As far back as I can remember
I wanted to be a
Paleontologist
Someone who looks at the old, decayed
Bones of creatures that never asked for
Love.
I wanted to be someone who dug through
Inches, feet, yards, miles of dirt
For a charred fragment of bone
that was so far away from
Home that the only
Contact it could make with its family
Was through the wires of the
Telephone
I wanted to be someone
Important.
Then that phase passed.

Later on, I wanted to be a writer,
Because there’s something about
Creation that’s so spontaneous
That it can lift souls higher
Make hearts lighter
If you do it right.
I wanted to write an expansion of
Cliché in such a grandiose way
That could make everything
Seem
Just right for some night when
That rush of creativity spills through
My fingertips
Like water dripping from the stalactites of
A cognitive cave of irrelevance
I just wanted to write.

Well, then that phase passed
And I wanted to be a doctor
Because there was something about
The cure that kept me up at night
Wondering how innocent and pure
That baby’s face is as his mother is
Carted down the hall on a gurney,
Who barely lived to see thirty years
On Earth
Whose constant fear of
“How will they survive”
sat on the first tear she cried
When her doctor diagnosed her.
That woman who had so much time ahead of her
But whose debilitating cancer always kept her from
Home.  
So much so that “home” became an
I.V. bag and a hospital bed.  
So much so that
“Home” went from fireplaces and kittens
To MRI machines and seven minutes
To live,
So much so that “home” became a myth.

And there are a lot of myths
Today.
There are myths today so farfetched and
Filled with hate, like
“It’s a choice, the one with whom you
fornicate” and
“It’s not that you’re a bad person, it’s that you’re
a disgrace, but I’m not trying to discriminate against
you.”
And they say these things with such distaste that they
Forget those with whom they’re supposed to relate
And love.

But now, love has become something
Blurred
Something obscured by religious fanatics and
Old, dusty books
Something regulated by governments and
Followed blindly by people at the risk of being
Burned, something
We’re afraid of.
Love.
The most toxic word
In the English language.
The word that makes and breaks
Empires, the word that lights
Fires in the hearts of men and women
In the most remote places,
The word that connects hearts
Instead of faces,
That fills a thousand vases
On the altars of every church
That allows people to
Love someone for who they
Are, and as each heart races they
Find the real meaning of  
Love.

Because here’s the thing.
“There is no love without hate”
Now that’s one of the few things
You can appreciate,
Your right to hate
Please.
Don’t feed me that line.
Because we both know that,
When you’re older,
You’re just gonna end up
Crying in the corner
Like the spoiled little
Brat you’ve always been,
Like that boulder of hate
Was never lifted off your
Shoulder
And why should it?

So let it fall.
Let yourself give in to
The pressure
Of defeat,
Like that dinosaur
That only wanted
Something to eat
But instead was
Cheated out of every
Chance it had to live.
Feel it burning
Deep inside you
All that hate
Yearning to get out
Let it consume you.

Maybe someday,
Someone will dig up your
Bones.  
Maybe someday, someone will
Remember you.  And
Maybe they will label you.
By your species.

