Thursday, October 8, 2015


Heading north? Where
Igloos are made of ink and paint
Take me with you . My
Cataracts create a blurry world, it’s
Hot in Florida and I just want to
Hit the liquor store, then seduce an
Incubus. Because Broadway
Kicks are just a fantasy.
Ever think of heading north where
Raspberry ribbons undulate the night sky.

Happy National Poetry Day! Here is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago. This is an acrostic using the word "hitchhiker". Have a wonderful day!

Poetry Collages

Hey everyone, I am going to make another post here shortly but since it is National Poetry day, I thought I would bring mention to my poetry collages, I have for sale on Etsy. Here is a sample:

I make a new collage every week, and  I will have 52 finished at the end of this year.

All these collages will be collected in a book and published sometime early in 2016.

It all started with a bit inspiration in an art history class and I thought I could do this. So I sent away for travel brochures from almost all the states. I cut up the best pictures. I have a list words I collected from various places such as Facebook and news feeds. I also collected interesting phrases from people's speech.

Every week, I sit at the table. I pull a fresh sheet of 9x12 paper and then  root through my box of pictures. Sometimes, I want to use a particular picture, sometimes I am just drawn to a particular picture.  I arrange the pictures then paste them down.

Then it is time to create the poem. The picture may or may not speak to me. The words and phrases might inspire but this is not always the case. This particular poem was created mostly from my word and phrase list.

I invite you to browse through all the poetry I have for sale. In addition to the poetry collages, I also write custom name poems,  and offer Christmas poems for a variety of applications.

Happy National Poetry Day!

Sunday, October 4, 2015

October's Sunday

Hello all, it's been a week since I last wrote and that is a pretty good improvement. I want to say I was busy writing, but that would be a lie? So why aren't you writing? You maybe thinking. I am, for lack of a better word, discouraged.  I send things away and it is always rejects. I know it that is how it rolls but that doesn't mean it makes it better.

My husband said to me, "do you think a doctor just gives up with your heart laying on chest  because he is discouraged?" While he may be discouraged, he sure doesn't give up. 

I am lacking motivation. It's like everything is at  a standstill or everything is moving around me and I am not moving. I am just breathing.

I was thinking the other day, how luck I truly am. I am lucky because I don't have to work outside the home. It's not like we are wealthy, he makes enough to live on and we make do without certain expenses like cable and expensive cell phone plans.  My kid is in school and my own school work probably only takes 10-12 hours a week to complete, which leaves ample time for writing. I am lucky because other writers have to work a full time job or more and then shove writing somewhere in between. And what am I doing? Wasting it all away for no good reason. I can write 1000 words in an hour on a good day. If I spent two hours writing at 1000 words an hour for 5 days a week, that would be 10000 words a week a novel written in 2 months.

Sometimes, I just need to hear from someone else that I am good at writing (or maybe some words of encouragement). I know I should be writing for myself.  I also want people to read my stuff. I put my work in the world and the only thing I hear are crickets.  I constantly wonder if I am boring, if I am worth anything as a writer.

As time goes long, I am lost in sea of writers and I am no one. I think maybe I lost whatever supposed talent, I ever had. I don't fit in with any group. This is very true in workshop classes, I feel like an outsider, like I don't belong. I am not similar to anyone else and I don't belong anywhere.

Okay enough whining for one day. Enjoy your day.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Religion, Government, and Kentucky Kim

Every where you look there is a battle and the battle is the separation between church and state. The word church in this sense is one of religion not of a place of worship. In this country, you can practice any religion you wish as guaranteed by the First Amendment. You can also run for president if you over 35 years of age and a natural American citizen. We, as a country, do not have a national religion. And you could travel even in your town and see variance of Christian churches as well as other religions such as Judaism, Islam and others. We revel in our freedom of choice, it is one of the things that makes this country great.

Does following religion make you any more moral than one who is either agnostic or atheist? 
In my opinion, no. I think a good person has a good moral compass regardless of religion. So if this is the case, then any person who shows to be of strong moral character should be able to be president. I wasn't alive then, but John Kennedy got a lot of slack for being Catholic. So why doesn't a person of Jewish faith or Islamic faith, or even an atheist run for president? Honestly, I think we as nation have the same understanding of what good morals are.

