“sick magnet”

I was born feeling more than most everyone I know.
Sometimes I feel I might explode into flame or flakes of snow.

I feel so deeply it physically hurts, even in joy.
What’s meant to be a happy time bubbles me over to the point where I annoy.

I even feel what others do whether good, bad, or evil.
It rumbles through my very soul causing extreme mental upheaval.

Vibes emanate from some that haunt, and there is no release.
And unless they go away I find no precious peace.

If I ignore this “talent”, when standing in a crowd,
The strain alone exhausts me, emotions are so loud.

That’s why living in the woods right now is a necessity,
Because feeling and not being able to do anything is pure hell for me.

Some people hurt SO deeply and stuff it deep inside.
The anguish it brings at times seems too hard to for me to hide.

Other people harbor SUCH evil within thinking no one will know.
I wish I couldn’t so the lump of nausea in my throat wouldn’t grow.

I see the reasons behind it all without a word being said.
Like a tragic, macabre drama playing out on a silver screen in my head.

If I feel so much for so long, I cry “God, please take me away!”
If life is a stage, there are many times I don’t want this role I play.

My addiction’s helped numb me and dull my emotional lightning rod.
But suicide is not my way because I know I belong to God.

The older I get the less able I am to shield myself away.
Our wooded home is my solitude so I can make it day by day.

My husband understands and can quiet my mind and in his arms alone I can be just me.
When we’re alone all I feel is us and from the world, real and fake, I’m free.


By Angela Jones

A bird in flight,
A starry night,
Beauty in a rose.
Breath inhaled,
Sand grains pailed,
The mind composing prose.

Our own eyesight,
The sun so bright,
Nimble hands sewing clothes.
A baby’s birth,
A whale’s girth,
The ocean’s ebbs and flows.

All these things and more are proof
There’s one who’s big and grand.
One that formed the heavens, earth,
The oceans and the sand.

Too complex for all to be random or a fluke,
Too numerous the names of all that is to be from primordial ooze.

His voice was the BANG that spoke it all to life.
He intricately created humans and they chose the path of strife.

He knew he’d lose us all one day, if he didn’t take the fall.
So he wrapped himself in infant flesh, grew, and walked among them all.

Jesus was the name he used, it was common in those days.
People flocked to see him then and were shocked by his words and ways.

It hurt to hear the truth of things, that hearts can be so cruel.
The desire to silence his honest voice brought murderous plots to rule.

They formed a plan to stop him then and put it all in motion.
They didn’t know the plan was his and they were as the tides of the ocean.

Then came the time they thought their plan surely nailed him down.
He suffered and he died that day with thorns forming a crown.

“It is finished!” He said. All is done nothing else is ever needed.
His final words tell me for sure his plans are never impeded.

His tomb was found with him not there three days after his death.
Those against his hurtful words were sure it was a plan of unrest.

His resurrection from the dead crushed all that would destroy
The chance of us being kept with him forever in eternal joy.

To know him is to love him and to know his saving grace.
NOTHING else is needed because Jesus took our place.

Love Knows

Painful loneliness.
Cold empty space.
Reaching to your pillow,
I find it cold, empty, longing.
I search for your scent,
It’s fading fast…

I breathe you in remembering,
You know me without a word.
You smile in my dreams.
Even my messiness is your delight
And your’s is mine.

You think and I hear.
We move in unison.
Even our discord is harmonic,
The rythym our own  composition
Our life dance synchronized as we mentally hold each other.

Love never fails.
Love never fades.
Love knows us and rejoices in a world of chaos.
Antagonistic voices silenced to our love favoring ears.
May the world take note.



Sunshine and puppies,
Kittens and rainbows,
Wonderful things when life makes you smile.
Life isn’t always warm and fuzzy.
Kittens have quick claws.
Puppies have sharp teeth.
Rainbows appear after storms.
Sunshine burns.
Perspective matters,
But strong negative emotions don’t magically disappear.
People watching are puppeteers,
Strings pulled this way and that…
For desired affect,
Trained pony perform!
The crack of a whip
Wincing I dance unwilling,
But unable to resist.
No approval.
My own rhythm lacking.
The beat discordant to many.
“Dance like no one’s watching!”
Everyone’s watching.
One by one the marionette strings are severed.
“Will she stumble?”
“She’s headed for a stumble.”
“I hope she stumbles!”
May some dance with me,
But my strength comes from picking myself up after a fall.
Grateful, I will tearfully rise again and again.
Not even gravity can keep me down.


I’m staring at a blank page with the cursor blinking expectantly as if it’s consciously waiting for input, it’s horrible. The cursor might even be mocking me, lol!

Writing is my safe release of all emotions. Apparently, since I am an extremely passionate person, when I attempt to verbally express something to anyone (even my husband) I put them off (maybe even scare them, hell I don’t know, lol) and they don’t seem to know how to take me. I’m finally okay with this fact, but I haven’t written in years and my “floodgate” is leaking and ready to break.

