Wednesday, August 31, 2011



As I wait for the approaching night,
yearning to be blinded by black.
I reminisce of old evils
done to me, without thoughts of remorse.
I am one with myself.

Myself, alone, my oneness looks black.
Back at a past of evils.
Medieval renderings of remorse
Force themselves through my mind, myself.
Self-painted versions of painful penance.

Penance in forms of whips, human evils
Vile happenings created to extract remorse
Worse because necessary for others, I confess no sin myself.
Self-made into what I am, I am the protector of penance.
Circumstances' victim allowed peace only at night.

Night, my only friend, accepts: does not demand remorse.
Course, uneducated commoners, though, yell to me to end myself.
Self-righteous martyrs. Unholy peons. Resent their penance.
Chance only lets them yell, without fear of pain in the night.
Light strips the True of their power, turning good from black.

Black tried to protect the truth, and only I, myself,
Self-taught, have been able to hide the light through penance.
Lancing the treachery, trying to return holiness to the night.
Fright of good kept infidels believing in the wondrous black.
Slack in their faith, they revel in numerous evils.

Evils I have spent my life holding down, through penance.
My stance strong, loved them I have through punishment for night.
Devils now persecute me, and want me to leave the safe black...
Lack they the knowledge. I am lonely in a land of evils.
Weevils eat at my soul, but for my love I feel no remorse.

Remorse I shall not, no evils have I done.
Black night falls, and the crowd leaves me to myself.


originally written 1990?

First off, hey Warren! Thanks for following, you're my most favorite ever! Now, this poem was written for my poetry writing class taught by Jennifer Horne in the early 90's. I have been very proud over the years that I wrote a sestina for that class, and when I pulled this's not a sestina. It seems inspired by sestinas, but, nope, not a sestina. I still like it. At this point in my writing, I really liked writing poetry for the sound the words made together. I also really liked (and still do) weird, scary stuff. I think I remember what this poem was about , but I am also interested in what y'all get from it, from any or all of them actually.  Thanks for reading, thanks for clicking your reactions, and thanks for the comments! Have a good day!

Tuesday, August 30, 2011



Hey My Friend!!!!
March 3, 2005
To: "Heather" hzr@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com
 From: "Reilly" rlyboo@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com

Hey Heather!!

I'm so glad to have found you online! I can't believe that it's been 25 years! Social networking rocks! I want to know all about you. What's going on, where do you live, all the details.

I'm good. I have just moved and I am getting married in October. We are thinking of going to Hawaii. I am so excited! I guess the biggest thing on my mind right now is that I have an infected gland and it looks like I am trying to grow a testicle! It hurts like hell and I have an appointment to see a new gynocologist this afternoon. I am not looking forward to it-there is construction the way to her office and the bumps hurt!I have to sit on a small pillow just so I don't list to the right. I was taking spin classes and I think that's what did it. It's an excellent reason to stop exercising, but I wouldn't recommend it.

Oh well, enough about me. I can't wait to hear back from you!



drafted 8/28/11
completed 8/30/11

Monday, August 29, 2011


Housekeeping is the title I will use whenever there is some extra info I want to pass along, or any updates to the workings of the lasagna. (which kind of sucks now because I really want to use that title for a story or a poem.)

1. I think I have updated the comments section so that anyone may comment, without having to register first.

2. I opted for "moderate comments" so I think that means they come to me before they are posted. I am interested in keeping all the spam for myself (so yummy on a sandwich).

3. I enabled the reactions section, so if you want to provide some 5 second feedback, I would appreciate it. I am also open to adding any reactions that may be more helpful, just let me know!

4. For those of you who are in Alabama, AIDS Alabama has advanced tickets for "Wicked" on sale, when it comes to Birmingham. They have really good seats and they benefit from the spots they can sell. I think there may only be two days left, though.

5. The last time I checked, I was up to 153 hits, and although I am pretty sure that I am 110 of those hits, I would like to thank those of you who contributed to the other 43. I hope no one was disappointed when they saw the title and the adult content warining, and yet there were nothing obviously bigger than a lasagna on the posts. It only just now occured to me that it may all be misleading. So, I offer my sincere apologies to anyone who was looking for something a little spicier.


