Watching the breath move in and out

Soothing the organs

Caressing the spirit.

Life fueling breath.

Soul soothing breath.



Invisible friend

Serving this mortal coil

Until the sun sets

One last time.

It oozes through the veins

Like moldy soft cheese

Coats the walls

In yellowish green

Putrid slime

You found hard to believe

Could have ever once

Been anything pure


It oozes through the arteries

Making it hard to move

From one place to another

Without feeling sick

In its wake.

It oozes out of pores

So small

You’d need

A microscope to see the


The smell surrounds you.

Everyone can sense


But too polite to say a word.

They watch you fade away


With smiles and platitudes

It oozes.

Sitting in her car

In the stifling garage

Breathing in deeply

the air of freedom.

So sweet and clean

He’s not home.

Thank goodness

But HE’S home

Oh goodness!

Sitting in royal robes

Made in Africa

Preaching God and Religion

Wishing she was never born

To be there.

The sweet air of freedom

Her hair falls out

Combs over the bald spot

With a painted on smile.

How did she get there?

How can she leave?

She’d rather be alone

Because she doesn’t want

to go



How can a good idea

Be so wrong

A short time in 

And I am done. 

A dream in theory

A nightmare in life. 

The promised joy

Nothing but strife. 

Smiling past tears

Looking for the lining

That’s promised in silver

The masses were lying. 

The joy is minimal 

No detection of fun

A short time in this

I’m already done. 

Every year I abstain from something that I take great pleasure in for 40 days.  One year in college my sister/friend and I gave up chocolate.  That was a hard 40 days.  We convinced ourselves that Tootsie Rolls were not chocolate, so we ate about a pound of the faux chocolate for 40 days to make up for the good stuff we craved.  The horrors!

This year I went old school and I gave up sugar in the form of anything that can be looked at as a dessert. Today I was showcasing my Just Desserts Pinterest board with over 350 pins.  My sons were shocked by all the delicious looking treats I was casually gazing at without a moment of angst.  I’m hoping I am demonstrating willpower. In the meantime, my youngest asked me to make at least one thing off my board every week for the rest of the year so I can actually accomplish something off this particular board. To his delight, I shook hands with him and said I’ll start right after Lent.

Will I do it? Yes. They have heard the stories of me taking cake decorating classes where I made a cake a week.  They have encouraged me to take another class, but I rather do other types of desserts.  Anyway, now my sons are counting down the days until Easter.  

She walks with wolves

They know her name

She adorns her body

Without the shame.

Tribal markings

Frame her royal face

Beautiful woman

Her skin, her race

A shadowed friend

Attempted to mock

Wolf woman stood tall

Immune to shock.

Her grace are pearls

Wasted on swine

She leaves them mocking,

Yet wanting to climb

Into her skin

And be so free.

The friend now banished

The wolf sips her tea.

Lately, I’ve copped this phrase to prettily sum up how I feel about most things.  I go through the motions of life but that kernel of caring is getting more elusive everyday.  I wake up every morning embracing my yoga practice.  Then the day starts with a cup of courage brewed from that single kernel of caring.  I teach my sons, cater to their needs, and maintain the house.  As the rest of life barrels around me, I couldn’t care less.  I don’t clutch my pearls or get my feathers ruffled over anything.  My Twitter and Facebook feed are filled with an abundance of things I should care about, but it’s overwhelming.  Day to day concerns that would’ve had me in a state do not faze me.  I don’t care.  I shut it all down and wait for the next day to roll around so I can do it all again.

It’s a curious state of being.  Have I found my zen?  Maybe I’ve found nirvana! (hello, Kurt)  Living day to day with no expectations or caring allows me time to just be.  The minutia of life is really not as important as living in the moment.  Life is too short to rage at the machine.  If no one hears you scream, don’t scream louder, find a different way to express your displeasure.  If your family and friends do not know you, don’t try to make yourself known.  Get to know yourself and all else will fall into place.  Clean out that closet you just crammed your emotional baggage.  Find that single kernel of caring and nurture it for what matters. 

Maybe I’m not dead inside.  Maybe I’m enlightened.

Can’t Turn Away

His life ticked by

Like a broken watch. 

The media and Web

Trained him to pick a side. 

He rolls down the velvet path

Clicking on choice pieces

Of carrion so dry and tough 

The maggots reject them

Looking for juicy truth

Over dried flecks of bitter dreams. 

He fools himself looking

At the other side

Tick tock tick tick

Bastards are wrong

Nothing is right. 

The slave to the master

What else should I believe

  • My life is gone and you’re my pillow. 

She Kissed Me Twice

She kissed me twice

Said the girl of 20

Walking with a friend 

Pocketbook swinging.

Bottled blond hair

Rippled with each step

Eyes flashing fire

Her friend nods sympathy.

Not a sweet recollection

But a bothersome encounter

Who kissed her?

Why did they bother?

A scorned lover

A fork-tongued friend

Mother, sister


I have a friend who has an amazing Resting Bitch Face.  When I first saw her, I thought she was…well…a bitch.  A mutual friend said, “Alisa?  A bitch?  She’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet.  She’s a sweetheart.”

Well, I had no intention of finding out if she was a sweetheart until we happened to be working at the same school.  Hesitantly, I introduced myself to her and that Resting Bitch Face broke out into the warmest smile you could imagine.  Instantly that first impression melted away and I discovered that Alisa was indeed one of the sweetest people I ever met.  It’s funny how my initial impression of her was so wrong.  Ever since that encounter, I have always kept my mind open to giving people a chance.  This way of thinking has helped me to unearth genuine moments with people I would’ve initially written off.  I have a friendly relationship with a local homeless man named David because I gave him a chance and didn’t write him off because of his status and lack of hygiene.

Currently as our government has been nothing but fodder for comedians, sketch comedy shows, and drive by media hounds, I keep hearing people say to give a certain world leader….

…oh, my stomach!

…a chance.  Honestly, I don’t know what that means.  People can say and do whatever they want in resistance to this person’s ascension to the throne of the First World, but in all rights, he has the job and he has the chance to prove he is not a person to have an unfortunate Resting Bitch Face.  No one is stopping him from doing anything legal within his rights as a leader of a soverign nation.  This person could honestly prove to everyone that our first impression was wrong and he is definitely a horse worth backing by doing something.  Now people may say he is doing something, but the constant tweets, rants, and blustering doesn’t reveal a warm smiling spirit behind the bitchy facade.  His thinly veiled attempt to be inclusive with a prolonged side-eye at everyone who dares to not LOVE him shows the first impression might be…right.