This poem was born in May 2016.
I tend to write poetry in despair. This piece is different. More hopeful about the possibility of emerging from pain and reclaiming the joy and laughter that’s always stored somewhere, even though we sometimes mistakenly believe it’s beyond reach. Read More…
I’m not sure where this poem came from or exactly what it means, but it emerged and took flight as a result of a prompt in a writing workshop.
So here it is.
In the summer of 2012, I was cracking up (not in a good way). I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So I did both. Often. And intensely.
Things were going seriously south. I was at my wits’ end, about to break apart. Luckily, I have enough life experience to know when it’s time to call in the cavalry.
I went online, googled the name of a wonderful therapist (S.Z.) whom I’d seen for several months in 1989, and amazingly was able to find her! Doing so blew my mind – the bits of it, that is, that remained intact after too much alone time with someone whose mind was also being blown (in a tragically different way) by Alzheimer’s disease. Read More…
A little gift from me to you. Enjoy!
1) Make YOU your first love
I know, I know, this can be a tough one, especially since we are all imperfect, and we are often taught that we should strive to be flawless. The fact is, perfection, like fitting in, is vastly overrated.
Remember the story of the cracked pot? Love yourself because of your imperfections, not despite them. Make peace with who you are and where you are today, don’t wait for who you will be once you “fix” yourself.
Drones are sometimes used for bombing.
They’re also used for taking pictures and videos. Read More…
“Do you believe in God?” He asked.
“No,” I replied without thinking.
Later, I reconsidered.
I feel the existence of some form of higher power, spirit, universal energy/power/force. It’ hard to identify and name.
Whatever it is, it does not belong to Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism or any of the others. While I believe in angels, I don’t believe in religion.
Those thoughts spawned this poetic rant:
One night I found myself in tears wishing I were somewhere other than where I was.
The next morning I dragged my spirit out of a ditch and told myself to get on with it. I wrote the poem below as part of that process.
Don’t like the cards you’ve been dealt? Deal yourself a new hand.
hack and kill
a poem by punkie
Hack and Kill went up the hill
To see whom they might slaughter.
Just for kicks they fired their sticks
Amidst a bunch of squatters. Read More…