I believe in being prepared for any given situation. It isn't because I'm a pessimistic person; I think it is just good common sense. Hence, I've entitled my blog "Even Nothing is Something."

This covers my butt in any event. On any given day I can feel great exaltation that I have done something grand. I can scribble fiercely when my thoughts are leaping across the meadows of my mind like a happy little colt in the month of May, or my mind and writing can be as dry and arid, as cold and without life, as the Gobi desert - because even Nothing is Something.

I want to thank all of my fellow artists who work through other means and forms and who sell their work on the wonderful artist's site "Etsy," a place to buy and sell all things handmade, along with vintage items and supplies for their craft. They are a great group of people.

Those who have links to their site on my blog represent only a few of those whom I wish to include. Just click on one of those links and join the Etsy community. It is free. They are a great group of artists who have relieved me of my money in the most delightful of ways. If it weren't for their encouragement, I would have never shared my work through this blog.

Thank you my darling friends!

Enjoy my blog - The Poet or Not - More or Less

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Just Thought Something More Optomistic Might Be Good Right Now


Liquid Poisons in
an I.V. Drip.
My mind forbade
my suffering body
to stay my head upon
its pillow. Sunday sun
drew me to a back door
porch, roofed and cool.
Everything around
me moved; but I did
not. Chest barely
rising to take another
breath, eyes never
blinking, aware of
familiar sights and
sounds, only far more
intense. The urban
wild of birds and
squirrels were far
more clear, more beautiful,
more musical,and remembered
more quietly. The sky
was never more blue, nor
the clouds so pristine,
white and low, and a
breeze whispered my
cheek. Memories, like
dewdrops on the smiling
faces of pansies, reminded
me of days before disease.
Odd, I found them less
exquisite than these.
My love, while I lay
dying, planted life from
seeds. He took me gently
by the hand and helped me
down the steps, toward his
little paradise of flora
grown. I felt ancient
beside his youth, until his
garden's blooms, the scent of
Lily of the Valley, my
favorite, filled my nostrils
with the sweet days gone
by, when I wondered about
death. Before me was life
that had flourished with
spring and summer's rain.
I marveled that one so
poisoned could still live,
yet, while my soul
experienced dwindling away,
I knew I would not
die. The Spirit of Rain
that freshens the Rivers
to the Sea would replenish
my strength; my spirit
would peek from the earth
- alive and free.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Well, By Golly

For someone who usually doesn't write song lyrics I'm outdoing myself. LOL This particular song should have been written first. I just didn't think of it. I'm still hurt, as would be any woman married as long as I have been only to find out her husband has thought her to be a sort of freak for the past years since two mastectomies relieved her of her bosoms. I chose not to have reconstruction. I don't regret it one bit! And, I don't regret having had cancer either, as this song will reveal. I now have hair, who needs boobs?

Twisted Man

A pair of distorted
eyes and a heart
without a heart, one
that knows no love,
turns away from my
chest, loathing the
scars where I once
had breasts. He is a
Twisted Man.

Do you really want
me now, Twisted
Man, or are you just
afraid of being alone?
Is that the only reason
you always call me
on the phone?

The Twisted Man
said he would love
me anyway, instead
he shoved me away
with contempt. How
can he resent that I
have survived, that
I'm still alive? The Twisted
Man knows no love.

Do you really want
me now, Twisted
Man, or is it guilt
that brings you here
anyhow? Should I
make my phone a
number unlisted?

While one remained,
the Twisted Man
loved me just the
same, but, when I
lost the other, the
Twisted Man had
to make me suffer,
much, a life without
a single touch.

Do you really want
me now, Twisted Man,
or do you see yourself
growing old? Are you
afraid of being left out
in the cold? Is that the
reason you wish I'd stayed?

People say: “How
wonderful that you
have survived.” But,
cancer was not my
greatest threat; it was the
Twisted Man whose
heart is bent; it is
he who has been
my greatest threat.

Do you really want
me now Twisted Man?
Do you really love
me now Twisted Man?
I can see clearly how
your mind might think.
What I see is so unkind.

I am not one who has
survived; I am one who
has thrived. Evil disease
has taken away my breasts,
but a gift has been left,
a closer look at life
and changed priorities.
It is the Twisted
Man who has died.

It is he who has
not survived. The
Twisted Man who
knows no love, the
Twisted Man who
wants me now. The
Twisted Man, says
he loves me now.

Twisted Man,
Twisted Man,
Twisted Man.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Well, I'm just on a roll here with song lyrics

The Stars Have Fallen

The brightest vistas
in our life are like
the stars at night,
providing an ambient
light for our roadway.
But, they can fall
from the sky, We
feel cheated and
wonder why they
ended up on the
ground never making
a warning sound
as they've fallen
with the clouds we
never saw.

The stars have fallen,
their points cutting
us raw. Deepest
darkness descends
and no matter where
we are nothing can
make amends as
our pain at night
is twisted in our
sheets and we never
really sleep.

