Monthly Archives: June 2013

He’s Still Here


I try to taste it

The freedom in your veins

Why can’t that attract me

Instead of never ending state of emptiness

The hallow part of your soul

I need you to feed my need

I try to taste it

I try to take it

Store it in my core

I’m dark like that

Guess the devils child

Has God forsaken me

Shall I never be free

His words are so unclear

I try to read them

Hold them near

But my shadow obstructs the view

He’s still here…

The war inside my head

Leaving toxic waste everywhere

I only sink when I try to fly

My wings are heavy with sin

It will be this way til the end

I feel a hunger

That resembles the abyss

A black hole that will force you in

Can’t fight it, you can’t win

I have tried

Oh how I have cried

Begged for mercy on my knees

Pleaded with tears for my release

He’s still here…

I taste it on my tongue

Bitter juice of loneliness

With no place to run


I was free once

I remember that girl

I felt joy in a time

I was whole, I was fine…

She drowned in pain

Welcomed the rain

Shut out the sun

Chose not to run

She could fly

Wings spread wide

Faith as strong as steel

Life seemed surreal

In joys of laughter

Embraces of love

Writing to change the world

With her happy joy

Til the shadow consumed her

She became its toy

Tied her with chains

Stuck her with thorns

Never ending pains

Broke her faith

With every season

Never understood the reason

Has God forsaken me

Never to be free

He’s still here….

He’s still here…

Familiar Tune



A familiar tune

A distant memory of you

I hear your soul singing

Our hearts in tune

The pleasure you gave me

With the songs you would send

My heart is empty

I need a moment to mend

Remembering conversations

two friends til the end

or so we thought

yet a familiar tune

holds the memory of you

when we didn’t have to pretend

we felt something again

together growing towards

a mistake we knew we would make

so we shattered our hearts

saved what was at stake

but the familiar tune

still plays the chorus of our souls

empty hearts show

something we know

a familiar tune

will hold our memory forever

lonely we shall endeavor

So Far From Home

I get homesick

It comes over me like a hurricane

Trapped in the funnel cloud of memories

I long for just one more moment

a moment of familiarity

where we can lie

side by side

on the fields of grass

where you can touch my cheek

tell me everything is going to be fine

I long for remaking of that time

The years have passed

And I’m so far from home

Better for my being

So lonely for my soul

Where did time go?

Do I cross your mind…

when you pass the place

Do you think of me then….

see my face?

Remember you were my muse

I wrote words for only you

Now I’m so far from home

Better for our being

So lonely for our souls…

Masterpiece In The Making

People around me keep telling me how amazing I am. They tell me it is remarkable that I have survived sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, a roll over car wreck and I am still going strong with all my health problems. On the outside I guess they would see this remarkable woman thriving in life…


The truth is I am tortured inside my mind, body and my soul on a daily basis. I fight hard to hide it from my children, friends, and my husband. It creeps out from time to time where it becomes noticeable. That infuriates me. By now, after all these years, I should be able to push it down, and smile in spite of it. I can’t even pin point the trigger to it. It just hangs around daily and eventually it breaks me down to where I have no energy to fight it any longer. No energy left to smile over it, or laugh to spite it.


It is a thorn inside of me that has torn at me for years. The disturbing part is I think it has become another addiction. It is in this dark hole I find my creativity. I’m on fire with words that flow like rivers. Unstoppable. The work I create is mostly marvelous. I don’t mean to sound conceited here. My writings are raw, real and full of emotional sparks. So many have asked why don’t I go into making money off what I write. Well I don’t do it for money. I do it for the purge of the darkness that seems to be a part of my soul. It is my shadow and it shows up for recognition that I give it and when it is all said and done, I feel whole. Creating the art I do fulfills me like NOTHING else in this world. I think if I did start doing it for money it would lose the luster it holds for me. I have sold some songs, and some poetry has been published but pennies isn’t what I want. I pour my soul onto pages and there is no price tag on that for me. If anything the one thing I would want to get out of my writing is to help another troubled soul purge the darkness from within themselves.


