poem of the weekend

As we lay on the warm wood,
Broken planks,
Mosquito bites swelled our skin,
Your soft touch and baby skin
Eased my nerves
The city lit our backdrop,
As we drifted off to the angels,
Sinless kisses,
Our lips purged,
Seized two bodies,
Intertwined in a summer’s night.

<3 realization

So I've been going through the photographs of the past four years made into a thousand memories; lost in the back of my mind.

so I finally realized that I need a guy who has their stuff together and know what they want in life. after every needy soul I dated, I know that to find happiness I don't need to be with someone that needs saving. Who knows if my recent findings will last, but I know that being with a man who is kind, knows who he is and what he wants in life is refreshing and feels good. Granted this is new and very early but the sun must arise to shadow me with her smile for a reason right?

<3 I feel good and have hope!

"this song has no title" inspired this one

I’ll paint with my eyes,
The story of you,
How you ended up,
Bare, starving, naked
On the dim-lit sidewalk
While others spit,
And walk by,
You come alive,
Through my eyes

: )

Something about you makes me weak in the knees:~)

ooochyyyy walllyywalllyyy

We love him. and I, usually can stay even tempered with him; but tonight, no! the noise is rubbish yells, barley words, but rather fluttering hands, rudely dancing around a cold room. un-welcomed, un-wanted, deep breaths, inhale the laughter that flew around the porch only two hours ago. makes me feel awful for needing a break, I love all of my family dearly, but when my buttons get pushed, which is rare...drowning in good music away from the noise is my savor!

I need to figure out if photography is really what I want to do? I love making images and the free-flowing beauty, but then I love helping people, I always have. as cliche as it is, I really want to make a difference in this world, and believe I can. I always said, I have to save the children. There are so many people that need voices, and I know I have a strong enough voice to speak up, but in what way? I can make images that speak of injustice and educate, but then I can talk to people and help them psychologically, or be a social worker and make sure kids are safe and in good care. I would love to be a foster mom; but having to let a child go when they are put into a new home would be hard for me, I am not good with goodbyes. Just thinking about all the kids i've worked with who I had to part with, I tear up a little. And even though I know you cannot help everyone you try, its hard when you know you've let someone down as well. Jessica Robinson, was a beautiful young lady who was put in and out of the system and her needs were not being met and all I could do back then was listen to her and give her the little advice I could. A high school kid has even less of a chance then working the system then a college student. I hope Jessica is doing good though, and hopefully she is heading off to college.

so many people come in and out of our lives and for reasons, not always known. sometimes its wonderful and sometimes it not. But I feel there is always a reason and something to be learned. anyways this post is long. dancing is in order for my sanity suburban legends is an awesome band!

peace, love, happiness and hugs!

poem of the day :~)

Your soft finger’s massaged my arm in circles
A spinning wheel I was, falling fast into a trance,
As we laird on the couch,
You kept resting your head on my bosom,
And I played with baby soft hair,
As we woke and re-awoke to the rising sun,
Before drifting off to slumber with the angels.

fourth of happiness and good people

~It's a good day~ Kay Star!

Yes, it's a good day for singin' a song,
And it's a good day for movin' along;
Yes, it's a good day, how could anything go wrong,
A good day from mornin' till night.

Yes, it's a good day for shinin' your shoes,
And it's a good day for losin' the blues;
Ev'rything to gain and nothin' to lose,
'Cause it's a good day from mornin' till night.

I said to the sun, "good mornin', sun.
Rise and shine, today"
You know you've gotta get goin'
If you're gonna make a showin'
And you know you've got the right of way

'Cause it's a good day for payin' your bills;
And it's a good day for curin' your ills,
So take a deep breath and throw away your pills;
'Cause it's a good day from mornin' till night.

the fourth brought upon happiness and good times! running on a kids back was extremely fun :~) these new friends are radically awesome :~) lets make the summer ours and continue till fall and spring and so forth :~)

UURRRHHHHHHHH SHE WAS 6!

How the fuck do you take a 6 yr old girl into your house....inject her with cocaine and try to bondage her! Shine should be locked up for life! the emotional and physical damage that this girl has to deal with is going to affect her for the rest of her life! she is 6! why do men think they can rape girls, young women and adult women and have it be ok! how do they not see the terror and pain? do they really want to be that dominating that abusing us makes them feel better? because guess WHAT ABUSING SOMEONE DOES NOT MAKE YOU BETTER...ACTUALLY YOU ARE WEAKER BECAUSE YOU DID NOT HAVE THE STRENGTH TO HOLD BACK YOUR ANGER! SAME GOES FOR WOMEN ABUSING MEN! NO MATTER WOMEN OR MAN ITS WRONG!! UGHHHHH THIS MAKES ME SOOO MAD!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW PEOPLE THINK THEY CAN USE OTHER PEOPLE! EVERYWHERE WOMEN AND YOUNG GIRLS ARE PUT INTO THE SLAVE TRADE...I learned today about the runaway teenage girl in America trade...where they are sent over seas...instead of like other countries where they are sent here! Maybe someday evil blooded people will wake up and see the light! until then MANDATED REPORTERS WHEN YOU KNOW SOMEHTING IS WRONG!

