Posted in anxiety, community, conformity, creativity, depression, dreams, empath life, individuality, life, poetry, society

4/3: Path Taken #poetry #Inspiration

Dreams within stories
Fractured by time and pain.

Path not taken
Of acquiescence and banality.
Plow my own.

Held back too long
By pain and fear.

Ideas swirl around
One rests as another
Bubbles to the surface.

Dreams deferred
While I get the basics down.

Know change is emerging.
The path not taken idles to the side
As I forge ahead into my own world.


(Now need help to regain things lost. First up is a mattress. I had expected to pull my old one out of storage.)

Posted in anxiety, auction, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, domestic abuse, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, grief, history, homelessness, housing, insomnia, life, poetry, society, storage, urgent

3/25: Disjointed #poetry

[Definitely running out of time for storage. I need to save it this one last time. Then I can move things around and get a smaller unit. 1400. Help?share?]


People pass me, sometimes
Bumping into me.
Am I here? Do I exist?
The sidewalk is not overly
I must be invisible.

Careful to not be followed.
Do I feel safe?
Where is my stun gun?
Just leave me be.
Fake window shopping.
Make the guy be ahead of me.
I must keep my eyes on

Fear. Am I late?
Why do I run?
My legs give out.
My lungs give up.
What is it that I fear?

I must fight the
Darkness of my past.
I long to be free of fear and
I have whiplash from always looking
Over my shoulder.
Make the pain stop.
Leave me be.


Posted in anxiety, auction, bullying, community, crowdfunding, depression, domestic abuse, emergency, empath life, faith, family, friends, gratitude, grief, history, life, peace, poetry, storage, urgent

3/21: Within #poetry

(I still desperately need the help to get storage caught up. Any help, sharing and/or donations, is greatly appreciated.)

Look in the mirror.
Who do you see?
The scared girl who feared the world?

The mirror shows what is the truth.
It cannot lie.
Showing only what it sees.

What do you fear?
The past is you.
You choose to live in it.

Or beyond it.
Embrace what the mirror shows you.
You will only embrace yourself.

The past cannot hurt you.
Settle your soul with
The demons behind you.

Never forget.
Forgiveness is a distant choice.
Carry the lessons.

Leave the rest to the mirror.
It knows how to wrestle
The demons within.


Posted in anxiety, auction, community, conformity, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, individuality, life, poetry, society, storage, urgent

3/10: Lost Self (#poetry #crowdfunding)

Fit in without sacrificing
My soul.
Pieces of identity
Scattered beyond
My reach.

The puzzle
Falls to the floor.
Shards of myself
Spread too thin.
Never the same.

The past offers
No answers.
The future ignores
My pleas.
Now is a mess.

Systems down.
No more direction.
Pieces lost to time.
Ghosts once forgotten
Fight to be heard.

The mirage of wealth
Gives way to deceit and pain.
The ladder is broken.
My soul holds firm.
But for how much longer.


[Back to asking for help with storage. Auction is at the end of the month. PP or my GFM which will get linked to shortly]

Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, bigotry, bugaboos, bullying, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, family, friends, grief, history, life, observations, poetry, politics, society, storage, urgent

2/15: Dreams

(I’m back. Still need help with storage. But here’s a poem for you… fresh out of the deep dark recesses of my psyche.)

Freedom lost.
We are fired up.
Broken down.
Looking within.
Going without.

Where we were
Where we are.
But we define
Where we will go.

Shattered dreams
Empty shells.
Who we are
Is defined by
Who we have been.

Lost in the mirage
Of once being great.
Stumbling over each other
As we gasp for air.

Welcome all is
Only a dream.
A faint memory.

Fight to move forward.
At war with the machine.

Who are we now
To have valid dreams.


Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, grief, health, insomnia, job hunting, life, poetry, PTSD, society, storage, transitions, urgent

2/7: Melancholy (#crowdfunding & #poetry)

So, now February storage rent has been tacked on. $1014 owed. And my internet at home is off (86 needed). Phone will come due soon as well. The phone that is, once again, access to my only livelihood.


On edge.
Permanently damaged goods.
Just too much pain.

Why now?
Make it stop.
Please help me survive.