I’ve found poetry to be cathartic.  I don’t know if I’m doing it right or if it makes any sense to anyone but me, but emotions are difficult to describe (ever tried it?) and replacing them with lightning, thunder, wind, cold, heat, etc (to infinity) seems to unchain me and my emotions hopefully without harming anyone else, lol. 

I’ve also found curse words to be therapeutic. A well placed “fuck!” feels wonderful because it vents my anger beautifully, and I’ve found calling inanimate objects “bitch!” enables me to get said inanimate objects to do what they’re designed to do or move where I need them to be (or sometimes break cheap bastards, lol). Unfortunately, my conservative loved ones likely check out on those and probably snooze me on their newsfeed and they would never like or share what I write just because of the vulgarity. I find that sad on two levels: first, I used to do the same thing and second, I now know I missed out on learning about people and loving them where they were just because of my ignorance and prejudice. I still love them though because I understand the level they’re on. Not saying I’m any better than them or that I’m perfect now. I just see things much differently than I did, and perspective is everything.

Wow, I actually wrote something, rambling as it may be, lol. So, I guess, this is my process and it IS, truly, my perfectly imperfect heart. Thank you for reading this and allowing me to share with you! The floodgate might be ready to be completely opened soon! Have a great day!


I’ve heard or read the phrase “Why NOT me?” multiple times lately.  Interestingly, it hasn’t been in good situations. Instead, it’s been said by people in awful situations of illness, violent attacks, or horrible turns of events in their lives.  Previously, I had only heard it in connection with luck, like playing to win the lottery or other similar hopes of good fortune.  Not even when good fortune was realized.  So, I am very surprised hearing it in the context of horrible issues and events, but pleasantly surprised.  I mean, what a great attitude to have when bad things happen?!

I’m not talking about a “deserving” attitude or anything that makes it seem like there is some cosmic “checks and balances” sheet that has been tipped against us in favor of disaster, and I’m not talking about someone deliberately looking for trouble (and I’ve met people like this) either.  I’m talking about an accepting attitude of being in whatever moment we’re in and looking for “good” in it, which, I believe, would take the power of that trauma to crush us and cause us to grow and change for the better instead.  It seemed to be true if the individuals I heard say “Why NOT me?” involved in those horrendous situations.

So many of us, myself included, seem to believe that we shouldn’t have to be subject to or experience negative/bad things.  And when I (for the sake of argument and to avoid a “you’re pointing fingers” judgment) do have something bad/negative happen, my “poor me” reflex kicks in and downhill I go on every level.   If I instead ponder “Why NOT me?!”, the only reasons I could come up with in my current state of “enlightenment” would be purely self-centered and, honestly, arrogant.  I’m also NOT saying I shouldn’t love myself, I am unlovable, or  I am not unique.  What I am saying is that I am not the center of the universe (none of us are) there are billions of others in this wonderful life of ours that through our perception can either be learned from or taught, and we all pick and choose what we will accept or reject for our own well-being.  So, if we take hold of even the worst experiences/events in our lives (self-inflicted or not) and find the “good” in it, to me that annihilates the evil meant to destroy us and our humanity.  What then would we or could we teach others merely by our example? And how would that change the world as a whole?

Something to think on today!  Hope everyone has a great one!

Unreal Reality

Sunshine words elude.
Black inky ooze flows.
Dope smoke might hide the mirror for awhile,
Then it clears leaving cold facts and obvious cracks.
Lone thoughts like fist blows connect hard.
No one can bear the sight so no witness can care.
Reaping what’s sowed can poison.
Death’s escape timed out not even by our hand,
But by Light brighter than the sun.
Blindness is a lie,
We know.
Yet we rush on grabbing shards like life jackets
They dissolve and laugh as we drown again and again.
Viewpoint is never the same.
It’s cloudy and hellish.
The mouth moves, but truth is microscopic.
Those “righteous” turn away from the sight.
The trenches remain unmanned.
Casualties mount.
The devil laughs
And the pendulum swings again.
Upswing, joy
Down swing, agony.
Stop the ride and let me off.
Gently caught by the Rock.

Beauty Hides

Beauty hides when you’re not around,
The sun even loses its warmth somehow.

The ache within me seems endless and cruel.
My empty arms taunt me and others think me a fool.

Some days I am stronger and can hold my head high,
Then comes the dark days and all I can do is cry.

I know that you need me you’re not free to fight,
But my heart is breaking and my mind is black as night.

Give me some of your strength and ability
To move forward boldly despite my misery.

I am the soft one who soothed your furrowed brow
And used words to build you when life started down.

You’ve been the strong one,
The guard of our home.
In your arms I felt safe,
And never alone.

Things just went wrong,
When we left our Lighted path.
The devil came tempting And here’s the aftermath.

I still believe in us till death do us part,
You’re the only one that holds the key to my heart.

