state of mind
Fat is realistic state of mind.
Salty or sugary doesn't matter.
Grand tasty abundance of food.
I am truly a cookie monster.
As heavy or tasteless.
As delicious or pricey.
No matter its origin -
American, British, or Italian.
The aroma of homemade cookies,
from a bakery or seldomly my oven.
My mouth salivates for anything chocolate.
Aside from cookies, I encourage myself
to eat from the old school food groups.
Recognizing my need for necessary nutrients.
You know the ones with the
proteins, carbs, vitamins.
The ones that also provide strong
bones and healthly heart making each
beat worth it.
To be thin or less plump has been
a lifelong dream.
My self-esteem in tact from
ridicule and such.
But I've always been fat.
I don't pass on healthy eats.
But other food is truly addicting.
Heal my soul, let me be free.
Haste my ways that are cruel to me.
Salty or sugary doesn't matter.
Grand tasty abundance of food.
I am truly a cookie monster.
As heavy or tasteless.
As delicious or pricey.
No matter its origin -
American, British, or Italian.
The aroma of homemade cookies,
from a bakery or seldomly my oven.
My mouth salivates for anything chocolate.
Aside from cookies, I encourage myself
to eat from the old school food groups.
Recognizing my need for necessary nutrients.
You know the ones with the
proteins, carbs, vitamins.
The ones that also provide strong
bones and healthly heart making each
beat worth it.
To be thin or less plump has been
a lifelong dream.
My self-esteem in tact from
ridicule and such.
But I've always been fat.
I don't pass on healthy eats.
But other food is truly addicting.
Heal my soul, let me be free.
Haste my ways that are cruel to me.
WHAT MAKES A HOUSE A HOME?
Many ask; “What makes a house, a home?”
Is it the house itself, or the people living inside it?
I used to feel it was the people in the house but now since I've come back to my parent’s house,
I find that I have a strong emotional connection to this house. Recalling the sale of my best friend’s parent's house
I truly wonder what thoughts were going through their head after the twenty years of hopes, dreams, holidays, pets, and memories. Or my other friend who after only five years moved from a great neighborhood and from a huge luxurious place to a two bedroom apartment, not overlooking at emotions she had leaving. My attachment to my parent’s house was not completely discovered until I moved out, and relocated for independence and opportunity.
Now, when I come back to visit, lay in the bed recall the ten years of white walls, mounted tv, the painted white wooden shutters exiting to the private patio. The room where I once had an artistic motivation to decorate and never did. The boyfriend I had in my room as an adult until 5AM, and although consenting adults, mom had issue with the fact he was still here. The rumbling of thunder, wind and rain in those horrible winter storms that would cause me to curl up in bed with layers of clothing and my electric blanket... yes even in Vegas. The countless times when I was sick and would lay in bed happy to not have any immediate responsibilities to take care of, and having my dog come to my room to check on me trying to climb on the box spring to be closer to be petted. Memories flow back and forth from old to new with comparisons in my mind of which life is better. Truly, it is not a matter of “better” but rather “different”, although being home comes naturally, mostly the house hasn't changed in spite of my absence.
So what makes a house a home, the answer comes from the experiences in the house by yourself and with other people.
The length of time associated with the address because many milestones happened there; birthdays, holidays, promotions, demotions, college, the closeness of family, or the love of a pet, as we live we progress, and with progression there is hope for a new day, new month, new phase of life and experiences.
Is it the house itself, or the people living inside it?
I used to feel it was the people in the house but now since I've come back to my parent’s house,
I find that I have a strong emotional connection to this house. Recalling the sale of my best friend’s parent's house
I truly wonder what thoughts were going through their head after the twenty years of hopes, dreams, holidays, pets, and memories. Or my other friend who after only five years moved from a great neighborhood and from a huge luxurious place to a two bedroom apartment, not overlooking at emotions she had leaving. My attachment to my parent’s house was not completely discovered until I moved out, and relocated for independence and opportunity.