And remember the president is only one person. This country was also built on a checks and balances system. The president cannot do too much with out congressional approval (and also don't forget we actually VOTE for these people. The president is actually elected by the electoral college. If you remember, George W Bush won electoral vote and the presidency, but Al Gore had the popular vote).

When thinking about religion, should government officials (as in elected officials by the people) impose their religious beliefs on other people?

ABSOLUTELY NOT! This will then violate everyone else's constitution right to practice the religion of our choice. A president may pray to God but he doesn't force everyone to pray to God.  This brings us to Kentucky Kim, who as you know denies same sex marriage licenses, even though it is her job. She cites profound religious beliefs that homosexuality is wrong. Okay so she thinks, homosexuality is wrong but what about the people who do not believe in God or believe homosexuality is natural, is she not forcing her own opinions on others who do not share the same belief.

She is not a clergy person, she was never asked to preform the marriages. And if she was a judge, she would still have to perform same sex marriages because that is her job.  Her job is to issue the marriage license. She says the marriage is wrong in God's eyes. Who is she to judge? If God made the rule, then he should be the one to judge. From my understanding, God forgives those who ask for it. Maybe she should ask forgiveness later and in private for issuing the licenses. I didn't realize she was the savior incarnate.

Humans have been around longer than the Bible. And homosexuality has been around longer than the Bible (it is evident in homosexual pairings in the animal kingdom) And if God is the creator of all things then why did he create Homosexual people? Then tell them it is wrong.  God also gave us free will,  but many gay people say they didn't choose to be gay, they were born that way. So who is right and who is wrong? Why is it other cultures and religions are fine with homosexuality and some Christian sects are not, even though they all follow the same words.

Whatever a gay person's relationship with God or lack there of is their own business, it is not anyone else's business. It is definitely not the job of a county clerk to pass judgment on someone's soul.

The legality of same sex marriages are a separation of church and state. The state recognizes the lawful union of a homosexual couple. If you think that is wrong, fine and dandy because the First Amendment allows you to have to those thoughts in public. But if you are an elected official, do your job because you have to separate your job from your personal beliefs because that ultimately is what is fair for all people regardless of religious beliefs.

Thursday, September 17, 2015


The boils appeared at the same moment her great-aunt died. She didn’t know that yet, as she was under a mountain of blankets with her current boyfriend at his family’s cabin. She didn’t notice them until the next morning. There were two boils on her thick but not too thick upper thighs and a boil under each breast. The boils seemed to swirl inside the skin pocket in the dingy light. At first they were not painful, but as the day wore one, they became more tender. The boils festered.

Erica took a shower and dabbed each boil with alcohol. They would go away on their own, she thought. As a larger girl, she was used to having pimples on her body and they would just go away.

Her phone rang as she dried off. "Hello," she said.

"Aunt Marian died last night," her mother said.

In Erica’s opinion, Marian was going to live forever. She was slim and trim ate all the right foods. She had a clean bill of health.

"Do they know how?" Erica asked.

"Not too sure, they are leading to an overdose."

"An overdose of what?"

"Oxytocin. But it doesn’t make sense because you know and I know she never even took an aspirin. When are you coming home?"

"Tomorrow, when is the funeral?"

"Not sure yet. Love you Erica."

"Love you too, Mom."

Two weeks after the funeral, the boils were still on Erica’s body. She touched them and it burned her fingertips. She pulled her fingers away and saw small blisters forming on the tips. She took pictures of the boils and searched on the internet and there was nothing to help her.

The old doctor, reeked of cigars hovered too long over her thighs, running his hands too softly and too gently around the sores. She was glad she wore prudent underwear as he had her hospital gown flipped up to her belly. He also spent too much time holding her double d breasts as he examined the boils. The nurse took notes and spent her time looking at the clock on the wall.

"Well?" Erica asked, glad she was able to cover back up with the flimsy gown.

"We will drain them and I am going to prescribe an antibiotic. You should be fine," he said and coughed deep. Both he and the nurse left and returned with a kidney-shaped bowl and forceps.