The stars have fallen
from the sky. Darkness
surrounds us so tightly
we feel entombed
within ourselves, buried
alive with ourselves
alone, questioning, is
it really true those stars
never shone so brightly
as we thought. The stars
have fallen from the
sky. Yet, the night birds
still sing an air and,
while hidden, the moon
is always there.

The stars have fallen;
their points cutting
us raw. The deepest
darkness descends
and no matter where
we are nothing can
make amends as
our pain at night
is twisted in our
sheets and we never
really sleep.

Night is always
followed by Dawn and
the most stygian (archaic literary word meaning: hellish)
of nights is gone.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Song Lyrics

I think this is only the second song I've ever written. I always get caught up in the fact that a truly good song not only has the good rhythm of poetry, it also generally has to rhyme and I run from rhyme because it can sound so contrived.

I'm seriously dating myself . . . I don't mean as in taking myself out to a local dance club. . . I mean in eras, in years of age. But, for those of you who share my generation, you probably remember the old show "Hee Haw." Well, my family really enjoyed it so we never missed an episode and it was about as silly as the name. You had to give it due credit though; it was entertaining and funny. Particularly amusing was the marionette, whose name I've forgotten and I'll now have to look it up on the internet to satisfy my piqued curiosity, that quoted, as opposed to singing, song lyrics. She was downright hysterical.

Try it some time. Choose a favorite song and READ IT OUTLOUD. Most of the time, the song sounds super silly. Oh, I hate to write silly, but for the second time in my life I've felt that nothing but a song will do. The first song is on my blog too, "Life is Just a Highway Passin' us By," or something like that. This one is "Dagger To My Heart." God, I wish I had more than a dozen followers - even a baker's dozen would be welcome. Songs need an audience.

Dagger To My Heart

I've been feelin' the pain
of the dagger to my heart
and you're tellin' me not to
take a deep breath cos' baby
that's just the start. You're gonna
cut me to the bone, you're gonna
make sure that the pain goes
all the way home, you're
gonna make sure I never
go free, cos' you intend on killin'
me, and baby I'm afraid
that that's just the start,
the start of the pain of
a broken heart.

Cos' you're gonna run
a dagger right through
my heart; you're gonna
make sure that I never
go free cos' you intend
on killin' me.

And you've got lots more
to do to me cos' you
just wanna hang around
and see what happens when
you slice the dagger
right through my heart.
And the tears run down
my face and the dagger
to my heart knows
just the right place;
you're gonna cut me right
to the bone, you're
gonna make sure to
drive it all the way home.

Cos' you're gonna run
a dagger right through
my heart; you're gonna
make sure that I never
go free cos' you intend
on killin' me.

I'm livin' on the edge of death
and I close my eyes at night
and see your eyes and
the hate that's there is like
a dagger right through my heart.
You gotta make me feel
the hurt cos' I ain't got
what you want, so you're
gonna run a dagger right
through my heart and
honey that's just the start
cos you wanna just cause
me more pain when I just
wanna take a fast train.

Cos' you're gonna run
a dagger right through
my heart; you're gonna
make sure that I never
go free cos' you intend
on killin' me.

You're gonna run
a dagger right through
my heart; you're gonna
make sure that I never
go free cos' you intend
on killin' me. You intend
on killin' me, cos you
intend on killin' me

with a dagger right
through the heart.
with a dagger right
through my heart.

Oh, and, after I get over the fact that a song must rhyme, I belabor the fact that a good song usually uses words like "wanna" instead of "want to" etc. Ouch

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Life With A Sociopath?

Love of a Sociopath

Nothing is ever
crystal clear with
you. I never know
if I should laugh
or if I should cry;
your greatest desire
is to wipe away
my smiles and cover
them with tears.
You must always
shine, while I
play the part of
being nothing such
as you. All of the
power in love and
lies is with the
one who cares the
least. And, so we
carry on. You find
pleasure in making
me worry, with
inciting pity and
attention, while
I starve for a love
that will never be.
You have been a
thief, and I have
loved you. You
have associated
yourself with lawlessness,
and I have loved you.
Now, I love someone
I don't even know.
Who are you? Do
you even know?
It is essential to
your very existence
to manipulate the
truth to further
your ends, even
if there is none but
to cause pain; to
make me doubt
my own sanity,
my own reality.
But, now I know.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Haiku With a 5 - 7 - 5 meter

In Dreams

In dreams, I am scarred,
but I carry them with pride.
Now I am ashamed.

In dreams, I am loved,
so briefly, never by you;
for me you have scorn.

In dreams, I see you,
walking away without heed,
choosing not to love.

In dreams, I live pale
and dead, without any hope,
so much like my life.

In dreams, as in life,
I live with a shattered mind.
This I learn to bear.

In dreams, I wish to
never awaken to pain;
this I can't escape.

In life, always, it
is just around the corner,
lurking in the halls.

I am never free
from these dreams that come
to haunt and destroy.

I live the nightmare
of dreams that will never be.
There is nothing else.

Until I fly high,
higher than my pain, and laugh,
the wind at my back.