Now, when I come back to visit, lay in the bed recall the ten years of white walls, mounted tv, the painted white wooden shutters exiting to the private patio. The room where I once had an artistic motivation to decorate and never did. The boyfriend I had in my room as an adult until 5AM, and although consenting adults, mom had issue with the fact he was still here. The rumbling of thunder, wind and rain in those horrible winter storms that would cause me to curl up in bed with layers of clothing and my electric blanket... yes even in Vegas. The countless times when I was sick and would lay in bed happy to not have any immediate responsibilities to take care of, and having my dog come to my room to check on me trying to climb on the box spring to be closer to be petted. Memories flow back and forth from old to new with comparisons in my mind of which life is better. Truly, it is not a matter of “better” but rather “different”, although being home comes naturally, mostly the house hasn't changed in spite of my absence.
So what makes a house a home, the answer comes from the experiences in the house by yourself and with other people.
The length of time associated with the address because many milestones happened there; birthdays, holidays, promotions, demotions, college, the closeness of family, or the love of a pet, as we live we progress, and with progression there is hope for a new day, new month, new phase of life and experiences.
desire for fufillment
Unfinished memoirs, untapped dreams.
Capitalizing on my knowledge.
Authority and respect geared towards a promising future.
Fruitful, creative, ambition it rides like horseback.
Cut away the negativity, easy to say but weak to do.
Hold true to convictions, use logic and wisdom to see the day through.
Don’t squander what’s be given to you.
Allow the time for the Windex to dry on my shiny personality.
Worldly, not stuck up, just progressive that’s me.
Unsurpassed reasons to doubt then I am pulled in close with no choice, rekindling interests.
Infinite mysteries, lifelong dreams.
OMG, do I need a man?! .
Pondering the next adventure? Unfinished memoirs, untapped dreams.
Capitalizing on my knowledge but not on my skill.
Authority and respect comes at oneself's cost.
Fruitful, creative, ambition all well and good.
Cut away the negativity, it fails us in so many ways.
Face challenges as if the problems are the plagues of the bible.
Hold true to convictions, don't lose sight of your dreams.
Allow personality to shine, don't crumble over someone who doesn't like you.
Worldly and progressive in my views of the world.
Unsurpassed opportunities, rekindle interests.
What element rekindled it for you?
Grab on to that and don't let go.
Infinite mysteries, long lifeline don't abandon your sense of youth.
Pondering the next adventure, where will it be?
Capitalizing on my knowledge.
Authority and respect geared towards a promising future.
Fruitful, creative, ambition it rides like horseback.
Cut away the negativity, easy to say but weak to do.
Hold true to convictions, use logic and wisdom to see the day through.
Don’t squander what’s be given to you.
Allow the time for the Windex to dry on my shiny personality.
Worldly, not stuck up, just progressive that’s me.
Unsurpassed reasons to doubt then I am pulled in close with no choice, rekindling interests.
Infinite mysteries, lifelong dreams.
OMG, do I need a man?! .
Pondering the next adventure? Unfinished memoirs, untapped dreams.
Capitalizing on my knowledge but not on my skill.
Authority and respect comes at oneself's cost.
Fruitful, creative, ambition all well and good.
Cut away the negativity, it fails us in so many ways.
Face challenges as if the problems are the plagues of the bible.
Hold true to convictions, don't lose sight of your dreams.
Allow personality to shine, don't crumble over someone who doesn't like you.
Worldly and progressive in my views of the world.
Unsurpassed opportunities, rekindle interests.
What element rekindled it for you?
Grab on to that and don't let go.
Infinite mysteries, long lifeline don't abandon your sense of youth.
Pondering the next adventure, where will it be?
VORTEX
My reality is a vortex of unhappiness and unfulfillment shattered by interests to write or preform.
Crashed by the bits and pieces that I cannot control, I lay here dead inside.
Beyond the scope of my reality, into the darkness inside my mind,
I break through forcefully to my safe ground.
My eyes are closed.
My body relaxed feeling only the warmth of my bed and comforter.
