Literary Ramblings From 2001

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Here you will find Little stray bits and pieces that I wrote, some are poetry or short stories, some are just random thoughts. They are my thoughts, views and opinions.


* Private Thoughts
* War Of Thought 
* Mind Alive 
* Conspiracy This 
* New Day's Parting 
* A Little Late
* Do Not Disturb
* Human Illusion
* Suffer Me, Suffer You
* Angry
* Death, Family and Soul
* The Commercial
* Close Strangers
* A Little More Country
* Whose Lonely Now
* Basket of Thoughts
* Just a Little Bump
* Will You Be Ok?
* What Are You Going To Do?
* Pieces of Time
* The Stalking
* Just Another Play
* Graveyard Ghosts

* Spiritual Masturbation

** Rambling Archives

  There is rather alot to read here and you may not get through it in one sitting. The more recent postings have red stars by them.

  This is a list of general writings, by title.  I think each one is dated on the individual page. They are in no particular order as they don't relate to each other for the most part. These are those written in the year of our Lord 2001.

  The newer postings will always be added to the top of the list. And have *(asterics) next to them.

  The section called Angel Speaks here, is a project I did some time ago. I only have two pieces posted so far, so will add an explanation later. They may someday have their own page but I have to dig through older notebooks to find more of them.

  The back button at the bottom returns you to the main Ramblings page.


9-11 Private Thoughts           September 19, 2001

To All:

I continue to watch the Trade Centers fall, and listen to our government talk about its "war on terrorism". I watch CNN alot...and of course, the stories come out. The victims buried under the rubble, the planes crashing into the towers, the towers dropping to the ground. 

I dream at night of angels hovering over the rubble where bodies still lie, some still alive, some already dead...and hear the voices of both, confused and wondering if they will be found. Following the real life hero stories of the firemen lost from the first building falling down...are backed by ignorant white Americans, shooting Indians because they wear turbans, and if it looks like Muslim, it must be a Muslim and therefore must die. 

I also get my e-mails almost daily a new one comes in giving me a different Afghani woman who tells a different story of the people of her country who are being ruled by the Taliban, which was not voted in, a country divided by its own civil war and the people of its country so poor it couldn't blow up enough wood to start a small fire for warmth let alone, topple the world trade center. 

We are finger pointing at Osama ben ladin and we search out the rest of his terrorist gang and in the first hours...what is it that we find...well, they learned how to fly here in the US. Next we find, that our military trained Osama ben ladin in terrorist tactics so he could defend his country against the soviet union. I am sure it was a good plan at the time. Is there a point when we might have questioned our own morality and ethics in this venture? 

The world has been suffering through terrorist acts for years, literally. We have seen pictures of England being bombed...the method was different, car bombs. Does that make it any less deadly? As Americans, we are seeing now what the rest of the world has been seeing for a long time. Was this our wake up call? 

The news keeps repeating that we will find out who the faceless cowards are behind this attack. They say we will find out who supports and harbors these terrorist and we will make war on them. 

What I see is more innocent lives being lost. More American lives, more English, more Japanese, more Afghanistan, more...need I go on? We want to blame the Devil, I hear it referred to as evil that has been wrought upon our country. Isn't this a symptom of our own inner struggles. And when all is said and done, after training Osama with our military, and teaching them to fly, and providing them with arms, won't we eventually find that the money that supported this has come from our country as well? 

When all is said and done, won't the fingers be pointing at the United States in the war on terrorism? And when that happens, will we bomb ourselves? 

There has to be a place where this can stop. I know that a few people can make a difference even though it doesn't seem like it sometimes. Now is a time of coming together in a way that we have not been asked to before. Now is a time of discovering where our own evil and violence lies in our own hearts. It is a time to stop pointing fingers at others and start asking what it is that this wake up call was supposed to mean. I don't have answers. I have never had THE answer...all I ever seem to have is questions. I just hope my perspective helps one person make some kind of sense of what is occurring in the world today. Maybe we can make a brighter future for tomorrow.

To all my friends and loved ones, take care and be safe, think of love first and see if we can find a better way.


--- Back To Top ---

War of Thought                                 11/21/01

As a child,
when someone was mean to me
or hurt me in some way
I would put myself in their shoes
and try to understand why
most often, I would find
that it had nothing to do 
with me at all
but it helped me to learn
both compassion and empathy

As I grew to adulthood,
this "talent" became second nature
to the point that I forgot
and I might not have been
as good as I once was at it
It's harder to empathize
to be compassionate
I have to bring it to consciousness
to re-identify
to understand

In today's world of confusion
I try to break it down
If Afghanistan held 100 people
30 would be men
30 would be women
and 40 would be children
of the men,
1 would be a terrorist
3 would be maimed
and another 5 would be sick or dying
I look to the children

I try to see our country
America, the United States
through the eyes of an Afghani child
I see their pain and hunger
I feel their anger and hatred
I sense their confusion; their hopelessness
Do our bombs help them to understand
who we are to them
do our bombs define us?

