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Deb Jones Jan 2019
Taking off my worn cloak
I wore you well this past year
There wasn’t much
That we didn’t handle
While I wore you as my mantle
I fold you up
All patched and thin
Farewell my old friend
I won’t forget the comfort
You enveloped me in

My new cloak feels a little awkward
Most fledglings do
Still I am homesick...
Goodbye 2018
Deb Jones Dec 2019
I am faceted like a cut diamond
Contradicted and neglected
But I still shine

Sometimes I am morose
Full of myself, a fool
But I still shine

Sometimes I am quiet
Introspectively turned inward
But I still shine

Sometimes I am quirky
Some will say flacky
But I still shine

Sometimes I love everyone
Even the ones that don't love me
But I still shine

Sometimes I cry
For no other reason than being alive
But I still shine

When I am sparkling
None sees my mask
But I still shine

Sometimes I give of myself
So much theres nothing left of me
But I still shine

When its night
I compete with the stars
But I still shine

Most of the time
I am just me
Look how brightly I shine then

I am so much more
58 facets, in fact
All reflected back at you
Look how bright you think I shine

Am I real?
Deb Jones Jan 2019
The only reason you can’t say she is scatterbrained is because she doesn’t have a brain to scatter
Deb Jones Oct 2017
February 2017

Her cousin's name was Jason
His brother's Fiancé'
Had a brother named Mark
They became good friends
Jason and Mark

Jason was attending college
His dream was to work for
A big cat rescue service
For which he volunteered.

Mark was nursing a broken heart
He had just split up with his girlfriend
Justin and Mark were both 22
Jason wanted to cheer up Mark

Jason was an experienced hiker
His Dad worked
For the Sheriff's office
As Captain of the Search and Rescue team

Jason asked Mark
To go on a day hike with him
In the snow last May
They were excited

8,000 feet up
The snow was crisp
The crunch of the ice
Was loud in the silent air

They mostly stayed on the trail
Occasionally stepping over
The barriers when something
Caught their attention

The last time was when
Jason said he knew
Of a perfect view beyond
A stand of trees

Again, they thought nothing
Of stepping over the barrier
Despite the warning signs
Posted along the trail

Mark was in front of Jason
Both walking and talking
Mark asked Jason a question

Jason didn't answer
Mark turned around
Jason was gone

Mark thought Jason was playing a game
He called his name
No answer
He called his cell phone
No answer
He screamed for Jason
No answer
He pleaded for him
No answer

He thought he heard Jason's
Cell phone ringing in the
Quiet bleakness of the snow
But no answer.

He saw Justin's footprints
Seeming to disappear
Into a darkened area
In the snow

Mark followed their foot prints back to the trail
He called the park rangers
And was told to wait there

The search and rescue team responded
Jason's father was not
Allowed to go

He drove to the site by himself

They found Jason quickly
He had fallen down
A crevice
Approximately 1800 feet deep

Without a sound to echo in the silent snow

There was nothing they could do
The fall killed him
The snow prevented
A rescue for a body

His father setup a campsite
And stayed there
With his son
For several days

Until he was forced to leave
By a heavy snow storm

The family had a moving and emotional memorial service
Of all he was
And all he could have been

The church was overflowing
With family and friends

Many Police officers
And Sheriff Deputies
Attended in full uniform
To support the parents

They, alone, filled 4 pews

Over the months
The snow melted
Unfortunately Justin's body
Was not recoverable
The crevice too deep and narrow

His mother won't accept that
Some day she hopes to have her son home.

We all pray for the same thing too.

Goodbye Justin, we all love you and haven't forgotten you one bit
This happened this past year. It seemed forever for spring to come around and to try and recover his body. Some people said they should have never went beyond the trail step-over fencing. But don't all youths feel infallible? Such a horrific death would not have been foreseeable
Deb Jones Jan 2019
To be loved
To love

To never forget
We are all but a grain of sand

To never get used to
Unspeakable violence

To see the atrocities in the
World and cry for their pain

To never look away
And pretend we didn’t see

To seek joy
In the most unlikely places

To pursue beauty
Until our eyes are enchanted

To never complicate what is simple
Or simplify what is complicated

To ask why
To ask why!

To never forget
For forgetting is intolerable

To respect strength
Not power

To watch
And try to understand

To never look back on decisions
Already made and done

To know regrets are valuable
If lessons were learned

To meet everyone with a smile
Without judging
Political views
Or who they love

To overcome
To rise above
And realize
All it takes
Is love

To try to make your life matter
Not in an attempt to gain anything
But in small quiet ways
That make your heart sing

These are the words that define
Us as human beings
Let’s stop wasting us
To overcome
to rise above
and realize
all it takes
is love
~Temporal Fugue
Deb Jones Oct 2017
I carried you for almost 7 months.
A small person in
My small 14 year old body.  
I loved you with passion and fire.
I would whisper songs to you
Because I was not allowed to sing.
I would hold pillows as practice.  
To holding you.
I would read to you in a whisper
Because he was illiterate.
And was jealous I knew how to read.  
I lost you in a bathtub.  
It was the place I crawled to when
I saw the blood.
We didn't have a phone
I couldn't call anyone.
I screamed for my mother
As I clawed at the porcelain.  
I screamed to God
As I clawed at my swollen stomach.
The blood flowed.
I watched it pool at the drain.  
Light at first, watery
Growing darker by the minute
Then begin to flow heavier.
The pressure to push was immense.
I wasn't even knowledgeable enough
To know my ******* would be in the way.
Until I felt your head inside them
I tore them off.  
And you slipped out
Like a little eel.
You were perfect.
I held you and threw my head back
And screamed at the spotted
Rain damaged ceiling.
When I delivered the placenta
I thought my insides were falling out.
I knew before you even came into the
World that you would never see it.
You had stopped moving 5 hours before.
My little girl child.
Who was killed.  
Stomped out of me by her
Own 19 year old father.
Because I refused to iron a shirt for him
To go out on a "Date"
He came home the next morning.
Still high.
I had wrapped you in one of the two
Baby blankets I had.
After I washed both of us in the tub.
Where I marveled at the beauty of you.
All of your tiny fingers.
All of your tiny toes.
The way your legs were a froggy pose.
The roundness of your tummy.
The softness of your palm
Which is where I whispered
I love you over and over again.
I sobbed how sorry I was
Over and over again too.
As I cradled you naked
In my arms.
In that old bathtub
I begged him to bury you.
He refused and left for work.
Ran really. He ran out the door.  
I didn't know it was ******,
I didn't know it was illegal.
So I buried you like I would
A beloved pet.
In my favorite purse.
With you in a diaper
Swaddled tightly in that baby blanket.
Under a tall palm tree.  
Away from the scorched side
That I had burned the month before.
I only had boys after you.
I think you would have
(Loved life) Loved them.
You are only 10 months older
Than your oldest brother.
I still have your baby book
All the notes I wrote for you.
I stopped writing in that book
The day before I had you.
There are no words to say
Nothing that could've been writ
That I haven't said a million times
In my mind and heart daily.
Mine were the only arms that ever held you
Mine were the only eyes that seen you
I will carry you with me every day of my life

I hate ceramic Cherubs.
They remind me too much of you.
You never had a chance to live.
You didn't have a proper death
Beneath the rain stained ceiling
In that ramshackle shack.

I have lost 2 babies. One was stomped out of me at 7 months. One that I miscarried.  

