Maybe I'll Accept Who I Am

Maybe I'll Accept Who I Am

Empty and alone I stare at four walls. The lamp light is off and nobody calls.
This sinking feeling I have makes me scared to wander through life climbing up empty stairs.
A sickness has took hold of the feeling I once had and twisted my gut from what's good to what's bad,
As I grasp on real tight to the air that I breathe. There's nobody here except little old me.

But maybe I can find somewhere in this place,
But maybe all these tears will give way to embrace,
But maybe I alone will look into this face,
And maybe I'll accept who I am.

Quiet in the streets, no one's here to play. All the children have gone their own separate way.
Somewhere in a room a mother shed's her soul and her lost long lover hasn't returned from a war.
I only mumble softly for there's one witness to the need and the desolation creeps in for kill and for feed,
As I grasp on real hard to the air that escapes. There's nobody here I accept my own fate.

But maybe I can see through the dark and the meek,
But maybe through the years I will find what I seek,
But maybe I alone will give chase to what I plea,
And maybe I'll accept who I am.

That chair over there rocking gently alone with no man on it's seat to call it his throne,
And the shutters in this dream all will clap and will crash with a lion's roar on the ground's wasting vast.
As the world all around has crumbled and piled, I will lie down and watch it for just a little while,
As I grasp on real sound to the air thick and dank with loneliness all around there is no one to thank.

Time will keep going when flesh turns to ash. There's no way of knowing how long this will last.
As the keeper has mirth in the smile on their mouth, when they open to speak cannot hear what they shout.
I am dying, I know, from the torture inside. It is me that I poke all the places I hide,
As I grasp one last breath from my lips in a gasp. Can anyone hear me last words that I ask?

But maybe I can find somewhere in this place,

But maybe all these tears will give way to embrace,

But maybe I alone will look into this face,

And maybe I'll accept who I am...yes maybe I'll accept who I am.

Pieces of Love...

Pieces of Love...

     when in the course of time and tale
     that you find someone who will be
                         there
                         to be
                         what
                        we see
                         to us
                         or to
                         some
                          who
                          will
                          see
                         what
        they feel will be the biggest
        chance for their two hearts


               there              has
         got to be a      better way
      to be in love with one who has
     no idea of what love holds when
      it holds your heart so close that
         it hurts to breathe in or out
           despite the aid of a one
                who will be there
                      in the end
                           ...


         it was                            a love
         of all                             or none
        when                             she saw
        him in                            that way
        so he                             did ask
        with                               all he
        had to                           spend
        a time                            with her
        and then                         some
        thing                               some
        piece                            of what           ~mobe's
        was lost                       inside her        love to her
        had been put back again for them     all and her all
          making a happiness contented         to her loves.    

An Obligation to Provide Safety

my baby is off to the land of home. Her father is taking her on their annual trip to his and mine home state to spend time with his family. She loves these trips and I begrudge her that fact, now meaning to. I just hate her enthusiasm and miss her so much and could live without the run-down of all the crap he is doing.

I am not a cunt. I want her to have fun and I want her to be able to tell me she is having fun but I really feel kicked in the gut when she has to tell me each and every dollar he spends on her reducing their relationship to a financial deal, making him look like a bigger ass and making me feel like a poverty stricken failure to make her smile. Is it wrong that I took a little joy in the fact that while he sent her out with her new "step mommy" to shop for the trip that she lost the brand-new cell phone he gave her? Ironically she spent less that a total of ten days with him this past calendar year and he feels the need to give her a cell, but she cannot take it home-my rules. I don't think it is a necessary piece of equipment for her considering it is a source of problems with school and driving and paying attention as far as teens are concerned. Because of our genetics, she hasn't a need to call as she is with me at mostly all times or at a family member's house where they have a phone. She is well looked after. But he got her phone, knowing she would never be allowed to bring it home so long as she lives under my roof (yes, I do check her things as per my right!) so he wasted his money on just wasting it for the mere fact of he could and knows I cannot. (Yay, Dad of the YEAR!)

Add to the fact he denies she has a disability and refuses to tell or explain it to his family and they have all booked her visit with all sorts of "no-no's" to which are difficult to a child of fifteen to say no to on their own. Children rely on the adults in their lives to be the heavy and the "Jiminy Crickets" and get short-changed when we try to do otherwise. His denial means he is refusing to provide a safe environment for her and he is more concerned over his good time than making accommodations. His family, if they were told at all, I am sure do not even know what she has so they can do the research themselves. In a metaphorical sense he is allowing a blind child to walk alone on railroad tracks and crippling her capability to help herself. So I will be depressed, angry and unhappy until she comes home safe and sound. I will worry until I die that he has caused irreparable damage and I will be wary when she is a little older as to whether she can handle her restrictions on her own.

