of my choice,
bringing pictures to life with my written voice.
Sculpting with lines of lyrical clay
the words come alive, soon to be on display.
In many a home, as well as in stores on a shelf,
masterpeices of poetry, a gift to the world from myself.

Alas, it seems this is not so.
Truthfully, as far as inspirations go,
my muse has gone as has my will to try.
I cannot carry on, how would I get by?
Where once I assumed mastery and skill,
I accept defeat and this broken will.

I lied. That last stanza, though it often feels true,
only reassures my faith in what I must never do.
I will NEVER give up, until my last breath I’ll always be writing
I believe in myself, a purpose, and will Always Keep Fighting.