I personally would not have an abortion but I feel that every woman has the right to choose. I will never judge.

I have seen too many women have spontaneous abortions. One memorable one is a 13 year old who delivered a baby at approximately 20 weeks. I intubated and used a resuscitation bag between her legs because the baby was only half delivered. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the child's waist. She didn't survive.

The fetus starts developing the heart, spinal cord, kidneys etc... at about 5 weeks, at 6 weeks the heart starts beating, the baby can have hiccups, **** on their hand and grow fingernails.

I feel very sad that some women don't carry to term. I have had a lot of patients with Down syndrome. They are filled with happy love. And give the most loving hugs. But most also need lifetime care. (Unless extremely high functioning) who will love and protect them after the mother is gone? These are valid thoughts we women have. Not just about the wellbeing of the young baby but the adult child.

I have also supported women who via ultrasounds/sonography find that the baby has Anencephaly. This is not such a rare thing as people think. No brain or the skull is open. The prognosis for a baby like that is typically less than a day after they are born. Some women want to carry to term just to hold their baby. Some women choose to abort.

My sister had a Anencephalic baby. She found out at almost 6 months. She was injected with seaweed to widen the ****** and to absorb the moisture in the ******. Basically killing the baby with salt and suffocation. Then the baby was removed in pieces. I did not tell her the details of what was happening to her body. She would have been traumatized more. And honestly? She wouldn't have wanted to know.

I think the majority of women that choose abortions mourn their child. Your body is  forced into thinking it had a baby. And most women go through a period of postpartum feelings including depression.

I worked for years in NICU. A neonatal intensive care. Some babies were born at 1 pound or less. The thing about working with pediatrics, neonate in particular, is that you see some horrific births. Chromosome anomalies that don't survive to even childhood. And the traumatized parents are heartrending.

Sorry for writing a book. I feel passionate about this subject. I will stop here
I was married at 14. A choice my mother made to emancipate me from the courts as a foster child.
Deb Jones Apr 2019
If animals were mobsters....

A ****** of Crows.
An Unkindness of Ravens
A Shrewdness of Apes
A Sleuth of Bears
A Glowering of Cats
A Destruction of Wild Cats
A Quiver of Cobras
A Stand of Flamingos
A Parade of Elephants
A Charm of Foxes
An Army of Frogs
A Mob of Kangaroos
A Business of Ferrets
A Tower of Giraffes
A Crash of Rhinoceroses
A Bloat of Hippopotami
A Smack of Jellyfish
A Shadow of Jaguars
A Cackle of Hyenas
A Conspiracy of Lemurs
A Drift of Pigs
A Herd of Rabbits
A Barrel of Monkeys
A Parliament of Owls
A Shiver of Sharks
A Stench of Skunks
A Band of Gorillas
A Knot of Toads
A Pandemonium of Parrots
A Leap of Leopards
A Pride of Lions
A Prickle of Porcupines
A Scurry of Squirrels
An Obstinacy of Buffalo
A Labor Of Moles
A Bale of Turtles
A Zeal of Zebras
An Ambush of Tigers
These are the actual names of the groups. How great is this?
Deb Jones Sep 2017
For personal reasons I don't have a deep faith, like most of you have, to wrap around myself like a mantle during a tragedy like this.

And I truly believe that Ashley's death is a tragedy.

I have wrote and rewrote this. Trying to find the right words to tell you how wonderful Ashley is. "Is" because she will live forever in our hearts. There is no "was"

And I finally realized I couldn't. It would take a lifetime. Or 22 years.

This started out to be my commemoration of Ash. Instead it has turned into something I probably won't share entirely.

Because I have lived a long life already, I know how the passing years eventually make grief bearable. How it knocks you to your knees and bends your back. But over time it becomes part of you and you learn to live in a new reality.

No one forgets a loved ones death. You just learn to live with the pain. We absorb it and carry the pain around with us forever.

My new reality is a life without Ashley in it. Where she never gets to grow older. But she also doesn't have to grow sicker. That gives me little solace. As I am selfishly wanting her back.

Type 1 Diabetes killed Ashley. It's an illness that is a battle every day. You fight to get through the day. To do the best you can and then get up the next day and fight the same battle all over again. You don't get a day off. Or a vacation from it. Because if you stop fighting for even one day you will have to fight 100 times harder to get back on track.

Ashley wanted to live a normal life. She wanted to do everything that her friends were doing. And her sister, made that possible. She watched over her, especially the last 2 years. They were together almost every day and night. I am proud of her. She grew into the adult she is by loving and treating Ash like a normal young woman. Adventuring with her.

Ashley lived with me from the time she was a toddler until she was 21. She was a daughter to my heart.

She was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes the very same day I was. She was 18. We learned how to live with it together.

She was doing so well. Only hospitalized a few times. While I was hospitalized monthly.

Her last hospitalization, I picked her up after her discharge. She was still vomiting a lot.

I called and made her an appointment with my Endocrinologist for the next morning.

I want to go back to that minute. The one right before I reached out to touch her shoulder to wake her for the appointment the next morning. The minute before I realized something was wrong.

She wouldn't wake up. I pulled her over, her eyes were open in a blank stare.

By doing chest compressions on her, arguably the scariest experience any loved one can go through, I saved Ashley.

A helicopter landed in one of my fields and flew her to the nearest Trauma Center.

So we could have almost 6 days to say goodbye to her. We are all forever grateful for that.

She was declared brain dead the first day she was in the hospital. But I already knew that.

I am so angry at Ashley's senseless death. Losing a beautiful young girl. One who tried to wrap everyone in a kindness that was her unique specialty.

But, I know Ashley was tired. So very tired. She went 16 days without eating. Only drinking water or juice she vomited back up.

I KNOW how she was just so tired. I know that kind of tiredness. Not only of your body, but of your spirit and soul. When you want to isolate yourself from everyone because it's too much to face. To deal with. There is no bravery or sacrifice. Just the silent chant of pleas. Pleas to make it stop. Pleas for solace. For surcease.

The hospital failed her. Looking at laboratory values versus a patient's physical self.

And I wasn't there to advocate for her. The family that was there with her were scared. And helpless to fix her. How do you hold a hospital accountable, with its anonymous staff, without holding me accountable too?

There are things I should have taught Ashley. How to ask for things she needed. How to demand. How to scream.

But I didn't. I talked with her about things she needed. But I didn't see the ramifications of her not using all avenues to get help. I didn't teach her how to scream.

Even though my screams are just as silent.

I knew she was severely brain damaged the morning I first saw her. But really...I was in denial too.

It helped to be the one all the information was funneled through. But the cost to me was denial. I could explain everything to everyone. Over and over again. To family groups. To individuals as they arrived at the hospital and I walked them down that long corridor to the intensive care.

Using that walk to prepare them. To stand beside so many that came to say goodbye to her. But still suppress my grief into a hot ball that I choked on every day she was on life support.

I could only really grieve the way I needed to once I was alone. My sobs were private. Thinking of Ashley when I went to sleep. And of her when I woke.

Every thing Ashley did during that 6 days she was on life support was talked about. And used to foster hope. The rare blinking of her eyelids. The few tears that coursed down her temples.

I knew they had pressure cuffs on her legs. To help keep her blood pressure up. Until I saw the damage to her legs...I still thought there was a chance. The chance I refused to say outloud. As if I challenged what I knew to be true with false hope.

I knew she had significant brain damage but I still thought there might be a chance she would recover, be a different Ashley than we were used to, an Ashley that would need rehabilitation. An outcome that would allow us to keep her here.