It has been brought to my attention it will be her choice to choose to live as she should having a long and happy life as she makes it or chooses to be foolish and making her life painful and short. It sucks that we can sacrifice so much and love so completely and not be allowed to have a say in that! So, if you're in the greater Springfield Massachusetts area and see a guy who resembles a cross between Prince and Sonny Bono with a full-figured short blonde white beautiful eyes but only a tender age of fifteen, tell her I love her and miss her and will be here miserable until she gets home and punch him in the face...just make sure you tell him it was his parents' fault for not providing him with the safety he needed to avoid that disaster!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

To Keep or Not To Keep...

to keep or not to keep that is the question. It isn't what we want for a life that matters so much as the choices we have and what we choose.

You have options. You have always had them, but when you are a child you are brainwashed into thinking you have none and that everyone and everything must flock to the same staff, from the same shepherd as the sheep before them had. I love someone who loves me, but we don't have a perfect relationship. No surprise there as many of you have been or are in the same situation. We talk about love and loving and being in love but never talk about the options of loving. If one does not have perfection and wants to strive for it, then who are the "yous" and "theys" to tell them they shouldn't or couldn't stretch for perfection based upon your own beliefs. You have the option to pursue that end, although possibly non-existent, realm of the perfect companion. I want that. No lying here. And I know everyone wants that, but we barter for what we settle for and is there any wonder in the fact that so many failed relationships or marriages are out there?

I get so crazy when I fall in love. I think we all do. I don't think rationally and have to rely on instinct as a guide. Leaving it up to family and friends is not a good idea in my case considering both have thought that homeless, drug using, alcoholic cheating, wife beating assholes were all I was good for. They still do and I could spend this post telling you why I speculate that they do or I could refuse to let them run this[ ]space and move onto my own erratic behavior and how I can fix this shit before I get too deep again.

The man I love is handsome and funny and sweet and loyal and faithful (as far as I know) and doting on his child. But he isn't perfect and I know that most of you are thinking to yourself: "What is her deal?!? That guy is a GEM!" But be fair, you don't know the whole truth. This was a demonstration just to show you that I'm not the only one to short-change myself as I think all creatures do when we see only the good points in the beginning and then look closer and find the "gem" is flawed...So, back on track, I get turned on by him so uncomfortably that I think about him constantly and it gets me...like right there! So where's the issue? He is naive and I have yet to be fulfilled, and he is also "closed-minded" which makes enlightenment more so a problem, showing me a bleak future sexually speaking. He matters a great deal to me and is one busy man with all he does for others. Just to get time with him is next to impossible, and then it serves that I am just there to assuage him and please him, feeling a little left out and one-sided.

I know he doesn't intend this to be this way and this, my friends, is what not telling the truth does! At some point many women have lied to him. They have told him he is "the bomb" and he is awesome and all that happy hooah about his prowess (or the lack thereof) and he bought it, hook, line, sinker...hell even the farm! And now I am met with the difficult task of keeping my mouth shut and enjoying the hundred or other qualities he has, when he can share them in his busy schedule and thus, remain unrequited and unfulfilled, or I can speak up and risk hurting him and either putting a wedge between us or leave altogether, leaving it for someone else to deal with. The truth is when he does "play" with me he is wonderful with kissing and he feels wonderful inside, but like so many blokes before him it is over too quickly. And I don't have a lot of faith in this one being able to be taught much because of the closed-mindedness he brings to the table. It doesn't make me feel like a prostitute as it once had, and if I am forever alone, I would be a masturbating fool either way, so why be alone? Do you see the issue I have here? Would you want to be there? I don't think so and I know you wouldn't as no one is THAT stupid! What if I find someone else but have some time invested in him and then feel the urge to leave and then wreck his world (our world) and his child's and my child's worlds too? There's too much to fuck up with this one as most of the people I keep company in my bed are childless or their children are grown. His and my kids are close to the same ages.

So, why am I talking about this with you? I know my answers and don't feel ready to share them as of yet but felt the topic was a good one. It's like fishing, you cast a line and reel something in and judge it. "Do I keep it or throw it back and if I throw it back will I starve or will better fish come along?" What would you do?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

It Really is Bigger Than You

walking along the beach's sand one happens to notice bits of this and that washing up with the incoming tide. Then you start to take notice of how vast that beach is and that every crumb has its place and each category is different from the last and it all adds up and you become overwhelmed.

The world is your beach. People are the many billions of snail shells with the little gooey "buddy" in his house and all the other objects are things for them to fight over and covet. With as many species as we have walking or flying above sea level, it just might surprise you to know that there are far more below sea level and we have barely covered the surface of what actually is the final tally. With all of this life teaming in every nook and cranny in this world, then why do some individuals go around acting like it all evolves around them. I mean, there are some really selfish assholes out there that think MY sole purpose is to be at their beck and call while they get to walk freely without anyone to answer to or a care in the world. I am not someone's servant and really don't want to ask people for favors as I do, but I have had to accept that I need assistance from time to time. It's a shame really when you are able to see the people who I have asked for assistance who do absolutely nothing with their day or energy. I'm a hell of a bitch because I choose those lazy fucks deliberately, spreading my disdain everywhere I go.