Always on.
Brain wired wrong.
I need a break.

No matter.
Need to heal.
Do I fit anywhere?

I’m all melancholy right now. Frustration with my own health and job hunt. Trying to get through school as well. Today I finally got a formal diagnosis of PTSD and GAD. These explain a lot. I feel like things aren’t coming together like I, and those around me, had thought they would by now. Like I’m falling apart all over again. This is partly why I’ve been so quiet lately. Poetry just isn’t forming so much of late.

Bear with me as I fight to reclaim the ground I lost climbing out of my own personal abyss.


Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, life, nature, observations, peace, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

2/1: Ashes #poetry

[Have two donations now. A bit over 100. Still a ways to go. I have until Monday 6pm to get the past due to storage. Any help is appreciated]


Skyline changes.
Blocking out the sun.
Haze of distant smoke
Fills the gaps.

Destruction breeds rebirth.
The trees savor the fire.
Never mind how.
It just does.

Ashes breed the Phoenix
Of nature undone.
Cyclical world knows how to
Survive by itself.

Leave it be.
It knows what to do.
Don’t rush the process.
The Phoenix will rise again.


Posted in anxiety, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, peace, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

1/31: The Stone #poetry

(Yes, still in need of help)


The path in the woods
Between brush and grass.
Lorded over by ancient trees.
Protected from the glare of the sun.

Slow, cautious steps lead down.
The edge of the woods clears.
The ground becomes soft.
Rounded pebbles replace
The sharp edges of boulders.

The rock is not far.
It has flattened with time and water.
Long ago, one had to climb its side to stand on top.
It is no longer the mighty throne of dreams.
The lake laps gently against it.

The others scurry down the shore.
Leaving me alone with the rock of my ancestors.
I stand alone, looking out at the ancient lake that has been part of our generations .
I remove my shoes and let my cloak fall to the ground behind me.
One step up and I take my place.

The hem of my dress barely reaches my ankles.
The layers of white and grey moved by the breeze.
It also questions the placement of the circlet on my head
By way of rearranging my hair.
My companions are beyond my hearing.

I hum a little melody my mother taught me as a small child.
Closed eyes, I hear the wind.
My friends off in the distance drowned out.
I listen to the trees. The water.
They tell me of those who came before.

Eyes open, I take in the serenity of the steep mountains surrounding the lake.
Ancient land, ancient water.
It laps gently against the rock.
Small splashes reach my bare toes.
The water, it is cold.

The sky above is calm, deceiving those below it.
I know its tricks, as the water has own.
The secrets bestowed upon me.
I am one of the


This is a fantasy variant of my “happy place” when I get a panic attack. I imagine myself on the rock.

Posted in auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, faith, family, friends, gratitude, life, observations, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

1/30: Communication #poetry

(Yes, still looking for help to finish catching up on storage. Need to get it paid up before the end of the month.)


Words on paper.
Strings of syllables.
What means one to the writer
Seen otherwise by readers.

Notes on a page.
Little black dots on lines.
Opens worlds to each other.
The universal language.

The face tells time.
Hands move in measured increments.
We live within those movements.
Finite freedom.

Spoken in hands.
Bodies talking without words.
Gestures and pantomime.
Graceful awkwardness.

Silence is golden.
Speak with nothing said.
Language surrounds us.
Even when we don’t talk.


Posted in auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, individuality, life, observations, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/29: The Questions (#poetry and #crowdfunding)

(Two days to get storage caught up. Two days to scrounge up about $700. Any help is appreciated.)

The Questions

Where along the way
Did I take the fork in the road?
Paths crossing others’ journeys.
Illuminated briefly.

When did I start scaling walls?
Stepping on myself
Just to reach the other side.
Inflicting pain.

Why leave behind so many?
Burning bridges that refused to burn.
I cannot be for everyone
What I need myself.

What do I do now?
The one within tires easily.
She wants success but
Peace more so.

How must I balance myself?
I am not what I once was.
The pieces shattered.
Some beyond repair.

What am I now?
No longer The Child.
Never The Mother.
Too young to be The Crone.

My path is wide.
Too wide. Too much.
But to narrow it, I must
Sacrifice part of who I am.

That will not do.