Wide, Wide World

In this whole wide world, why is it necessary to redeem an artist who has betrayed the public trust? Rape or molest or assault a woman, there should be consequences. For all time. If that means revoking your right to contribute to this world artistically? Then so be it.

There are many talented people who produce art who do not produce hatred, fear or mistrust. If someone has violated another person, why should their work have any meaning?

The whole reason we produce art is to escape the brutality of the world. Anyone who offers truth, beauty or wisdom in the form of art and then molests the very people who consume their brand? They should be held accountable and exiled from the creative community. Meaning: go crawl in a hole, be quiet, make amends. And/or go to jail.

Can they be redeemed? Yes.
Will their work survive? It shouldn’t.

Because it was a lie.


Can you love the artist who rapes or offends after their sin? Yes. Can they be forgiven? With true, sincere remorse and understanding. But I don’t have to save their work or participate in the appreciation of their contribution. Let’s all just move forward without paying these selfish creatives to show us lies. Let’s support positive, moral artists who show us their true inner life and make the wide world a better place.


Louis CK was one of my favorite comedians. I even let my daughter watch some of his specials. Never again. I won’t support an artist who would take advantage of someone like my daughter. It’s heartbreaking, but so is life.

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Christmas Crash

This is a poem I wrote several years ago. I wrote it for the church I was attending. The drama director had doubts about a white woman writing a spoken word poem in a masculine voice. The piece was for a male performer. That made me want to do it all the more. I think I did a good job and the voice is neutral. Men and women can both be strong. Both love God. Both raise their voices to honor Him.

The drama director was surprised at how well the piece came across and apologized for her doubts. She still never fully trusted me, but that’s her loss. This was my first spoken word poem. I still love it. Here’s a link to me, my husband and my daughter performing it from our home in KC. It may be slightly overwrought, but we’re actors. You can’t fight city hall.


Crash.Crashing.Crushing.Crushed.

I stagger here crushed, crashed into by God,
Crushed by the weight of his mercy and grace,
My sin gone without a trace.
And it feels like…heaven.

A flash.
Flashing.
Hit by lightning, the wonder of his coming,
Saved by his dying,
Crying at the moment I see his glory
And he is revealed to me.

This world is full of:
Head-on collisions,
Rear-view visions.
Hurt may appear
Closer in the mirror.

Hitting, hurting, burning,
Scratching, fighting, scarring.
And we don’t even know
Who we’ve struck on the road

With our carelessness. Our thoughtlessness. Our inhumanity.

Though–we are saved.
Without reason or cause.
Captured and raptured.
In spite of our flaws.

Made by his hands,
Made for his plans,
Made just like him.

Built for relationship.
Desiring fellowship,
Asking for love and loyalty–
Our trust in His royalty.

Our undivided attention.

And when he crashes into us,
It doesn’t hurt.
But you know that you’ve been hit.

Crash.

He crashes into us.
He leaves a mark.
Stunned mind, ears ring.
A mark made by the one, true king.

Crash.

He came on a star.
He left on a cloud.
Here but a brief second.
A drop in the bucket.

But he changed man’s heart forever.

Hit and run.
Hit and stun.
Crash.

Crash.Crashing.Crushing.Crushed.

Crushed by his glory, stick around for the story,
The story of Love.
A story of grace.
God came to earth and showed us his face.
The face of a child in such a lowly place.

Eternal spirit become flesh.
Forever and finite, in a sense,
Wisdom clothed in innocence.

Power in weakness,
Eternity from meekness,
He does nothing but seek us.

He came here to this dangerous space.
A tiny member of the human race
To save.  The.  World.

He crashed into history.
He flashed into being.
Everything changes,
Believing is seeing.

The story gets better.
The story is a letter.
A letter from me to you
By Him.

Read it from beginning to end.
And read it again.
And again.
And again.

Brace for impact.


I feel so lucky that God came down for Christmas. Happy holidays. ❤

High

Coffee & Leather
Unsmoked cigarettes
Words & Tea
Guzzled with regrets

Remembered rambles
Filled with remorse
Ancient ships
Blown off course

I didn’t love you
With all that I had.
I saved some for me.
Am I bad? Are you sad?

Sharp in the vein.
Blood in the glass.
Drink all the pain.
Don’t give hurt a pass.

This aroma.
This smell.
This pain.
This well.

I sweat these smells and swirling thoughts
Linger on the rush of Past.
I get high on who we were.
Too bad stinging smoke won’t last.

Sail Haiku

Only the insane
Would sail from a safe harbor
Crazy for the sea


Sails don’t always fly
Sometimes we all lose our wind
True sailors make waves


Sailing in the sea
Upon wooden boards and hope
Wanted: wood and sea


Sails fly high above
My troubles sink far below
Rock me down to peace


Sailboat harbor home
Only for a tiny rest
Tomorrow: the world


Towing home the sun
Bringing in the clouds to shore
Now the day is done


Here, so much I saw
Witness to what God has borne
Sea, fish, birds, and sky

jetty sunset.jpg

Have it your way

Hypocrites always tell you
How to live your life.
But do you ever see them
Taking their own advice?

Know-it-alls: dime a dozen.
Always telling you what to do.
How to do it, where to go,
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

These type of people
Live their life in fear.
Able to see others’ mistakes,
But their own quickly disappear.

If you really did know it all,
Perhaps you would realize–
Nobody likes “I told you so.”
Unwise to self-aggrandize.

