Thursday, August 20, 2015


The sad truth
Is that I didn't recognize
What an amazing

Man he was
Until I had grown up
A whole lot

(With so much
More up to still grow)
Now,  as a

Sort-of adult
I can see what he
Accomplished and what

He tried to.
And I am glad that
I got to

Live at the
Same time as such an
Amazing human being.

And I think
Of how we are alike
Both of us

Southern,  both of
Us rather liberal and both
Believe in the

Good that lives
In the heart and soul
Of weak humanity.

We also have
Melanoma in common,  mine cut
And, poof, gone.

His setting up
Residence like it likes to
Do,  destroying its

Home,  oblivious to
The tragic consequence that is
Utter self-destruction

Much like humanity
Itself.  I think of sweet
Woman,  Susan,  who

Helped me during
Graduate school and who also
Shared this Melanoma

And I remember
How beautiful her funeral service
Was and how

I felt my
Son kick inside me as
Her daughter said

Goodbye to her
Mother.  And I feel grateful
And lucky to

Be here now.
To think of my kind
Cousin who found

Melanoma last year.
I hope that his battle's
Cut and gone

And I hope
That my humanitarian role model
Gets the peace

And strength I
Send to him in thoughts
Or prayers or

Whatever it is
That I am sending him.
As I keep

Trying to grow.

written: 8/20/15

Giving it to the universe that President Carter will be all right.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Eli's Worry

Eli worries that
Slappy from Goosebumps
Will sneak into

Our house late
At night while we're sleeping
The naughty dummy

And then steal
Every last bit of our
Delicious peanut butter!

See how happy
Slappy is as he nears
The helpless jar

And see how
Sad Eli is that the
Delicious peanut butter

Is being stolen
Right from our own safe
And cozy kitchen.

I reassure him
That I will lock the
Doors up tight

And I will defend
Our delicious peanut butter,  as
I am currently

Undefeated in battle
With ventriloquist's evil thieving dummies
I'm not scared.

And as my
Small son sleeps soundly tonight
Safe in dreams

I wonder why,
Why the fuck did I
Let him watch


written: 8/18/15

One of these days I'll learn.  No ... no I won't. But I am going to try to get him to write his version of the story on his page on the blog.

Saturday, August 8, 2015


I'm already tired
And afraid for my daughter's

What happens
when she reaches
the age
She is no longer
An innocent child,
But a slut,
A tease who
Is probably asking for it,
Even if she hasn't developed enough
To know what it is.

What happens
When she is no longer
A life worth saving
But someone who
Should have known better.

When her value
As an incubator
Is more than her
Value as a person?

At what point will
She fall out of the

Will it be
For being a sexual being?

Will it be
Because someone stronger
Made her his object?

Will it be
Because her life isn't
As important as a fetus?

Or will it be
More like the moment
Kimberly McCarthy's life
Ceased to matter.

That moment
After Wendy Davis's
Eternal filibuster,
After good Texan men
Preached the Sanctity of Life,
They gave Ms. McCarthy
Her final honor.
The phrase that will forever
Follow her name,
The 500th person executed
By Texas since

Because #AllLivesMatter, right?

Her life matters
As an example
Of how
It didn't.


I sure hope I get through this next presidential election without my head exploding.

Monday, August 3, 2015


Lately,  writing isn't
As much fun as it
Used to be.

written:  8/3/15

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.