Tag Archives: perspective

Filly, mare,stallion -acrostic

HORSES

My 7-year-old daughter’s version

H ow the horses smell like a barn

Our horses like to trot

Realise something, where a horse comes into your house

Sour horses get sick

Elephant came to talk to Mrs Horse

Sour horses run for water after drinking sour juice

 

My husband’s version

Heavy is the head that wears the mane

Over hedges, one did ride

Rivers & Meadows one did trot

Sugar cubes are such delight

Ever a field an old man strolled

Such is the life of a horse so old.

 

My version

Have you ever fled from a nightmare?

Or realised that your slumber is your living yoke?

Rode more knights than kings or Queens?

Evade the question. hoping to secure your pedigree

Signed off with a neighbours kiss.

Dead Dad beats

Happy fathers day. Sorry, I don’t have any shame for wearing my on my sleeve)for the 2 or 3 years of you blocking me, Dad. (I guess it what some would call gumption).
Dissing me, ignoring me.

Yes, I called you a ‘spineless bastard’ cos sometimes you’re just too laid back & let two women rule you. I’m not what you think of me cos every year I’m. going to wish you Happy father’s day./Birthday etc..

You can justify why you don’t speak to me or say I’m a bad egg. I say: Life is short. I didn’t even get to speak with u about when Grandpa B passed away. I just wanted to give you support. As a daughter. Pay my respects but I did it in my own way. I was there for my Nan. I know its hard building on a natural bond( after deciding to forget about me & Lou & moving on to find some happiness in your life). That probably kept you sane
.
but I’ve chased you more than any man I’ve ever known. All I wanted was a tiny piece of you & insight into who you are.

Anyway, look after your health, be happy, I did ask for money to help with the rent & was down the rabbit hole in 2017. I just couldn’t believe you would think that me and Bee being homeless was an option cos that was where I was headed if I didn’t think creatively. If that is tough love-its brutal & well… I don’t know who you are. Sometimes I think you have died. I shake my thought away & hope I get to see you one last time before you go your way, & I go mine.
Forget the money. I was more interested in your poetry, your acting the character Othello & I wanted to see a bit more of the Dad I started to get to know in 2004.

Yeah, I got ill & I’m obviously not what you expect from a daughter. It’s cool. I’m 38 this year & I’m more curious than angry.

I expect this just reaffirms r that I’ve got more love, curiosity, and respect for you. Okay, a spineless amoeba bastard is a bit low, I was on my ass -my fault or not) Blood in, Blood out, yeah?
You probably won’t see or read this but for what it’s worth, you can’t stop me from doing what I am right and performing my (in so far as I CAN) duty towards you, as your, eldest daughter.

Nah, I don’t give a shit about money & inheritance.  Listen to Alan Watt’s ‘What do you desire?’

Trust me I’ve never fallen for a man for his kerching. Except one but I was not in love and well… I didn’t get to the 5*** hotel in Mexico cos I couldn’t bear sleeping in the same bed as someone I had no chemistry with. TMI?

I heard from a source that this is one of the songs that you used to play on the guitar. I read the love poems when you dated my Mom -way back. Romance isn’t dead it just grew up. Take it easy, Pops.

If this is hanging my “dirty ” laundry’ out then I will say that this a fresh lot of laundry, just out the machine. It smells of. Jasmine & posies. It’s clean.
And me? I’m only a rag n bone hope sapien like the rest of us. I do what I do to get by. Enjoy your day & if it isn’t Father’s day in South Africa (it is here in your Yorkshire).
I can still see the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh & I can hear your laugh in my inner ear (or mind).
HAPPY FATHERS DAY!
I wish I could give you a hug cos I know how close you were to your Dad. And the loss is hard. You have support ( and I will be thinking of you). I still remember how you broke down great Grandad fell ill when I was 12 or summit. I hugged you. And you let me hug you. It made me cry. These are my words.

 

G.O.A.T. track of the day

Today’s collaboration is narrated by British actress, Maxine Peake (Shameless) and  (former guitarist for Morrissey & co-songwriter for the band ‘the Smiths’ ) Johnny Marr.

The video & lyrics were inspired by former BIG ISSUE, Jo Gallagher’s (magazine vendor/seller )own experiences of being homeless in Edinburgh from 2105 until he went on to find full-time employment.

I discovered this brilliant spoken word, experimental soundscape, kitchen sink noir mash-up when I was editing  Act two for a stage play script I wrote about covering themes of Homelessness, relationships, legal highs & the state of the nation today in the U.K.