Then I saw her legs. I was alone and noticed the pressure cuffs were off. I lifted the blanket and saw her legs. They were blue and mottled with large sections of skin gone. I knew then that she really was not going to recover.

The surgeon even discussed taking one or both of her legs at the hip in order to save her from the infection. But he said she was too fragile and wouldn't make it through surgery. And even if they did the surgery it would not save her brain injury.

My family and I privately discussed ***** donation for Ash. We knew Ashley would have wanted that too. I called a friend of mine that works with the donor network and she said of course Ashley could be evaluated for any donation. I kept in contact with her while Ashley was in the hospital and asked when we could talk to the ***** donor advocate/liaison. That became a moot point when Ashley started spiking temperatures with the infections ravaging her body.

When she was finally completely off sedation she was unresponsive. That poor baby. That poor, poor baby.

Her brain damage was severe. And her legs were poisoning the rest of her body. She really just stayed for us. To give us a chance to say what we needed to say and what she needed to hear in her final moments. And we held her and told her we were walking with her into the sunlight.

Because I have many medical credentials, I was the one that talked for the family. And then talked for the physicians.

I asked all my family to come to a designated conference room. When I talked to my family about removing her life support there was anger. But as I continued to explain to them there was just a deep inconsolable sadness.

When 4 of the doctors came in I told them we didn't need a rundown of all the reasons to remove her from the ventilator. We had already made our decision.

When we turned the ventilator off she could breathe on her own for a little bit. I told my family that she would go fast. But seeing that she was breathing they all left the room. To smoke, to text, to make phone calls.

After they were gone about 4-5 minutes Ashley's breathing began to slow down. I was the only one in the room. I asked the nurses at the desk to call my family overhead.

They still didn't come back soon enough.

I climbed into the bed with Ash and pulled her into my arms. I rocked her and crooned to her. Told her how loved she was.

She took her last breath in my arms.

When my family funneled back into the room I heard over and over again how Ashley must have waited until they left the room to die so they wouldn't suffer more.

My heart cried. What about me? What about me.

I am supposed to tell people how loved she was. How she shined. I think they all know that already.

I keep trying to commemorate her. To write a speech detailing her life and how much she gave of herself to others. How she was the hub a lot of her family circled around. She was unceasingly happy. She was so loved.

You know what I want to do? I want to scream. I want to rant and rave about the unfairness. Point to other people, people I don't know and say why couldn't they have been taken instead? I don't love them like I do Ash. Point to myself also. Why wasn't I taken?

I will tell everyone what they already know. About how wonderful a person Ashley was and how much we love and miss her. How we will grieve the rest of our lives for her.

The night I came home after Ashley died I went right to my mother. I told her Ashley was gone. And she held me, in the dark, with my head in her lap while I cried. She didn't talk while I sobbed. Just made soothing noises.

And that was what I needed. What my heart craved.

I appreciate everyone that called me just to listen to me cry. Some would not even talk other than the first hello. Just soothing comforting sounds. I won't forget the gift you gave me of just listening to me sobbing.

I want to share something that was happening to me the first 2 months during the time she was on life support and the months after. I have never experienced hallucinations before. But I did during that period.  I would wake up with my arms out to people. In the middle of a conversation. Trying to soothe them. Help them. I don't understand why I needed certain things, like the way I woke while dragging dining chairs in my room. Arguing I needed them when my son tried to stop me. Or the way I would stop breathing in my sleep and knowingly maintain it as long as I could. Or the other private personal things I hallucinated.

I called a psychiatrist and talked to her about what I was experiencing. And she told me that it was normal. It stopped after about 2 months.

Part of me knows I was trying to carry the grief I knew my sister and her kids were trying to carry. If I could, I would take their grief and add it to mine. Just to give them some peace.

My niece, Ashley's sister had a little girl a month ago. Her name is Ashley Michelle.

There is no death, only a change of worlds. —NATIVE AMERICAN PROVERB
September 20 was the first Anniversary of Ashley's death day.
Deb Jones Dec 2018
A little Asian man
Stood at the counter

He rung up my purchase as my then lover put a male scarf on the countertop

My lover said
Hey babe, Mind buying this for me?

I said sure. Just as the Asian man raised his eyes to meet mine.

His face was expressionless
But his dark inscrutable eyes, which normally I would find difficult to read without an expression to pair....

But I read his eyes as if he were writing words in the air.

Why are you buying that for him?
I thought “It’s only twenty five dollars”

Why does price matter? He asked
“I have the money.
It’s not an issue.”

When was the last time he bought something for you?
“Well, today he bought me orange juice.”

But didn’t you give him the money for it?
“Yes, but...”

But what?

I looked at my lover and instead of telling him the truth I told him I didn’t have the money for it.

Immediately moving my eyes to meet the Asian mans.

I think my lover was embarrassed because I said this in front of the man.

Instead of agreeing he argued. Does it take 2 to argue? Not in this instance.

I paid for my purchase and knowing my lover had money in his wallet I asked him if he still wanted the scarf.

He knew I also had money in my wallet.
So as he understood the question
To mean I was now prepared to buy the scarf for him

He enthusiastically replied yes.

The Asian man’s eyes never left my face.

I told, the man I knew was never going to warm my bed again, that no, I really didn’t want to spend the money.

His face turned red. I could hear the redness in his voice.
“What a ****** thing to do”

The Asian man’s eyes finally left my face and looked at the man I was with.

And he finally spoke.
“May you live in interesting times”

I was slightly disappointed that he had not wished such a blessing to me.

It was only after thinking about it for awhile that day that I realized he actually cursed him.

For me I realized uninteresting meant happiness and peace
Deb Jones Oct 2019
Every day in the warm months
I take off all my clothes
Walk to a corner of my yard
And lay in a hammock
Facing the sun

Rejuvenating me
Until I feel almost boneless
I feel so free
So wanton
Knowing no one knows but me

Even though I warn people
Two have caught me
One with a “waahooo” from a hillside
One with a “I forgot” apology.
While he stood and stared
Deb Jones Jan 2018
We all have battle scars.
We can heal the wounds on our bodies, but we can’t heal the wounds of the soul. The scars they leave are there forever. We have to learn to live with them. We have to choose to live beyond them.
Deb Jones Nov 2019
Ever scar I have
Tells the story
Of everywhere I have been
Of what I have survived
They cannot lie
I am not ashamed
Of even one
The were all hard won
Testament of my strength
Deb Jones Nov 2019
The kindest people,
The most sincerely goodhearted
Are the ones that are kind
Even when others aren't
Looking and judging
Deb Jones Sep 2019
Sometimes words can be empty
Useless, flippantly or carelessly cruel.
They can never be truly forgotten
Or forgiven if it is focused on you
Although the one that caused the pain
Will forget the words in minutes.
We tell ourselves that we will let go too.
But, we remember the words
That cut into our heart.
It entered through
That ***** that is never completely closed Because its narrow opening
Is constantly searching for light
And happiness.
Because of these careless words
Our very psyche, our spirit is damaged.
It causes us to doubt ourselves.
To search our heart for hidden faultlines
It’s hard to bite our tongue
Tell someone to just stop.
Just stop.
Right at the point they open their mouth And you see their tongue move to utter something that will live in your heart.
In that moment.
Just to be able to say stop
And have no repercussions.
How much kinder the world would be
Deb Jones Jan 2018
Living in the moment
Being mindful
Taking each minute at a time
Being present
Putting down whatever I am doing
When someone is talking to me
Or needs me.
Especially a child
I am making memories
They will remember later on
Especially that they were loved
The sweet sound of a child’s laugher
The music of my life
Closing my eyes and soaking it in
Pretend to be shopping
As a child laughs in another aisle
It seems rare nowadays
The hurried frazzling hustle and bustle
Laugh with your babies
Give them your time
They will return it 10 fold to you someday
Talk about your dreams
Ask them about theirs
Tell them stories
Read them a book
Love them freely
Don’t feel constrained
If they want to go shopping with you in a princess dress and clacking in princess shoes...
Let them
Don’t answer “No” because it’s easier
Listen to their reasons and give them permission
Don’t ever let them forget
You love them
Not for a minute
Not even for a minute
Deb Jones Apr 2019
sometimes silence
is one of life’s biggest blessings
Deb Jones Jan 2019
Lightning ripped open the sky
Thunder shook the ground
Mother earth on display
Deb Jones Jan 2019
When I was a little girl
I would sneak off to the store
And buy candy with pennies.
The store clerk knew my mom
He would always give me the full price Candy and accepted my pennies.