According to my mom and dad, when I was little, I used to say that I wanted to be a garbage truck driver. Yeah, I know — literally dumping trash and pumping gas isn’t something a typical four-year-old girl wishes to grow up to do. It impressed me how the men rode, clinging onto the back end of the truck, pushing buttons to crush the unwanted goods to dust. Although I am sure it would have been more appropriate for a young lady to look up to Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, I looked up to those men because they appeared fearless and strong. I never really liked the “girly” things my parents and sisters gave to me. In fact, when Barbie smiled at me through a plastic window, I took her out, tore her head off and threw her body to the dog. I should have loved the color pink and liked the smell of daisies; I didn’t. I was ridiculed for hating both and told I shouldn’t be so different.
When I turned six, my grandpa gave me a book about prehistoric beasts. I couldn’t read well, but I liked the pictures and the long words with plenty of strange letter combinations. Words like “pterodactyl” and “brachytrachelopan” fascinated me, and made me feel exceptionally intellectual just to know how to pronounce them (even if I did so poorly).  When asked, I proudly responded, “I want to be a paleontologist when I grow up!” Adults praised me for being so intelligent at such a young age, and I felt special. But one day, I learned that bone diggers don’t make much money. So, I changed for a few extra thousand dollars a year.
By the age of eight, I decided I wanted to become a veterinarian because that’s what my best friend wanted to be. She loved animals and said we should help them because they can’t help themselves. I took a bite of the pie graph, “Occupations Wanted By Children.” It tasted bland and watered down but it made me normal to want that for myself—even if it wasn’t my own dream. My friends and I babbled about having every species imaginable for pets and loving them more than Romeo loved Juliet. But when my mom told me that I might have to  euthanize animals, the pie tasted a lot more ****** going down. I decided I should search for another job.
Around twelve, I started writing a journal. I named it “Joyful” because that’s what I felt the best emotion was and wrote in it occasionally during my sixth grade year. The pages were cluttered with names of boys I had crushes on and i’s dotted with hearts. I modeled my naivety through my entries but it was motivating how I could see my style and thoughts developing over time. My entries went from “I love the sky!” to “When a cloud drifts just in the right position next to the sun and makes that golden ray, I feel as if God’s finger is pointing down to a specific thing he created and saying to us on Earth, ‘Hey, see that thing over there? Yeah, I made that and it’s beautiful. It deserves respect.’”  I have smashed windows in the writing process and let in drafts of fresh ink. I am aware that being a writer in most cases makes a person financially deprived, but that won‘t affect my aspirations. Writing has been my dream since sixth grade and even now I know I’m not perfect but at least I’m pushing myself to be better. I’m changing for me.
No matter how adamantly I’ve tried or how much I realize that writing is sometimes harder than brain surgery, I don’t seem to slice it out of my life. Societal success is measured in dollars but if dreams had monetary value and salary was how badly a person wanted to make that dream come true, I would be paid more green than the Earth has blades of grass. I shouldn’t have to explain to people why I don’t want to be a garbage man or a paleontologist or a veterinarian, or why I don’t want to live by their popular choices. For all I know, I could be the best waste manager that ever had the pleasure to take away last week’s paper. I could strike it rich by discovering a billion-year-old algae. I might save the next Lassie or Winn Dixie. It isn’t up to other people to decide what I want to be when I grow up (if I ever decide to). Instead, I’ll write in spite of everyone else — for the ones that didn’t follow their dreams and strived for physical wealth. If I am to be paid in blades of grass, I will live. And I will die knowing I am one of the few to see a such a gorgeous, glistening, green meadow.

Yes I jumped in those leaves
crunchy, fluffy, autumn leaves
Waded in the decorative fountain
Climbed on the public art

Yes I danced swing in the BART station
Hid in the grocery store among rolls of
toilet paper
Had to *** a ride after the Dicken's faire
Played in the rain
Hugged my mother
Made my dad take me to see Tangled in 3D

Yes I measured the baking soda for those
dinosaur chocolate chip cookies
Loved Steve Irwin will all my childhood admiration
Was afraid of the Deep End
Memorized Shel Silverstein

Remember my sister reading me Harry Potter
Gripping my best friend on Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones, Space Mountain
Sang Christmas Carols in October
And I'm not even sorry

I was a pirate paleontologist pop-star
pokemon master steampunk rocker renaissance girl who
time-traveled, hunting T-rex
adventuring with Christopher Robin, Calvin and Hobbes

Made two corsages for my junior prom, fed ducks,
ate at Mels, posed in the dollar store, watched
the Avengers in our glittering dresses for the second

Laughed so hard I cried about the stupidest things
I doubted, got lost in Costco, found my faith
Had my prayers answered
For the bestest, most faithful friends
I have the "simple human relief of knowing you’ve done wrong, and living through it"

And don't take this the wrong way
It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge
Well, maybe with a bungee cord?

But if I died right now
****! Gone.
I wouldn't say I envied anybody
Not really

We've had a pretty **** great time
haven't we?

Oh sure I'd protest
Places to go, people to see, things to eat, but...