I had so much energy when I was a kid they named a drink after me. Jolt Cola had double the sugar and double the caffeine and was a trip on fizzy fuzzy sweet coolness...but seriously. (no it wasn't REALLY named after mobe but could have been with the way I jolted about town and had four jobs at the age of eleven) My kid is a sweet girl who is talented and intelligent but one of those so called lazy shits. I feel for her because her lack of ambition is not going to provide her anything, and I don't know how I can lead when the example she sees now, with me more sedentary now than I was then, isn't as good a one as I know I have been in the past. It bugs me when I ask her to do something I know I can do and that she should be able to do but she gives me grief. I have even told her I ask her because she needs to be more occupied than she is and more active and until she is, I will continue to find ways to make her active, it's my job. But here's the kicker, my "job" in teaching her doesn't seem to be working effectively and I don't know how else to convey to her that she is setting herself up not only for failure, but also setting herself up for a long road of pain and sloven behavior which will lead to heart problems and health issues down the road. I worry so much about her. She gets these examples not just from her mother's poor state of health but also from the other adults in her life and the peers in her life that more than qualify for the slacker of the year award. Her father being the king of the slack. He has shirked his responsibilities more than a hooker shirks her clothes for a john. It sickens me and disturbs me and she spends the next two weeks with a man who didn't want to visit her at all excepting a grand total of ten days out of the last eleven months when he had the opportunity to have her any and almost all weekends. Tonight I worry even more...mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

The Mind of Mobiuschic

the essence of idea is the invention of want. When I am alone it is my thoughts and time that be the only consistent companions to my ire. It would surprise you that my genius, if you will be kind enough to grant me the title for a short while, is the culmination of a putrid heart and mind capable of a guilt free zone just once in a while and long enough to be useful.

I am such. I am corrupt, capable and charming. These three will take you far, but the real glue comes in the education to be able to know what to do with it all. And I refuse to sit down and think to myself foolishly that I am as great as I ever will be. That statement is rarely true and as I keep absorbing new information and ideas, I keep perfecting my craft, even if it's a corrupt piece of entertainment. There's no denying that it is entertaining or that it has a certain taste it can leave in one's mouth. Lord knows and the fates chuckle on more than one occasion when I dare to visit my own writ at a later date to find I ask myself just what the hell I was thinking. And the other days when I know for sure I hit pay-dirt in a sense. Tonight I will lay my head down and allow my mind the disturbed thoughts most shun and awaken refilled with new inventions and creations of disdain or joy (we both know which one I have the most proclivity for~giggles) and will present to you another hilariously dark look into the chaos that is the mind of mobiuschic (your mobe)...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Allegorical Space

Allegorical Space~

clock watching spending time ticking and not liking the sound of my heart flicking in rhythmic stance to take a chance that I'll survive the dance of sorrows and solace.

we run so fast for time and treat and scurry along with tiny feet to a song and beat drummed on with not a care in the world which is no easy feat.

something has gone awry and amiss and aloft and atrocities that show what people do not and lazy is the idle mind for when the clock starts to unwind the dinging ringing clamor calls

spanse of sight and degree of flight to show great might what for no fright because the wind can send them in and do us again new summer win

breathes long lost at what a cost when mother cried for one who lied and shoved a letter supposed for better but decreed to all no place or ball but dungeon wall

time does change as life refrains and writes a name on window pane through foggy spew and morning dew we ask who knew what they just drew

a day will end with cause for rend to make you send a tear we lend an ear for song they that lived to long and not done wrong shall carry on

it is done they say this last one way may make us gray and wither down so clown is sad and on the ground for lover lost and not quite found

discussion nail within a pail of holes they wail shot through a sail on higher tide the skiff will glide and toss to side for horizon wide

buried at sea a sand bug flea on doggy knee covered fur and sir can I see her will you let her appear or must wait a new year when I go they fear as time grows near

to the last of centuries past and lifetime vast on sailor mast white sheet held high up to the sky our thought will fly on starry nigh

is all to have a few good laughs and dally dory through this whirl but pleasant dreams deny what seems and end to folly allegory

~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Love Thyself...

the lies that are told are never more truthful than the rationalization that brought them to fruition. We err consistently and yet, we want not in others to see this erroneous side of ourselves.

People can make all the excuses in the world for their behavior. And I am no different nor is any other creature. When looking on the antics and attitudes of cats and dogs, one finds it easy to recognize this fact time and again. A cat is high-tailing it through a house it knows like the back of its paw and suddenly forgets the glass enclosure to the lanai that it is about to crash into. It was pure stupidity on the part of the cat but true to nature, he shakes his head and walks off slowly with his tail in the air as if he "intended" his mistake from the get go. The lie was in the fact he tried to play it off as intended (for those of you slow on the take).

In relationships I do this. And I know I am not alone. I decide early on what I will and won't accept and then get less than I deserve by allowing them to do such (my own glass enclosure), and then, shake it off making the excuse that it was okay or providing a much needed rationalization to why I am having a change of heart on what I deserve. This makes me an enabler and it is something I see surface time and again in my interpersonal relationships. Don't get me wrong, I want things to go smoothly and know that I have difficulty in choosing what is best for myself. And even when I have allowed others to choose for me much to my dismay, it only serves to jade me that much more a shade of green for all the hell it causes as a result of their choices failing as well as my own do, and it's not their fault or blame. It's my own. I give up. I am changing again, I think. I want to be with someone but need to see that I am perfectly fine without and it is not a detraction from who I am as a person should I choose to stay alone rather than repeat mistake after mistake. I am a good person whether alone or in partnership and will no longer settle for less than a partnership. Hell, I am not even going to look for a partner (and probably won't see one should he knock me clear on my ass either!) and might even consider another bout of celibacy for a duration while I sort out my self worth.