I sometimes think this thorn hangs around because I have so many secrets inside I can’t reveal. Well, I could reveal them but they would hurt so many people, me being one of them. Some say the secrets are because I am a woman and women have secrets to their souls that they never reveal…I don’t know about that myself. Though some of my secret thoughts are probably due to me being a woman. Mostly though I think it is just because I am just fucked up from a pretty shitty childhood and many trials and tribulations I have faced through the years including ones I face now with health problems.


Some have suggested God. Yeah well I am very close to my higher power. I talk with him daily. So God is not the answer to this predicament of mine. I have come to the realization that I just have to accept this thorn and purge the thoughts I can release when the dark shows up with art. I tried to ignore it. I tried to refuse purging the thoughts into words but that led me to a low I had a hard time climbing out of.


I just recently started talking to a therapist about this very thing. She says it does not surprise her. She has been told by a lot of creative people like artists, writers and such find themselves in the same kind of place I find myself in at times. She said I needed to write, create and do it weekly. So I have permission from a professional to lock myself away and let the dark consume me for a limited time once a week. Of course when I go back to work it will have to be once a month but I am to do it.


A huge part of me also doesn’t write or create for money because quite frankly I don’t want to live a life of a rock star or famous person. I couldn’t do it physically anyway. Got to travel. Market your material. Answer to people reading it or buying it. I could not do that. It’s personal for me. Completely personal.


I fell in love with this band called Blue October in the late 90s. The lead singer is Justin Furstenfeld. When I learned more about him the more I loved his soul and his words. He writes like I do. His stuff is so real and raw. I recently seen him in Minneapolis on his Open Book tour. It was just him and his poetry. It was the most intimate experience I have ever had a chance to experience from a rock star. I was so lucky to have been able to go and see him. I have been a fan of this band from the beginning. I will always love them and Justin as long as he continues to open his soul up the way he does. He is special. Many don’t realize how special he is but people who open up their souls to the world and help others along the way are the most remarkable people to know, to hear, to catch a glimpse of. I guess in many ways that is who I want to be. I want to be a person who can change lives with my work. I guess I could be but perhaps I am afraid of failure.


I only have words. That is all there is for me…no background singers, band, or a stage to hold me…just words.


I have learned a lot in my life. I have learned how important it is to soak up the good moments and not to waste time on the bad ones because there is more beauty in this world if you take the time to stop and notice it all. The toughest problem for me is to not fall into the dark hole that holds all the wrongs in the world for me. It holds all the sorrow of past hurt. It is the place that holds the shame and pain of all I’ve been through. It holds the anger of all I have faced and all I face today in life. I can’t seem to stay out of that hole. A lot of times I want to be there. I want to create beauty from it. It is a dangerous balancing beam of mental stability. The thought does cross my mind often what if I lose footing and fall off the beam for good? What if…


For many years I asked myself why me? Why did these things happen to me? Why am I so damn sick all the time? Why have I been cursed with such bad health? What have I done to deserve this crap?


I don’t ask that anymore…I have accepted that these things happened for reasons that I may not understand yet. I do know they have happened for a reason without a doubt. Everything you do, go through, people you keep in your life, people you dismiss from your life…these things are all wrapped up in the grand scheme of life. These things I have been blessed with have led me to who I am today and where I am. I belong where I am and I am who I am suppose to be in this present. I say blessed, though many may view it as a curse…in the bigger picture they are blessings. I believe this in my core.


This is why I accept my lows. This is why I welcome my shadow now. I open my arms to the darkness that visits me when it does. It is a part of who I am. As long as it doesn’t consume me to destruction of myself then we will make a great team in creativity. Perhaps save a life. Perhaps remind someone they aren’t alone in the struggle they find themselves in. Just knowing you are not alone is enough to help someone endure.


I have always said people either love me or they hate me. There is no in between. There never was, and never will be. Accept me or leave me to be ME.


The outside world catches glimpses of me. They perceive what they see as remarkable and perhaps they are remarkable in many ways…maybe one day I will see it that way myself. I am just as flawed as any other person in the world. I have many demons, secrets, and a dark side many don’t get a glimpse of. I save that for my art. I am a masterpiece in the making.