I break through the barriers of my awake state, and dream my dreams asleep.
Grasping at every turn that may direct me to feeling whole again.
Holding on to the lamppost to not get brushed away by the strong wind force that sends me back to the vortex of hell!
Crashed by the bits and pieces that I cannot control, I lay here dead inside.
Beyond the scope of my reality, into the darkness inside my mind,
I break through forcefully to my safe ground.
My eyes are closed.
My body relaxed feeling only the warmth of my bed and comforter.
I break through the barriers of my awake state, and dream my dreams asleep.
Grasping at every turn that may direct me to feeling whole again.
Holding on to the lamppost to not get brushed away by the strong wind force that sends me back to the vortex of hell!
DISASTERS
Across the town, people clamor in an un-official rallies against Anti-Semitism that turns into riots by opposing religions.
Powerful rushes of emotion swoosh through the crowds while sirens wail and people scamper.
Life is no longer fresh, precious, or beloved.
Death means more than life.
For life is not protected by GOD, no more than man protects it.
So would you not expect death to be the same?
Typhoons, Hurricanes, Tornadoes an uncontrollable disaster leaving parts of earth in ruins.
Homes destroyed, keepsakes never to be recovered, everlasting memories to never looked at again.
Hearts and memories the only semblance of any new hope and survival.
We must ask ourselves to fight, and fight hard, to become worthy of repairing ourselves
and unite together to rebuild ourselves and our lives!
And, so it is told that the hurt healed, any of the wounded people that could live did with pride,
the dead respectfully remembered, and the communities became unified to seek the hope they were looking for, in each other.
Powerful rushes of emotion swoosh through the crowds while sirens wail and people scamper.
Life is no longer fresh, precious, or beloved.
Death means more than life.
For life is not protected by GOD, no more than man protects it.
So would you not expect death to be the same?
Typhoons, Hurricanes, Tornadoes an uncontrollable disaster leaving parts of earth in ruins.
Homes destroyed, keepsakes never to be recovered, everlasting memories to never looked at again.
Hearts and memories the only semblance of any new hope and survival.
We must ask ourselves to fight, and fight hard, to become worthy of repairing ourselves
and unite together to rebuild ourselves and our lives!
And, so it is told that the hurt healed, any of the wounded people that could live did with pride,
the dead respectfully remembered, and the communities became unified to seek the hope they were looking for, in each other.
LIFE CHANGES HUMANS
Estranged by judging words.
An unborn baby, a problematic baby daddy.
The mission to support and comfort.
I, a friend to be held at her high esteem.
Strangely the actions followed were unwarranted.
Too difficult to deal with me and my judging ways.
Gone!
Instantly her own fears, and strength faded away.
To her, the boyfriend would now be a husband.
Cut out from my life, no support warrented.
A wounded heart found in me.
Life continued to live on...
People can surprise you.
Totally out of the blue.
No warning, no signs, not even peep.
To just do something crazy nice.
An email found in my Inbox.
Among newsletters, spam, and work messages.
On the day before Christmas Eve.
Unrelated to any holiday gesture.
A spirit unsurpassed.
Emily was the one who surprised me.
A gentle email noting her existence.
Accepting, I offered my hand in friendship.
The past is the past, the future the future.
Be thankful for all you have.
Recognize one's faults, accepting forgiveness.
Unspoken words leading to self-discovery.
Repaving a path to the one's you hold true.
An unborn baby, a problematic baby daddy.
The mission to support and comfort.
I, a friend to be held at her high esteem.
Strangely the actions followed were unwarranted.
Too difficult to deal with me and my judging ways.
Gone!
Instantly her own fears, and strength faded away.
To her, the boyfriend would now be a husband.
Cut out from my life, no support warrented.
A wounded heart found in me.
Life continued to live on...
People can surprise you.
Totally out of the blue.
No warning, no signs, not even peep.
To just do something crazy nice.
An email found in my Inbox.
Among newsletters, spam, and work messages.