It appeals to me as it is raw & humorous. I am a firm believer in using my sense of humour in life to get me through dark moments.

It gives a bigger perspective of the idea that homeless people are just addicted or lazy people who don’t want to work.

If anyone has read the book by (pen name) George Orwell or Eric Blair  ‘Downtown in Paris and London’ – a biographical  account of Orwell’s own decision to turn away from his privileged lifestyle & live rough as a “tramp”, in a passionate attempt to be taken seriously as a writer in his lifetime. He was a radical.

We can see how our views in over a century about “tramps” are seriously misunderstood in a social, cultural & Historical Context

Like Orwell’s book ‘ The priest’ uses a common writing technique by adopting the register of the characters narrated about in the video.

Here is a bit of context

A few months ago I was on my way to see my doctor & I was standing at the traffic lights waiting to cross the road. A (homeless)  couple had made a sign stating

WE ARE HOMELESS -We will wash your car for money or food. We want to work.

When I was homeless (couch) I used my last bit of money and bought a one-way ticket to go and live with my (now deceased) Aunt in Barcelona for 3 months.

Homelessness doesn’t have to mean you are on the streets. Homelessness is also about couch surfing, temporary accommodation, hostels.

It is not easy getting off the streets. Trust me. I have done the research. Red tape issues are huge obstacles ( to name but one).

 

 

 

#NYA GOAT Illogic

 Illogic has pushed the boundaries with the track  ‘First trimester’ ( Illogic – Celestial Clockwork (2004)).

Each verse focuses on the different perspective of a couple and their unborn child going through the decision of whether to keep their child or have an Abortion.

It’s a lateral thought-provoking song to the Life versus Pro-choice debate.

It is Illogics maturest track to date.

It highlights the need to create more awareness (about not only women) but Mens thoughts and emotions; about Life & Abortion & challenging our beliefs. It definitely engages critically with this still taboo subject.

We see ther gamut of emotions  the couple go through trying to keep their relationship together & looking at what is best for their futures. The inner conflict is raw. The last verse from a childs perspection blew me out of the water.

Chapeux Illogic

 

Janus of global slang

Inspired by his lyrics – it’s not exactly physics.

Big boy –

Little boy

Atomic bomb decoy don’t come across as coy.

Paranoia looms over

A  shadow with no owner.

Scented thoughts hang outside on the laundry line –  drying out, pegged up, sketchy.

Nowt out of the ordinary.

The demise of senseless beatings.

The savage frolic in secret meetings.

Can’t keep these eyes open – Mind is wired to sensor an alert token.

Add a word to the vocabulary list.

Reading made up stories,

Can’t get the gist.

Thinking of  the times I’ve reinvented my speech,

Just so folk wouldn’t turn away

Or,

Mistake me for a blast of mist.

Solar plexus

A libran to balance my ails.

 If vaccines worked, would I even need this skeleton tail?

I’m proficient in scripted fulminate. 

A non- believer has to have a reason to detonate.

Terrorized by bones unhinged, pelvic oddities, a face grappling on the fringes.

Uncertainty – you can do it!

Mascot duty bellows:  You blew it.

Everyday the input becomes more,

Ouput audios in a  fervescent roar.

Fading into a nebulant place slowed down by brain freezers swimming in a shoal.

No  near-empty dregs to fill my soul.

Restricted by self- limitation.

Hear me when  I say,

I’m not doing this for inspiration.

What to do in a world knocked into  askew?

Nondescript,  omniscient  eyes

Know when to usher in the seasonal yule.

Nonsense?

no sense.

Prop me up.

Inhale oxygen.

Don’t give up.

Against all better judgment – I implode from the inside.

I had it all figured out until I became a seeker in need of washed out make -overs from dead flotsam at low tide.

*Inspired by internal conflict and the world.* 😀 

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Wednesday’s WOW or woe poetry prompt

Today’s creative writing prompt was tough. It may not be great a catastrophic arrangement of words but at least I had a go 😉

For today’s poem, use at least three of the six words listed below in your poem (title counts). Three is the minimum, but you know I’m going to try use all six of these:

  • sidereal

  • recruit

  • magnetic

  • compact

  • whippoorwill

  • carbon

    Writers Digest

Starry Intentions forgotten -blamed the sidereal;

Diminished hope hides a worthy recruit.

Bribe a whippoorwill -reclaim my song

for if lost -renders me carbonless.

insight’s breathe revitalises my garden

compact within . Evaluated beliefs reveal magnetic strength .