I am ultimately happy with myself and accept what I cannot change at this time. Sure, I am not as pretty as I used to be but who is at age forty? I am not as strong as I once was but neither are the majority of people who have reached their mid-life strife. I am not as capable of remembering things like I used to but am not in total memory loss, so I feel safe and secure in that at least I have things to be thankful for. It's a shame really, when I see so many going through what I am and I have no way to convince them that it is okay to just exist alone and get to know themselves. I want to be with someone and have finally accepted that I may never be.

So, when you lay your head down on your pillow or wherever tonight, think to yourself on what you have. Think about what your strengths are and find and surmise what you can do to make those factors of yourself a market you can achieve. Like your fathers and mothers before you have said, don't buy the first horse you ride and don't buy the first gallon of milk on the shelf. It may be  bad or the wrong one, expired. Just keep walking until you can find what you need to ride and keep drinking water until the milk is fresh and just eat toast with tea until you can find the meat in your life. No one can make you happy but you and you have to be happy by and with yourself before you can be able to advertise your availability to another. How you perceive yourself affects how you market yourself! Believe in your product and keep improving on its design and it won't fail. For now, I am just believing in "mobe" and her sweet, dark, silly, sexy, intelligent, articulate, ample, curvaceously endowed, red-headed self. I suggest you do the same!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Father's Day Present: Part 3

a day to celebrate "paternality" was upon everyone, and soon Madaleine and the boys would make one of the most memorable ones to be had. Her sons adored her and missed their father much but knew he was gone from them and would all someday be reunited in the end. They wanted their momma happy and felt she was too tired and wasting herself in her grief. Kids and family are smarter than we give them credit for.

Phillipe's sons were intelligent and had saved their allowance for months to buy a spectacular present for the father who wouldn't show up to receive it. They already knew they wouldn't make the annual trip to the cemetery because they had discussed it with their mom and they went last week as a kind of make-up visit. They loved her and never resented her tears, and though young Thomas was not in the know of meeting his father first hand, he never lost an opportunity in how his brothers filled in in his absence and his momma made sure he would know what a dad he had wanted to be. Then end of the week was approaching fast and all three of them were looking forward to going to the beach house their father's parents owned and spending some time with mom. It was a good way to spend a holiday, when she had to play her role and the added burden of love of another. They decided they would honor her, still keeping in the memory of their dad, for all she meant to them. Phillipe was no longer using "junior" as a part of his name and since starting high school, has grown quite well. He made arrangements with the money his brothers and he saved to have a present delivered to the cape house and was so excited because it was so long since she received anything. Only this time the present was not just from the boys but their father too.

Senior Phil had a will and not all of its contents were revealed upon death because he knew his loving wife was wonderful but not what others would call a strong woman. He knew if ever something was to happen to him it would devastate her, and this year marked the fifth anniversary of his passing, so it was time. It took him a long time to come up with a timeline on what he thought was acceptable and what he thought others would find suitable for her mourning and knew also it wouldn't bother him to know if she hadn't waited or couldn't stop her waiting altogether. But he made arrangements that on this day, his death day's fifth anniversary, she would receive a letter from the assessor that he wrote some several years ago telling her how proud of her he was and how well she was doing and how much he didn't want her to waste her life because she deserved happiness, always, for that was what he wanted, intended for her, if even fate stepped in and kept them apart. He freed her from their bond in such a way that it was forever keeping with them always a bond that will never be broken. And she didn't know the maelstrom that was about to toss her little sad world into a new cyclone.

Young Phillipe and Paulie stopped by the flower store on the way to pick up their brother from school. They walked the route everyday and it was easy to plan having this time together, just the two of them, alone. The local florist knew them and would always be kind remembering the tragedy that had struck on Father's Day years ago when a drunk driver would rip that poor family apart and leave her to fend for them alone, the four of them herself as she and her husband were happy but not necessarily well off. She watched as the two sons came inside and listened intently to their request. They wanted a dozen red roses and three white blooms to be sent to their grandparents' beach house the next town over on Father's Day during the lunch hour. They gave explicit instructions knowing their mother kept a tight schedule since their father's passing to keep some order in their lives. At lunch they would be on the back porch with mom in her sunhat, always wary of her creamy skin and the boys tooling around in the yard with Charlie, their grandpa's collie and the little fluff-ball that kept grandma's lap warm named Tootsie, a mini-pom. Jeannie was excited because no one in town ever knew her to be one to keep a secret and it made for an opportunity to change their opinion of her. She would be a true friend and keep it too.