Our thoughts are at war
Do we kill or can we heal
who are we harming
and why?
Are we asking the right questions
how many 100 story buildings
have to drop to the ground
before we ask
the right question
and receive a valid answer

I am no so much confused
as I am disturbed
I don't see us exercising a choice
that does not include death
and one more death
seems to be one too many
can we afford to be wrong?
Can our karma survive
the choices of our present?

--- Back To Top ---

Mind Alive                        11/21/01 

Walk with me
take my hand in yours
and I will guide you
through this land
of beauty and peace
adventure and mystery
the homeland of my mind

This is where I live
and you are invited to stay
or visit if you must 
on your own dark and cloudy day
as a guest you will be entertained
fed and warmed
by the hearth of my fires

My home is at your disposal 
but please don't destroy it
for when you leave
I must be the one 
to clean and repair it

Take a swim in my deep 
blue, clear lake
ride my horse, the one with wings
touch my unicorn
but cause no harm
as my rainbows depend
upon my friends
they keep my world alive

We live here in harmony
caring for each other
they can not live 
without me
and I would not want to live
without them

So tread softly
and try not to awaken me
I sleep in dreams
and awaken not at all
for your world can not
exist here

And shut that door
gently behind you,
as you enter, 
as you exit,
and let not this
magic escape 

This refuge is for all
and I maintain it
protecting it fiercely
from harm
future generations 
today's children
visiting upon the hour
and spending their days
like money
remember for a minute
and living it forever

--- Back To Top ---

Conspiracy This                                 12/31/01

Conspiracy theory? I scoff.
Oh, there's a huge conspiracy
but it is not our government,
it is not terrorism,
it is not aliens
it is you!
And it is me!
And we all believe 
what we have is real
but it is the grandest lie of all
it is not
And each day, the sun comes up
each night, the stars shine bright
it is not real
this bed does not exist at all
our neighborhood an illusion
our brotherhood invisible
and we can feel it!
and we know it exists!
this conspiracy we won't 
or can't admit to
perpetrators of the incubators
born again, and again
forgetting, remembering
remembering to forget
shadow memories driving us
devouring us, revealing our selves
but not enough 
because our fears
remind us 
of the fakeness,
the illusion, 
the hideous nothingness
that is all creation
and that is how we KNOW
and the conspiracy lives
on and on.

--- Back To Top ---

New Day's Parting                                  12/31/01

It is the strangest thing,
the oddest sensation
watching you leave me
since the day we met

we always think the impact
is the beginning
but 20/20 shows with clarity
that it is the time
we begin - ending

moon tides, resisting change
a constant flow and ebb
but months pass by
years used up
and the steps between us
become more obvious
as the miles separate us
and one year finds me here
while the next year 
finds you on the other side
of the world
yet only one day apart

sadness and joy
to have shared this time at all
was a gift
but I wondered why I couldn't see
why I didn't see
that the first time we came together
was the start of us moving apart
like a renegade planet
shot gunned around the sun
and propelled toward Epsilon

--- Back To Top ---

A Little Late                                        December 31, 2001

I have been saturated with TV images
fame, fortune, misery poured down
my throat like the liquor that kills
these stars, musicians, actors
creators of the dream,
liv-ers of the words, mumblers

I just kept thinking;
there's all these people out there with lives
and then there is me.
Contented to watch all these years?
yes, that is a question
was it necessary for me to live
to see, to experience
to find a voice I wanted to share
to find a place in my heart
that even, if ever, cared

Why so late do you call to me
did you notice the time
It's not as if you have waited until
the final hour
but I nearly forgot you were to come
are the days upon me now
is the choice to stand or fall
while all I have managed to learn
is barely how to crawl
did you notice these bloody knees
my wounds seeping clear
here, only a tool,
as you still own me

  --- Back To Top ---

Do Not Disturb                                 December 31, 2001

Oh, so dangerous
Don't dig here
I have already constructed
the lies of my face
Have I not shown it to you

Have I not excavated
the bones of my heritage
turned over stones
of childhood dreams
Don't you like this pretty girl
I have become?