On the day before Christmas Eve.
Unrelated to any holiday gesture.
A spirit unsurpassed.
Emily was the one who surprised me.
A gentle email noting her existence.
Accepting, I offered my hand in friendship.
The past is the past, the future the future.
Be thankful for all you have.
Recognize one's faults, accepting forgiveness.
Unspoken words leading to self-discovery.
Repaving a path to the one's you hold true.
Where was i ten years ago?
Where was I ten years ago, on the first Anniversary of Word Up?
In 2002, I was still in college being inspired by a Creative Writing teacher.
My first poems written were based on fiction.
I thought my free verse was outstanding.
Mainly, because I got an A on those assignments.
My eyes touched another writer's eyes and we grew into a long last friendship and love.
Together we wrote and one day convinced him to go to the Henderson Writer's Group.
It was when Word Up was at ReJavaNate, through the window passing by in a stripmall.
I saw an inviting group bringing culture to Las Vegas.
Though this location was not in Henderson, I suspected the writer's group had moved after being absent a few weeks.
I regret not going inside, now knowing that it was a different group entirely.
Years past and poetry was not inside me.
Still, a block away from the house and it never dawned on me to try out a group.
My art has always been short stories and though the experience in college, the interest stood at a standstill.
In 2009, the tubes connected to my veins , poison inside me, killing all that was harmful to me.
Forced to be interested in a positive, hopeful interest somehow I started writing poetry again.
Journaling the experiences of how I felt and the upheaval in my life, made me stronger more than I could ever imagine.
The story continues with more writing and posting on FanStory - a poetry website.
Alas the time has come to attend a group.
Oh now I would later come to know, Word Up moved several times before meeting me.
Breathe in believe in myself and feel the unity in everyone's life issues.
God then healed me over the course of the year, with enlightened faith and assurance words heal!
The comings and goings the sadness, the joy, a family that sees no foul.
I was drawn in by the people and stayed for the learning experiences, memories and inspiration.
For if it wasn't for Word Up, my travels in life might be different, scarred and hurt, no outlet to heal physical, mental
or emotional.
Many instances have brought me back to my early days of internal struggles and since then I feel reeled positively regardless of what I am going through.
For my friends and supporters, thank you.
In 2002, I was still in college being inspired by a Creative Writing teacher.
My first poems written were based on fiction.
I thought my free verse was outstanding.
Mainly, because I got an A on those assignments.
My eyes touched another writer's eyes and we grew into a long last friendship and love.
Together we wrote and one day convinced him to go to the Henderson Writer's Group.
It was when Word Up was at ReJavaNate, through the window passing by in a stripmall.
I saw an inviting group bringing culture to Las Vegas.
Though this location was not in Henderson, I suspected the writer's group had moved after being absent a few weeks.
I regret not going inside, now knowing that it was a different group entirely.
Years past and poetry was not inside me.
Still, a block away from the house and it never dawned on me to try out a group.
My art has always been short stories and though the experience in college, the interest stood at a standstill.
In 2009, the tubes connected to my veins , poison inside me, killing all that was harmful to me.
Forced to be interested in a positive, hopeful interest somehow I started writing poetry again.
Journaling the experiences of how I felt and the upheaval in my life, made me stronger more than I could ever imagine.
The story continues with more writing and posting on FanStory - a poetry website.
Alas the time has come to attend a group.
Oh now I would later come to know, Word Up moved several times before meeting me.
Breathe in believe in myself and feel the unity in everyone's life issues.
God then healed me over the course of the year, with enlightened faith and assurance words heal!
The comings and goings the sadness, the joy, a family that sees no foul.
I was drawn in by the people and stayed for the learning experiences, memories and inspiration.
For if it wasn't for Word Up, my travels in life might be different, scarred and hurt, no outlet to heal physical, mental
or emotional.
Many instances have brought me back to my early days of internal struggles and since then I feel reeled positively regardless of what I am going through.
For my friends and supporters, thank you.
Poet-block
Song lyrics bounce through my brain.
