Ramblings on a Thursday morning


I could live within poems, good poetry that peels the essence of my being!

I find I’m more at ease amongst strangers. The familiar assumes, the strangers presume, but they, they don’t matter much for I hold no expectations from people who are called to witness and underline I am here. Strangers are props, the familiar are tests, stumbling blocks to who I am meant to be.

I don’t know whether I am in a good place or a bad place. I am in a place that feels quite familiar. It is neither peaceful nor joyful, contrary. I don’t know what to call it. It doesn’t even resemble hope. I am in a place that feels beautiful.

Maybe it’s acceptance? Should I call it, label it, define it? For a mind that thinks too much I want to think it through. But that heart of mine that has been weary for so long seeks not to.

I will leave it be, that place!

May it be!!!

Bonjour la vie!

Be still!



I’m not sad or even angry anymore.

I have stopped asking “why me?”, “why not me?” I’ve stopped wondering whether it will stop or how long it will go on.

Too busy, too busy holding on!

I don’t look back anymore, what I lost, where it all went wrong. I can’t. I really am not able to. Hindsight is not a friend.

Emptied of dreams, hope, wishes, sadness is a luxury and wanting a burden.

I need every breath, every thought bent to my will. I don’t know where I’m going, just where I’ve been. This much I know I don’t want to rehash the past, go back to what was, I’m not that person anymore. Yeah! I haven’t been sad in a long long time.

Eyes wide I am learning to be.

Stillness my strength.

You know what I’ve learned from watching boulders, wherever I go. Rain, wind, hail storms, thunder or snow…there they rest!!! Wherever they are, they remain and if by might they’re shifted, they stay.


There are no emotions in being. I’m not sad. I am numb, numbed of life, of hopes, of me, of feeling.

And the clock ticks

imageI hate my choices.

I can’t even blame the fact the options were few and many times they sucked. Immeasurably so might I add!

I don’t know whether to hate me or berate my sort. I refused to write. I abhorred sharing as if anyone cared really! I knew I was sinking so deeply into the what ifs and I was losing grip of things I had to hold on to, if not for me but for dignity’s sake.

My heaviest task: the burden of duty. That cross I willingly carry. But I’m not a martyr. I see tgings through, I take that cross, do what I must.

It’s important that I do what is right. It matters to me that I do, but at what cost? I’m losing my mind. Every day, I cry. I forget only when I’m busy to the point I cease to exist, blending into existence, finding myself in purpose. It’s not enough to wake up, resist, persist, endure.

Duty isn’t purpose just so you know.

I’m often upset at God, the only one I really have. The only one with enough power to change things. I call on him unceasingly. Rarely does he answer. Most often he does not and I’m left begging, crying, getting angry.


I’m upset again.

Why give a life that’s made to be endured? There’s no beauty or joy in endurance.

That’s my life, my goal, my pursuit: to endure…

3 and a half more years to go.

Hold on! Hold on!!

The clock ticks ever so slowly as my life passes me by!

All the feelings!


And I laid there in his arms. What it’s like being held. Pretending I am loved. Pretending he will be there when I have nowhere to turn. Even though I know the truth, the reality for my being here. With this stranger in a comely bed. I’m trying to forget. Forget I have no one, no friends, no family. What it will be like when the kids are gone and I have no more reason to get out of bed. His gaze is somewhere else, maybe the next chick or his job or the girl who broke his heart or the wife he is probably hiding somewhere. But for tonight he is in my bed. Oh! This strange bed, trying to forget. Feeling like a conqueror, lighting his ego. When wanting is all you have there’s nothing more fulfilling than getting, even in passing, even without meaning.

We try to forget. Where we are. Who we are. What we lack. What’s missing. And we escape through the gasps of welcoming arms, even though we are strangers this night.

The best place to get lost is in plain sight!

Isn’t it strange how the physical act of connection can leave you disconnected? Guess it’s what it’s like when you’re just a tool!

Mush-room state!

Ever wonder why you attract the people you do!
And they say the central theme is you?
As if, you would want the pain, unleashed too?
Your head’s right, your game’s tight,
many players on the field and nothing is alright,
or feel right?!

That’s the story, an endless litany!
What am I to do?
All that I have, untrue!
Mushroom trippin’, ecstasy driven,
they come around wantin’, constantly takin’,
that’s me attractin’ !??
Time wastin’, roll in the hay, and!?

Maybe it’s the voodoo, how between my legs do,
curved as rescue,
boat, line, head too?
Ever wonder why you attract the people you do?

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