Once packed and headed to the beach, they sat giggling in the back seat because tomorrow was the big day. Little Tommy knew what was up and kept so quiet, like a big boy, clutching his daddy's picture he kept in a small plexiglass frame so he could carry it always and always have him close by. The kid talked to it and no one ever dared mock him or poke fun for they would have the two older brothers to deal with. Only once was anyone foolish enough to tease the blond boy, and the end result was a broken nose and two school suspensions, out of school suspensions, to which the older boys happily served. After that, no one was a fool again. So sitting in the back seat he quietly loved his two older "fathers" and his momma and watched frantically, counting out the time until they approached the gravel drive to the old brown-oak shingled cape house with the white trim. He could barely contain his glee when the tires made the crunching noise on the broken pieces of shale and pebble as the Buick pulled in, and he tumbled out of the car with as much joy but not before getting barreled over by his grandpa's dog. Charlie loved the little boy because he was different and was special like he was. Charlie lost a leg in a fight with a moving car and it made people take notice of him the way they did with this shy, sweet kid who lost his dad before he was born, and he loved when the child put his thin arms around his furry neck and squeezed for dear life. Made the collie lick wildly at the cherry kool-aid stains on the kid's face and then, only briefly, leaving him to go greet the other boys before returning to follow little Tommy everywhere for the rest of the visit. Madaleine was relieved for the company and relieved for the vacation and was trying real hard to not spoil it for her boys.

Mrs. Hanrahan came out with a tray of iced tea filled with window pane slices of lemon and sweetened to perfection. She adored her daughter(in law)and never felt her a hindrance or blamed her for anything in the past. They always got along and she knew her son had a found a good match because this girl was frail to most eyes but strong as hell and she could see her resolve, and also knew Madaleine was strong enough to know when to ask for help. The girl looked thin and this vacation was a good way to fatten her up and give her a break from her ambling grandsons, angels that they were. She made plans to provide all of the kids and their momma's favorite foods while Patrick kept the boys company fishing and playing on the beach. She knew her daughter would venture down and spend time with the boys, but she wanted to spend time with her and go shopping and such. She knew it was time her daughter found her grandsons a man to guide them and a man who would love her and protect her and them, and she knew it was what her son had wanted for he told her so when the kids were just in high school and he came home to tell his parents his intentions. He made good on every one of them too. And she didn't feel guilty about her surprise she had planned after finding out the boys were going to send their mother flowers. Phillipe called from school to ask his grandmother how to go about doing it and it gave her the perfect opportunity to do some matchmaking, one of her favorite past-times as the village's happily received busy-body. So, after dinner and the dishes were cleared and the boys down in the living room with their poppa watching wrestling, she sat and had coffee and talked with her beautiful daughter.

Phillipe Sr.s brothers were good boys but never chose as well as he had and she would never let the other daughters-in-laws know Madaleine was her favorite and never breathed a word that she considered her as much a daughter as she did her own sons her kin. Her son favored this girl and they both were too much alike in looks that she would always be thankful because she would always see her beautiful boy in their sons faces, for they looked so much like both their momma and their dad. She talked about the upcoming weather for the week and the barbecue Patrick and she had planned for the morrow and the trips into town to shop that she wanted to go on with one of the other daughters. It felt good to talk of such things and time got ahead of them and soon the sound of Patrick 's snoring could be heard by both Hanrahan women and the boys were fast asleep, so she and their mother laid blankets on them and her husband and retired to their rooms upstairs. Natalie, Natty as she was called, knew Patrick would wake up himself in one big snore and join her shortly.

The next day was a bustle and busy as all get up with Phil's younger brothers showing up with their wives and kids for the Father's Day picnic planned. Men behaving like boys and women cooking and chatting was the usual mode on a Cape Cod weekend, and soon all were engulfed in the comings and goings on of each other as they shucked butter-sugar corn and chopped salad while the men fought about what kind of fire was needed for the chicken and clambake. The potato salad was made two days ahead by Natty and her sister, the boys' great aunt and soon everyone would break for lunch as the hissing of the clams told them it was ready. A van pulling into the drive had brought the tight-knit family to attention, and out of the driver's seat and into the back went the delivery man before anyone could tell who he was. Madaleine smiled sweetly at Patrick, her father in law and told him she now knew where his son got his romantic side from, assuming he had sent some flowers to his beloved this day. But the look of perplexity on his face told her something was up and she turned to see what it was about just as a tall, lean man about a few years older than her approached. He looked rankled and apologetic and called out for a "Mrs. Hanrahan" to which all of the women chuckled and then repeated "I am looking for a Mrs. Madaleine Hanrahan" and stepped up to the woman with the shocked look on her face with the long rose box and the card as well as an envelope.

"My names Michael, I'm sorry if I'm late but this isn't my route and I was filling in for Jeffrey and such and blew a tire when some jer-" cutting himself off noticing there were children present, "...man driving drunk cut me off causing me to jump a curb." The hairs stood up on the back of Madaleine's neck remembering the photos of an all too familiar truck jumped upon a curve and smashed into a telephone pole and her eyes began to well. Seeing the distress he caused, he knelt beside her asking if there was something wrong and placed his hands over hers in her lap as a gesture of kindness. She sobbed uncontrollably as he told her he was fine and wasn't hurt. Then he stood up and offered her his shirt sleeve to wipe her face and mentioned that Jeannie asked him to deliver this for her because it was so important and then proceeded to explain that he left his sister's and his parents' house to come out here for his sister. At the florist shop an attorney had stopped in and when he heard that Michael was headed to the Hanrahan house, he bade him to take a letter and sped along his merry way.