Why must you tempt me
toward someplace deeper
push me, shove me
make me discover
you are tormenting me
to my death

Relentless torture
I'm so pretty
Scratch that black board face
can't you see how pretty
erase away these chalk marks
Don't make me change, my pretty,
My pretty plastic face

--- Back To Top ---

Human Illusion                          December 29, 2001

Human Illusion
unrefuted delusion
to remain blameless
I reach for you
a speechless breach

More than 15 minutes of fame
words burned upon your heart
seared onto the soul
shared upon the continent
and unleashed for the world
to ponder, to mouth
savor or sour

sounding so pathetic
which debts do you pay
only the ones due
or the ones that come for you too?

I admire you
your strength and perseverance
but I can not be you
sowing my silence like seeds
that bloom into flowers
upon a page
of disconnected life images

--- Back To Top ---

Suffer Me, Suffer You                      December 29, 2001

You bring me your trouble
I bring to the table
my ear, my shoulder
you use them both

What a beautiful boy
sweet little girl
tell me how it feels
to suffer in your world

Why do you do it
educate by choice
I stand outside
while you pretend
to invite me in

I rip off your mask
(you) smile through (your) illusions
you don't even notice
as I strip away (your) emotions

I hear it all  (What do you say?)
You receive, not at all  (Repeat it again)
Not because I lack voice  (My voice is strong)
You can not hear me  (Your ears deny me)
as is your choice  (a choice to live by)
You bring to me your trouble  (a choice to die by)
Here is my ear, my shoulder, my tear  (I suffer for you)

  --- Back To Top ---

Angry                            December 29, 2001

You make me angry
What a unique roll model
How original did you get
fame, fortune, family
in a pool of
vomit, urine and blood

Is this what you lived for
your legacy to the world
to leave your words behind
while a drug induced stupor
steals your life away
day by day
heart beat slipping quietly
ending in a night

Another forgotten face
lyrics to the wind
drowning in your pain
and taking us all with you
sharing what should have been
your own private hell
picking up your pieces
to a new unheard song
we must sing alone
Slightly off key

All so unnecessary
all so futile
scarring our hearts,
sealing our souls
You make me so angry
you foolish old soul
was there a love,
My love,
that could have saved you?

  --- Back To Top ---

Death, Family and Soul                  December 20, 2001

Beyond this world,
there passes
a place without flesh
and fears.

The family we pass to
is a family unlike
the mortal descriptions
held by the limitations
of the human mind,
the hearts inability
to expand
and love
far from itself.

In this family,
we are
all one.
One family,
one body,
one soul.

and confined,
our bodies
too much energy
to maintain
the usual connections,
we feel separate -

we no longer
must give away
so much energy
to the illusion
of the body

We can use the energy
the way it was meant
to flow,
between us all,
information shared
to all
in an instant,

love felt
by all
in an instant.


No more barriers
between us.

In a twinkling
of death,
the family
the other side
and the soul
the family

and we return
to a place
we really never left,
only thought we had.

  --- Back To Top ---

The Commercial                       December 18, 2001

**What this is - is an idea I had for a commercial.   I just liked it enough that I felt I had to write it down.  I hope the image it drew for me, carries through to the reader, as one never really knows.  Maybe Honda, would consider buying the idea for real commercial use.  One can only hope and dream. 
This is copyrighted material!!!!!  :-)

There is a young girl - teen - in a plaid skirt and white shirt, her hair is in plaits down the side of her head (very catholic looking). She is sitting on a park bench. Her arms are folded across her chest and a folder is in her arms that she has been doodling on. In large letters, it says "Philosophy for a new millennium". Then you see her face and she has a soft secretive smile - your attentions draw to her eyes and then you see through her eyes and her eyes are looking back in the rear view mirror of a car and as it backs away from the mirror and out, you get a full view of the NOW woman, very sophisticated and older looking, driving this car and you back away further and the car she is driving is a new hybrid electric-gas car.....
Philosophy for a new millenium...One we can all live with.
 --- Back To Top ---

Close Strangers                             December 12, 2001

How long have I known you?
Sitting near you and never speaking
I had nothing to say
nothing worth speaking aloud
and days passed me by

I started to notice something
an energy surrounding me
where does it come from
it's not uncomfortable
simply unfamiliar

My mind wanders
I find my thoughts on you
a friendly stranger
my body responds
I start to feel

My face flushes
improper thoughts
properly appropriated
and harmless
then you speak to me

I wonder, can you know
was it just me?
just as forbidden as strangers
as it would be as friends
my silence remains

but I watch
and create new fantasies

--- Back To Top ---

A Little More Country               December 13, 20011

If I were a little more country
I'd have a big ole' dog
vacation in my ford pick-me-up truck
and know how to shoot me a rabbit