ACT UP AND SPEAK FOR THOSE WHO DON'T HAVE A VOICE!

same old 5 mile walk

So today I walked up Washington, to comm ave, then over Harvard ave, back to Washington! it was quite splendid :~)...no crazzy people did I meet today :~(. bugs village is calling...the pond, 50 states house and animal shrubs. alt. pro book now official started :~) yayaya for senior starting senior show stuff :~) oooh and asparagus and goat cheese pizza is yummy yummy yummy :~)

poem of the day!

I have a name,
You bore me from your womb,
Graced me with life,
Not to be your burden,
Rather your bud, javascript:void(0)
Blossoming under your light,
Put in the shadows of your loves daughter,
I stay!

todayyyy

I walked from Brighton center into Boston today...i happened to fall upon another Wicca store... A nice man with blue frames helped me search for the perfect crystal to wear around my short, bony, neck. he spoke with a high pitch, anxious yet firm voice. after putting 10 different crystals in my hand and feeling no connection to either...I finally found two I liked. deciding the right crystal is crucial to maintaining a white aura...I was told to the cat would choose for me. and sure enough I put each pendent on each palm and the cat nuzzled his choice. It was quite fantastic! who knew a hop like that would exist on Harvard ave?

after I got into Boston...I was walking in the gardens and I stopped to give guitarist some quarters and take his picture. we chatted and he offered me a photo gig to make his album cover. totally sick dude from Argentina too! the stories I bet he has :~)


on an even better note...I am officially shooting again! its gonna take time to get into it...but its gonna be sunny tomorrow..so alt pro cyanotype poetry book!

ooohhhh and the fourth is coming up :~)

familiar smells

I don't always get the rush of a familiar smell, why the back staircase at AIB always smelled of Ireland. While walking up stairs to my dirty, dingy bathroom, I was filled with the sense that I was walking down the hallway of my aunts house, into her hot, musty, floral aroma filled bathroom. a room that I Only ever really knew during the hot summer's nights in up state NY. And earlier at dinner, a glass of red wine had the aroma of a Manhattan, my grandfather's favorite drink. the bourbon I could taste threw my nose and the memories of what once was come in waves, flowing through the new halls, as ghost fallowing my footsteps.

the four goddesses and queen of their being

It’s a good day,
When the sun sweetly beckons
Me, to enjoy her light,
With tear eliciting images;
Of the beautiful women,
Strong lived, wrinkled hands,
And the sexy laughter,
Of youthful memories,
That I love about them.

:@)

a memory etched on your front porch :~)

cancer 2

Lingering,
Her fingertips
On her silky pink bandana,
Tightly bound to her glossy skull.

The trail of needles,
Continues to her left bosom,
Drops of red wine fill plastic bags,
Filling a pool with days drunk of blood.

cancer

Etched on her breast,
The trail of needles,
Silicon drips,
Flooding her memories
With pink ribbons,
Disturbing phone calls,
Bellowing nightmares,
Whispering chills,
Alarming inner body itches,
Engraved in her dreams,
Heart tying sisters,
Bound to every stone entrance,
Heart and soul,
Tracks stepped, in, on and over.
From curling lips to sunken eyes,
Twisted hips of fate,
Always on call,
Unable to stop the rain,
At least they knew the dance.

grammy

Wrinkled hands,
Play the mind’s piano,
Caressing each thought,
The tickles of joys
Your fingers linger on those regrets,
Pounding each memory as it tries to escape,
Age overtakes your body,
But intact are the notes you lived.

love!