Madaleine was concerned and opened the box, first deciding that good news would cushion whatever that letter was about and saw the pretty roses lain in tissue and the card that read, in her oldest son's handwriting and signed by all three, "Happy Father's Day to you for being the wonderful mother you are and raising the fine sons I gave you, Phil." Her hands shook as she laid the box down to hug all three boys and Michael peeked down at what the card read and his eyes began to well up, but he pulled it back before anyone in the family would notice. Then he apologetically handed her the letter and she carefully tore off the one end and blew it open and pulled out the letter:

Dearest Maddy, love
  If you are reading this then I have been gone for some time. I never wanted to leave and you have to believe me when I tell you this and hope you will forgive me for not saying goodbye (if I don't). I love our boys and you more than life, and maybe that is why we all have had to go through this, but what really has me worried is you. I miss you and miss the smile you used to have and feel it is time, Maddy.
It is time to let go and love again. I want you to love and be loved, and if I cannot be there to love you, maybe someone else can. I know we said "till death do us..." but it shouldn't be this way. It shouldn't be a punishment.
  I asked Mr. Nossvberg to hold this for five years from when I am gone. I knew you wouldn't understand why I did this but I had to because as your husband it was my job, and I took those words seriously. Kiss Phillipe and the boys and let them know I am watching them and you too. Be happy love, I will be here when it is your turn and know the boys and will keep you company as long as they can. Who knows what life holds, only I know I hold you in my arms every night, even up here and want you to know you are not alone, and I refuse to accept you will choose to be alone and hurting forever. I will love you always and forever and that is enough for me, but you need someone. Someone to tell you how beautiful you are and how much you are needed and loved, someone to teach the boys and hold you at night when I can't. Go and find that someone and don't think of me or what you think I will think. You have always had my blessing since I first set eyes on you when we were thirteen. I love you now, as I loved you then and I will always love you,


Yours always,
Phillipe


...now the tears came. The gentlemen excused themselves, with the exception of Michael and took the boys to the beach while the sisters cleared the table and let Madaleine and Natty sit down. Michael was at a loss for words but couldn't help feeling something for this creature in front of him. "What happened?...I mean...what happened to your husband, Miss?" he asked carefully. Madaleine looked up into his blue eyes and thought how lovely they were as she told him apologetically about how when she had cried earlier it was for him because her hubby, her Phillipe, was killed by a drunk driver much in the same way he was nearly gone. The words kept pouring from out there and couldn't stop. She told him how she blamed herself and missed him so much and felt guilty and wrong for even trying to look for another. How she got along and that her and the boys were ok. She talked for a couple of hours and even walked a little ways with Michael before she realized her mother in law had left the two alone. She needed to say these things and didn't know why it had to be to this "Michael" but it did, and he listened intently as she spoke, watching her full mouth and her lean and tired jaw and thought to himself how good it would feel to hug her and hold her and comfort her. Then he touched her arm and asked her if he can call upon her to check in on her and the boys. "Maddy" clumsily said yes and scribbled her cell number down and walked him to his van and saw him off as he smiled and waved, pulling out of the property and onto the main drag. Back in the house she found her children's grandmother whistling and smiling, and a thought came to her mind that this was orchestrated by the shrewd woman but she dismissed it. She will never know why life had given her the blows she received and now didn't care. She was sure of Phillipe's love and that she was hurting not just herself but the boys by not letting someone be in their lives to aide and teach and comfort them. Now, thanks to the "presents" she had received, she was sure she would try harder and she was sure if Michael called, she would answer...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Father's Day Present: Part 2

there was a time when it was enough to just dream. When the imagined sound of his voice would make her knees weak and make her hands tremble as they once had at his touch. It made her comforted to know she can visit those moments over and over, and it was enough for a while.

He would be across the room intently watching a program on the television and she would slink into his lap in the negligee she wore on their wedding night. He wasn't the sort to be easily distracted or to be toyed with, but the site of the fluffy peaches and cream see-through fabric got him in the groin every time. It wouldn't be mere seconds before he would be up and out of the easy chair with her scooped up in his arms and carrying her off into their bedroom. He would plop her on the bed gently and allow her to watch him undress slowly. It wasn't the goofy and funny "pretending to be" a burlesque dancer kind of undress. He would unbutton or pull off whatever shirt he wore in a slow deliberate manner and then unzip his jeans while running his thumb along the waistband of his jockies, painfully slow, as he watched her eyes follow his digit. Then he would lock gazes with her and tuck the thumb in deeper as he slid off first his left leg, then his right one and "tricked" his socks off with the foot of the other leg, and then climb in a cat-like manner as he prowled ever-so-closely to her form in her fluffy negligee.