The words speak to me as I feel the intent and pain.
Needing a connection, something to follow, to feel special.
Defining every inch of myself through the lyrics of the songs.
As a writer, I must live for my own words and for my art.
As a person, I must live through other people's art.
The inspiration and challenge I find worse to accomplish.
Reality is I cannot write what I feel, it has been done.
Multiple known songs talk about "Breathing".
Lifehouse, Michelle Branch, Kelly Clarkson, even Taylor Swift
has their own version of what envelopes from the word "Breathe".
YouTube reminds me that hundreds more have tapped in here.
Each with an interpretation unique to them.
Grasping for every ability to find hope and direction in their lives.
Deep in our gut, we recognize we are all the same.
The common meaning of life at a crossroads.
Breathing is just a form of letting yourself go and relax.
A way not to torture yourself by consciousness, reality, logistics.
Life cycles are repeated as we all experience change, woes, happiness.
Feeling despair, fearful of no direction, painfully awaiting a miracle that fails us.
Continuously I find music heals, lifts me into a higher state of being.
Musical artists write and perform with all their emotions, soul, and passion.
The fans respond, empathizing relating the lyrics to their own lives.
No artist is exempt from feeling pain, joy, love, inner demons, loss, achievements.
Emotions stirred about by bad relationships, failure to feel special, whatever the inspiration.
Music is supposed to lift you up, not tear you down to feel rotten about yourself.
But, someone's misfortune is another man's fortune.
The value is different for everyone and the result will differ.
As I finish my last stanza, my groove comes back.
My head moves from side to side.
My body jumps from side to side.
I reach my arms up to feel freer.
I can't stop moving.
The music has got me on a high.
Singing and dancing, I can lose control.
I deeply feel the purpose here, aim forward by example of the greatest talent.
My heart beats for my inner sound, my muse, my voice.
The purpose is not to write but to feel, and find spirit through words.
Tornado negativity of life, but write about it, feel yourself heal through your work.
After all, our work is all about life.
The words speak to me as I feel the intent and pain.
Needing a connection, something to follow, to feel special.
Defining every inch of myself through the lyrics of the songs.
As a writer, I must live for my own words and for my art.
As a person, I must live through other people's art.
The inspiration and challenge I find worse to accomplish.
Reality is I cannot write what I feel, it has been done.
Multiple known songs talk about "Breathing".
Lifehouse, Michelle Branch, Kelly Clarkson, even Taylor Swift
has their own version of what envelopes from the word "Breathe".
YouTube reminds me that hundreds more have tapped in here.
Each with an interpretation unique to them.
Grasping for every ability to find hope and direction in their lives.
Deep in our gut, we recognize we are all the same.
The common meaning of life at a crossroads.
Breathing is just a form of letting yourself go and relax.
A way not to torture yourself by consciousness, reality, logistics.
Life cycles are repeated as we all experience change, woes, happiness.
Feeling despair, fearful of no direction, painfully awaiting a miracle that fails us.
Continuously I find music heals, lifts me into a higher state of being.
Musical artists write and perform with all their emotions, soul, and passion.
The fans respond, empathizing relating the lyrics to their own lives.
No artist is exempt from feeling pain, joy, love, inner demons, loss, achievements.
Emotions stirred about by bad relationships, failure to feel special, whatever the inspiration.
Music is supposed to lift you up, not tear you down to feel rotten about yourself.
But, someone's misfortune is another man's fortune.
The value is different for everyone and the result will differ.
As I finish my last stanza, my groove comes back.
My head moves from side to side.
My body jumps from side to side.
I reach my arms up to feel freer.
I can't stop moving.
The music has got me on a high.
Singing and dancing, I can lose control.
I deeply feel the purpose here, aim forward by example of the greatest talent.
My heart beats for my inner sound, my muse, my voice.
The purpose is not to write but to feel, and find spirit through words.
Tornado negativity of life, but write about it, feel yourself heal through your work.
After all, our work is all about life.