That candy tasted like bravery

When I grew up I would sneak
From men I didn’t want to be with
I wouldn’t call them back.
I wouldn’t return the texts or emails.
I told myself it was easier that way.
Now looking back...

Those escapes tastes like cowardice
Deb Jones Dec 2018
I have loved you all your life
The little girl that bloomed into
A child that was deeply introspective
The wisdom that was always
Reflected in your eyes.
You are beautiful
With your dark hair
Your dark eyes
The Italian in you
The artistry of you.
There is nothing you can’t do.
I not only love you
But I am deeply in awe of you
I laugh with you like no other
You fill my heart
With gladness
That you are part of me
And always will be
You are so beautiful
I want you to see yourself
Through my unclouded eyes
The exotic beauty of you
The big heart you carry
The caring you have for
Everyone you love
And the protective umbrella
That expands to cover all
Your loved ones
The way you focus
On whoever you are talking to
Making them feel
As if they are the most importan
Person you have ever met
People are drawn to you.
Circling you like a sun
You are grounded
And one of the most intelligent
Of all the people I know
You know a little
About so many things
And a lot about so many  
Big things
With you I have no shame
I know my words are safe
You carry me in your heart
Just like I carry you in mine
Can’t you see yourself like I do?
Exotically beautiful
So charming
So interesting
So strong
So wonderful
I am so proud of the woman
You have become
I am so blessed
To have you as my sister
Deb Jones May 2018
I have struggled to find my place
In this human race

I have read some of every faith
Trying to connect, to sense my fate

I finally found some order
In Buddhism wonder

I don’t have to give up on God
My childhood proponent

I can now freely say
I have found my way

Being in the moment
Just being present

The mantras I chant
Clear my mind

The Chakras
Fill me with mindfulness

I send love to the world
I consciously do no harm

Send compassion to others
Send good tidings to the ill

I clicked one day
And realized what I wanted

I wanted to live outside my box
I wanted to give instead of just take

I wanted to fix myself
And this fit me well

Like a suit of armor
I immediately felt stronger

I did this quietly
I did this for me

The Tibetan way
Deb Jones Sep 2019
He was a hungry baby bird.
I came with the eyedropper of attention.
Deb Jones Dec 2018
If I had no other way, I’d walk, I’d crawl, I’d run.
And search to the very ends of the earth for you, my precious one…

I gave you life. Your heart beat because of me.
I played music to calm you and rocked you months before you were born

I wanted to teach the ways of the world. In words you understood. I thought it would be very hard to dim your brightness
I loved your spirit. I love it still.

Your spirit is stunted now. That haunts me. I created a perfect child and the world changed you.
I protected you as much as I could. But the world crept in. You grew up. I grew up too.
My child.
Nothing you could ever do would make me turn away from you
You are the home in my heart
The one I return to when my spirit needs solace
I know my boys think I am giddy and quirky
I actually enjoy the labels.
Deb Jones Dec 2019
I first listened to this at least 15 years ago
Its not pretty
Its actually painful to hear
But please listen to it with an open mind
This gritty reality check piece of art
Will leave you reeling.
Please have the courage to listen to the whole piece.
The artist is Bobby Gaylor and the piece is titled "Suicide"

Animals don't have a choice.
If they're not happy with their place in the world too bad.
They have to live the life they've been given.
Humans, on the other hand, don't have to.
We have a choice.
If you don't like your place in the world, you can get off anytime you want.
Suicide. That's right.
You don't like the way your life's going,
You don't like the way you are in the world,
Anything around you, you can check out anytime you like.
Animals aren't allowed that thought
And believe me, if they were, they would use it.
There'd be a lot of dogs and cats, owned by *******
That live in high-rises, diving out the windows.
Zebras if they even had remotely that thought
Would take a look at themselves and go, "What the ****!"
Black & white in a green & brown world this blows.
I'm just gonna jump in the river
I don't have a thumb to work a gun or hold a knife
Or even open a jar of pills.
I'm just gonna dive into the next lion's mouth.
Why even bother?"
Now, monkeys have the opposable thumb
So they could kinda do it the exact same way we do.
Now, there's a bunch of people that say,
"Oh, it's against the law".
Well, it's only against the law if you do a ****** job and get caught.
Other people say, "Oh, we should save them".
Yeah, well you know what?
Not everybody wants to be saved.
Not everybody should be saved.
And who are we to force our will upon them?
I mean, isn't that one of the joys about being a human?
Freedom of choice?
Now, it's not all bad.
Now, I'm not saying "**** yourself".
But if you're gonna be an idiot and do it anyway,
It's no sweat off of my back.
There's a lot of good that could come from it.
A little bit of bad thrown in.
Some of the things:
A job will open
An apartment will become available
There'll be more air for me
They say there's two girls for every guy - if you're a man, there'll be four chicks for me
There'll be more Ketel One ***** for me
There'll be one less idiot in line at the bank who gets up to the window without their ******* slips filled out
I won't ever have to go to the store to buy my favorite Salt & Vinegar Chips
And have the clerk point at you and say, "They bought the last bag"
You won't help change the McDonald's sign to a Hundred Billion Served
You'll never get AIDS
You won't have to worry about calories ever
No more, "Hey, does this make me look fat?"
There'll be one less polluting human
You won't have to recycle
There'll be one less car on the road
There'll be more Ring Dings for me
Fifty or so chickens' lives will be spared
Your fingers won't ever get red from eating pistachios
You won't be forced to visit your Grandparents on Sundays anymore
No more church
You'll be saying, "Hey, World - Kiss My ***!"
No more wet dreams about Supermodels
No more Barry Manilow
Not for a few years anyway
Wondering "Am I a loser?" will be a thing of the past
Say good-bye to ****** Xmas presents from Aunts and Uncles
You won't have to suffer through a Motley Crue reunion
**** flossing and brushing
You'll never lose sleep over a pregnancy scare
Adios, acne
Worrying whether you fit in or not won't be on your brain
See ya later, homework
You'll never have to sit through another movie brought to you by the creators of South Park
School's out forever
No more paying bills
You won't have to do chores
You won't be able to run over toads with the lawnmower though
You'll also miss McDonald's French Fries
Bugs Bunny
The amazing electrifying feeling that surges through your body when you kiss someone for the first time
You won't be able to watch the letterbox director's cut of Jaws
Living above ground
Pudding crust
You'll miss the rush of getting your first apartment
Getting to the point in your life where you can tell your parents to
"*******! I gotta make my own mistakes, you did"
You'll miss *** you'll miss thinking about it, looking for it,
*** by yourself, *** with a partner, *** with multiple partners
No more summer nights that seem to go on forever roller coasters
Naming your kid the name you always wanted
Making a difference in the world
You'll miss the experience and pleasure of Hallucinogenics
Watching your neighbor's wife change clothes with her blinds open
A lifetime of *******
Watching your favorite team sweep the series
Music, you will definitely miss music
Trying to sneak into your house drunk three hours past your curfew
You'll miss the blaze and glory of the 4th of July fireworks
The taste of Captain Crunch
If you're a boy, you'll miss the feeling the first time you reach up a girl's shirt
If you're a girl, the feeling the first time you reach down a boy's pants
You'll miss your favorite coat
Waffles with whipped cream and strawberries
Beating your friends at video games
You won't be around to see what shape and color the new marshmallow in Lucky Charms will be
You'll miss the feeling you get when reminiscing about your first love - thirty years after the fact
The joy of giving and receiving at Christmas
Skinny dipping
Getting ******, reading Green Eggs & Ham, and eating like a horse that got loose in the grain bin
Flying cars
Hey, you were born, finish what you started!
Bobby Gaylor "Suicide"