His nakedness made her warm and burning hot to the point that she would sweat in next to nothing at all. He was so comfortable in his skin and it amazed her because so many men were not. They'd quickly jump out of their clothes, some even bold enough to make fun or play at it in jest, then even more quickly jump under the covers and always so aware of the coverings the whole time they'd fumbled through the feeble attempt at making love. Phillipe was different, when his touch caressed her he WAS making love to her. Those fingers gliding along her jawline and moving slowly down the throat and between her creamy bosoms before resting underneath the weight of one of her breasts and reaching, churning in nature to tease a nipple before closing in on her stomach and nether regions. It took painstakingly forever, and she replayed his strip over in her mind the whole time until she could feel the juices slithering from her loins and soaking the underside of her thighs through the sheer film of the matching fruit colored panties. She was ready. She was ready from the moment the fire was in his eyes, maybe even from the minute she chose to put the damn thing on, and now, she wished she hadn't because it would tear while taking it off this time because she wanted him so badly. It was insane as her nostrils and his took in the sweet scent of her aroma as the heat rose from her body from being pinned to the bed. Soon he will be inside of her, forcefully and meaningfully but never cruelly. He would glide in and out effortlessly with purpose as if he still knows there's someplace he hasn't been, he needs to be, to have her completely memorized. She shuddered when he went for the flimsy strings holding her panties together and on.

Phillipe knew what he was doing. Sure there was a game on and he was tired but he couldn't help himself, and he knew she would know it when she wore that gown, if you could call it that. Their two children were conceived as a result of that gown and the first was even on the same night they married and coming into this world exactly two hundred eighty days later to the minute. He was so proud that day and it drove him with even more force tonight to "punish" her and torment her, for it was the only way he knew he could get through to her when she was wild like this. He buried himself deep inside her and kept digging in until he couldn't get his ass in there and held his place, like it was his throne-his podium, as he nipped her neck and and lowered his swollen lips to her breasts and breathed in her scent again and then withdrew with a recoiled shiver, because it was so hard to hold back from her but he must. He would make her pay for her interruption but not without her knowing how much he wanted her and would never deny her. Teeth and tongue swirled maddeningly at her dark circles and flicked the taut flesh of her nipples as his hips played with her vulva while he pumped slowly in and out of them without ever burying inside, making her writhe all that much more in her need to have him. His mouth climbed back up and he bit her chin then thrust his tongue into her waiting sweetness as he plunged mercilessly into her with as much force as he could drive and again, buried it there and holding his place and digging in with as much force as to push her back some several inches on their bed, the one Phillipe Jr. and Paulie were made in. He was attentive and knew her schedule better than she, most days and knew neither would ever forget tonight. Little did he know she would replay this night over and over for years to come.

It was all she could do to claw his back and pull him tighter into her as the waves overtook her and she gasped out in breathes that seemed choked as he filled her again with his own carnal growl. It wasn't enough for either and his refusal to remove himself forewarned her that she was being reprimanded for her misbehavior as he kept pumping himself in and out of her while bruising her neck and shoulders and breasts with his needful kisses. She felt him erupt each and every time and enjoyed when he went down to lick her wounds, coming up with their mingled taste and kissing her, and she slid low underneath him to taste more from his hardness. She opened her lips only slightly to kiss the tip before engulfing it completely in her mouth and savoring their love while she had made him harder in her mouth and worked him to another milky frenzy with her own teeth and tongue as he slowly crawled over her in such a position to bury his scruffy face and lips between her thighs to devour her and torment her with flicks that would make her thrash and her throat open up as she gasped in her own orgasm, so he could push his cock in deeper and fuck her mouth and fill her from himself the way he knew she loved. She never was able to accept all of the sticky torrent and had the remnants on her chin and mouth when he came up to kiss her soundly, as it was his hardness never gave up after that abuse and he pounded it into her swollen labia and parted them to pump her ferociously. Their rhythm came from their years of learning and exploring one another and the two truly looked like one in that moment as her legs entwined his hips and they rode each other and kissed each other through another spray of their love and they crashed into wave after wave with the evidence soaking them and her ass and the bed. She even bled a little from the force of him but didn't mind and offered her ass up to him in its soaked state, but not before he pulled her upright facing away from him and removed the shredded clothing still left on her sweat-soaked skin and then pushed her lovingly back down to her pillow as he entered her ass.

It was too much and he wasn't even sure he had any more in him, but before he would get all inside, his head engorged as he erupted once again pumping white hot ropes of his seed into her cavity, then pulling out to thrust it mid-spray into her waiting and gasping pussy. She came again, locking his cock in and whimpering because she knew he would rip it from her to complete his exploration of her ass once he finished pulsing his cum into her tight vagina and as soon as the thought escaped her mind, he pulled away and made her cum again from the pain it drew and then shoved himself back into her ass and proceeded to ride her hard and vile and lean over her in heaves while grabbing a fist full of her long hair and biting her back and neck and whispered into her "you wanted this" and "you are mine, always mine." Her body was so frail beneath his and she crumpled onto her belly as he remained in her ass pumping again more of himself into her with his need to fill every opening of her to guarantee he owned her as much as she did him. Never mattered that the other was tired or busy or watched the clock, and neither cared if there was work or responsibility in the morning, and neither even knew how much time had passed, but both could tell you they came mostly in unison and several waves at that. His balls slapped her pussy into orgasm as he unloaded another shot into her ass making the muscle tighten around his cock bringing a cry from his lips as he was now pumping her by animal instinct without care of pain, bruise or mark and feeling her ass grind into him egging him on as he ripped her and she bled some more and begged him never to stop. Another load blew from his coiled body and he pulled out quick-too quick-making her scream as he thrust this engorged member while still cumming into her vagina, ripping her to shreds and pumping the flesh and at the same time, bruising her inside and out.