 

 

Have a go! Check out the link below

WRITERS DIGEST

for loads of writing ideas and writing shizzle

Pep talk retraced

Euphoria daze

Though lightness may fade.

Forget words wasted on ill gotten behaviours.

Stuck in a quagmire?

Want to send out the vigil of hope.

It’s in me.

Buried under a thousand haunting ghosts.

Make this a cheerful post.

What is disarmingly charming in this world?

Open my eyes,

Look around!

Be interested in gazing outwards.

Look back at the words you have’ written.

Be inspired that you wrote them!

Don’t let snide comments sneakily sweep through the back door,

Prevent you from expressing your self.

Sometimes, words in simple dimples are all we need

Who are you writing for?

You have your unique style.

Don’t neglect that self respect cautiously peers out, perched atop, the rotting,

wood lice

infected staircase

In the basement.

Confidence drips tears for the days when his best foot turned all heads.

Don’t worry .

Don’t care

Don’t overthink.

When has it ever been so difficult for me to type and write and hit publish without a second glance?

Only when caught up in dusty webbed rags of self-doubt.

Shadows change according to light.

Don’t be intimated by what is a mere reflection.

Remember shadows can’t exist without a living body,

soul,

And mind.

Take the power back.

Don’t hide from those who sigh — in disproportionate contortions of their own path .

Happy lights-faeries delight.

blissful smiles stippled on faces

There can be no ulterior motive.

Agenda?

Worry about your own if you are confused about life twists and mysterious genders.

Tender

Mender

Guilt sprouts up-GMO crops

Pesticides cause all matter to infold my mind

Crucify my time?

flowers give sentiment to humans lost in nocturnal spaces

Eye sight not evolved enough to adjust to a new fate.

Decisive in what I decide will make up my next jungle adventure.

Armed with words and a benign bravado.

I don’t back down to monsters of carpathian.

Audacity and gumption are my greatest weapons.

Shout me down,

I will test that phycology straight back at ya.

Threaten me or one of my own,

I will stand up and defend my home.

Bats of fear — circulating above.

Blood, don’t clot on me now!

This is my fight — yet I won’t battle it alone.

So much I want to put down.

Not in stream of consciousness

but harsh,

plain,

cold

facts.

No more ashamed of how far down I free-fall into the squid ink mouth of the abyss.

I gripped onto natures own boulderous 😉 safety net.

Silver linings

I have.

I seek to retrace.

*Something I wrote in stream of consciousness and then decided to work on it a bit more*

* boulderous-made up word — combination of rocky and bold-

Art of Protest

I’m no academic poet.

Talk  to me about about syllables, haikus – to be honest,  I can only hear the blood rushing to my head.

I started doing stream of consciousnesss posts in 2016. I’ve received positive feedback on here, and now I want to step up my game.

Just for fun, the social aspect and it’s a different way to express myself.

So, I did what I do best.

Wing it!

I went to the  poetry workshop, everyone seemed to know what they were doing except me!

 I went with my heart, my  emotions and willingness to try out new approaches, in tackling poetry for live performance.

It was a cool workshop – delivered  by a well established,British  poet – Matt Abott –

check out his bio HERE 

A  collaboration with  DREAM TIME COLLECTIVE. 

ART OF PROTEST

We went through a series of activities with the idea to have some form of a draft by the end of the  2 hour  workshop

The theme was political poetry.

Each participant chose a theme that they felt passionately about. I chose ‘Animal rights/cruelty. ‘

I got so much out of a two hour workshop that I’m going to share what I did.

Once we had chosen our theme/subject

we had to ask ourselves three questions

  • Who does it  affect?

  • How does it affect me?

  • Why is it important to me or to the world?

A Couple of notes I made:

  • It affects animals, people, ocean, planet

  • I’m a lover of animals, I don’t believe that we need to eat meat, or wear clothes or makeup made up of animal derivatives. Because of my knowledge of what animals go through to become a consumer product. I feel it  is unethical.

  • I have my own view of animals. I admire  how they are able to evolve and adapt, in a way, that doesn’t  have a negative impact on the planet .This shows me that humans could learn something from nature, instead of destroying our home.

2. What Matt stressed is:   that if we want our poetry to make an impact writing it to perform , we need a motive, a call of action, an agenda.

  • Who am I  delivering this message to?

  • What do I want to achieve?

Examples: Do I want to shock people, encourage people to look at solutions to the problem etc..