I exchanged emails with this artist for many years. On a road well traveled.

I hope you  find the Same exhilaration in the music and the words that I did.
I could never listen to this with anyone else at the same time. It felt too personal.
Deb Jones Jan 2019
I am mercurial writer
Whatever comes to mind

Gritty, dire, ******, dying, loving, funny
I am a wordsmith and a wordwhore

Other people collect shells and coins
I collect words

I always say the words
They may not be appropriately used

But I love the way they feel in my mouth
And on my tongue

I enjoy my unfettered mind
It seems I ***** out words

I love the long walks
I take in other’s minds

I walk around untended and welcomed
Enchanted by your beautiful thoughts

I hope you enjoy the traipse  
Through mine
I am trying to justify how I jump from topic to topic. And I can’t.
I am ok with that. :)
Deb Jones Feb 2019
We are made up of a lifetime of experiences, and while there may be those moments and events that change our lives forever, they are still tempered and molded by all the rest.
Deb Jones Sep 2017
I walk through a crowd
Led by the sway of my hips
My heels tapping out a rhythm
That brings a smile to my lips

I have no fear of meeting eyes
That appreciate my style
I am confident in myself
I have no need to hide

I walk with my head held high
And that's all it takes
It feels wonderful
To be in a state of grace

The curve of my waist
Feels sensuous to me
The heaviness in my *******
I am aware of all of these

Eyes follow me
Wondering what secrets I hold
There is only one
I am not afraid to be bold

Confidence is ****
Deb Jones Apr 2019
Most breakups are not for the lack of ****** intimacy but the lack of emotional intimacy

It’s almost impossible to have emotional intimacy without some sort of physical intimacy in a long term relationship. Even if it’s only holding hands or laying physically close to a partner.

Conversely, people can have empty physical intimacy occasionally. But will try to obtain emotional intimacy to some degree if the ****** affair continues.

And “liking” someone is a facet of emotional intimacy.

Then there is the insidious and deliberate withdrawal of affection. Used as punishment. The most hurtful thing a person can do to a partner. Sometimes we are very cruel, aren’t we?
Deb Jones Dec 2018
I live in a large cabin
In a little valley
The wind whistles
Down this natural funnel
And shakes the trees
All their dying leaves
Rustle and ride the wind
I have 108 oak trees
I counted them once
I live in the foothills
Off the hi-way
Almost a mile down
A hidden road
I wanted to hide
When I first saw this place
It was a buying point
This beautiful valley
Me, a city girl
Over a hill
In a culvert
On my property
Is thousands of coyotes.
They surround my house
At night to sing
Their hello songs
Here we are songs
Mating songs.
Luring songs
Their teaching songs
Their pup songs
Their yipping songs
They come right
Before sunset
And go hide
As the morning
Mists and sun rises
Lightening the morning
I was scared of them at first
Terrified actually
They would come
To my large windows
And the next morning
The windows would be Covered with nose
And paw prints.
But now?
I have done all I can
To let them have
Their own space on my land
While I have mine
The road I live on
The mile long one is called
Coyote Hills
And my property
Is aptly named
Coyote Junction
Now their music
Is hauntingly
Beautiful to me
It’s a yearning sound
And when they
Surround my house
It feels ritualistically
Archaic and full of paganism
I don’t anthropomorphize
Any animals
But I sincerely believe
They all have emotions
Fears, doubts, hungers, needs
After they have sung to me
For eight years
I hear the playful songs
The crying songs
The worry songs
The fear songs
And my heart
Echoes their songs
Well met. Well met
Deb Jones Sep 2017
I have danced the dance my mothers taught me.
Held in a loving embrace.
Under the fullness of a harvest moon, twirling around in a state of grace

I want to learn from the mistakes
my mothers made and be free
to make my own
Never taking for granted this life I have, never having a debt to atone

I want to keep my John Wayne
I love his hipshot walk.
I want the cowboy in my life to
consistently walk the talk.

I have danced in the surf at midnight. I have danced under the moon. I have danced and won contests. I have danced alone.

I want to feel all there is to feel.
And when my time has come, I will rest. Knowing I have swept my home. Not having left a mess.

I want to linger in memories.
Made of laughter and love.
The thought of me, my legacy,
will curve lips I once loved

When I go over the final rainbow,
when I have ridden it all the way down.
I will live in the land of wizards.
Walking a golden ground.  

But for now, I just want to dance
Just dance.
Deb Jones Sep 2017
I am the song of the voice inside you
Set to the rhythm of the wind
A hint of a breeze that blows around you
Right then
Catch your breath,
Hold it in
The breath in its exhalation
Will be a cleansing of the past

Hold your arms out
Try and catch what you can't see
That fleeting feeling,
That need
It will be me