Last Love Letter

 Last Love Letter
My cousin was a year older.
He was the second grandchild.
He was the younger brother
I was the first granddaughter.
My cousin lived three hours away.
I saw him and his brother
only some weekends. Two or three a year.
He was a sweet, quiet baby.
When I was six, I wrote him love letters
on scrap paper.
When I was ten, he taught my brother
how to turn his eyelids inside out
that made me run screaming.
We played baseball with socks wrapped in electrical tape.
I privately competed against him.
He was a funny, reserved, young man.
He once wanted to be a store Santa
because young women liked to sit
in Santa's lap for a picture.
When I was twenty-six, he died.
and I forgot everything but the pain.
and a vigilante hummingbird.
I forgot his smile.
I forgot his laugh.
I forgot his wit.
I forgot his love for his nephew.
I forgot.
I would have traded anything to have
 him back.
To hug him the last time I saw him.
To Tell Him I Loved Him.
And I cried
Tonight I found some pictures. 
And I remembered:
How he was sweet
How he loved his nephew
How he was funny
His desire to be Santa
My notes
The woods
Hawaiian Punch
Hot Chocolate
Hide and Seek
His eyelids
His smile
and i cried.
                                                                         originally written:3/13/97

This was one of the few things I wrote when I wasn't writing. It was for Ronnie. I really like this poem, although it made me bawl while I was typing it for this post. So much so that my little girl walked up to me and said "Mommy, you are crying. Let me hug you." Hope you liked it. (Also I spell checked this one. I noticed too many typos in "Thank You".)

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Thank You

Thank You

How do you thank someone who saved your son?

The words never seems to be big enough.

Thank you for feeding my baby.

Thank you for your kindness.

Thank you for your generosity.

Thank you for how effortless you made it seem.

Thank you for the pain, the hassle, the expense, the inconvenience.

Thank you for his health, his development, for every ounce. Everyday I have with him.

I love you isn't big enough. Thank you isn't big enough, but it's what I have.

Thank you.


This is dedicated to a dear friend of mine.


  (the ride home)

Alright sweet boy,
let's get you in your seat.
No, in your seat.
Sit down,
Sit down,
Sit down.
There's a good boy.
I know, I know, Mommy's being mean.
Okay sweetie, your brother's in.
Let's get you in the truck.
Here, help me lift you out of the cart.
Now stand, okay, put your foot there-
no there, there! sweetie.
Now whose heinie is this in my face?
Let's get you in the truck. Watch your head!
Oh! I'm sorry sweetheart, are you okay? I'll kiss it.
There's a girl.
Okay , who wants juice boxes? Yay juice boxes!
Here you go sweetie. Here you go sweetheart.
Okay- the buggy is corralled.
Damn it's hot.
Let's start this up and turn on the AC.
Phew! That's better.
Y'all ready to go home and eat some lunch?
Oh Shit!
Did I turn off the tea?
Is the stove on?
Oh shit the stove's on!
Damn red light.
What if it's boiled down?
How long were we in the store?
What if the house caught fire?
What if I have burned down the neighborhood?
I just bought all those Courage cartoons on iTunes!
Shit! the computer! Shit! The Dog!
Please dont' be on fire.
Aw come on! Another light?!
Please don't be on fire.
Sweetie, who taught you the diarrhea song?
My house is on fire and my little girl is singing about runny bowels.
When you're sliding into first and you feel a juicy burst...
Okay-good-i don't see any smoke.
Here's the neighborhood...still standing.
Here's our house.
No fire in sight.
Stay here kids, Mommy will be right back.
No smoke in the house, but the stove is on.
Now it's off, (big sigh).
Oh damn, I bet that tea is ruined.



Okay so the discipline got off to a weak start. But I am going to leave two posts this afternoon. Now if I could only find an exercise that comes with childcare....

Friday, August 26, 2011

The Beginning

I am starting with a poem I wrote for a class a long time ago. It's my favorite and the only one that I have reread from that time that didn't make me laugh for the wrong reasons. I think that after this post, I will start with the piece and put any commentary at the end. I also hope that I haven't infringed on any copyrights.


"where, oh where
are you tonight?
why did you leave me ,
here all alone?
i searched the world over,
and thought i'd found
true love.
you met another,
and, tthpt,
you were gone."

     -that "Hee Haw" song-

How many licks does
neatness take whilst squishing
feet through Mississippi
moonpies falling on me?
(is strange)
Love is (my Toyota) a tree that
is a million (a mil. 5) years old
that is (like my reflection on this kitchen tile)
a "sight" and that dies (because i
didn't use a Sears Diehar...) the day before
you get there to see its
     Opus asks "Can a picture go 'tthpt'?"
or something like that
And I wonder, i wa, wa, wa, wa, wonder.
Cause that's the way (uh huh, uh huh).
As Warren Always says,
Are you really drinking a beer w/Jesus?
     Or is that a sin? Ister in Heaven or
down, shoo be doop da, down down,
(in history-Sir Issac)
comma, comma, down, down
     Seduction is just a state of mind (gun on the wall) and
Love ain't just a dream?
Dream Lover.
Dream Lover, wherefore art thou?
Deny the rose and refuse
I Dream of Refuse with the light Rose love. (hair? do?
hair-do?) comma, comma, down, down,
     shoo be doop.
     uh huh, uh huh