Here I am
I've felt more but not now
I'm just telling anyone right now
Something is broken

Or not.

I don't really feel anything anymore
It *****
I miss being able to write
My life is good though
And maybe that is the problem

I like my kitties though
I feel a fairness with them

Force it until you make it
And that is what I'm doing

=HELP

But I don't even know what that means
I'm having a problem
And I don't even know what it is
I JUST DON'T FEEL ANYMORE

It *****
I'm doing my best, I think
But it doesn't feel like enough

Have you such-a-one?
A rely-on.
Are you such-a-one
For someone?
There is such-a-one.
Ones who don't lie,
Even if it hurts;
Ones that share laughs,
And laughs til it pains.
Such-a-one speaks words
Only one can understand;
Such-a-one has gestures,
That are lost on others,
Quite simply gone over their heads.
Such-a-one isn't abused.
When asked to do, they do,
Cause such-a-one already knew.

We've lived with the good and the bad,
Such are the lives we've had.
With such-a-ones we grow stronger,
We thrive and live joyous lives longer.
And me,
Lucky me;
I've several such ones
I deeply respect and honour.

There is a
force at work that
doesn't want me
to write.
There's always
something vying for
my attention.
The phone rings,
the kittens want
played with,
I get *****.
All I have to
do is think about
writing, and the
next thought is
I should take
a nap.

To read about
writing
isn't enough.
To promote my
writing won't cut
it either.
To finish one more
poem, to communicate
something worthwhile
is what will help
me sleep tonight, and
keep the undertaker
lonely and afraid.

Wait a minute, is it already Christmas again
Seems I just took down the lights and the tree
Is there no rest for the downtrodden and weary
This season sometimes takes the Merry Gentleman out of me

So I load up the sleigh with the dog and the kids
The old beat up station wagon I drive
On the hunt for this years perfect tree
We'll be lucky if we make it back home alive

As we jingle all the way to the local tree farm
Six kids and a dog singing at the top of their lungs
With only twelve days left before Christmas
My **, **, **, is already long gone

Picking the best tree out within our budget
My wife says Charlie Brown would be proud
I ask smarty pants Mrs. Santa what she meant by that
She'd rather not say with the little elves around

Before an argument even ensues
I've lost the battle before I hit the front line
You wonder how I'm so confident of that
The same thing happened last year at this time

As I struggle to get the tree off the roof of my jalopy
While Jack the dog in the frost is nipping at my toes
I fall to the ground with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head
Waking up to the dogs frozen tongue stuck up my nose

Finally with the tree set up in the front parlor
I notice it leans bad to one side
Taking my chainsaw to alleviate the problem
The gas fumes **** my kids parakeet out right

With Hobby Lobby open late for the holidays
I was able to purchase the product I need
Working late into the wee morning hours
I did a good job shellacking the parakeet

I'm not sure that my kids even noticed
Or brought up the question what for
But they sure like the shinny new ornament
Hanging next to the hamster that disappeared the year before

Well, I survived another preparing for Christmas
As subconsciously I'm being led
To wrap myself in last years present 'The Snuggie'
And dream of those sugar plums dancing in my head

I write to create a world where I belong.
I write to feel at peace within my surroundings.
I write to provide a safe space between my heart and my mind.
I write so that I don't judge.
I write so that I learn.
I write because knowledge makes me feel safe.
I write because to write, I have to read...... A LOT!
I write to calm the daily anxiety-
I write to calm the bouts of unbearable anxiety.
I write to my depression.
I write so that I can climb inside my own universe and lose myself in my imagination.
I write because my heart would surely break if I didn't.
I write not for you to read, but for me to purge.

I write because the child within me, demands that I stay true to myself.
I write because it's the only form of art that lifts me up, that quietens my hyper sensitivity and unpredictable mind.

I write because if I don't release my thoughts, they'll turn inward and manifest into black.
I write because words are powerful.
I write because it's my life and my choice.
I write because to not write, would mean to lie to my soul
I write for solitude, for happiness, for gratitude.
I write to belong
I write for love.
I write to save me from myself.
I write to protect myself from my most damaging enemy, my fear....
I write because it's my only way through to the other side.
But mostly I write, because it simply makes me happy....