The small flurries that you see
Rise and whirling unexpectedly
Will be my dance for you
You will hear the echo of my laughter
And you will smile for me too
Leaving someone I love
Deb Jones Jan 2019
Today I am mourning my mother
on her birth date.
While I bake my brother a birthday cake.
Deb Jones Oct 2018
I was at my first meeting
with a facility Director.
I would be starting an audit
right after the meeting with her.
There was a little brown and white dog with lots of hair.
And very distinctive black eyebrows like Groucho Marx.
He rolled into the office
with a ball under his tummy.
Very cute.
The Director told me
he was the facility’s mascot.
His name was George.  
Even though my associate
was with me,
George seemed to prefer me.
He nosed the ball towards me.
I took it and rolled it across the room.
George ran to get it
and brought it back to me.
By straddling it and walking it to me.
The Director said he could do that all day.
I rolled it once more.
I ignored George
when he came back with the ball.
I explained to the Director what our role would be in the facility.
Mostly educational...
I felt George sniffing and licking my bare leg.
I looked down and George looked back at me suggestively.
And seemed to grin.
I turned my attention back to the meeting...
George started ******* my leg.
Looking up at me with adoration.
I reached down while still talking
and maintaining my composure,
tried to pull George off my leg.
He tried to take my fingers off with a snarl.
The Director picked up George and saying “Bad Dog” she placed him
on a chair behind her.
He looked at me and licked his lips.
We continued our conversation.
About 30 secs later my leg
was being molested again
with even more vigor.
And wanton disregard for anyone listening, he started to moan.
The Director seemed to get upset.
She yelled his name.
In complete mutiny he just ****** faster.
She picked him up.
I asked if he could be taken out of the room and the door closed.
She said no,
because the dog needed to learn the rules.
My associate’s shoulders were held
very rigid, holding back her laughter.
George was placed right back on the chair.
As soon as the Director sat back down George flipped over
and gave me a look at his “package”
And wiggled his brows again.
This time including a definite canine grin. The gleam in his eyes was pure lust.
I knew he wasn’t done yet.
At this point I, who was supposed
to be running the meeting,
was totally preoccupied
with the little *****.
I gave him my most menacing look.
He seemed to find it arousing.
His eyes made a promise
that I refused to give in to.
George the molester put his head
down on his paws and with limpid eyes watched me without blinking.  
I finally began to participate in the conversation.
My legs and feet tucked under the chair
I was sitting in.
George got off the chair and crept
toward me, almost on his belly.
He got to my side and  disappeared under the desk I was sitting in front of.  
That was ok.
I felt my legs were safe.
Without warning I felt his tongue
gently licking my ankles.  
He had obviously decided
that foreplay was needed.
I tried to ignore it
but he was rolling his tongue
around my ankles seductively
with a couple of swipes up my leg.
I kicked him and saw the Director wince.
I gave up and gave a leg to George.
The little *******.
I never went to that facility again.
I assigned it to an associate
and she never had problems with George.
People at my office sent me photos of dogs posed suggestively.
A lot of dogs.
Deb Jones Dec 2018
A lot of people think
That men are like dogs
And women are like cats
It’s really just the opposite

The cat is aloof
And emotionally unavailable

The Dog
“Where you going”
“Where you going”
“Can I go, can I go”
“Ok, I’m going to wait here”
“Wait, right here. Waiting here”

The cat
“Oh, YOU’RE home”
Then “Ok,this is what’s going to happen. You are going to feed me. Then I am going to stare at nothing on the TV. Then I am going to pass out in the bathroom sink”

The dog.
We clean up after ourselves.
You ever see a dog *****?
She eats it right back up.
Usually does it in private.
No evidence.

The cat.
You will just puke anywhere
And make a huge scene about it. Evidence?
The hacking Hairball.
Even in the middle
Of having company over
Then the cat “Can you clean that up?
That is so gross. I don’t want to touch it”

Here comes the dog.
“I got it, I got it, I got it”

Another thing women
Have in common with dogs
We need to be groomed.
Blow dry. Fluffy!
And perfumed

The Cat.
Licks a paw,washes his face
Calls it good
“What I’m *****. *****?”
“You calling me *****?”
“For two days I will ignore you.
You will be invisible to me”

The Dog
“What did I do?”
“Do you want my favorite toy?
“Do you want my shoe?”
“Why won’t you look at me?”
“Are you seeing another dog?”
“You are aren’t you?”
“Why won’t you let me smell your ****?”
The premise of men as cats and women as dogs. I heard it somewhere and thought  there might be a little truth about it.
Deb Jones Oct 2017
I dreamed of you again last night.
We held hands and talked a little
But mostly silent
Our fingers talking for us
Dancing over each other’s
I woke up longing for you.
My hands reaching for you before my eyes
Were even open
Deb Jones Aug 2018
Dreams are stories we tell ourselves
While we sleep
Every person is our inner tongue
Every object is one
We have once held or saw.
We are the ones that control our dreams
The ones that decide the storyline
The entertainment for the night
The ones that dream
In seemingly random circles
We are the puppet masters
Our memories the stage
Enjoy them.
Even the scary ones.
Enjoy them.
The beauty of our minds are at their finest while we sleep
One of the long list of credentials that I have is as a Registered Sleep Therapist. I think it’s the one I have the most fun with.
And everyone dreams. I watch people sleep. A lot of people just don’t remember their dreams. Did you know that half the population dreams in black and white?
I love my dreams. I dream in conscious vividness.
Deb Jones Sep 2017
She came to me to die
The last words she said to me
Were as she reached
To cup my cheek
"My baby"
She lay on her side
Facing me
I cried for her
I could see the awareness
in her eyes come and go.
When I knew she was looking at me
I gave her strength
And the words
Let go mama.
John is waiting for you.
Bill is waiting for you
Ashley is waiting for you
Grandma is waiting for you
I smiled as much as I could
Fed her my strength
Her eyes searched mine
Begging me to make it stop
This dying
I gave her stronger doses of morphine
Her kids gathered around her bed
Her children and grandchildren
Every one of us there because she gave us life
They surrounded her bed
But I made sure she could see me.
When the awareness faded I cried bitter tears
But every time she needed me to see her
I looked into her eyes
Encouraging her
Showing her that I was with her
Walking her home
Holding her gaze as I urged her on
Her children that weren't there yet
Called on the phone to tell her she was loved
She begged me with her eyes
I gave her more morphine
Did I give her too much
When she took her last breath
I vomited.
When everyone left the room
and the hospice nurse had come and gone
My sister and I bathed and dressed her.
Her favorite clothes
Then when my sister left the room
I washed her hair and braided it
One last time.
At that moment alone with her
I felt at peace
This woman that had ruled my life as a child
Ruled my life at a distance
Always in my thoughts
Always seeking her approval
I never raised my voice to her
Never cursed in front of her
Listened to her sometimes fantastical stories
Laughed with her
Emulated her
Adored her
Never was annoyed at her rewritten history
A woman who asked me for advice
Who trusted me
Who loved me.
Who bore me.
I am glad I didn't avoid her eyes as she died
It was the last thing I could do
For my mother
Deb Jones Sep 2017
I don't want to live rooted in fear.
I want to look at the world and marvel at the mystery of my mere existence.

Imagine that of all the gametes and zygotes that could have been. I was the lucky one.

I was born for wonder. For joy and love. And for endless hope.

I want to seek truth and meaning,

I want to acquire the wisdom to appreciate that I have no one or anything to blame for what my body is going through. That I am not being punished for anything.

Every moment of my life is filled with profound meaning. If I don't treat it meaningful, then I am wasting time I will never get back.

My life has value. Every life has value. What path I choose to take every day is filled with opportunities.

I can choose to make someone smile by something so simple as a deserved compliment. Acknowledging they are important to me. I see them.

It's so easy to make someone's day brighter. It's harder to say something snide or mean and make them feel unwanted, unwelcome, unloved, unappreciated.

Sometimes, just being silent. The void that silence makes will be filled with thoughts of malice in some people.

Being unkind is heavy. Being unkind takes effort.
I try and keep that in mind.

I love words. They shape me. My words shape others. Kindness comes easy. I try to fill the silent void with appreciation and love.

Even if it's just a touch. Or a ****** expression. I am communicating. When I smile at a seven week old baby and he smiles back at me we are communicating.

At that moment my little corner of the world is brighter. I vow to find something to laugh at every day for the rest of my life.