The nurse flipped over the gown exposing her once again to the doctor. He ran his hands down her legs and asked for her to spread her legs some. The nurse pressed the bowl against her leg. The doctor took the forceps and squeezed around the area. She felt his hot and stale breath against her leg.

The nurse shrieked. The doctor stopped pushing. Erica looked over and saw flesh was melting off the nurse’s face. Her eyes were dripping like overheated candle wax down her gooey face. The doctor rushed over.

"Fuckaroo, It looks like an acid burn," he said and led her out the room, where others screamed at the sight of her.

Erica shoved her legs in her shorts and put on her shirt, leaving her bra on the chair and snuck out of the examining room. The others in the office were trying to help the nurse. An ambulance pulled in just as Erica shoved the stick shift into reverse. She wanted to go home and crawl under the covers, but what if someone, like the cops came looking for her. Her mother’s home would be empty since she was at work, but that wouldn’t be good either. Someone would look for her there. She tossed her cell phone out the window and drove.

The pawn shop on eighth street had bars on the window and graffiti splattered on the brick walls. A black guy stood behind the counter with white hair that stood up like Don King. He had the ball game on and didn’t pay attention to her when she came in.

She slipped off her gold watch and her genuine aquamarine ring that her mother gave her when she turned eighteen.

"How much for this?" she asked. She started to sweat. It rolled down her face and dripped on the counter. It made her think of the nurse and her melting face.

"You in some kind of trouble?" he asked.

"How much for this stuff?" she asked again.

He took the watch and the ring and looked at. "This is really nice stuff. I don’t see these kind of items in this part of town. Six hundred for everything."

"Cash right?"

"Run a cash only business. You want the stuff back; you have to pay a $1000. Here’s your ticket. I’ll be right back."

He disappeared behind the door and returned with the cash.

She ripped the bills from his fingers and got back in her car. She made to Pembroke and pulled into a motel. As far as she knew, no one was looking for her. She wondered if the nurse was alive. She paid for the room with cash and collapsed on the squeaky bed.

"You can release us," a voice said from somewhere in the room.

She wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t stoned. So she snapped, it all made perfect sense. The scene at the doctor’s office was a hallucination. She needed to be in a straight jacket in a bouncy rubber room. Erica didn’t reply, because the voices weren’t real.

"You know you want to. Just squeeze and release us," the voice said again.

"You’re not real. I am imagining everything!" Erica screamed into the darkening room.

She turned on the television. The local news was airing.

"Just release us, it is that simple," the voice said again.

"Will you shut up?"


Erica transfixed her eyes on the attractive fresh from college news anchor man. She squeezed one on her leg. At first it was hot, then cold like cold metal in the middle of winter. Then she released the fluid from the others. Each time she felt more relaxed, more numb to the pain. Her heart rate slowed down. She felt like she was floating and climaxing at the same time. Her flesh tingled and rippled with great ecstasy. The room filled with a pale yellow light. Were there faces in the light? She couldn’t tell. She felt so amazing right now. She didn’t pay attention when the room became dark. Or that her heart slowed down even more. There was so much pleasure. She was so happy.

She didn’t hear the attractive Percy Vann, fresh from college anchor man say, "Here’s an interesting story from Montgomery County. Scientists say the meteorite donated by Marian Fitzgerald contained some kind of organic matter along with traces of oxytocin. There were also foreign substances found. Fitzgerald, 86, died shortly after finding the meteorite from an oxytocin overdose. Yet, Fitzgerald never took pain killers. Scientists are exhuming Fitzgerald’s body at this time for more information. More unanswered questions for this family as Erica Street, Fitzgerald’s great-niece, went missing after an incident at her doctor’s office. At this time we are not sure of went on but it is important Erica Street is found. Any information, call your local police."

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

On the Horizon

I wanted to publish another ebook since it has been a few months (actually I think it is three but who is counting). So I decided on publishing a short story collection. These are unpublished stories that I like. I wanted to make it  a good sized book, but I think that is not going to happen. I went through my computer looking for all my stories and I have list of five or six. One of them will be removed because I just don't really care for it all that much once I really thought about it. One story I wanted has vanished off my hard drive and it is not in the cloud either.

