Local

hmm.

Now Let Me See

Now let me see 

the level of hell 

where the Good Lord

places me. 

Finally the time 

has come. 

Finally the race 

is done. 

Closing my eyes 

with a slight smile. 

The wait is over.

The guessing done. 

Now I will know. 

No longer just 

wondering.

A tear for leaving

you and you and you. 

I wish it wasn't something 

that 

I had to do

so soon

and this is true. 

The excitement of this 

final time 

has arrived. 

Sadly I say my goodbyes.

There is no time 

to cry. 

New things have begun. 

In front of me

clearing. 

Behind me dimming. 

No more guessing. 

Hoping for a blessing. 

See my Good Lord there. 

I am smiling slightly. 

I go forth brightly. 

As I leave behind 

all that 

I have ever known

And walk bravely 

to the no longer 

Unknown. 

Lady Day

rip.

Got Ya

I can't wait to reach home. 

You call to me loudly. 

I want you badly. 

I close my eyes and all I see is you. 

So firm. 

So warm.

Even when I'm with you I want more. 

Can't drag myself away from the pleasures that you give. 

If I spend a whole week with you I want more, still.

The feelings you give me are so true. 

I'll always need more of you. 

Never leave me needing. 

Of you I'm dreaming. 

Even in the bright of day visions of you won't go away. 

My love for you is true. 

With your quiet strength you woo. 

I know your mine. 

Between us are no lies. 

You play no games. 

You keep it true. 

With you there's no shame. 

My wild love for you will never ever tame.

oh

The House

This is the house that Jack built.

This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built.
                                                                           

This is the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.
                                                                           

This is the cat that killed the rat

That ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built.
                                                                         

This is the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.                                                                      

This is the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.      

                                                      

This is the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.
                                                                       

This is the man all tattered and torn
That kissed the maiden all forlorn
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn
That tossed the dog that worried the cat
That killed the rat that ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.                                                                

This is the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.
                                                                          

This is the cock that crowed in the morn

That woke the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

                                                                       

This is the farmer sowing his corn

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn

That woke the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.
                                                                           

This is the horse                                                            

and the hound
                                                                 

                                                                       
and the horn                                                                    

That belonged to the farmer sowing his corn

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn

That woke the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

A-Muse-Ment

A-Muse-Ment.

Me. 

I have found over the over the years a number of men have come to me for inspiration. 

Not be conceited. 

Really and truly.

I have never been in my conceits. 

I did not make me.  

To God be the glory.  

                        

Not that I think I am glorious. 

Men, on the other hand, like me. 

A lot. 

But I am anti-social so I keep my distance. 

That is just me. 

                          

And if I said yes to even a portion of the men who find me inspiring I would not like me. 

But 

Anyway

Back to the inspiring me. 

Hmm. 

I do what I do. 

And that is that. 

Men seem to like that. 

I'm not your average girl. 

                           

I'm full of vibez and I keep it real. 

And I'm pretty. 

So the men lurk about me. 

Some in a good way 

and 

some in a creepy, loser, stalker way.  

I ignore the latter ones. 

But I'm nice to every one of the others. 

I let them bite my lyrics and make millions off of them. 

What can I say?

My everyday talk is more than their little brains can conceive or I just state it so much better than they do. 

                         

Hmm. 

It's cool 

But

Can you say users? 

I can 

But should I just completely stop talk? 

My older sister, Paula, gets so mad at me and tells me not to say even a word. 

So I try

                          

But my vocabulary and my way of speaking is just so totally awesome that even "good day" sounds awesome-er when I say it. 

So they bite the words that are coming out of my mouth or off of my keyboard. 

Life goes on. 

The Lord will deal with the unfair folks. 

I have other men that love to recreate me in the way they see me in their mind. 

                         

They want to make me the way they want me to be.  

                              

They express their desires and emotions through recreating me. 

                                

I am completely theirs to do whatever they desire to do to me.  

Lucky them. 

I think I like those men the best. 

Men love to sing, rap, dj and/or preach to and/or about me. 

Hmm. 

It's all good for them but I am so over their innuendos and their little hints to or about me. 

I am so done trying to decode men's songs, poems, etc. 

                               

Throughout history certain women have had men inspired to do all matter of things. 

I would never presume to think that my reach goes as far as those fabulous ladies of the past but I am anti-social so....

Maybe if I pushed at it a little more I could inspire even more men but for what? 

                                

So that even more men can use me in their own little sick way as I don't benefit? 

Who cares if it is I who makes him do what he does?  

                          

I get no pay for being his, his, his and his Muse. 