How wondrously wonderful we as human beings are. How lucky we are to be here.
Deb Jones Dec 2019
When I enter my final sleep
Thats where we'll meet
Come and take my hand
Guide me home, love
In just a minute I'll be there
Brushing back your hair
Look for me
I will be looking for you
Wait for me
See where our heaven leads
A simple little house
Its not too much to ask
No need to hide
No need to lock the door
We've earned our time
To spend it how we please
I will fall asleep in your arms
You will fall asleep in mine
The moon will look so big
As we sit in that old wood swing
Holding hands
With my head on your shoulder
No more heartache
No more regrets
No more pretending
what we have now is enough
No more sharing with others
No more tears will be shed
No more hurting anyone
If I go before you
I will set the table for two
For I can't imagine eternity
Without you
Deb Jones Oct 2019
I will never forget
The scent of you

As if you were a sieve
That dropped little bits
Of the potpourri of your life
Leaving memories for me

Your hair
In the Summer
It smelled of Sunshine
In the Winter
It smelled of Wind

Your neck
I buried my face as you giggled
Clean and sweet
The soapy smells of your childhood

You wore them so well

Your hands
Cupping flowers
My hands cupping yours
As I leaned down to sniff

But wait...

I want to tell you the truth
I lied

And it weighs heavy on my mind
Here it is...

Every time I helped put your shoes on or took them off?

Your feet smelled. Like Fritos
Overpoweringly smelled
I had to hold my breath
While smiling as if I was constipated

I know.
What a crazy lie that was perpetrated
by my love for you.

But Oh, God.
Your beautiful little chubby feet
Remember to wear socks.
That will help.
Deb Jones Dec 2017
His skin suddenly pale

His eyes watering from anger

Looking into the distant

Memories only he could see.

Hands folding into tight fists

By all these tells, he wore his guilt and anxiety as clearly as if he composed his confession on a blackboard with a stick of chalk.

Confronted with his infidelity

But she would pay the price

Tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to leave the house

For the next week she would spend a lot of time lying down

She forgot she wasn’t supposed to ask him questions

How could she have forgot?

Never demand the truth.

Never ask for the truth

His guilt is her pain

It’s a beautiful, terrible world, isn’t
Deb Jones Sep 2017
The moon floats over the meadow
Chasing the shadows of twilight back to their mossy hallows

The silvery flush of nightfall
Shimmers in the air

When the curtain between
The seen and the unseen world
Is nothing more than a gauzy veil

Then the fairy folk emerge
From beneath their leafy stalks

And caper around the meadow
Where no mortal walks
I was hiking with some friends and came across a small clearing just as it was getting dark. And I thought if fairies were real they would live there.
Deb Jones Dec 2019
You asked me to make you coffee
I brought it to you
You were lying naked on the bed
Oh father, father
Trembling, I fled

You asked me to read to you
We were laying on our parents bed
I was so pleased, so flattered
I worshipped you
You lay your head on my shoulder
And while I read outloud
Your hands wandered
I was still with shock
Oh brother, brother
Trembling, I fled

The smell of coffee makes me ill
The Alfred Hitchcock story
I never read

You molded me
Both of you
Oh father, father
I still love you
Oh, brother, brother
I still love you

I tell myself
I understand you
I tell myself it's ok
I forgive you

Oh father, brother
You both pretend

You fought anyone that hurt me
Your anger palpable and heavy

I was owned
I was loved as a receptacle

I can separate
You from your wandering hands
I can separate you from
The hot ***** on my back

I have to look beyond you
I think I have accepted it

Yet, here I am crying as I write this
Deb Jones May 2018
I lay on the floor, on my stomach, looking into your eyes.

The beauty of you.

Your eyes like wet chocolate thumbprints

The uniqueness of you.

You don’t blink because blinking would break the bond

The sweetness of you.

Your eyes emanate love and everlasting kindness

The freedom of you.

Your nose quivers. Can you smell my love?

The kindness of you.

Someone that I gratefully travel my private road with.

The giving of you.

One of us blinks.
It wasn’t you. Of course.

The pleasure of you.

I reach out to lay my hand on your head

You finally close your thumbprint eyes.

The love of you.

I murmur encouragement.
You crawl forward to lick my hand.

My ever present companion

Who can’t love a dog as unconditionally as they love us?
Deb Jones Sep 2019
You rocked me,
Sliding your leg between mine
Danced with me
You made my world move

Like a fault line
Beneath our feet
Spreading slowly to swallow me

You made love to me
In your bed
My shivers of pleasure
Followed the path your hand led

Like an open fissure
Fault lines on the floor
Getting wider, I feel its pull

I shattered with pleasure
And yet you refused to stop
You wanted to see how far
You could take me

While I felt your small pants
Of breath tickling my ear
Taking me away from my silly fears
Still dancing with me

Yet, I had fault lines in my heart
Worlds and words apart

I cherished you
I still do

Can I say it’s me not you?
Can I use that old cliche?
What a well used platitude

Fault lines...
Deb Jones Sep 2019
I once lived in the land of fireflies
Watching as they hemmed irregular seams of light in the dark.

Inspiration to the imagination

As a child I would wait
every evening for the magic of them

The minutes between
Fading light and near dark
The Gloaming time
Twilight time

As dark approached
even the adult voices
would drop to a murmur.

All artificial light was turned off

The heady mix of muted children’s laughter
The soft anticipation

The synchronized bright glows
Suddenly appearing
That would begin the dance anew
The trails an iridescent, luminous hue

The synchronized pauses
Waiting for a response

The slightly moist edges of the deep forests of the Appalachia
The large meadows of country homes

The tall damp grass that clung to my legs as I ran to meet them
Hearing my siblings running with me

Spinning in circles
In the middle of their small lights
Cupping them in my hands
My palms would glow

Even after I let them go

I would pretend they were fairies
Sprinkled in stardust
It was a magical time

So full of promise

Repeated every night for the first few months of summer
It was such a magical time
Deb Jones Dec 2018
First Candy
My mouth still remembers
The sweetness on my tongue
I was three
It was a candy aptly named
A “Bit-O-Honey”
It’s still a favorite

First Near Death
Our home was on fire
I was five
My older sister and I
Ran to my mother’s room
She hid under the bed
I hid behind the door
My mother truly
Used herculean strength
To move a propane tank
Beside the window
To get to us

First Secret
My brother

First Authority
I remember the day
I realized I had a parent
One that controlled my actions
And punished too
The day I felt fear
I was three or four
And climbed under the house
So far in. Like a mouse
No adult could reach me
The grownups pried up the floor
I was comforted
My older brother was spanked
(Irish Twin)
He was only 11 months older than I was

First Butterflies
I knew he liked me
A light skinned black boy
Every time I stuck my head out
The school bus window
He did too.
So he could see me.
His sweet little face
Carried in my heart forever.
Even though we never
Exchanged even one word
I was six

First Male Touch
Adult male
Son of my mother’s best friends
11 surgeries
And a entire school year

First Fight
My sister stole clothes
Off the line of our nearest Neighbors
A mile away
Unique looking jeans
And a blouse
She wore them to school
The next day
The girl confronted
Her on the bus
I had to fight the girl
Because we were not
A family of thieves
Just a family that had thieves

First ******
I fainted

First Kiss
He was fourteen
I was thirteen
His hands cupped my cheeks
As he lowered his lips to mine
The flick of his tongue
Was a surprise
He wrote me for several years
Beautiful love letters
I would hide them

First Thrill
On the rooftop of a speeding car
Hanging by my fingertips
On to the rooftop
Where it met the windshield
Another boy.
He was nineteen to my thirteen
He kissed me at 50 mph
My brother was driving

First Public Lie
I went door to door
Asking people to donate
Money to buy mice
For Cancer research
I fed my siblings that week
I was twelve

First Shame
I brought home a girl
From school
To stay the night.
Even though I thought
Our house looked ok
My father came home
And said
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
And right then I saw our lives
Through the eyes of another
And my father was right
She told everyone at school
What we did and didn’t have.