3)

Imagine a room( keeping in mind what your subject is) and put 5 points/Images using ‘show and tell’ language to come with up with  strong words.

Example:

  • tearing of flesh

  • frothing at the mouth

  • cramped

  • squealing

  • gunshots

  • insidious laughter

4)  Objective.

Place the victim/s in that room.

What are they doing ?

How do they feel?

Example:

I had two victims. I imagined a gorilla coming round from another bout of being sedated by electrocution. He was wearing garish make up – heavily made up blue eyes and bold, blood colour red lipstick.

My other victim was human – a female who happened to be dressed up in chicken outfit or as a bird. She had a morbid fascination finding herself in this  surreal room with this clearly broken ,macabre gorilla.

Next we had place ourselves in that room -observing what was going on

Example:

Horror, what do I do? , retaliate or fight or freeze. I was frozen on the spot. Upon reflection, this  is how most of society reacts to topics that make them uncomfortable. They become apathetic.

Next, we had to place the victim outside of that situation/ROOM . Different surroundings. Aware of what they have witnessed/ or know and how they react in a different setting.

Example:

I chose the female ,costume wearing bird human and put her in a cosmetic store. The emotions that came to me were  conflicting – this victim of societies idea of attaining beauty is thinking ‘ ‘I have a choice’

The next stage was to  put these  ideas into the poetic form.

Make a poem.

 Always keeping in mind what we want the audience or how we want the audience to react.

We were directed to to start to put together a poem of no more than 50 words, or certain amount syllables. The aim was to keep it short.

Keep it punchy.

On topic.

I wrote about  100 words – possibly more.

It’s okay.

Then we had to cut those words in half – 😦

I ended up with 46 words.

This is the  end product .

Carnival time!

Gaze  in the mirror.

Blue sparkled hues 

Red paint 

Blood fondue.

Do I look pretty enough for you?

Tearing of flesh.

Bleached in acid 

Gorilla Art

Reflection never part

Do I look pretty enough for you?

The true freak in this show is 

, indeed YOU.

Daisy Willows/ Natasha Bodley

 

 

 

 

Times up. Workshop over. Get back to real life  😀

Now, I have another to approach to  poetry when  I write.

Worth it.

Go me!

Have a great weekend!

 

the You! fallacy

Just jotting my thoughts. I’ve been prompted to make a complaint.

little four eyes when you were half your current size -why did you doubt yourself so?

Looking back to a densely plotted past – hazy.

What would you have done knowing all people doubt themselves even if it means you becoming the foe?

‘Have no regrets’ – the tagline of the present.

no regrets, no regrets, no regrets.

When you are looking at granny in a catatonic state, unable to walk or talk. Fragments of images of people now gone, tell me you won’t wonder how life would have played out by taking assertive bets.

Complaints department – sizeable queue. What can we do to answer people’s feuds?

Create a passage for people to commit to taking responsibility for themselves, sign that in ink and wrangle with their own moods.

Blame everyone.

You!

You,

and you!

well…… the list unfolds until it reaches the flaws of flooring.

Finger pointing in every direction. Buckle up, prepare to look within and see how far you can go when you begin to see only you can change your state of deploring.

Control comes not from puppeteering others. Cut loose – let the strings fall.Let people walk,

hell! let them figure it out-  leave them to crawl.

Worry about how you are going to make it. What you need to do to advance in the dance – motions to elevate and bypass the savage instinct to maul.

How many complaints is your God of choice dealing with?

in Her brassic attempt to fulfill everyone’s wish

Did it ever occur to you to get off your indignant knees to check out the employment vacancies for extras needed to help your  God succeed in appetizing your particular dish?

Stop giving control to others to fix your problems. You have a brain, how much has been wasted?

Think of the energy and time used in a  futile attempt to get people to see your view,

the moment before the curtains go down you have become the finale unstitched,  obtusely basted.

What do you do to make this world a better place?

What do you do to help us people stay in the race with human grace?

Life is never going to get easy – you’re never going to be 100%  fulfilled. There will always be a doughnut sized whole to fill.

Do you even know what it is you need to fix yourself?   In monetary terms, you will have to pay for your own self- advocacy bill.

Money, time and energy well spent making you a person who can figure out how to make sense.

Dig deep and take a deep breath-  Don’t be afraid to be a master of your own success.

To run away from your potential achievement will be your greatest offense.

 

jjj-2017     THANK YOU TO  SHAN JENIAH and LINDA FOR KEEPING ME IN A WRITING HABIT.   WORD PROMPT:  COMPLAINT  CLICK HERE TO TRY IT OUT.