As long as You forgive me
my faults

Whose to say,
There is anything else I HAVE to do
Before I have lived a GREAT life

I have nothing to prove
besides that I am grateful
for this breath of life
which may pass at any moment

Do not bother me with your absurd theories;
Reason, logic, and evidence have no place
In the heart of the true and righteous believer.
Faith in holy texts should be your guide,
Your faith should be blind, unadulterated, and quintessential, or
Risk a dreadful and eternal damnation.

If Einstein knew so much
Why do they call his premise the “Theory of Relativity”?
If Darwin was so sharp, why is it the most
He could up with was the “Theory of Evolution”?
The answer is simple, they really had no clue,
They simply did some scientific research and, in the end,
They came up with nothing more than theories.
And, what about all those archeologists
Claiming the earth is billions of years old, or
Cosmologists with their “Big Bang Theory.”
Everything is nothing more than
Theories, theories, theories.

Turn your back on these absurdities;
Trust, instead, the ancient, sacred texts
That offer immutable, unquestionable truths.
How ludicrous the idea that
The world is more than 10,000 years old,
(Carbon dating of fossil rocks is just mambo-jumbo)
The universe and all creation
Were made in six days,
God, tiring after all that work,
(Wouldn't you after working 24/6?)
Rested on the seventh day.
It's there in black and white,
For everyone to see.
(Assuming you've read the right version)
Men were created from a clod of clay,
(Or mud, but you get the point)
Women from the rib of man
(Which is why they should be subservient to men).

What nonsense from biologist and paleontologist
That claim we evolved from micro-organisms and apes,
This notion is total sacrilege, a blasphemy.
Life is too complicated, too complex to just evolve,
Intelligent Design is the only answer,
All the talk to the contrary is nonsensical hyperbole.  
God made everything happen.
Read the holy texts, the truth is as obvious,
As plain as the tip of your nose.
Everyone knows that all the anthropological data,
All the purported archeological digs,
With reports of dinosaurs and missing links,  
Are fabricated to fit nerd scientists' preconceived notions of
What they would like everyone to believe.

When in doubt, refer to the holy texts,
You will see all the unsubstantiated, ludicrous claims
For what they really are:
Trash, trash, and more trash.
Do not bother me with your facts, or
Your scientific data or findings;
In the end, everything boils down to more idiotic theories.
Have unquestioning, blinding, and total faith,
Read the holy texts and they will set you free.
So, the next time someone questions your beliefs,
Claiming there is no merit or facts to support them,
Remind them that to question the word of God
Will send them, along with their theories,
Straight to hell.

Amen!

Texas mud, a mud that cakes
A mud that strikes fear
In boots and trucks alike
After fresh summer rain
Billowy clouds rolling a long
Singing their thunderous song
Natures long cool drink
I was muddy once
Moms words i didn't hear as i hit the back door
Thoughts of squishy toes and big smiles
A freshly made mud pie for my sister
I was muddy once
To a boy of ten 2 acres goes on for miles
A whole mess a villains ever willing to meet
The business end of my B.B. gun
And the neighbors nurf gun
I was muddy once
From the trenches of France
To a foxhole on Mars
Only fenced in by the outermost stars
I couldn't be bested
Backyard hoops to creek jumping
Swing sets to sword fights
I was muddy once
The only thought of future
Was what tomorrow would bring
New adventures, new places to see
And all you can drink sweet iced tea

I wanted to be something great when i was a kid
I wanted to be great
I wanted to be a paleontologist, doctor, lawyer, cop, superhero, captain of a yacht, a and mountain man, and never wanted to get married cause girls had cooties and dolls
As it turns out I am none of those things
As it turns out, what i needed most
Was i ran rarest away from
I became something i never thought i would be
I became something i never thought i could be
I am becoming a servant of the King
The mud which once covered my hands
Bound my heart in a thick, clogging bog
Only when i thought no longer of receiving glory
I began to poor grace out from this imperfect jar
Glory pored to a being more eloquent than I
Who hath poured mercy like wine
Love as a fire
Turning my so called foundations into Texas mud
Turns out God doesn't want me to be a doctor
Turns out God wants the willing not the able
i found something bigger
Than the thoughts i thought i knew  