You’re toxic and arrogant.
Selfish and impolite.
But somehow, in your opinion,
You’ve always got it right.

Riding high upon your horse
Must make you pretty sore.
Above it all, until you fall.
It’s going to hurt worse when you hit the floor.

I would offer you some charitable words,
But I assume they are not prized.
So I’ll just say, “Have it your way.”
Alone and rather surprised.

Walking in Darkness

For my friend, Laurey. Love you, Doll.


Night has come and we walk in dark
Because we have not made it home.
But in the black, hand in hand,
We do not go alone.

The light will come again.
We know that now for sure.
For lightless earth and dimming path
Love is the only cure.


Isaiah 9 ESV

But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish…but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea… The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.


Laurey lost her mom over Thanksgiving. Anytime is not a good time to lose your mom, but it was unexpected and on holiday break. If you would like to help, they have funeral costs. You can give here. Ellen Johnson Please do not feel obligated. I’m sharing to try and help.

What if?

What if I can’t lose weight?
What if my clothes aren’t cool?
What if my hair isn’t right?
What if I’m considered a fool?

What if I didn’t give a shit about what anybody thinks and chased after what was really important to me?

Oh, to be 18, again
Or 14, in junior high
To live out loud, out from under this cloud
Staring at bright, blue sky

I would be fierce, artistic
Outspoken, yet simplistic
Lovely and fantastic
Moderately enthusiastic

Oh. Wait. I don’t have to be 18. Or 14. I am all those things. Now.

What if I loved myself wherever I am. However I am. Now? Huh.

What does it mean?

I have a recurring dream from time to time. I always thought these type of dreams were mythical. A story device or figurative theme. I didn’t know anyone who had recurring dreams, except for the old “I’m naked in a department store or at high school” dream.

It’s not the same dream exactly, but very similar.

I dream about houses. Dreamt about houses last night. Houses I’ve never lived in, but somehow they are my house. Or my mother’s house. Or my grandmother’s house. They are always large. Full of forgotten rooms that don’t get used. Always in need of work, valuable, but nobody wants them. So how valuable can they be?

The house is always in a place that I miss. Rolling hills in the country with winter-dead grass and usually on a hill. Stately. Ancient. Sopping wet from rain on the outside. Inside–some rooms are warm/cozy; some rooms hold ghosts. Some rooms are sliding off into oblivion and I have an insane need to save them. Physical pull to push them back from destruction.

What does it mean? Not sure. Not sure why I have the dream, what precedes it. Or what it might portend.

I reckon it’s a longing. That I miss my family. That I mourn our collective loss. That I can’t go home again. That I never had one, really. That I want to rebuild our foundation, but it’s crumbling with time.

I miss Mom, KC, rolling hills and soggy leaves. But I never really lived there. I survived.

Tiny Bites

You must live life in tiny bites
Not just one big meal
The individual elements
All lead to the big reveal

If you rush the course, you’ll miss, of course
The grandest of smallest detail
Prepared with careful hands and eyes
Crafted to perfection without fail

You’ll miss the sunrise, the moon and stars,
The beautiful changing tide,
The slowest snail or unmarked trail,
The hidden mountainside

Good food and life are causes to
Celebrate, commune, rejoice
What good is gobbling down
A lonely plate of misery’s choice

You must take your time, slowly chew
Savor every single bit
Swallow too fast or take a big gulp
You’re going to choke on it

Shoewelry

I get to go on a fancy date with my husband for his new job’s Christmas party. We don’t have much money for entertainment or dining out, so to have a night on the town for free? Priceless!

Dinner, dancing and valet parking downtown. FANCY! lol We could never afford this on our own. And what better way to socialize and get to know the people he works with.

So I recently found the dress I wanted to wear. It’s an old dress, but I never got to wear it. Just after I bought it, I found out I was pregnant. It was tight to begin with, so when I started immediately gaining weight with my pregnancy, I knew I would never squeeze into it. Who wants to wear tight while preggers??!

I always wanted to lose the weight after I gave birth, but my weight just spiraled out of control for an entire decade. Depression, heart trouble, thyroid cancer, gallbladder failure and all sorts of problems just packed on the pounds.

Well. I am finally into that dress and it’s loose! 😀 So I’m wearing it. Out of fashion or not. My husband doesn’t seem to care if it’s fashionable or not. He likes me in it, so I’m wearing it.

It’s! Loose! OMG! I never thought this day would come. We are going to have a blast.

So, I needed some shoes to go with my outfit. I don’t wear fancy shoes and I haven’t bought a pair of heels for over a decade. I knew I had to find some, so I went to the local discount shoe store.

I found some sandals for not too much. No heels that didn’t scream old lady chunky town. So, when in Florida, why not sandals. Plus, I don’t want to tower over my husband in some uncomfortable skyscrapers.

I found a pair of cute boots, but they didn’t quite fit. BUT! My calf fit and my foot fit. My ankle resisted. BUT! I can buy lady footwear again. I fit into a pair of 12’s. I haven’t worn Ladies 12’s in a looong minute.

I found some necklace elements at the local craft store for cheap (1/2 price) and sewed them on my new sandals. Not quite finished, but nearly there. What do you think?

shoewelry.jpg

My husband called it shoewelry. LOL Love it. Total cost=$30

I will post pics of my outfit soon! Looking forward to a great night out. I love sandals (makes me feel barefoot) and I love dancing! Do they look cheap or store-bought? Do they look like a bad school project or expensive shoewelry? lol

Merry Xmas!