All is good

Do what I should

Knock on some wood

Cancun if I could

A scratch on my hood

I love a good dish

On a star I can wish

In a stream there are fish

Believe in the right

Say my prayers at night

I don’t want to fight

I know there is light

Sympathize with the plight

Grateful for my sight

Love with all my might

My favorite number is seven

Though sometimes eleven

I want to go Heaven

Some friends they’re a card

And I think life is hard

Need to mow my yard

And let down my guard

My grill has been charred

The roof it needs tarred

Feelings I’ve marred

Praying on my knees

Don’t want no fleas

My God I should please

 

  On chilly winter days and nights, when the sky is dark and snow falls I love nothing more than sitting by my window watching the snow as it drifts from the sky onto the ground. My favorite time is late night when I can watch it falling under the street light. It is moments like that which makes me wonder why I am so different and why I never totally feel like I belong here or actually anywhere. Sometimes, I believe there is something within me or something of me and that I am not of what I am supposed to be.

    Is this just the overactive imagination of a crazy, forty eight year old woman? After all, I am the one that goes out and predicts tornadoes (its a fact, I have witnesses), believes that I can calm the winds, has conversations with animals and inanimate objects and the list is too long to go on.

    Will I ever be normal and if I was normal would it make me happy? Unlike others, I think happiness is a choice. It’s not about comfort, health, finanaccial security, or anything like that its about deciding to be happy regardless of the situation and look for the positive in the most negative of situations.

    As a young child of about four, I was molested by my grandfather. He wore those stiff, starched white long sleeved shirts regardless of the weather and on the sultriest of hot, summer days he rolled up the sleeves and always wore black slacks except when working in the mines and the men all wore coveralls so I have no idea what they wore under them. He always wore white socks and black dress shoes, too. He wasn’t my blood grandfather as my dad was illegitimate but I didn’t know that for many years and in the eyes of everyone he was legitimate so nobody discussed it.

    My grandfather smoked those filterless Lucky Strikes or rolled Prince Albert but I remember the Lucky Strike pack through those white pockets. I throw up thinking about them yellowed, nictotine stained fingers and nails touching my panties and slipping into them. That dirty old bastard was a no good hound and he touched me and my sister inw ays he shouldn’t and I don’t think I can ever forgive him. So many people say why didn’t you tell somebody. I wonder what planet they were from. Back in those days, children got knocked down a rat hole for saying anything negative about an adult and there was never a chance for anyone to listen because a child never had the chance to say more than a few words. People may think it was cruel but the truth is children learned respect and its something I seldom see in children today. The cruel part was that an adult would do such a thing to a child in the first place, the cruelest part is that a child still remembers it after all these years.

     It seemed that was the beginning of a cycle of things to come. My mother was cut out to be a stepford wife. She tried smoking those long ciigarettes and watched the stories (they call them soaps now) and played that big wooden console stereo record player with those love songs and cheating songs sang by country men and women.

     My dad was a coal miner and mom was an uneducated stay at home wife and mother and dad become injured and times were hard on and off and she had a few flings during my growing years. A few to the point, I was nicknamed the daughter of the town tramp.

    Dad had been in the korean war and started drinking and became an alcoholic. He even had to be put in the Veterans Hospital Psych ward a few times.

    Mom was particularly angry with us children especially if we didn’t want to go to bed and she wanted to have a man over while dad was working. The ebatings became worse as I got older. I looked just like my dad and my sister was fair and blonde like my mom. Everyone always called her the pretty one. Guess that made me the ugly duckling of the bunch.

    I ended up hiding behind the sofa during some of the knockdown dragouts and blowups between my parents or shutting myself in a room. I never wanted to go in the closet though , becuase she had shut me in there so many times before and wouldn’t let me out I used to think I would die in there someday and it made me very clasutrophobic.

    When the song The Little Girl came out by John Michael Montgomery came out, I cried everytime I heard it because I used to remember how many times fear it could have been me. I am thankful it wasn’t.

    I also remember a song by an older country singer(he was young at the time) called Upstairs In The Bedroom. It had a real three chord twang to it and the lyrics were:

Upstairs in the bedroom, shes painting her eyes

painting her lips and planning her lies

Downstairs in the backroom, I’m holding my head

walking the floor and wishing shes dead

Its just about time for the phone to ring twice

she’ll slip down that stairway smelling like spice

off to the drugstore, she’ll say I bet

but the drugstore don’t sell what shes out to get

She’ll cross this room on the way to the car

but if this gun shoots straight, then she won’t go far

Shes told me tha last lie she’ll ever tell me

shes seen the last boyfriend that she ever will see

shes breathed the last breath that she ever will breathe

     Now tell me, is that not a helluva song for a ten year old to memorize. It didn’t really get any better. That Christmas dad worked the double holiday and I got up for a drink in the mobile home we lived in (pure white trash that I was) and saw my das best friend humping on my mom in the living room. Man, I thought I would die that night. as if the cussing me wans’t enough, when it wa sover she came into my room and got me by the hair of the head, grabbed me out of bed and beat me senseless…guess thats why I am crazy.

