CHRISTIANITY STRIPT

Christian, a part of me

Flaws too, and misery

Don’t pretend to be all good

Struggle, to be what I should

Each day I pray, I am true

Love everyone, even you

Promises, lie in my heart

Praying to heavens, a new start

Christians ones we may be

Heavily flawed, you and me

Judge me not, I’ll judge myself

Tear apart my mental health

I pray to God, I’ll be right

Holding hope, to be my sight

Don’t hate God, because we sin

Human first, but part of him

God is love, hope and light

Birthed into his holy sight

Perish yourself not in hell

Just cuz, some “christian” fell

God wants you, sin and all

Called to heavens, not to fall

one word

Crushed

by reality of life

Failing

at being the perfect wife

Trying

to love everyone enough

Choked

by the raw, wicked, rough

Loved

by those close to me

Pray

forever, forever, my family

Dig

deeper to make our life more

Life

has a way to even the score

Remember

what really matters the most

God

has a way of keeping us close

Laughter

releases the stress and pain

Kindness

what we need to remain

Care

what you and I should share

Heavens

upon us, though life, isn’t fair

Preparation to Fly

Lie awake, again tonight

Brain entwined, creative sight

Much to do, no time at all

Creativity flooding, the side to fall

Believe its time, next step to take

Risks, a must, for dreams to make

Paint, write, create for you

Responsibilities, kill whats true

Much more, my family to hold

Time to create, build and mold

Want to dance, time to move

Art my calling, time to prove

Can’t hide forever, gift hidden safe

Treating a blessing, like a waif

Letting go, transparent to you

Listening to my soul, eternal cue

Life Revered

Moments of our life, the smallest of things
Teardrops, and hugs, humming bird wings
A day, a moment, a walk in the rain
Life is a gift, a joyful refrain
A gift to be revered, and lifted upon high
Precious life to end, whispers upon nigh

comicstripclub.com – Laugh with them or at them! World of Warcraft

WORLD OF WARCRAFT – LOVE IT OR HATE IT – THIS IS FOR YOU!

Do you love gaming? Are you an on-line gamer? Do you play endless hours of WOW, with your spouse, girlfriend, kids or dog wondering what on earth you are doing? Do you even wonder, every now and then, what the hell has happened to you? You live in a pseudo life with potions, and planned raids, and a bunch of other guys from around the world, who live fantasy lives too.

I am a gaming widow and yes, I am a bit bitter about it. I met my now husband, between gaming systems and we lived in different cities. He kept his gaming hidden…until we were married. POW – I was now married to the back of a mans head, who could literally sit in one place all day long – if I let him. Sure, he would move to pee ( I know he has secretly considered a catheter) and maybe get a beer. But other than that, it’s all about the Shaman baby.

Yes, I who am more like Kerry from “Sex in the City.” knows about these raids, potions and shaman. My dinners have been ignored, as well as my conversations. The only place I win…he still prefers me over computer porn, but I am sure it is a tight race. I have lost years to WOW and you know what, I don’t even try to compete anymore. He has improved, greatly, but best of all…he has co-created a website that I can laugh at him, with him.

Yes, a website that clowns gamers by gamers. I love the fact that I don’t game, in fact, hate gaming and I click on his comic-strip and laugh. Check it out, love it or hate it http://comicstripclub.com/2008/05/22/you-have-big-hands/

Lostility

Lost is our youth,  adults led them there

No values to grasp, lacking morals and care

We gave them this, and that and some more

No wonder their lazy, and us they abhor

Boundaries aren’t taught, life is a toy

Kiss this one and that, a girl or a boy

It’s trendy to drug, and trendy to whore

We live in a world, where shallow is core

Why are we shocked, when they shoot up the schools

Adults are the one, that gave them no rules

We must get on track, and love our youth tough

Show them our hearts, their world is a must

Give them a plan, a goal and some hope

Swing them life-ring, not a noose from a rope

Our young, carry us on, to future sweet lands

Or into a furnace for the evil and damned

Ultimately, it’s us, who creates our life’s path

Sunrise or sunset, or the worlds ugly wrath

Reign our youth in, and show them some love

Pray, they return, like the arks released dove

Dreams for life

My dreams, live in my mind, away from the drudgery of my everyday

My dreams, die in my heart, as I look at all my responsibility

My dreams, forgotten, end dreams for my children

My dreams, of dance, travel, romance and laughter

My dreams, of homes, trips, culture and well being

My dreams, were lived for, waited upon, expected

My dreams, forgotten, ignored, ridiculed

My dreams, irresponsible, impossible, silly

My dreams, are my dreams, to hold on to

My dreams are my hope, my chance, of more for more

My dreams, are your dreams, and her dreams and his dreams

Don’t stop, don’t quit, don’t forget….your dreams

Dreams turn to hope, turn to probability, to prosperity

Dreams, are our dream, to dream, everything

Bulimia – The Beginning

I remember the very first, time. We had just moved out of my home. Not my house, but my home. The only home I had ever known, from the time of my birth. A 3 story, butter yellow Victorian home with 2 sun porches, a never ending wrap around front porch, a black roof and black shutters. The house was surrounded by a garden, full of color and scents that made the day feel like a Van Gogh painting. I loved the way the Poppy’s were caressed by the softest of wind.