They pretend that what I said wasn't what they put in their little songs, monologs, raps, sermons and poems, etc., so I do not get royalties. 

Being a Muse sucks. 

I'm a picture on a wall. 

My almost every word and picture is used for their benefit. 

Some men even look at me just to forget their miserable little lives where they are cuckolded, trapped, frustrated and disrespected, all in good fun, though, eh?

                                 

Poor frigging them. 

I feel sorry the most for that set of senior non-winners. 

They are watching me as they wait on death. 

Who does that?

Some real sorry losers. 

Maybe they should grow some.....

Poor all of them. 

They have such a very tiny part of me. 

I wonder if they ever desire more. 

Well, one day some will pay. 

And the others can continue to watch me in the night, in the day, at work, on their phone and right in their laps on their IPad at home. 

Lucky them.

I like it. 

Do you, daddy. 

A-Musing Me. 

Which is what it does to me. 

It amuses me that men lurk, watch and hide just to see me, use me and lust off of me. 

Pity, though.

I'm so much better in real life.   

                            

Apollo and the Muses

                                                              

John

Don't let me down. 

John Lennon. 

The bad boy from The Beatles. 

He was a hard rock but Yoko Ono done him so good when she really done him that his hard rock attitude seemed to melt away. 

Like hot lava. 

He was a musician, singer, and songwriter. 

He was a writer and an artist, too. 

                   

John was born October 9th in the year of 1940. 

He was a Libra. 

Like me. 

As a matter of fact his birthday is the day before mine.   

Awesome. 

Decades earlier. 

Of course. 

Hmm.   

He was not a nice person. 

All the time. 

Like me. 

                               

He formed the Beatles and John was the younger Beatles members' idol. 

He was older and witty and they were almost in awe of him. 

John Lennon was a fighter and not really a lover. 

Until he met Yoko Ono. 

His childhood had left him used to doing his own thing. 

And love wasn't one of those things. 

                             

His parents separated when he was young and John grew up feeling, basically, alone. 

He went to live with his mother's older sister after their separation. 

John was a free thinker and he had a habit of speaking frankly. 

His music, whether, solo or with various groups, has touched people deeply 

Because

Although he was a hard rock on the outside inside he was a very loving person which comes through in his lyrical content

And he wasn't afraid to let his real feelings show. 

He sang of war, love, joy, envy and pain. 

He sang of life.  

                               

He opened himself up and poured out his emotions and didn't try to pretty them up. 

"She done me good" - John Lennon

He expressed how he felt and didn't hide behind the normal platitudes that we all express instead of honestly telling how we feel. 

John didn't say he was fine if he was not. 

He married young because he felt it was the right thing to do but his childhood never prepared him for the proper English marriage that his first wife wanted. 

By the time John met Yoko he was tired of trying to be what he couldn't be. 

Yoko Ono with her oriental foreign upbringing allowed John a way to have a family that was not the normal English family that he couldn't and wouldn't understand. 

                                

Through the years John dated a lot of women and did a lot of drugs but he always seem to know when he needed to stop. 

His life was one of many ups 

and downs 

as is all of our lives but John touched and still touches people by his willingness to show his soul. 

He thought people were more concerned with the Beatles than with Jesus and he said it. 

He was Anglican so he would have been raised to believe in Christ so I doubt if John meant any disrespect to Jesus. 

But that was John. 

He felt it so he said it. 

Or he sung it. 

To me John Lennon was one of the greatest. 

His way of expressing himself was honest, tough and, sometimes, painful. 

He let you feel what he was feeling by his dry but vivid lyrics. 

                                                                                  

I wish he was still alive.

He was a real man. 

Strong but weak. 

But stronger than his weaknesses. 

He turns me on. 

I'd do him. 

Rest in peace, daddy. 

I Kneel

Your eyes are as black as charcoal. 

As they seems to look into my very soul.  

From you sometimes I hide. 

I don't want you to see me cry. 

I don't want you to see me die. 

In your eyes I see 

Shadows of maybe losing me. 

Your eyes on me I feel. 

As I wish your fears weren't real. 

More for you than me I kneel. 

A Friend Like Me

I wish I had a friend like me.   

I am a good friend. 

If you ask me. 

Hmm. 

I have even given my so-called friend the shirt off of my back. 

Literally. 

And got stabbed in my back by that same person. 

Anyway. 

When I am your friend I am kind and loyal. 

If I have it I will make sure that you are ok. 

If I know you're a little short on money I will buy the Burger King or whatever it is we want. 

And I do not expect you to keep spending money that you don't have. 

Especially if I have more money than you.

