She probably wanted to be free,
I've wanted to be free of it all sometimes too.
I wonder if she grew wings before she fell?
Cause you could see the pain in her eyes
when you saw her cry.
And you could feel the anger in her voice,
from a past that wasn't her choice.
But you could also hear a person in need,
a woman dying to be free,
free of the hurt and sorrow life had given her.
But also a girl who didn't want give in yet.
She was the only Queen in Drag,
who could strut her stuff like a Barbie.
She could make everyone smile,
Just by walking in the room and grinning.
She will always be missed,
So let me "Blow you,
One last kiss"
Cause I know you liked P!nk,
What Barbie wouldn't?
Now life continues on,
But I'll never forget the wings Ms. Barbie had
when she was alive.
She was a bright, colorful woman,
filled to the brink with energetic personality.
Goodbye my dear friend.

48 degrees of chilly September morning air and a Camel Turkish Silver cigarette fill my lungs; ear-buds placed respectively between each lobe chiming the soundtrack from “Little Women”. As I walk down one of the busiest streets of downtown Madison, the journey seems hushed. A couple cars speed by Gorham and State, and I’m assuming it’s ‘take out $%!# and throw it away day’, noticing the garbage pick-up trucks drive along. Funny how, you'd never guess how many footsteps could crowd these enlarged sidewalks and street when the popular main course of Madison awakens. Feels like Christmas in the movies, when looking in store windows at things I’ll never get around nor remember to buy. And for once, I second guess all my thoughts of wanting to leave this town and forget all the memories it holds; for once, in a great while, I again want to call this place my hometown. Though truly, my home is roughly 3 and a 1/2 hours south of here in dear old Peoria, IL. Madison has always welcomed me and showed me things a city nearly its size, could never quite replicate; and just when I feel, I don’t belong here anymore, she pulls me back in on mornings when I couldn’t sleep all night and calls to me, saying, "let’s take a walk, and I’ll show you what you've been missing." She has a way of doing that, as you all may know. For she taught me how to dream bigger, think broader, and dare to create a new. My dear Madison, WI; frozen tundra and summer love of the north, how could I forget you?!

I always said I'm an open book,
I'll tell you anything you wanna know...
Truth is, that book, is only 98% open,
And that 2% that's closed...
Accounts for 200% of what actually goes on in my head,
And about 120% of that 200,
I haven't even figured out yet...
So basically only 80% is possible to get off my chest.
So only 178% of the grand totel of 300%,
Is what you could see of me,
But only if I think you won't **** me over in the end.
And believe me that 122% that's left over,
Unspoken for, weighs more than you can imagine.

I'm not telling you this for pitty,
I'm not sharing the truth,
In the hopes for anything in return.
Cause sometimes, all I need, all anyone needs,
Isn't advice, it isn't pitty, it's not attention,
It's just a nice way of saying,
"Shut up, I'm talking...and I haven't talked, for years."
And all you want, is someone to listen,
Nod their head occasionally.

Cause knowing that someone is listening,
Is the greatest gift, you could ever give someone.

See I've gone long stretches of time,
Not saying a word, just listening.
I care, and I know you won't listen to my advice,
So I sit there, let you bleed your true thoughs,
Till their staining every piece of me.

At the same time, I give up venting.
I keep my mouth shut, so your's can feel better.
But every now and then...
I can't stay silent.
And that 178% I do show usually,
Has dropped to 50%.
Unable to emotionally breathe,
I get to the point where all I want to do,
Is scream, put a hole threw the wall, and let out the pain.

But I don't, I sit down with a good friend,
And say, "Don't speak, just listen.
I don't want advice, I don't need your opinion
I just need to get out some ****."
And unleash the full 300% at 100mph.

People say I shouldn't just let my emotions "volcano" over,
But I think it works...
Cause everytime I bite my lip and listen,
I feel better.
Yeah, I'm suppressing my own ****,
To help you unpack yours...
But sometimes, what you say,
Is what I need to hear.

Cause no matter how much you add up to in baggage,
We all carry an insane amount of ******* on our shoulders.
It's why we have each other.
You pat my back, and I'll wipe your tears,
And together, we'll make it through.

Over-ride the fear, this is just the beginning, still, the end is near.
I'm ready to fight, I'm ready to let this rage that's been building...just tumble, down.
Releasing the silence that used to ring through my entire life,
Be my mask in this dark battle of the night.
Sneak up behind doubt, avoidence and fear,
They will know my name...And they will quiver, just like I did.
They will feel the the emotions they inplanted in me,
I will make them see what they showed me.

I'll show doubt,
How my self-esteem has grown,
How I've come into my own...

I'll prove to avoidence,
I've learned to face it,
And look it square in the eyes,
And say "Try me!"

And fear,
The villian of all life,
Ha, I'll show it what it is...
To know when you're going to lose...it...all.

I'm a threat to their existance in my head,
I've had it, I'm done,
I'm not gonna let them run this town,
No, it's my rein now!

Took me roughly five years to get past a past I despised…
He cheated, he lied, he left me high and dry.

Now I’m trying to get by the image of you,
Holding me in such a way,
Where the whole world stood still,
And watched…

Watched and saw how amazing we could have been…
So sue me…I MISS YOU!

I miss how you actually were approved by BOTH,
My Catholic parents…

I miss how we’d laugh,
Falling asleep to trippy movies in your room
With no air-conditioning.

I miss how you were the first person
To teach me how to roll a joint properly.
So we went out to your front porch
And smoked a J to ourselves.

And mostly I miss you,
Because you were the first guy,
To break my heart…in the most perfect way.

Let me cry on your shoulders
In East Towne Mall’s parking lot
For at least a half hour.

You told me I deserve better…
As you wiped away my tears,
But what you don’t know,
Is I don’t want any other…

Cause none of them,
Can add up to what WE could have had.

Cause baby I loved you…
Like a dying breath,
Loves that last bit of air
That helps you to tell the ones you care about,
You will always, always love them.

Call me crazy,
But you broke me so well,
That no doctor can fix me,
Not even the one’s on TV.

So shoot me…I LOVED YOU!

Hands under the table,
You can’t see the cards I hold.
I’ve learned how to play your games,
You’ll see that as I fold.

I’ve been targeted as weak, for years.
The victim of any bully…
Easy to crush…easy to ****.

That was then,
This is now…

Try me on for size,
Look me strait in the eyes,
And say what you will about

How I’m not like you
(I never wanted to be)

How I’ll never fit in
(I don’t need to be popular to know I’m loved)

About how I…am…nothing
(But I’m more than you will ever be)

I’m not the goody2shoes you knew back then
I don’t sit in the back corner anymore
I won’t stand in the shadows…

And to quote the lyrics that brought me to life…
“You’re running after something
That you’ll never ****…
If this is what you wanted,
Then FIRE AT WILL!”

A basketball game is like a well conducted, beautifully written symphony. The tip off, a conductor raises his/her hands to motion the beginning of sound. As fingers reach for the orange ball and slam it in a favored direction, music takes flight and volume rises, the crowd roars as a basket is taken by the home team. Rapid pace movement of the squeaking shoes are multiple violin’s strings and bows at work, consistently changing and controlling the tune. The blare of the brass section, the scream of the fans come together in perfect unison, adding texture to the piece. The slam against the backboard, the bass drum sounds off, the dribble of the ball, a high hat’s tap-ity, tap, tap. Music is created in every pass, jump, shot, foul, score, and aspect of this game…from the smallest move to the loudest upset, from the softest flute to the biggest percussion instrument…music is present here and now