I used to be pretty

She said, she said, I don’t remember
what she said to me at dawn
but I felt the stab, felt the cut
and passed out on her lawn

We were the people I looked at
the ones hand in hand forever
but time is an asshole, a jerk
and only knows the word “never”

I can’t remember the last time
I actually thought to like myself
and I still can’t find my own help
now all I think is that I feel shitty
all because I used to be pretty

She said, she said, I don’t think I listened
there were too many shades of me
and now I’m alone with…guess who
and not so sure it feels like free

Stupid and hesitant I just didn’t say
the things I know I should’ve said
would’ve and could’ve but no I didn’t
and this place is where I’ve been led

I can’t remember the last time
I actually thought to like myself
and I still can’t find my own help
now all I think is I feel shitty
all because I used to be pretty

I used to be pretty in my head
the way I thought of & treated her
all my feelings now are just dead
never knew how much I needed her

I can’t remember the last time
I actually thought to like myself
and I still can’t find my own help
now all I think is I feel shitty
all because I used to be pretty

now all I think is I feel shitty
all because I used to be pretty

now all I think is I feel shitty
all because I used to be pretty

No, the other channel…

People are like televisions with our emotions being individual programs, each having its own channel. The happiness channel, the sadness channel, the half happy/half sad channel, the channel that makes no sense at all, etc.….and regardless what’s showing on the screen, all of our other emotions are still playing in the background, just waiting for the channel to be changed.

Words are like the remote control for the TV…

…your words can help to change someone else’s channel.

How about choosing something good to watch, OK?

Believe. Go. Do.




…the difference between you and I is that I don’t give a fuck what you do. Ever. Unless what you’re doing is infringing on the constitutional rights of another person (i.e. me), then I really don’t care what you do. Really. Not a fuck.

Not even a little bitty, eensy weensy, tiny little fuck.

But…if you’re a conservative (on the right, republican, etc.) then some—among many, MANY—of the things you give a fuck about and want are to tell me who I can marry or which bathroom I’m allowed to use, you want to tell women what they can and can’t do with their bodies, you want religion to have an influence in our schools and government, you want us to pay more taxes so that we can go into foreign places and promote democracy with bombs and guns and on and on and on.

Or…if you’re a progressive (on the left, democrat, etc.) then some—among many, MANY—of the things you give a fuck about and want are to tell me that I’m too stupid and dangerous to own a gun, that I’m paying far too few taxes needed to support a cradle-to-grave government, that carbon is evil and must be destroyed or, better yet, taxed into oblivion, that corporations are evil and the people who run them are criminals simply because…and on and on.
So it is quite plain and clear to me that you all give far too many fucks…and that I am suffering from your fuck giving. That little ol’ me, whistling my merry tune, minding my own business is being seriously infringed upon by both you conservatives and you progressives.

What’s the beef with simply living your life the best way you know how, what’s wrong with loving the people who love you…what’s wrong with letting people live their lives the best way they know how and all of us just minding our own goddamn business?
Really, why?

Just wondering.

Believe. Go. Do.



Let’s talk about “cultural appropriation” shall we? Or at least, let’s make fun of the severely traumatized in society who quite loudly give a fuck…you know who I’m talking about.

So me…apparently I am only allowed to wear the native clothing associated with mid-century Polish and Ukrainians (have you seen that goofy shit?), a Scottish tartan and/or whatever they wore in the UK during WW2. Because, um, well, that’s my lineage and based on “cultural appropriation” I can’t really “appropriate” anyone else’s clothing because that’s an inherent part of their culture and because it, um, it…um…because it’s just wrong dammit!!

No, I have no idea why it’s wrong.

The point is that there is a thing called freedom of expression that we all—WE ALL—should be thinking about when we see things we may not agree with or even like. We can certainly voice our opinion “Hey girl! That’s some fucked up shit!” but the next thing we say we shouldn’t EVER be “…and you aren’t allowed to wear/show/say that because it offends me.”

Christ on a cracker! There is no possible way to separate the gazillion influences that mass migrations and the various immigration events (think the Ottoman, Irish, Cuban, Hispanic and other waves) globally that have occurred in the last 5,000 years, all of which have subtly and not so subtly changed fashion and what people wear…the tattoos they get…the makeup they put on….but even that is beside the point.

The point is that no one has the right to infringe the freedom of expression of another human being unless, by that expression, the other person is infringing someone else’s rights.


You don’t like what someone is wearing/saying/expressing? Awesome, great, brilliant!! Go protest, scream, cry, organize a boycott of their Instagram account, whatever but please, PLEASE! Shut the fuck up about their right to wear/say/express themselves.

Get over it.

Except maybe those new age wonders that end every conversation with “Namaste”…if they are not, in fact, a verifiable, 95 year old Indian Yogi then they really need to STFU.

Believe. Go. Do.



Some things I know…

When you accept and love yourself, the language you use changes significantly. In fact, it changes completely. If you are at a place now where you love and accept who you are, what you represent to yourself and others, then you may not notice…but as you transition there (and we are all transitioning there), it becomes very apparent that the words you use change. Every day words you use to describe and define, to assess and assign, to ultimately communicate with others.

Can’t becomes can.
Won’t becomes will.
Fear becomes fact.
Lose becomes win.
Hate becomes love.

And it is not just the words you use but also the words you hear when people talk to you and say negative things about you—or to you—you stop hearing the disapproval and disappointment and instead hear the personal pain and doubt in their voices. You hear that they can only talk to you in the words they know…and because these words are from a place of anger, fear and hatred of themselves, that’s all they can communicate to you. To anyone.

Just like you…

…used to.

And when you felt and used those words, they didn’t actually come from you, they came from others—parents, teachers, school mates and all those determined to spread their own personal fears & doubts—but never from “you”…because as a human on this planet, just by being, you are loving and deserving of love. When you finally accept and love yourself—not because you’re perfect and better than others but because you’re flawed and human—the words you use and understand become positive and helpful because they come from a place of love and confidence.

They come from you.

Believe. Go. Do.

her gift

I called to her, a wind battering sails
blowing sea into flesh into the wind
we sailed toward a moment
lost but for our eyes, she
was the raging life, the pristine
shining and meticulous, she called
back, we cannot falter, stop,
we must live outward, forward
we must believe in everything
that we can be—and are—she
was the moment, the wind howling
the day breaking, the everything
that I ever wanted that instant
every day and forever…she
gave me the direction, gifted me
her sight her being her fury…
and I lived from then on.

It’s Not

Nothing is clear, nothing
is what we want it to be, nothing
is the feeling we have when
we have a feeling…when we look out
at a world gone mad, gone
to the brink again and again
with violence…the lingua franca,
the currency that buys air time
that ensures the deepest cuts
to an entire planets psyche, it
seems to be never enough
it’s not
it’s not
it’s not
and even while blood still stains
the last impossibly horrific
dirty patch of cement and brick,
the last killing zone,
and the echoes have yet to fade…
another and another hits the airwaves
it hits and kills people
the 24 hour news cycle and hatred
is the tagline, the headline
the funeral line of coffins
of dreams destroyed…again
and again we see that’s it based on
your god versus their god…but we’re told
it’s not
it’s not
it’s not
it’s power and crisis
the human hatred, the fuel that burns us all alive
it is not god
or gods
it is not deities fighting above us
throwing lightning bolts,
crashing thunder
raging giants battling for the control of eternity
it’s people like you
misguided brainwashed manipulated
I have to ask
what is religion?