I'd feel a little more country
if my boyfriend came in drunk
on Saturday nights
wore blue jeans and a hat
and picked a medley on his geetar

That big sprawling ranch
lemonade on the ver-an-dah
sunsets on the swing
and you by my side

But my city shows through
I sleep with my cats
drive my foreign car
he calls for an appointment
I check my schedule

If I were a little more country
Maybe life would be more simple
no more multiple jobs
multiple men,
fair weather friends

And sitting on the swing
with you by my side
ain't looking all that bad today
As I tell my troubles to the moon

(I really thought this might be more appropriate as a song. 
Doesn't it sound like something Faith Hill or Trisha Yearwood might sing?)

--- Back To Top ---

Whose Lonely Now                  December 12, 2001

I don't know why everyone is always so lonely
How do they have time
How do all the vying voices in their head
allow them the luxury
of feeling alone

I always wondered...

I thought more jobs
would silence all the thoughts
but it leaves me open
wide open,
it's so hard to stop

They sit so close to me
badgering me, wearing me DOWN
I fall asleep, try to dream
I have not time to remember
to write it DOWN

But the words come anyway
disrupting my dreams
bleeding on the sheets
slowing me DOWN
how does the rest of the world live
I would like to know
I would like to be
just one of me

Instead of all these careers
all these jobs, all these paychecks
I don't know how not to be
anything but everything

Oh, to make it stop,
the world
for just a moment
just a day

--- Back To Top ---

Basket Of Thoughts                         December 12, 2001

A basket of thoughts, ideas
melodies, rhymes
falling through
the wicker cracks
not a pretty place
to keep them

I use all the words
create a couple images
but who sees them here?
are they in plain view
or just a piece
we managed to pass by

What's it all mean?
Why do they steal
my thoughts, my words
they sing it loud
is it proud?
only words, only thoughts
whose voice have I become
whose lips repeat me
whose mind depletes me

--- Back To Top ---

Just A Little Bump                            December 12, 2001

If you're not part of the future then get out of the way - J. Mellencamp

What if I bumped my head
and awoke in the morning
with no memory at all

which part of me
would I be

would the best parts survive
or something just a little less
than divine

--- Back To Top ---

Will You Be Ok?                        December 6, 2001

Will you be ok
when I
leave you
I see you watching me
and I know,
you know

You follow me around
talk to me
in dreams
I see you watching me
You know I'm going to leave

Will you be
will I worry anyway
if I leave you on a light
will you find another way

I leave you all I have
I'll be back again, I'm sure
but how will you survive
if it isn't all that soon

Will you breath for me
will you sleep away the day
I want you to be happy
but I can't afford to stay

Will you be ok?

For Tasha Kitty

--- Back To Top ---

What Are You Going To Do?               December 6, 2001

What are you going to do with your life?
What are you going to do?
Who you going to be when you grow up?
Who are you going to be?

Have you started to discover yet,
Your talents and your charms?
Are you working with your fantasies,
creating strands beyond?

Who you gonna be?
What you gonna do?
Isn't time running short?
Are we waiting just for you?

Can you hold your breath
can you shut your eyes
can you hold my hand
shutting off my mind?

Could it be the timing
or possibly the place
would a memory propel me
just the sighting of your face?

Is this what you've done so far
is this all that's left?
Are you done creating
have you given us your best
How much longer must we wait
is there maybe one more test

What are you going to do
when are you going to do it
where will I need to be
to experience
to live
to see

What am I going to do
If YOU never succeed?

--- Back To Top ---

Pieces of Time                           October 18, 2001

I feel absent of feelings, emotions. As if all things that could be felt by the body, by the mind, by the heart has left me. Absent, just gone. There is this tinkering going on in my mind, like the cogs of a wheel, moving pieces of time, clicking away but mostly it is a slow, regimented, click, click, click. 

I wait. I attempt escape. Not too far, not permanently, just a little while. Sleep. My dreams no longer befriend me. They leave me vacant, just a whisp of memory, a whiff of a smell, a scent of something. Not enough to grasp or record. It is as though a no where's land lay before me, empty and desert like, placid in the the peace of the dead. Click. Click. Click. 

Not as though trapped but unable, unwilling, unmotivated to change the scenery, to alter a landscape. It is peaceful, no pain, and in some way there is beauty. The sun is warm while my feet remain cold. The heaven and hell united in my vision. I stand at crossroads and the options are not just left or right but an ability to move anywhere on the web, and flat linear direction, as well as up or down or simply to slide to a parallel. It is not the paralization of no choice but the overwhelming options that make all choices obsolete. Click, click, click. 

