Thursday, July 30, 2015

Blog Crush

On my readers
Is easy when there are
Just a few and I crush easy

written: 7/30/15

Mwah! I love all of y'all!

Wednesday, July 22, 2015


One piece
Missing and my
Work falls apart while I
Nurse the gaping hole that was left

written: 7 / 22 / 15

Feeling writey, and a little sad,  and working up to write some pissed off pieces.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Babes in the Woods

In the end
They were just abandoned children
They deserved better

written: 7/21/15

This poem and the one about Steve Carell are the last two from a writing prompts challenge with one of my friends. I'm phoning it right now,  or I'd link you.  (Maybe when I have better equipment. ) The previous poem was a response to a prompt to write about having a conversation with someone famous.  This one was in response to rewrite a fairy tale.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Coffee With Steve Carell

What if

I was at a cafe
Or a coffee house
Drinking sweet tea instead
Of coffee
And Steve Carell
Walked in the fucking door
And ordered a coffee?

Of course,  the Cafe would be crowded
And he would want to sit down
And I'd have a chair ready.

Here Steve,  have a seat

He'd see and appreciate my
University of Alabama tee
And sit down with a Roll Tide.

I'd give him a minute to enjoy his beverage
Before confessing

I miss Michael Scott!
I hate that I only get reruns
Of him.
I have memorized every line.

And Steve Carell would understand.

Because he understands why I write this blog.
He understands how awesome the word fuck truly is.
He understands that my depression is not personal.
He gets my little obsessions.
He appreciates a fart joke.
He knows how I feel about my kids.
He understands that cunt should be a legal WWF move.

And Life, without Michael Scott,
It's so hard
He always left me smiling and satisfied

That's What She Said!

Steve and I would blurt that out
At the same time
Trying to say it first

And then we'd just laugh.

Because Steve Carell is just cool like that.

Maybe one day. 

One day I'll get to meet Steve Carell.

And it will be just like that.

written 7/15/15

That's totally what it would be like,  right?

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Father's Day

In the world
I'd pick no other man
For their dad.

written : 6 / 21/15

Saturday, June 20, 2015

The Only Way

I get bruises from the
Blood pressure cuffs
On both arms.

The triage nurse
couldn't promise my husband
That I wouldn't have
A stroke
Just walking to my room.

The nurse comes in and sticks me
I now have an IV port
And a blown blood vessel
And my mouth is dry
But I can't have ice
Because that may also cause
A stroke.

The ER doctor asks
So many questions
Mostly about why am I
Not taking my antidepressants
Why have I not gone to the gynecologist
For my 8 month period
Why haven't I followed up
On my ever increasing
Blood pressure.

And I have to admit
That I am afraid
That where,  as I have often reassured
My therapist,  I do not have an active
Suicide plan.
Maybe it wouldn't be
The worst thing ever, 
Especially for my family,
If it just happened.
Maybe I just don't care if I die.

So, of course,  the ER doc yells at me.
Because that is what you do
When a middle aged woman with
A 209/120 bp and an anxiety disorder,
Who you think may stroke out,
Tells you that she may want to die.

So I get Ativan,
And go home
With my angry husband
Who won't tell me he's angry.
After two days, and bruises
Where there were needles,
I begin to feel human
Again. As,  even with my meds,
My pressure starts to creep back up.
Because my life is still
The same
And I still feel helpless
To change it.

And I really don't want to die
Especially not that way
With the nausea and pain and fainting
And yelling doctors.

But I don't want this life anymore.

And I guess dying always seemed
The only way
That anything would ever change.

written: 6/20/15

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

How to Lie When You're Hooked Up to Machines

According to the experts
You know
The Internet
You have to
Fuck up
Your baseline
Bite your cheek on the honest answers
Try to solve hard math
In your fucking head
While telling the truth

Is supposed to make
Your lies
Like they're

So this has been
Like a public service
For the five of you
Who visit here

Just in case


The more I read about lie detectors, the more they piss me off.

This is becoming the Things That Piss Me Off blog.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

When Masturbation Turns Ugly

We got to meet Caitlin Jenner
As herself
After 65 years.

And there were lots of
Thought provoking

And there were comments that she was brave.

-Cue fucking Facebook-
        (The progenitor of most of my middle-age rage. )

With posts basically saying

That's not brave
This is brave

And a picture of a mutilated soldier.

Because we can't just use people's challenges

      To prove to ourselves how good we are anymore

      To choke our moral chicken on the inspirational suffering of others

      To pull our self righteous pud over our perceptions over how inspirational it is to be like everyone else.

Now we pause 
   to fling

Use it to hurt them with the comparison:

This isn't you.
Bravery is finite.
You are no longer entitled.

Because,  after all,  Caitlin is no longer an Olympic hero...

She's a media whore.
      (Isn't that just like a woman?)

And bravery is only reserved for those that we also kind of pity.

written: 6/3/15

I think y'all may know how I feel about Inspiration Porn,  but now people are using it to attack Caitlyn Jenner.  I'm also thinking that I may start posting more of the poems I wrote when I get pissed off.  I may actually be in a place where I am okay with it. 

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Let Me Ask You Something

How is it
That you've lived
This  long
And still
Don't know when
To shut your
Stupid fucking mouth.

How can you
Not tell
That each word
That falls
From your lying
Duplicitous face
Just makes it worse.

And the sorry, pathetic attempt
To justify yourself
Reminds me that
You know what you did.

I know it too.

So,  enough,  already.

Go spew your shame

While I go wash
The filth of your
Off of me.


My favorite part of writing is where it takes me.  Which seems to be a very angry place apparently.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

NaPoWriMo Day Thirty: Backwards Romance

love had
always been
earth shaking.
How would
we know
this was
the end?

written 4/30/15 for the last day of

We were called to write a poem starting with the ending. With it, I think I have grown a little tired of the romantic stuff. It feels like I wrote of that a lot this month. Maybe I'll write one more that's happier to go in my sweetie's pocket for Poem In Your Pocket Day.