Together we’ll find the Light on solid ground
And apart or united we’ll love each other forever and beyond.

Gelatinous Rambling

I am an emotional maelstrom trapped in flesh, buffeted about by this living.

Yet, I have an Anchor. I am held firm even when I seem to lose my very structure and ooze out of control.

My faith is eternal. Merely changing its manifestation as new, good, and bad information leave their dents and gouges, manipulating its appearance and vibe.

Onlookers, beware! You may see and hear me, but probably not believe me, let alone understand me.

I’m chaos in motion. Often I don’t make any sense at all, not even to myself.

My emotions are beyond volatile, but they’re real.

They’re beautiful and ugly, true but hard, painful yet STILL joyful through cold and hot tears, true and false laughter.

I’m pitching a helluva 50 year old toddler fit.

I need it though, I need it before my very core ignites into a terrifying flame.

Not like the flame of a candle, so easily extinguished. No.

A consuming fire, with self-consciousness the spark.

I can know me, my husband can know me, my Lord can know me; and I’m freed in that knowing.

Anyone else tries to really know me and I’m a shamed, naked, shivering mass of goo or I go chameleon.

But menopause with its kick-in-the-ass testosterone boost and flawed humanity taunting my rose-colored view with its merciless imperfections have decimated my Polly Anna falseness.

I’m glad.

Boldness, not formerly in my vocabulary as an adverb — let alone a usable verb, is busting into my day to day. A rebellious word or two, a refusal now and then, a controversial opinion blurted out or posted, previously unheard of actions taken on more than one occasion.

Yes. It’s happening. In fact, no one need be present for it to happen.

Besides, who wants to watch the destruction and reinvention of me…a totally broken, middle-aged woman?

In fact, if I’m watched in this process, it might alter it and the end result.

I’ve lived enough to know this living is all about it — metamorphosis.

Finally cutting through the cocoon of crap I’ve wrapped myself in, I can be ME.

Self-consciousness be damned. God made me just who I am, no more and no less.

I’m a beautiful mess being exposed to the harsh air of life.

Its drying me and eroding me and cracking my smooth façade so I can be real, finally.

Love me, hate me. Reject or accept me. See me or ignore me, I will not care anymore.

Reality is cold. Truth is hard. Being real is the only way to survive.

Falseness will be destroyed and destroy.

Boldness, unashamed and glaring, is the path to success.

Like a newly born’s pained cry after its lungs first expand, triumph is loud and excruciating, but brings awakening.

This time will not be wasted.


*Disclaimer: I know the topic is old news, but I just now got the guts to post it. End of disclaimer.*

Here’s yet another nail in the coffin for freedom in the land of the free and the home of the brave. After over a century, the Boy Scouts of America is changing it’s name to Scouts BSA. This is reportedly being done to reflect the new “inclusiveness” of the long-standing program. Oddly, they’ve kind of kept the word “boy”, (Defined “male child or young man.) but reduced it to a letter at the end of the organization’s title. I can only assume that this is perhaps because of protest or nostalgia that the higher-ups insisted it be left.

Frankly, this makes me sad and a more than a little pissed off! Does this mean the term “boy” is now a title to be omitted out of our language because it’s so exclusionary? Following the same logic, shouldn’t the Girl Scouts do the same? After all, the title “girl” is just as prohibitive as “boy”. We certainly don’t want to restrict any person or group to these gender categorizations now do we? (Dammit, I wish there were special characters to show sarcasm!) It’s getting absolutely ridiculous and quite — ahem — exclusionary to be designated as a specific gender at all.

WHY?! The terms “boy” and “girl” themselves really show no particular charactistics of either sex. No dictionary I checked said anything about activities, interests, or even physical characteristics of the terms. Nope, not a single thing in them prevents anyone from being either. So, that must mean that the individual projects extra traits to them. Shame on them! Shame on ME! Really?! Yes, I have certain traits in myself that I consider girlish, but by the same token I have some characteristics I consider boyish as well. However, I STILL consider myself a GIRL. Fifty years old or not, I am a girl and am damn proud of it! I know young girls who are literally ashamed when someone refers to them as a girl!? What the fuck has become of us? In a society that prides itself on being inclusive, nonjudgmental, and — excuse this profane and overly used term — politically correct (gawd, my brain just threw up in its mouth a little bit — mental gag!), we are actually becoming more and more narrow-minded. And I’m not just talking about those of us with religious, spiritual, or moral convictions in this area. Those of us in the progressive or liberal categories are just as guilty.

If we’re going to be as accepting, compassionate, and nonjudgmental as we say we are; we need to STOP telling each other through words, actions, and title changes what we should or shouldn’t be and just BE. Boy. Girl. Both. What the fuck ever! Show me who you are by how you treat me and others. Make a difference in life and the world and be proud of who God made you! Sorry, Scouts BSA. I’m not impressed by your name change. It makes me want your organization and all others like it to just go away. Just another example of word, thought, and (more and more) gender policing.