     I told dad, he almost killed her and she amde feel guilty for the rest of my life.

    I was fifteen and the school football star acosted me late night going through the park from a ballgame. Within minutes, I was gagged and my wrists were tied around a tree. During the assault, I passed out and when I awoke I was still bound and my jeans were at my ankles, my top around my neck and had lost my virginity forever, as well as feeling like the county pariah. Who is going to believe some mobile home park garbage over a football star?

    The beatings continued and at sizteen, my mom put a checkbook in my hand and said I had to pay my way. That was all she said and I knew only what she told me and relied upon me to do. Before I knew it, there was over a thousnda dollars in bad checks in my name and the cops came looking for me and took me off to a magistrate. Within hours, I was took to a foster home and a few days later the state police came and took me to a jail in another county. The jail was in an old American Legion building and there was one large cell for women with metal bunks and a toiler that sat on a wodd platform where the guards could see you. A one stall concrete shower with no curtain and no sink at all. The men were right across the hall and the guards read PLAYBOY and PENTHOUSE and tried to hit on evryone there. I had one reach through the bars and grab me by the hair and pull me up and kiss me and after that I prayed I would never be in the cell alone. I wasn’t. However, one night a rich lesbian and her lover maid were lcoked up for DUI and the lesbian tried to molest me but the maid squealed so the guards maced her, but got all of us in the process. That crap really stings, burns and itches and if you rub it, it gets worse.

    I spent thirty three days and nights there with no communication from family and thats when I started writing alot. I prayed a lot , too. When I finally got out, I was forced to get a job to pay off all the checks plus enormous court costs so my mother arranged without my knowledge for me to sell my soul to the devil for awhile.

    This man named Emmitt owned a club called The Cove and he wanted Go Go Girls. He had me write one check to cover all my checks plus all the ones my mom had wrote so the total was over four thousand dollars and he would take my pay until the total was covered and then return the check to me…or so he said. I became his slave and his plan was to own me forever. I had to be there daily and he would screw me several times a day and I cried tears until there were no more tears. I laid there in horror thinking my life was over each and every time he mounted me. One day, he told me if I would try to enjoy it and move a little it would be over a lot faster. I learned a few tricks that day and what used to be thirty minute sessions of hell never lasted more than five minutes per session after that, thank God.

    Here I was missing a normal teenage life, being her savior by being his slave and she still treated me like shit. I was in hell and there was no end in sight. This routine lasted for almost two years.

Well folks, its been a horrid ride so I am stopping here…at least for now.

  Its About …..Ation  

Sitting, staring, contemplation

Evident , my dire frustration

Alone, theres no conversation

Cordells dad, causes indignation

Late and pouting, irritation

Allergies,can’t breathe asphixyation

Hearing coming, allegation

Cordell comes home, pure elation

The IRS and taxes, aggravation

Lawyers try intimidation

I hate their manipulation

Agreements with a stipulation

Cannot stand the abomination

His suttle yet blatant instigation

Creates in me such agitation

Desperately needing a vacation

With the people I love most

  Love of A Warrior   

 

Born into survival

Young and curious

Fearless and inquisitive

The babe becomes a boy

The boy becomes a man

And the man becomes a warrior

Time to detach

A life of his own

A woman, a wife

Responsibilities and tradition

A generation must thrive

A legacy must continue

So for family he hunts

He thrives and survives

A new babe is born

A village celebrates

Tradition and family

Legacy and living

And the love of a warrior

 