Necessity bares echo

It’s easy to get caught up in the negative jumble yard sale and pick up everyone’s  discarded trinkets or  junk. Gladly, I’ve handed over my money – my energy and the energy of the  remnants of the previous owner’s objects stain my fingertips.

The swirly parts on my fingertips- the ones that make me one of a kind – mutate into something I am not.

Ghost-like.

” call the Priest -exorcise this impurity.” 

How do we pick up other peoples junk that looks pretty and appealing, without losing our confidence, and faith in who we are and who we have become?

It sounds so clinical to state:

 get a pair of synthetic gloves on and retain your true essence- don’t allow the memories and beliefs of others,to  poison your very own mind.

But, isn’t that artificial ?

I pride myself in baring my soul. Telling it like I see it. Standing up for my beliefs.

I get shot down  many times-  Cry for a bit – tell the world:

“I give up! ”  

Then the boomer rang effect inevitably comes  back around – smashes me in the head with the haunting words  “I give up!” 

I hear this echo .

” Oh no, you don’t.”

 I start counseling this echo – It’s distant from  me, not me.

 I don’t  have to take my  own advice if I have released it into the universe in one exclamation of defeat.

It’s a reverse psychology technique that works its groove on me. The equivalent to some hot guy actually bumping and grinding against me and not pissing me off.

A feat that is almost impossible.

It doesn’t sound like my voice. I can  give the echo advice. I can “big it up”

I can talk to  it into standing up and fighting for its right to be heard and I tell it

“You can evolve from a mere echo – fuck narcissus literally or metaphorically and leave him to it. “

“Let him drown in his reflection – pooled – snookered. chalked – marked . boxed in.”

“Chump.”

When you challenge what others say about you , to you or what they think of you – you may come across as confrontational  and emotional -defensive even.

 Only you can allow yourself the chance to evolve from an echo that gets lost in the underwater caves – that will  die when the tide comes bubbling in.

Don’t let it die in the spindrift.

 Let it evolve into a voice.

Your voice can speak on behalf of so many who don’t even know or  even have to know what you are doing.

It’s allowing growth to occur – it’s building character.

Someone , who hasn’t found their voice yet- somewhere down the line – possibly living  the bear necessity life, will hear it.

It could come from another voice  – passed down like a traditional story  Isn’t that how stories first evolved?

Isn’t that people first learned how to take  in information that we feel is important to pass down ?

Isn’t that why we can write paint, talk, act, dance, move , protest, make peace, argue ,debate, remember,honor,  create?

It  can take one person to blow apart everything I have worked for.

 I throw out my’ I  GIVE UP’ boomerang  – it comes back  in another form

I write about it- moan , grumble, collect evidence to fight my very own standing rock.

I,  too need clean  water to live.  Pure Air to breathe.  I need passion to live.

If I allow one character to crush my passion – what then?

What was the point of  baring  my soul to the world?

Of  not being ashamed  airing all  of my experiences, who I am  and what I’ve done ?

 Hang  out my entire newly washed, passion fruit scented lingerie collection ,in the densely packed  , over populated jungle I live in . Free to be dissected, analyzed, mocked ,admired ,mimicked, ignored.

I write plagued with doubt .

 I hit publish.

I take the time to thank the people who inspire me and get me, and then all of a sudden – the world – parts of energy sense a spirit giving  out and not holding back.

These  energies group together , have a cup of herbal tea and a catch-up and then -I get an email – validating my  voice, what I do.

I get a:

” Wow thank you – I needed this – I can’t accept it in the way you want me to but I will give you this….

 compromise.

This gives me the strength to fight my wars, my battles – a new era begins tomorrow.

I’ve developed lock jaw – not letting go of this one just yet.

I want to see what doors close and what doors open

I want to see the lights illuminate the path I am on.

If only to see the shape of it;

my future.

 If I can’t see that – I have no hope.

Without hope, I have no beat-  then it is time to call in the clubs and spades.

So, give up , take a  breather , read the terms and conditions, ask for feedback from more than one source, look at those around you- those strong people who manage to carry on with a smile their on the face.

I don’t know the outcome of this particular situation or most situations I put myself in.

 I do  have a goal no matter how blurred.

I do know I have to  go  into every experience with an open mind, a solid form , confidence, boldness and the idea that:

I may be wrong,

or

I may be right.

Maybe a bit of both ?

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Red Siamese

Stream of consciousness

 

When someone has said to her:

 oh, you’re pretty.