The back of the house, hugged by a vegetable garden of sugar snap peas, carrots and maybe even a little rhubarb. Striper the buns cage  was off to the left, shaded, by the large old barn, that was now my fathers workspace. The hayloft above the barn, a play space, an escape  and my haven. A safe place from all the world, aside from the resident skunks that shared their lives and sometimes their bittersweet scent.

This house, was my house, my safety net, my security, my home. A tree lined street, perfectly named Young Street. It sounded like a place for a new beginning, a perfect life, and it was until my parents started to spiral and their bitterness, took away my sweetness.  

I lived on a perfect street, with a perfect family, with other perfect families, until they snatched my youth away from me.  They sold my house, and moved us into a temporary house. The story was that they needed to downsize, because my oldest sister, was in college and we didn’t need such a large home, but I could smell the stench of lies in the air. I didn’t know what the lies were whispering, but it was sticky and messy.

Our temporary house, with the sweltering sun-room, was a glimpse of the inferno in my life, that was about rustle awake. I spent most hours in my over-sized bedroom, with musky smelling carpet with an old hollow core pocket door. It echoed when you closed it, to remind you that you really held no privacy. This house, was an empty space, now holding an empty family, filled with empty hearts. My mother passed my father, my father passed my mother, they both passed by me, all but disconnected, and nobody seemed to care.

I felt lonely, and sad, and unsure of what was going on. I had no-one to turn to, or talk to. My sister was away at college, not that I could have talked to her anyway. I was a nuisance, from the day I was born. She reminded me, as often as possible. She was better off without me, and she stated so, when they brought me home from the hospital. “Take her back”, the photo says, of my welcome home arrival, as she peaks over the chair. My sister, wanted me gone, before I was old enough to love her.

The pain became to much, and I was alone, and I looked at the chocolate chip cookies as they somehow called out to me. They were my healer, but it wasn’t about the cookie, unbeknown to me, it was so much more. I tucked a large plate of cookies into my lap, as if to guard them and as sat in the sun-room, shoving one into my mouth, after another.  I lost track of taste, time, feeling, sensation. Until, my stomach felt like my heart, as if it was going to burst from all the pain, welled up inside of it. I was numb as I wandered to the bathroom, with another hollow core, pocket door, with a pretense of privacy.

I leaned over the toilet, to expel, repel, repent. I knew, if I could remove everything from my heart, my soul, my stomach, it would all be better. I purged, and I purged and I purged. The cookies came screaming out of me, along with my pain, my hurt, my tears, my dyeing inside. And then the pocket door slid open, and my mother stood there, I felt alive, relieved all the while, numb to the look upon her face.

Purging, purging became my escape, as I expelled, I was relieved, as all things dark, flooded out of me in a torrent. I didn’t understand, I had no idea what I had walked into. My savior, would become my prison guard. I have been locked up, and kept in a death cycle for 24 years. What I once thought, was my life saver, I now know, is my life taker, but I can’t seem to take my life back.  I have good days, and I have bad, but still, my release, my refuge, my moment of bliss…are the fleeting seconds…after a purge.

Presidential Selection

What America needs, not another wealthy, white, man

I prayed for a difference, but Obamas a sham

Is he Indonesian, Kenyan, US citizen - or myriad of three

This mans agenda, so hidden, yet our law to decree

Pledge of Allegiance, never, not from his tongue

Oh yea, didn’t he used to be a Muslim

Words, so eloquent, like the next JFK

Except, for this time, the US  will pay

Not saying McCain, is the best man for us

Just feeling this campaign, is running on dust

Every year, since turning my 18 years of age

These political campaigns are no more then stage

A theatrical presentation, being danced and rehearsed

America’s middle class and poor, surely are cursed

Men, women and children, prayers sing to the sky

Our future unknown,  and their truth is a lie

One Nation? Under God?

I live in a land, where Christians do dwell

Most tend to be headed straight onto hell

They judge that one and this one and that

Forgetting all the while, Gods keeping their track

We woke up on 911 and began to get it straight

Our political correctness is begetting, our fate

Our apathy a sickness, the end of us all

United our states aren’t - together we’ll fall

I pray every morning, evening and night

The path we are taking, our devilish plight

We murder our unborn, we care about cash

We took on a war, were losing our A$$

We stole from the Indians, haven’t paid yet

Made kings into slaves, we surely regret

United we aren’t, Under God soon to come

If we don’t change our ways, our justice will be done.