A City on a Rock besieged all around by infidels and invaders.
Raging battles lasting in to the night and well into the next day. It would seem that the chaos would never end. But as the Wise Sage expounded A City on a Hill Cannot be hid.
Stalwart Warriors All We fight on through desolation and isolation Courage and Bravery never ends. In the midst of conflict appears the Delirium Room. Then I realized that this was not my room any more and I needed to be transported to a Brand New Room. Amidst the two natures of man were two doorways Repulsion and Attraction.
Please Forward me a Small Studiolo Fully Furnished which I will name the Studio of Despair. I caught wisps of ghosts and they need somewhere to stay for just a fortnight.
Treacherous wild climbing Ivy Kudzu unraveling flower like tentacles encasing the living into the dead.
The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)
Obsidian gave way to Dayforming Gold Rays
A City on a Rock
Massacre of the Innocents
Gamepiece with a Dead Heron (“Falconer’s Bag”) Jan Weenix
The Chatty Grim Reaper: The Thickening Darkness of Blank Pages
A world teeming with Virtual Minutiae
Augmented Faces
Neural Networks
Mutilated Mannequins
Naked Apartments and Gypsy Housing
Soul Transporter + The Splattering of feet and ideas
You espied my Loneliness as a Thickening of the Darkness surrounding my soul
Sneaker Coffin @ The Brooklyn Museum
Pages Intentionally Left Blank
I can hear the screech of seagulls in the distance cruelly circling scavenging viscera from my nightmares
Struggle Dance
Packs of rats that eat anything and everything in their way including each other.
Finding her broken battered sliced up body parts he put her in a box labeled No Return
I lay there atop the early morning dawn beach. Sand in my hair, face and mouth. I spit out some grains as I slowly and painfully tried to raise myself up to at least a sitting position whilst waves of nausea assaulted my digestive track sending me onto the Vomitus Express. Vomit make it’s way up into my throat alternately gagging and heaving in full effect. Nightmarish odors entangled my olfactory system worsening my hold on this world and imperiling me towards the next.
Propping myself up on the heels of my hands I could then see that the stench came from horribly mutilated bodies scattered all across the beach some not more than a few inches away. Bodies once human now a mangled mashup of guts, brain matter, blood and feces decomposing along with rotting undigested remnants of their last meals.
Horrid stench but even worse how did I get here?
Gamepiece with a Dead Heron (“Falconer’s Bag”) Jan Weenix
Broken, Battered and Beat Up 2017 has left the building
And We Danced. And We Danced. And We Danced. Until the Dream was over.
What we run away from is what may save us
That being Moxie and Mystery
Tapestry pulled into the murky underbelly of a concussion
Pain, sorrow and death are are bosom buddies Boon companions following your every step. I kissed a rose and bled deeply and profusely through the thorns.
Muddy Murdered Mannequins being dragged though slimy red clay
Bashed in heads semi-attached to conflicted torsos. Splattered blood pointillism across the magic carpets
There is a bird inside me pecking out my innards screeching release.
2018 is filled with Amplified Astronomical Moxie
Religion
“Absorb what is useful and discard what is useless.” ~ Bruce Lee
Yes I’m back. After a much-needed break during which time I gave myself the opportunity to reflect. My blog had taken off in a wrong direction. Basically I was caught up. Lots of frustration. Too many obligations and responsibilities. Trying to juggle this concept of balance and harmony neither of which I achieved. Therefore it was time to let go.
When you fly too close to the Sun like Icarus you burn or in these modern times burn out. A Fucked Up Life = A Fucked Up Blog. I’m not Wonder Woman. The older I get the more I’m willing to admit defeat. More people should pay attention to the expression Beating Your Head against a brick wall. Well I have a bloody head.
Every so often you need to say, “Fuck it All.’ Like in Gone Girl I’m tired of being the Amazing Amy. Sometimes you must walk away from certain aspects of your life. My body does not handle stress well. Finally around the time my laptop died I was having terrible headaches every day. Collapse. Nobody there to help me or pick me up. As always I was and still am on my own. My life had become a fucking circus of putting on acts of well-being. Now I begin to tell the truth of a life filled with failures and flaws. No perfection. No promises. No happy endings. We deserve or think we deserve happiness, peace, joy and prosperity but life does not owe you anything. In this life you get many unexpected “gifts.”
If God/Universe gave out report cards my would be filled with F’s. This is the truth I live with every day. Again I don’t sugarcoat anything. One can never go back. It’s like saying you’re still a Virgin after the hymen has been broken or a baby has passed through your womb. No returns.
I Am Not a Performance. I am Truth.
I don’t like to be typecast or put into a stereotype. That’s why I don’t take to so-called Life Coaches, Life Hacks, Therapists or sellers of happiness snake oils. I don’t do Affirmations or Memes. They are totally lost on me. You don’t need to be a happy person to have Happy Times. I’ve had many Happy Times and will continue to do so. Happiness itself is situational. Just like anyway else who is brave enough to admit it I Love certain aspects of my being, my personality, my looks but their are other secret areas that come to plague me at night. That allow me no sleep. Those are my demons and I welcome they. My demons are my closet companions. Reliable. Always there. Sometimes they even save me for where would they be without me. We are bound to each with an umbilical cord that stretches but never severed. To know me is to see a stubborn mass of contradictions. I’m a paradox wrapped inside an enigma.
Woman Deconstructed Renewed in Partial Forms
It is what it is. I follow my own mind and make my own decisions. I admit to being high strung, nervous, lacking patience and mercurial. Anxiety attacks are my normal.
Temperamental and sometimes ill tempered. Blunt. Straight. No Chaser. I’m not the Replacement Bitch. I AM THE BITCH. B.I.T.C.H. Being in Total Control of Herself.
Basically I wanted to trash this blog totally but I realized I needed the archives being that I lost many of my MS Word documents. Also I needed a break from this writing blog to focus on my Photography Blog Roaming Urban Gypsy. However after increased demand and support from my Subscribers I will once again serve up offerings of poetry, prose and opinion. On My Own Terms.
Bits and pieces of my Life were in the Pawn Shop. Set up life a Museum dedicated to my past. Slowly once located I went back whenever possible to redeem and rescue pieces of my past so I could reassemble it into the future. Remade and Renewed through my own efforts or at times lack of efforts.
When one world dies another is born. And most don’t care unless it affects them directly.
When the smoke clears the Conflagration will arise
She an Elliptical Orbit floating on Clouds
Enter the Meat Grinder
Play me some Sleep Dance music an Ode to the Great Cathedral Mausoleum
Building those Great Cathedrals in the Sky
Red Lips. Cloudy Eyes.
Watch the Closing Doors
Shouting Out the Kewl Breeze Shysty fiesty One
Two pages stuck together with Lust Juice
Hairy Arms and Bare Legs Tussle
And Then a relaxation of bed covers
All is Finished. All is silent except silent snores piercing blustery night breezes
Whilst TaiQuai watched him sputter and gasp his way into eternity. Her sardonic smile belied the Trickster Elixir that sent him into permanent exile. Away from his many serial wives he wooed and lost.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 