She always gets mad and ditzy and insulted.

Is that all , pretty?

 not beautiful, funny, smart, intelligent, dramatic?

Pretty crazy…

that fuels her embers –

I’ll show you pretty. 

Pretty demeaning is how I  would describe her state of mind.

She’s come to that crossroad: hit a right for success or hit a left for back to her ‘usual isle of distress’.

She’s always had this pretty dark quirk in her nature- a dent.

No!

 More like her nature took a key to her brain – triggered it, in the same way, a malicious person keys a person with a fine automobile or new car.

That is what she does to her mind. It’s almost like there is another- living inside her. She’s not pretty.

She is ugly.

She says ugly things.

She makes people cry.

She pushes people away.

She isolates herself.

She knows it will end up wrapped up in stained sheets of her own self-pity cries.

Ones she pushed for – ones she earned.

She never liked herself – wouldn’t have her own picture taken for a long time. In hatred, she tore up all pictures of herself,

then sometime in her life she grew confident and started taking lots of pictures of herself -too many.

Maybe she was beautiful stunning,   pretty even?

  Was it worth the self-damnation she put herself through to achieve a look she deemed is acceptable?

Many people have asked her what it feels like to be so intelligent and aware of her issues- to have so much insight and phycology into her own problems.

Is it a blessing or a curse?

Let’s try something.

Think of a person coming to her house with a bottle of wine/ cocaine /pills/ bondage-style stuff/ comic books – insert vice/ fetish /escapism tool  ………..here.

Let’s make this person -super – pervy -sleazy -gender? unknown.

PERVY PERSON: So, like, hey why the long face? (a stream of consciousness brain has become lame)  You, uh … wanna get wasted?

She does get caught off guard sometimes not always.

The truth is these days her reply is mostly,

No.

Why?

She’s a stubborn mare.

Truth?

She knows the consequences.

She knows the problem is burrowed deep within her – nothing but he can make it stop.

Pretty lame?

or,

Pretty courageous?

Either way, she has to live with herself.

So, she gets the whole escapism psychology.

She has taken countless overdoses, countless drugs, been in various institutions – locked up for being herself -criminal or “just” insane.

It doesn’t work.

Why does she push people away?

Why?

She knows about her upbringing and she can’t blame them or that or it.

Or the others- this is not a horror movie!

It’s her life.

Yeah, agreed. Pretty horrific.

She is an adult- with her own mind and life and responsibilities.

Her pretty demented reasoning is: eventually –   she will hurt those she loves and she would rather things got horribly ugly-

sooner rather later.

She doesn’t want to draw it out.

Oh, darling, Don’t let her fool you. She loves acting!

She can do one hell of a supernova act if she wants but she isn’t malicious – something inside her is disturbed.

It may have come with her when she got delivered on a wonky legged stork,

or,

she may have seen something that petrified her into this state of self-destruction.

She loves to sing twinkle twinkle little star to her only child.

Stars are huge.

She knows why people always say before they die or, to someone who has recently  lost someone

There is the person you love – twinkling above – looking out for you. 

Stars have a lifespan of billions of years. It’s pretty amazing to think she quite possibly looked at the very same stars that her great grandparents or ancestors looked at many moons ago.

( singing) When you wish upon a star…. know that once she did so same from afar.

Ha – pretty lame as it gets.

Ever thought what it would be like to have a child /ren who are Siamese twins?

Say you could only possibly save one.

One was seen as truly wicked and the other?

Well, the other one could go on to make his/her mark in the world.

 Maybe not with a fancy career but merely by being human.

 Reaching out to people in need.

It can make a difference!

 Sometimes more than all the money in the world could.

Just knowing someone cares. What does she  know?

I digress, – -in a pretty way – haha.

Think of yourself as a mother -as a person with some kind of intellect.

You would reason that no person is born inherently evil or absolutely good.

There are many sides to a person.

 Inside her is her very own Siamese twin.

She has to put one down.

 Murder it!

At that moment, that pretty wicked one has a grip on her heart and her mind – it’s all so terribly confusing and frustrating

So, she has to make a decision.

 Invasive surgery for, no – on her Siamese twins, in the hope, that the one with the potential to twinkle can be reborn.

Goodby, Red dwarf. Be angry.

Goodby, white dwarf -cool down.

And finally, ciao , Black dwarf –   your true composite make up is on a show for all to see.

Your heart is blackened –  not because you are evil.

It’s just the nature of how life (and those who energize and roam it)  goes.