How glorious days of old
A tear to my eye and a distant memory
To stretch and grow is one thing
A loss of splendor another
When others think of yesterday,
Dream for tomorrow
Dream and dream big,
For God is bigger still
He rejoices in imagination
Delights in the mind of a child
Reclaim that which we've lost
For you were muddy once
I was muddy once

For the past two years, I've written parts of this in my mind and it never felt right to put pen to paper until now.
I needed to reach a place of peace and full forgiveness to fully express to you the language of my heart, in a way that would voice transparently true and real.
Whether I ever send this to you or not, it's finally on a tangible form of matter and emptied from my busy mind and heart, making room for more of what matters.
I hope this finds you well.

Written below is life.

The fear, desolation, loss, pain, abandonment, loneliness, sickness, regrets, rejection and utter disbelief, became a platform for growth.
Stretching my mind and heart to endure more than I thought I could handle and the belief that I could possibly die from a heartbreak, built me.
You've missed out on beauty.
Watching Gavin grow from the daily tears of losing his pawpaw and wondering when you were going to come back, to the occasional question about his past and he's grown into already completing multiplication equations at the age of 6. He aspires to be a paleontologist and travel the world, with a map tacked large across his bedroom wall, nestled in our home, the one that overflows with unconditional love. That allows breakdowns to happen, because we've all been there. He's come from daily tears to hilarious mannerisms and has a personality that every person, from his barber to his Taekwondo instructor, have fallen in love with. He still wakes up to silly songs every morning and is known as Best Buddy because he's the best boy that's ever lived. He knows he  is loved, despite the small ache that I know still gnaws at his tender heart from time to time and I've built a community of strength around him to assure him that he's safe.
Emily has grown into a strong beautiful almost woman. She's already chosen a career path and she strives daily to achieve small goals in order to reach the large ones. Mapping out her sophomore and junior year to be completed in one with home studies, and I'm amazed at her drivenness. She is kind, sincere, forgiving, understanding, smart and wonderfully gracious and thoughtful. She battled with severe anxiety after losing our home and went through months of cognitive therapy and medications to help her sleep. To now having voluntarily stopping the therapy, weening off of the medication, working out daily, eating healthy and taking on multiple babysitting jobs. This life pain has taught her that people make mistakes, that nothing in life is certain and to cling to your family tight because it's all that matters.
Kaitlyn still has her peculiar Ramona Quimby mischievous traits and never fails to ask the same mind boggling questions at the most in-opportune times. She's as tall as Emma and is drop dead beautiful. Her grades are exceptional and she's passionate about fitness and loves her friends. She was one of three 6th graders to make the competitive cheer team at her school, that cut 15 girls at tryouts.
What I Love most about her is her genuine thankfulness. Every time I check out a register at the grocery store or buy her things as simple as a toothbrush, she expresses gratitude like no one I've ever known.

The sleepless nights spent tossing and turning crying myself to sleep, replaying the story over and over in my head, have now turned to bright beautiful mornings.

I wake up to a person that makes it his daily goal to remind me that I matter & that I'm loved.
He's endured the tears flooded that followed with anxiety drenched vomiting, held me and told me that I'm the most beautiful, even in those states.
He's made me laugh from deep down in the belly, accepted all of my flaws and encouraged me like, never before.
He hides notes throughout the house and in my personal belongings so that I'll read them. In hopes that the words he's written will sink into my subconscious, the same way that the ink sunk into the paper and I'll finally believe my worth.