 As I went through my stories, I came upon a little gem of goodness. It was an unfinished story that takes place in the future. I like to think of it as quasi-utopian society. It has no title. It is written in present tense. The style in itself is something different then what I normally write. The story is already at novella length at 27,000 words.  For some reason, I quit writing it a couple of years ago. I think I was afraid of the style or the present tense. Since you know all the writing books say I should be doing a certain thing. The one class I am taking in school showed me it was okay to be different. So I say- fuck the rules.

When I go to write a story, I don't plan nor outline. I have vague ideas that just come upon me. I don't know how it will be written. The story tells me, the characters tell me  how to write the story. I am just a stenographer for them.

Yesterday, I started working on it. I am going to finish it. I will publish it in the future on Kindle. I am not sure yet if it will be a novel or a novella. I won't know until is done.  Of course this isn't the only unfinished story either.

There is another post apocalyptic story and one about a cult that is planned as an ebook from the start.  So I am going to finish those too. I am not sure what brought this gusto on,  considering I am 3 weeks behind in working on my poetry collages. I plan on catching up this week.

My body of work is slim considering how long I have been writing. I did lose stuff in notebooks  over the years. I always say I don't write as much as I should. Two days,  I wrote in the morning for a little more than an hour. Tomorrow will be three. I want to finish all these stories and do something with them.

I also want to write a new story for here as well since it has been awhile but I have a couple ideas already percolating. I am also thinking of writing a book of nothing but flash fiction but that is still in the planning stage.

I decided to be a writer and now it is time to be writing.

Till next time...

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

It's the End of August- Autumn is Almost Here

I looked yesterday at my stats and realized that I haven't posted in almost a month and it is on my to do list every week (as well as other things). I don't have a good excuse. I wasn't jetsetting in New York and LA promoting my bestselling book. I wasn't meeting with Speilberg about movie rights. No, it is something more simple. I was just lost. The myriad of days just swirl together like a fast forward blur. Sometimes, I forget the day. Sometimes, I forget what I was thinking two seconds ago. Sometimes, I just sit in front of my computer and cannot remember what I was going to do. It is a wonder I manage to get school work done, which has been the only thing getting done. Sometimes, I feel like a kitten who gets distracted by shiny things or just random Jeopardy garbage on the internet.

I am writing about Donald Barthelme (if you don't know who he is, really check him out.) He was published in The New Yorker a lot and I was looking through the archives and then I was distracted by 1960's ads. Oh they were so, I don't know. But there went  an hour down the toilet just looking at old ads.

It's the story ideas that hit me so hard. So many and then I don't write because I have no idea why. I guess I am distracted by something. However, I did manage to write a brand new story and send it to Cicada. Sometimes, I am lost in my thoughts.  And of course are not linear, they swirl around like tornados. I just can't stay focused on work. I think about writing and I think about this and that. I think about what I am going to make for dinner and I then I make something else all together.  It's being exhausted at some time late in the afternoon and having weird dreams that make me feel drained when I wake up. And that is why I haven't written maybe I already thought I did. Maybe I wrote the post in my head (which is something I sometimes do when I am writing in a story) and then I forget to actually write it down.  So I am merrily chugging along and not really doing anything. I know it is a weird paradigm.

Okay so a little bitching now because that is what I am thinking of. Sometimes, I would like to vanish from Facebook. I find it useless. All it does is make me feel like crap because I am ignored a lot. So what is the sense of being on there? I don't really think anyone would notice if I was gone except for two people. I could just quietly go into the night and just vanish off there. I know I am not supposed to let that shit bother me but I can't help that it does, it must be hardwired into my brain or something. I sometimes wonder, what if I did become famous, would I matter more? What if I got sick, would I matter more (and if I did get sick and started mattering more that would piss me off more than anything because a person shouldn't be sick and cared about more because to me it is just too late, just my opinion though).

Even my page for my Etsy store is ignored. No one likes anything or leaves a comment. No one does anything. I tried so many of the  so called helpful things on the internet and nothing is working.  It's almost as if I am there but I am really not there at the same. Sort of like a ghost.

Okay, I will try not to be gone so long next time but I can't make any promises. I am hoping some clarity returns soon. Till next time....