If I want to go out and you want to come but have nothing to wear and no money to go out I will buy you something to wear and carry you out. 

That is just how I am. 

Money is not more than your needs. 

And wants. 

I have it and you do not at the moment. 

And I am not expecting you to pay me back if you just do not have it. 

And I would never make you eat "humble pie". 

Ever. 

I am just not like that and money is to spend. 

I am a good friend. 

I am always up for a lark. 

I will always have your back if we have to defend it. 

I will always tell you if I think you are right. 

And I will always tell you if I think you are wrong. 

I always respect my friends' feelings and I always have an ear to listen to your joys and sorrows. 

I am always happy for your triumphs and always sorry for your failures. 

I am a good friend. 

I wish I had a friend like me. 

My whole life would be even better. 

Because I would know that my friend Trouble is a source of help and unconditional friendship. 

Wow. 

If only I was friends with me. 

Hmm. 

The Living Dead

Zombies. 

I hate zombies. 

Every since I was forced to watch "zombies" by my bigger siblings who could have cared less about giving me another reason for therapy. 

They made me watch the "Night of the Living Dead". 

At night.                                                                                    

In the dark. 

And my mommy was not home. 

They were mean. 

I couldn't believe that the dead rising was actually happening. 

On tv, anyway. 

But to my young mind it was almost real. 

                                                                                         

It was horrible. 

And it stuck with me. 

And as more and more zombies films started to be released I had almost come to believe one day we might just have real zombies. 

And then I read about the girl who got high on some new drug and tried to eat some guy's face. 

So now we do have zombies.

                                                                               

Watch out. 

Soon we will wake up and they will be waiting to eat our brains. 

Ever since that horrible "Night of the Living Dead" night I have gone to bed wondering if I was going to wake up to no more people alive and zombies trying to eat my brain. 

Seriously. 

Especially now they have made a drug to turn people into zombies.

                                                                               

And they are not even releasing the drug in the air or some such.

Yet. 

They have the druggies buying it. 

Paying to eat brain. 

Why?

                                                                                     

I hate zombies. 

I always did. 

I don't want to wake up to a "True Zombies" morning. 

Really. 

Just say no to "zombie" drugs.                                                                               

Happy As A Pig

 

I have to wonder sometimes why certain people smell so bad.

I have to wonder why some people don't understand that the way they smell is causing you to choke.

I am very upset with the constant bad odor of you smelly people.

What gives?
                                                                                

Why do you stink?

Do you not realize that we know you do not bathe?

Why are you making us suffering?

Soap is cheap and water is everywhere.

The bus station.
                                                                                    

The gas station bathroom.

Even homeless people can always find somewhere to bathe but they have it hard so we can understand homeless people not bathing regularly.

God bless the homeless people.

But for you dirty sheltered people go wash up, please.

You smell real bad, sometimes.

                                                                         

I blame the smells coming from you smelly folks, somewhat, on your friends and associates, too.

You guys who are friendly with stinky people allow the stinky to continue to stink.

You sit there and put up with the funk and the stinky person, then, thinks no one can smell them.

You, women, that put up with a smelly man's arm odor make it bad on us people that don't want to smell sweaty underarms.

So, we, gagging from his smell, people, are on the bus or in the grocery store and we have to smell his gross sweaty smell.
                                                                                       

It his fault and it is you ladies' fault, too.

Tell him he smells.

Please.

I have been around couples and one of them stinks, badly.

Who does that?
                                                                         

You nasty nasty men who know she stinks are one of the reasons that I have to be fearful walking in the ladies room.

I do not feel that it is right that I have to be afraid to go into the ladies' room all the time.

It's disgusting in there sometimes and then when you come out people think your the reason it smells so horrible.

Damn it.

Go bathe, dirty girls.
                                                                             

She is disgusting and you men are, too.

Instead of deep sea fishing you should be telling her she smells and she needs a bath.

You guys with the stinky women are really and truly nasty.

I am tired of smelling stinking people.

And for all you stinky people out there you're not fooling anyone.
                                                                                   

You smell and you need to go take a shower and then soak in the tub.

For a long long time.

Stinky smell bad people.

Gross.

If you do not bathe you will stink.
                                                                                      

If you think we do not smell you we do.

And all you disgusting people that put up with a disgusting odor coming from every part of a smelly person's body you're just as nasty or even nastier than the stinky person.

And I am not talking about sick people.

God bless them and their smell.

Fresh scented people unite.
                                                                                     

                                                                                 
Let us all start to tell stinky people that they stink so we can stomp out the dreaded foul odors of unwashed flesh forever.

Together we can stop gagging on the smelly stinky people.