Enough pain can sometimes move you toward another choice, except that sometimes the pain becomes comfortable. Sometimes the darkness is not so dark. Sometimes, your best friends lie in the pain and the darkness because then there is some feeling and the discomfort, while comfortable, brings a sense of peace - or perhaps hope. And being nowhere is not lost because it has no coordinates and can not be mapped through time, through mass, through speed or light. It just is no where and that can be any where and it can be here. Click! Click! Click!
  --- Back To Top

The Stalking                                     October 22, 2001

I am stalking you.
Do you hear my footsteps,
feel my breath upon your cheek?
Is there a faceless lover
who appears in your dreams?
Do I seem familiar to you?

Do you sense that there is someone
searching through the darkness.
Are you feeling haunted?
Do I bring a sense of peace,
a sense of adventure,
a sense of completeness?

Do you remember the dream
where we fell laughing from the bed
tangled in the sheets?
Are you seduced yet?

Face to face,
eye to eye,
heart to heart,
Will you remember me?
Has it been so long
since we lay
entwined within the stars
Have you forgotten me
over such a short time?

I watch you,
waiting for our paths to cross
Does my energy leap to your thoughts
even when I am not thinking of you?
Do you come to me?
Is it your breath
that caresses my cheek?
Do you pretend not to
but search for me anyway?

Are you haunting my dreams,
my thoughts
persuasively invading my mind,
my body.

Are you here now,
surrounding me,
bringing this sense of peace
Are you stalking me?

--- Back To Top ---

Just Another Play                       October 22, 2001

Where am I perched now?
Is this a dream,
an awakened fantasy,
a conscious daydream?
Is this real?

Boredom begets boredom.
The mind becomes a playground
forced from its stifling existence
to create,
or die.

characters appear,
the scene must change
for we have dined here before
and each event must be unique.

Or take a piece that felt good
yet finished incompletely
or falling just short of adequated.
Adjust, perhaps change a character
or rearrange the words.
Recreate it, over.

Play must be included,
a little sarcasm,
An eruption of emotion,
throw in a little anger or tears.
Laughter ranks high.

Think this is easy?
Then you don't live here,
where every door can be a quandary of ethics.
Choice between life or death of another,
of the self,
or just a piece of the self.

Imagine crazy.
Imagine rich.
Imagine dreary.
Doldrums are already too abundant.
I call it real.
My reality,
forced to live in shadows.

I must create my own sunlight,
a beacon to my self.
Self serving.
But then why not?
Is there another,
wandering through my mind,
sharing in this nightmare
of endless corridors?

I have not even
evil, fear or death
to entertain me
as I am a non-believer.
What is there to do
or not do
when nothing matters
and will is just a word
that sounds like want or need.

Abstract forms of desire
leaving its emptiness behind.
Ancient memories befriend me
but where do I store them all?
I hide them down another hallway,
closed behind another heavy wooden door.
Revisiting an old memory to serve whom?

Best left in the moment,
where anyone might attend the party,
any conversation may take place.
Mysteries of the universe philosophized ad nauseum.
My life reviewed,
highlights, highlighted.

An occasional glance of roads not chosen,
questioning the footstep
which led me here to this page.
but never doubting.
Knowing in my heart of hearts
that this too shall pass.
And I am still so disturbed.

--- Back To Top ---

Graveyard Ghosts                          August 15, 2001

Graveyard ghosts
picture phantoms
smokey wisps of reminiscence
a haze distorts my vision

I sing alone, along
driving, watching, escaping
I wrestle alone, along
whispering, listening, waiting

I use my words, poorly
I believe the future, hardly
I laugh at life, richly
I cry asleep, softly

Pressing me down
Holding me in
I am extending, expanding, exploding
I challenge you and rescue myself
over and over and over

Graveyard phantoms smokey vision
alone watching, wrestling, waiting
my future life asleep
pressing me, extending you
over and over and over

--- Back To Top ---

Spiritual Masturbation                                August 15, 2001

How bad our ego is
to create our body and world around sublimely
to color it up and
dumb it down, so blindly

Deny me, hide me, justify
reject, neglect, perhaps it will die
need it, bleed it, feeding
it grows from its own seed

I cut you and bleed myself
a life full of mirrors
I, Am, So, Real
I fake myself alive

egoless spirit to survive
must embrace all it is not
clinging to our illusions
rebirthing in your eyes

A spiritual masturbation
exalting above, condemning below
yet needing to marry the both
and make this dance of harmony

--- Back To Top ---

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