Warts and All

Its really very simple

I’ll try hard to explain

The Love a parent feels

and why you feel insane

From the time they are babies

until they toddle here and there

You’ll find they’re irresistible

and that you truly care

Even when they’re fussy

They bawl, they scream, they cry

You may get really frustrated

But one thing you can’t deny

You would walk through fire

Or swim the deepest sea

trudge through a steaming desert

to hear them laugh with glee

Their smile will make you melt

their eyes can make you bend

They can break your heart

with the messages they send

Even when they’re ugly

They’re beautiful to you

And you will always love them

No matter what they do

You might not always agree

Or think what they do is right

But you’d stay awake for hours

and sit up half the night

To hear their key turn in the door

to have them walk right in

To know that they are safe

In your home once again

You try to do your best

you teach them right from wrong

But life’s best taught lessons

Are the ones that’s hard and long

Teach them its okay to fall

and have to rise again

That some mistakes are natural

To repeat them is the sin

Tell them every chance you get

Just how much you care

Say the words I Love You

Show them you’ll be there

If they ever need you

All they must do is call

For when you Love your children

You Love them warts and all

My Beating Heart

Hinder me not from living

And enjoying the fruits of life

Keep blood flowing through this vessel

Though tattered, worn and of strife

Allow me the chance to reflourish

To bring health and beauty back in

Moments to create something lasting

In my quest to be new, free of sin

Bathe me in the essence of rebirth

Fill me with hope, faith and joy

Permit me time to be all I can

To commit and raise my little boy

From my womb he was not born

But from my heart he has all of my love

I need time, life and health to secure him

Before I go on the wings of a dove

Precious Lord, I am asking sincerely

Between you and my beating heart

To assure and ensure me some great years

Before myself and my loved ones must part

I Hear Wings

 

 

It happened oh so fast

One minute everything was just right

The very next minute…

Tragedy shattered the night

We never saw it coming

Then it was much too late

It materialized so quickly

No time to contemplate

At first I felt so numb

Like I wasn’t really there

Then slowly it began

The pain started to flare

Like a fire from a spark

A flicker to a flame

One thing was for certain

Nothing would ever be the same

Then there was the bright light

It beckoned me to come

Faded faces that were smiling

Not one of them was glum

In the distance I heard voices

Then the sound of angel wings

Thoughts racing through my mind

Memories of a million things

The wail of someone crying

Is it true I see tears?

Or is this just my mind

Consumed by my worst fears

Wait…something isn’t kosher

That’s my body down below

What is happening to me?

I really need to know

Could it be I’m dying?

NO! I’m already dead

The EMT in the jacket

Just pulled the sheet over my head

Why me? I wasn’t drinking

I wasn’t even driving fast

Now my life is over

A memory…in the past

Sweet Moments

Alone together you and I

We cuddle, snuggle and kiss

Many times I wondered

If I would ever feel this bliss

Your fingers stroke my body

Exploring crevice, nip and crook

Tonight is filled with mystic magic

Your eyes they have the look

Your lips are warm and tender

Against my silkened skin

Desire consumes my senses

I arch and ask you in

To love me with a passion

A burning, wanting fire

I wamt to make love to you

Unbridled wild desire

Make me scream with passion

Smothered in the satin sheet

Then lay spent against you

As your heart thumps to a beat

These moments are so special

Over and over again

I want the sweetness of your love

To never, ever end

Make love, rest, repeat and sleep

This midnight love express

To have an endless energy

I want for nothing less

The Women

Matted hair with glazed eyes staring

The stench was putrid half way back

A skirt below the bum, stained and snug

Breasts swung loose under the green backpack

Another stood waiting with robin egg blue

Eye shadow that matched the belt on her hips

Daisy Dukes and a patriotic halter

Red brick paint pasted on her lips

A classy pseudo with likewise fashion

Clean and shiny golden hair

Intimidating those around her

With the false, misleading air

A few were yellow,a couple red

Most were white or shades of brown

Wait their turn, collect their reward

Late that night return to town

Many called home the red light district

A few had clients upper class

Others worked the backstreet alleys

Snatch a buck for a piece of ass

Some were worn down, broken pieces

Others babies on the street

Mixed up, messed up, lost and aimless

Until the right cop worked the beat

Some would do this for a lifetime

Others months or maybe more

The one thing they had in common

Everyone called them a “whore”

Put those women altogether

In a room or in a cell

Close your mouth and listen quietly

To the stories they could tell

Some are bad, they don’t want better

Others say its a temporary life

If a couple had their druthers

They’d rather be a common wife

A few may do it, make the big time

A couple won’t see twenty one

Some will do it till their deathbed

Others till its no longer fun

It may be something you wouldn’t do

I know its not for me

I see the pain, the lost, the lonely

And I pray that God can set them free

For while their life may not be moral

The way they live it an endless crash

I cannot judge my fellow women

Or throw their souls into the trash

She shut me in the closet

Like a thousand times before

I began feeling claustrophobic

Behind that solid door

The darkness swirled around me

I was feeling rather sick

When something crawled upon my leg

I felt and found a tick

Everything is stuffed in here

When it’s no longer fun

Or when there’s no where else for it

And its usefulness is done

The place for unloved toys

Unwanted clothes and junk

Hung, thrown or stacked

When there’s no room left in the trunk

Day one I was the greatest

She couldn’t put me down

If she even misplaced me

She’d scream till I was found

Now I’m just a fill in

When she is feeling bored

From something great to nothing

She’s the girl I once adored

Shucks, once…I’ll always love her

Even if she can’t love me

And I’ll always be there for her

Maybe someday she will see

That nobody is more loyal

A forever, always friend

Then me, her fluffy teddy bear

Faithful, till the end