In the 1970s there was a wave of soft pop that struck America one band at the crest of that wave was The Carpenters formed by Richard and Karen Carpenter they were wildly successful their song We’ve Only Just Begun is still a ubiquitous wedding song Karen’s smooth and pure voice drew giant crowds but despite how timeless her music is it is equally contrasted by the briefness of her life.
Karen captivated a worldwide audience with her music but some people just can’t be reached indoctrinated by our superficial society thinking every celebrity should be a supermodel critics made snide comments about her being Richard’s chubby sister even though she wasn’t overweight and Richard was addicted to Quaaludes but even more important than the public was Karen’s own mother who worried of the public’s feelings more than her own daughter’s.
Karen felt pushed to lose weight so she hired a nutritionist who loaded her down with carbohydrates which obviously made her fatter crushing her faith in nutrition turning her towards unhealthy methods ...which worked...at first... but unfortunately it kept working and she refused to change, unlike her body.
Fans who once cheered for her now gasped when they saw her emaciated skeleton take the stage they thought she might’ve had cancer and were concerned about her weight but to her it was the same crowd telling her to lose weight now telling her to gain weight she was done hearing it and stuck in her ways.
Her friends were worried about her and pleaded for her to seek help but her mother’s profession was repression so Karen hid her depression while her mother told her psychiatrists were for crazy people.
Karen tried using a man to make her problems disappear and married Tom Burris two months after meeting him in 1980 he would verbally abuse her; calling her a bag of bones then he’d *** money off her; amounts up to $50,000 at a time needless to say the relationship was ill fated and they divorced in 1981.
Finally Karen’s friends convinced her to see a therapist who brought her family into a counseling session and urged them to tell Karen they love her of course Richard was willing to say so, they were always really close especially after Karen had helped him with his own addiction issues but Karen’s mother refused berating the therapist for using her first name; Agnes and informing him that wasn’t how their family did things.
Karen Carpenter passed away February 4, 1982 at the age of 32 she died from ipecac poisoning she used the substance to induce vomiting every day and it slowly dissolved her heart.
Richard was devastated.
There’s not much I can add I guess Karen’s story speaks for itself it just ****** me off critics jeer with impunity and without empathy they’re free to cajole great artists while having no value themselves driving artists away until we’re only left with negativity it makes me want to cut out all the demons’ razor sharp tongues before they get a taste of another angel’s wings but would that really protect those angels if they’re born to demons?
My sweetheart is a man's man heiress Her man must be a carbon copy of Jupiter, her father, An alpha, a beta, a kappa, an omega male altogether A carpenter by trade, The epitome of masculinity Who could solve any math problem in a second And knew how to fix everything A car, electric, plumbing A family hero, a handy man Who built houses from the ground up He could swaddle a baby's nightmare properly Open doors to the winds of sadness And pull chairs to the lights of happiness And he could dress every day to the nines Infusing in her heiress forever wine 's bouquet And the love of animals. So consequently My sweetheart is an animal 's animal heiress She eats meat only if it has a label on it Saying that animals are not caged Or mistreated in anyway.
Shepherds, cobblers, carpenters and joiners of all creeds and worldly dreamers You troubled souls, the brittle spirits drinking spirits cleaner Taunted workers of yore, farmers gone and industries endowed Disseminating futures, who's gonna build your ***** barrels now? **** it, I'm going to work in a call center
Continuing clearing my notebooks. I think this one was supposed to be inspired by the death of coal industry and other types of jobs going extinct, but I am not sure anymore.
If she wasn’t hooked on honey she would fall down on my page I rescued a blue-winged bee sage I hope she’ll enjoy her stay in my human home She strains her abdomen I pray it’s not a bad omen her Hermes powers at rest Did she leave her nest in earnest I found her on lonely gray stairs I pray she heals from her despairs as the carpenter bee sleeps dangled To my honey lathered chopsticks I admire her frail black body I gently blow on her she’s inside my heart. I felt hers when she Gripped my thumb.
March 13, 2018 Lyon
I found a carpenter bee on my way to work and she hadn't moved when I walked up to her a couple of hours later. I took her home and I'm nursing her.
once i was once told by a man, that i could do great things if i would stay an upright woman and keep my eyes on the ground
and i, as a young one, stood up straight, "like a woman would" and had my curves sanded down, "like a woman should" for, "temptations are the Devil's Woods"
and with my eyes on the ground, I watched my particles catch light and settle on the basement floor like dust ............ from whence We came, and without a sound
i always wondered what it would be like to see the shore i ask He never answers straight, all that matters is i'm pure then The Carpenter whittled tiny spikes into my sides until it was unsafe to be near me, a Curse in the name of Love set for life in a window of this outdated Shop
so i waited until His nose was deep in the latest draft of His holy autobiography until He nodded off, fast asleep i lunged at His face He screeched something about His never-ending Grace He bled ancient black ink from the pens of scared little men
From my window I see branches dripping gray fog. I face a long day heaving heavy boards, testing my brittle back, glasses wet with sweat, porcupine fingers bristling splinters, shaping lumber with a clear heart.
Carpenter, carpenter, what do you say? Cut wood all day, bring home the pay: a pocketful of sawdust.