So, thank you.
For pushing me out.
For giving me the opportunity to see even more immense beauty in my children, forcing my heart to become bold and strong and giving me the die or fight strength to blossom into the Fierce woman that I've become.
I needed to prove you wrong when you spoke words of death over my life, "you're children will never amount to anything, because they have you as a mother".
Every new friend that I meet and families we befriend, are in awe of my relationship with my children and always congratulate me on having raised them into kind respectful people.
Thank you, for shaking my life so heavily that I was able to really know who God is, more deeply than ever. Forgiveness became a whole new meaning to me and my kids watched as all of the pieces healed and they've been able to heal right along side of me. Loving flawed and leading with love has become a staple of our home and lives and this learned trait will be inherent within them for the remainder of their lives. So once again, thank you.
I am where I'm supposed to be.
It's not unfinished business.
The pain is almost fully healed and I'm grateful to have experienced the pain and loss.
So that I can grasp what's at hand whole heartedly.
The sun still continues to rise, as you used to say and the morning fog lifting daily stripped the hardness from my heart.
You came into my life for a reason and a season and I wish you nothing but prosperity, love and happiness. Best wishes on the remainder of your life journey and I hope you have found peace, love and all of the wonderful joys that God freely gives.
Farewell.

Sincerely,

Natasha Ivory Evans

Lately I've been stating the obvious
Textbook cop outs of conversation
Clearly "it is what it is," but if I asked "how are you?"
And you say that you've had better days
"It is what it is," is not valuable input
"Brilliant observation, Mr. Holmes"
Or as I prefer to say, no ****, sherlock
You'll either stand there or walk away
And in near perfect silence the clock will tick tock
Time and regret moving in rivulets that make up the day
Words flow from my mouth and into the bay of awkward
Silences and "keep your chin up"s
Let me you ask you, when was that ever enough?
Clearly I'm still above water, trying not to sink
But I can't even use my brain hard enough to think of a response other than
"It is what it is"

Because I wish it was what it isn't
And that I didn't have this dirt in my eyes
Cause it rolls down my nose and it's grown quite annoying
See, we were on a journey to the ocean
But devotion also drips down, down
Like condensation on the side of a glass of water left out in the sun
I kept on toying with this sharp tongue just to end up slashing our tires and sails
I never cease nor fail to amaze myself with my expertise on sabotage
This feeling can be no mere mirage considering how much it hurts
I made this bed out of dirt and also have nothing else to eat
Stranded in this desert heat of my own insecurity
I ****** up so thoroughly you'd think I did this on purpose
There's no such thing as above while you're under the surface
It is what it is? No, it's not what it's not
I used to mean a lot to her, till one day I just didn't
Now the better days are hidden over mountains that are seeming farther away than they ever have before
Because no more can I look in her eyes and call those deep oceans mine, full of treasures I will never know
I couldn't hold on, and that's how she goes

Honestly, it's strange how serene I've been lately
And something seems gravely odd about this scene
I see this canyon in dreams and think it's amazing
The relativity of it all, it takes rivers and glaciers eons
To carve out their existence on nature, but I built something even more beautiful inside of my mind in the blink of an eye
A mere hiccup compared to the amount of time that it takes in order to create and behold the majesty of something so grand
And yet it's so hard to believe that what I tried to make last was so utterly temporary
Honestly, it's pretty scary when you lose someone so quickly you feel like you never had a place or even mean anything
I still want forever, but can't even make it till spring
So I watch as better times chase their head spaces flowing down
Down
Down
Down the ravines between us, carved out by my jealousy
Yet I still see you and we can only watch the same stars
That must have given us incompatible charts, no we can't navigate like this
So I waste my time and miss you as I lie back and start
Accepting what is, connecting the dots with bored eyes
Trying to trace out some image of god with the sky
Hiding somewhere up there in the unforgiving dark
The one that gave us these incompatible hearts