First Stroke
A hard punch to my temple
So was the second
And third

First Pride
Teaching myself to drive
Three on the tree
In a 47 ford
With a chain steering wheel
Glued to the steering column.

First Baby
She’s in my purse
Wrapped in pillowcases
In the ground

First Beg
Please let me come stay with you momma.

First True Love
No other love came close
To the feelings flowing
Through me
As I held my first son
And the second
Then the third

First Panic
Seeing my four year old son
As I raced down the street
To the woman racing
Toward me holding my child
Bloodied and unconscious
In her arms
My throat closed on screams

First Adult Love
I had loved others before him
But he taught me
How to be cherished
He painted my name
And the date on his wall
In letters taller than me
And he sealed the wall
And built cabinets
That will never be moved
We love each other still

First Motorcycle Ride
My thighs cradling his hips
The feel of his hand
Caressing my calves
At every stoplight
Silently falling in love

First Professional Pride
My career
The wall of framed degrees
I will turn away a personal compliment.
But never a compliment
About my accomplishments

First Pets
I always poured my heart
And tears
Into and unto my dogs
Angel, Benji, Gizmo, Baby
Dobie, Mandy, Cheona
Nora, Jackie, Gus, Callie
So many, many more.

First Drugs
Marijuana more than a few times
Hash once
Formaldehyde (***), Juice
Did once.
So many terrifying hallucinations
******* once

First Emotional Pain
I told my husband
We needed to see a counselor
As soon as possible
He refused.
He didn’t understand
How serious it all was
Suddenly serious
I left this man that I still love
Two weeks later

First Heartsick Pain
I told a man I loved him
He didn’t tell me he loved me
Until a year to the day
We first met
He broke something
Inside me that year

First *** with a Younger Man
He was done, I wasn’t
He moaned for me
To help me out
I opened one eye in a slit
His moaning turned to panting
I think he watched a lot of ****

First Time I said No
And meant it.
I was supposed to pick up
Prints from a Christmas party
He was naked
And drug me around his house
I still had my purse
On my shoulder
As he came all over my dress

First Dance Trophies
West coast swing
East coast swing
Dancing the “Neon Moon” naked

First Disillusionment
The man I married at fourteen
Was having *** with a woman
Who asked me to babysit
Her kids that night
I did. I watched her two children.
He reeked of her perfume.

First Song
Always and Forever
By the Heatwave
Our song you said
How young we were

First Stage Fright
I gave a performance at school
It was a great hit
I was ashamed
I published the story about it
Twenty-five years later
It was a great hit

First Justice
Was no justice at all
Attacked on my patio
Saved by a neighbor
He was out the next week
About the same time
The swelling went down
On my “cauliflower” ear

First Adult Stage Fright
I took a summer off
Of my medical career
And DJ’d at a different club
During days of the week.
When no one had requests
I was required to sing.
It’s what I was hired to do.
Especially the piano bars
In San Francisco

First Deaths
My Brother
My Father
My Niece
My Mother
My Sister
It feels like a first each time

First Songs
Drops of Jupiter
By Train
From my sons to me.
Wild Horses
By Jewel
From me to my sons

So many firsts.
We are destined to repeat them
Only some of them
Are worthy of repeating
May Mercy spare us
On some Seconds
Deb Jones Mar 2019
I work part time for a large trauma center as a level IV transport member in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. (NICU)

I fly to pick up babies that need
Critical Care.

Most are less than a pound.
At 24 weeks their eyes are still fused shut.

We fly the helicopters most of the time and a fixed wing plane sometimes.

It’s very crowded on the aircrafts.
We have the incubators for the babies. A sealed environment.

And ventilators to breathe for them.
We monitor and adjust constantly.
The ventilator, the oxygen, the heart and blood pressures. We have ventilators to give them 40-60 breaths a minute.
And a special ventilator to deliver almost 1000 breaths a minute.

We offer them life.

Do you know we can cause blindness if we give them too much oxygen?

We wear scrubs to work designating us as transport.
But last month a long planned for change came about.

We had lost a whole team of transport, including the pilot in a helicopter crash.

I was supposed to use that ‘copter.
But since they grabbed it first
I had to go in the fixed plane.
It was a scary time.

The difference is where you land.
Helicopters land at the hospital.
Fixed planes land at the airport then the crew is picked up and taken to the hospital.

So the flight suits?
They look great. Wonderful, in fact.
But are so uncomfortable.
Plus we have to wear helmets now
They entire suit is custom made
for each person

The claustrophobia is so wicked

I have minimized my shifts because I hate the claustrophobic feeling.
And I miss the babies.

Every year there are several NICU picnics that all the former preemies, no matter the age, can come and get reacquainted with the people who helped save them by keeping them alive long enough to survive.

The idea is that if we have a 23-24 weeker...
They may get to go home around the day they were initially due to be born.

Is a miracle.

I see miracles all the time.
We live in a great time here on earth.
I hope everyone appreciates that.

I know a lot of my writings are not typical poetry or even poetic. I am a confessional type of writer versus a lyrical one. I hope no one is offended by this.
Deb Jones May 2018
I thought I forgave you.
I told you I did.

I meant it at the time.
Or thought I spoke the truth.

How casually you mentioned it
In the dark, drinking a beer.

“Remember when we were kids
You said “That’s how kids are”

“Besides” you said.
“It was only touching”

That continued even when
You were home after boot camp

I felt hot in the dark
I thought I had been stamped

Signed, sealed. Validated.
But it wasn’t enough.

You took something that shaped me.
And made it sound like crumbs.

Casually brushed away.
In an adult voice filled with scorn


You were 15.
I was 10

Then I was 14
And you were 19

A beautiful boy- man
Loved and admired by all

I know you tried with our sisters.
They all told you no.

I never thought to say no.
Always pretending I was asleep.

Because of your shame
You hated me. I was a pariah.

You didn’t have the willpower
To stop yourself

See, brother of mine.
See how you shaped me?

Now I am an adult
And one of the hats I wear

Is as a **** Crisis counselor
Holding hands in the Emergency Room

During the **** kit examination

Of girls and women
That were ***** or molested in various ways

Various ways.....
With different words to describe what happened

Even different body parts.
How do we treat a young girl

That doesn’t even know
The word ******?

Who thinks that she was ***** where she pees.

For myself?
I did forgive you.

I put a letter in your coffin
You were Thirty-three
I was Twenty-eight

Faulty pistol, bled out,
Two hour wait for the ambulance.

Your head cradled by a woman
Who soothed and comforted you

Surrounded by our father
And dozens of your friends

I forgave you finally.

I never stopped loving you.
Is that worth saying?

Why does death feel like
We have to whitewash the truth
Deb Jones Jan 2019
This is a hard lesson to learn
Forgiving someone...
Doesn’t mean we have to tell them
We forgive for our own sanity
Not theirs.
Deb Jones Jan 2019
I have bright green eyes
The color of frogs
People always comment
On how pretty they are
They are very expressive
And are my best feature
When I meet someone
I make sure I go in “eyes first”
I blink a few times before I smile
I wonder if people think I am a kook.
(I make myself laugh)
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