The silent waves crashed against his white keys,
Bursting life into the notes,
As his fingers made love to the black and white vibrations.

music

The lyrics moved you
As each finger stroked
Choked, the notes as you sung
Your vibrating voice, quivered
As your body pulsated,
From the melodic tune that entranced
Your flesh, caught your soul on fire,
And burned each muscle,
That kept your heart alive

peace

Screaming silently,
In the night light,
Sharing this ounce of light,
Holding hand to hand,
Palm to palm,
Sweat cleansing,
Blazing in the street,
The damp cobblestone,
Trekked endlessly upon,
As all the great beings,
Fire starting halo burning,
Music breathing, life onto,
Dreary, dank, dim-lit crevices,
That inhabits this saddening earth,
As her tears flood another city,
More hands adjoin, guitars strum,
The holy non heaven creature’s hum.

freedom for some

Pulsating through like a star shooting through the sky
You just stopped and asked me why oh why
Whispering in my lonesome ear
It’s always hard for you to hear,
Freedom fell upon your lap,
While other begged and begged,
For stale old, moldy bread
It had to be said, you let the sun,
Burn a whole through your pocket,
Frayed your dirty, jeans, faded from clear blue,
To a murky, star lit, navy,
The ocean called upon you,
Running from fear, you always do best,
Lest for you stumble, and fall with the rest,
When the stars shoot through the sky
Like sperm cumming in a vagina,
Home will always be the dream,
You can fall upon,
Your heart is the breast of your home,
So often you turn off your ears,
And forget to truthfully hear,
That’s why my ears are lonesome,
For you have yet speak of the reality,
Other’s must pulsate through to reach an ounce of hope.

lovers

Fragrance,
Indulgence,
Experience,

Graciously their palms embraced
as children on a playground,
Getting chased by age,

Ignorance,
Happenstance,
Chance,

Dancing lips fall upon pavement
Where youth once outlined with chalk
Their tiny hands,

On the map of their curves,
Etched Goosebumps,
Where adult hands,
Once pinned the unknown lands.

dribbles

Dripples of script,
Drafts, re-writ,
And more,
So forth and on,
Forever and ever,
A beat in time,
The tapping on your sword,
On the dripping page,
Sinking ink,
Soaking through,
Words too true,
We write of now,
Life, love, sorrow,
What was will never set forth,
To be another or any other
Just was, has to be just that,
Its simple, a mater of fact,
Time can never stand still,
We can never get our fill,
For our wants continue,
Our needs exceed,
Some meet half way,
Some unable to compromise,
Stuck in our minds,
Our way of thinking,
Unable to knock out,
The broken walls,
Heal and feel, the fresh paint drying,
Just laying there, sighing,
Oh, oh, oh,
One more page…

music mannn ohh yeaa

don't you love just putting your headphones on, getting lost in your groove and enjoying life! dancing to the beat of the city as your feet glide down the street :~) almost nothing is better baby!

things are making sense. people are interesting. love radiates even when I think it does not exist. elderly folk will teach you more then a book. you must experience or witness to fully understand. reading is awesome but living is better! see the world through your own eyes. be yourself. love yourself! don't let others push you around. make a difference! sing louder then the person sitting next to you. dance often and always. and laugh often and always!

~I'm a loveeeer, I;m a sinner, I play my music in the sun, I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I get my lovvvin on the run~

what I always hoped photo would help me with

She wrote of wanting to tell truth through a life lived yet not lived for so long. Her experience always voiced what people said she should have kept silenced. Knowledge was the lock she broke when her cords chimed. Harmony and hymns are two far from one, yet the color of fear binds them inseparably.
One black, leather thread, tied her heart to her conscious. The thought of loneliness was never worth the guilt of happiness. Hung low, she bowed in her place; for just a wink. With strong hands to her solid voice of thought, sunlight graced her pages. Thankful for the erased unease sin; never owned to her soul, but always identified with such sorrow. Alone in the eyes of heaven’s followers, but passion allows a verse to marry knowledge. Where love is ink to the eyes who read.
Keeping in time to fallow ahead or behind we must slice even the thinnest threads that bind us. Our voices shall never develop nor learn to sing if our hearts are left blind. To see with our eyes the step first of stone’s we walk. Our hands, callused and bruised, our second of coal we breathe. And of course, our chords, compassion, infused the final step for our hearts to finally learn to see.

mr. sun sun mr. golden sun.

My nostalgia for what once was when I was just barley able to see over the table, running through the field by your old home where I lost my shoe, chasing the ice cream struck. we rang laughter throughout every telephone wire. the ripe apples, neon, tickling grass beneath our feet, summer days getting lost in Grams bedroom, now are lost in the past. do you remember? As we lost our innocence to family, boys and age, we stopped. our jealousy may continue, but should it? we both have had our share of troubles. Our minds, endure similar thoughts, always have, always will.

A memory should last longer then a faded image

Murky water, with ringlets, lucid, ancient visions,

What once was, can it be again?

To regain what I lost amongst the sea of time.

Messages in scripted on the boat I once road.

Owned, and sold for only a nickel a’soul

One, two, three, breaths in, I am trying to be reborn.

Impossible to remember the days when laughter filled the sheets we played in,

The water we swam in, and the rooms we got lost in.