See, we were once like a river, of course I already forgive her
Though it was my fault we got stranded here, that she doesn't want to be near the wrath of my landslides
Water flows and divides along the path of least resistance after all
As it should, if only I could be as fluid as her
But I am the distance of earth and the meters per second
The matter that beckons every object to fall with its gravity
The bricks in each wall that people build to ignore whatever it is that they can't stand to see
But unlike geological ages, I turn the pages and it saddens me how short our time was and how much you are missed
Like some kind of freak continental drift separated our currents, the very face of this world will never be the same as long as you walk upon it
And trying to carve out your name on my side of this canyon is proving to be impossibly difficult
The very earth shook each time that I smiled and you wouldn't look
I tapped out Morse code with boulders, but too forcefully the wind vibrated her shoulders and hair
My smoke signals were lost in the cold morning air where your absence is most definitely noted
There is no glare on your binoculars, you're not looking my way, but in between the spaces where night turns into day
You're more focused on horizons that I can't see from where I stand
I'm stuck on this side with no feasible plan to escape
Guess I'll just wait in this land that time seems to have lost
To become one more man that you simply forgot
And how could I forget that I know you've got many more things still to do, more important people to love
It is what it is, and it was what it was
But I still see your fire sometimes across the gap that's eroding
The silence between us swells as the ice cap is going from up north and down
Down
Down
Down to the ocean that we were supposed to become
So I'll watch you underneath the indifferent sun as you move along with the current, farther away from where I stay slumped
While I'm aging one million years in a month because I'm like the earth and you're more like the sea
And you should know that even if you never miss me, your motions through space, my hands on your waist, that heartbreaking face
Whatever it was that we were is imprinted in the sediment of my very being, I hope you are happy with the world you're out there seeing
And if you even sometimes think of me then maybe sometimes I'll also be able to sleep through the eons and try to figure this out
But I reserve doubts because nothing will ever hurt more than the truth
I'd rather take a dinosaur tooth to the chest, I'm way too depressed to do anything but survive, yeah I'm still alive
Still stuck here, still useless, tears keep pathetically leaking down
When I think of you, but prophetically speaking
Maybe someday there'll exist a new age, intrepid paleontologist that will be able to sift through and find
On the floor of our ocean, in the muck and the grime
These fossils the snowmelt carried down to the sea
Proof that I love you... and you once loved me

Feel fossils
Prioritize dinosaurs like a paleontologist
Aim like an ambitious mountaineer
Explore mountains
Try to touch your dreams
Ignore glochids
Notice the patterns of cacti

Keep in mind
since we are human beings
the superego will be the winner
good things will defeat bad things
sooner or later

The Atlantean Conspiracy
by Eric Dubay

The class “Dinosauria” was originally defined by “Sir” Richard Owen of the Royal Society, and Superintendent of the British Museum Natural History Department in 1842.  In other words, the existence of dinosaurs was first speculatively hypothesized by a knighted museum-head “coincidentally” in the mid-19th century, during the heyday of evolutionism, before a single dinosaur fossil had ever been found.  The Masonic media and mainstream press worldwide got to work hyping stories of these supposed long-lost animals, and then lo and behold, 12 years later in 1854, Ferdinand Vandiveer Hayden  during his exploration of the upper Missouri River, found “proof” of Owen’s theory!  A few unidentified teeth he mailed to leading paleontologist Joseph Leidy, who several years later declared them to be from an ancient extinct “Trachodon,” dinosaur (which beyond ironically means “rough tooth”).

A short term quick evolution.
Span of 70 years.
I'm a paleontologist,
Archaeologist, and a
Wildlife observer.
Traces appear so obvious to me
Shifting of characters each day,
Growing claws, fangs and shells
Blooming flowers, colours.
The beaks must be useful.
Searching for balance and a safe spot.
Wildlife environment,
Behaviours of herd
Eyes in bushes.
Observation.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015


The Atlantean Conspiracy
by Eric Dubay

The class “Dinosauria” was originally defined by “Sir” Richard Owen of the Royal Society, and Superintendent of the British Museum Natural History Department in 1842.  In other words, the existence of dinosaurs was first speculatively hypothesized by a knighted museum-head “coincidentally” in the mid-19th century, during the heyday of evolutionism, before a single dinosaur fossil had ever been found.  The Masonic media and mainstream press worldwide got to work hyping stories of these supposed long-lost animals, and then lo and behold, 12 years later in 1854, Ferdinand Vandiveer Hayden  during his exploration of the upper Missouri River, found “proof” of Owen’s theory!  A few unidentified teeth he mailed to leading paleontologist Joseph Leidy, who several years later declared them to be from an ancient extinct “Trachodon,” dinosaur (which beyond ironically means “rough tooth”).