By the time they were finished he had so much of himself inside of him and ten times that inside of her and lain her slowly back on the bed, for they both rose off more than once, and knelt between her thighs to clean her and lick her swollen skin and torn flesh tasting the metallic of her minute spattering of blood along with her sweet juices and his own. He licked her gently like a mother cat would her kitten and then allowed his tongue to play with her while he made her whimper through several more orgasms of her own, guaranteeing his seed would stay in her for days as her body seized each and every time to grab it and pull it in deeper. Phil loved the way she would smell of him for days after and even sometimes weeks, and knew it was his way of letting others know she was his, for no man would dare to ask her and most did admire her. No one dared question their love or their lovemaking for they never fought publicly or degraded one another. They kidded enough and chided a time or two, but his scent was so much a part of her that her own mother wouldn't find her in a blind at night. He filled her completely into her womb and knew in exactly two hundred eighty days they would have another tell-tale evidential sign of their love for one another, and he was proud, very proud, as he lowered his mouth one last time to whisper into her full red luscious lips "I can't wait to see if he has your eyes or mine," then fell asleep across her own slumbering body but not before hearing her mutter those words he knew were true, "I love you Phillipe."(tbc)~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Father's Day Present: Part 1

by the door stood an old picture frame that she kept there in the hopes that if she stared at it long enough she would slip away and live forever in the dream of the moment it was taken and be back in his arms forever. He had been gone too long, and they say one gets over such loss with enough time. Only, this time it seemed like the world's most impossible task and she wasn't up for it.

Her tiny body crumpled to the floor in heaves as she clung to his photo. If only she hadn't gone to the mall with her sister. If only the kids hadn't stayed late after school. If only she could have stopped the car and that man who plowed into him while on his way to pick up the kids, their kids. If only they could have a "do over" so she could tell him how much she missed him and hold him and kiss him and tell him every minute how much he meant to her. There never is enough time to do the things we want to do. The clock in the hall struck three and soon the children will be home. Madaleine picked herself up and wiped the tears from her smooth face and took another look before placing the small frame of them embraced together back on the table by the door. Dinner and things needed to be readied now because once the boys returned, all hell will break loose as it always does at three forty-five each day from Monday through Friday during the school year. Phillipe and Paulie and Thomas had been such great support to her in the last few years. The two older knowing the man their father was and Thomas only understanding through the stories his big brothers told and the many photos they kept around the house. It wasn't normal keeping them, and only since they moved to the new apartment had she decided to get all the pics she could find of Phillipe Sr. to place everywhere and in every room, so she wouldn't feel so alone and so the boys would never forget him.

In the five years he'd been gone she tried to date. One fumble after another and so short on time with juggling soccer and pee-wee football and such for three growing boys. The men were polite and handsome and good candidates but it was always going to be "too soon" and she would always compare the way they ate or the way they slept or the way they wiped their nose to every little twitch that was so familiar in Phil. "Someday," she kept telling herself, "Someday I will be ready...maybe when the boys are grown" and then dismissed the thought because it made her feel like she was cheating or not holding up her end of their vows. She knew it wasn't so but kept feeling lost in the past and that embrace, when Phillipe would sneak up behind her and wrap his large arms about her and push his nose to the back of her neck as he breathed in deeply of her essence and sighed then nipped her gently. Shivers ran down the tired woman's spine as the key turned into the door and Phil Jr. came barreling through the entry with his two younger brothers in tow.

Dinner would be a quiet affair as was the custom when their father was alive. Afterwards, they would clear the dishes, each having a task and converse about the day's activities and how they looked so forward to the weekend having so much already planned. It was Father's Day this upcoming Sunday and they always went to the cemetery and laid flowers down on the concrete slab, only this holiday they will be taking a trip to the beach to bask in the sun and remember times in a more positive light. It wasn't time to let him go just yet, nor was it time to replace. It was just time to not feel sad or to hold the future forever bound in the absence of what was keeping it prisoner from what it could be. She was looking forward to laying in the sun with her big umbrella to shade her as she read some novel or other from her eReader her children had gotten her for her birthday just one month earlier. Madaleine was well on her way, she knew it and again felt the pangs of guilt as she kissed each of her young "men" as they approached. Nothing would stop her from letting them know she loved them, needed them, adored them and always will. She wouldn't let the opportunity slip by.

Alone in her bed she would read on and even write her thoughts out in the notebooks she kept on the headboard and accumulated. Tonight she will hear them snore and dream while her own sleep wouldn't come too soon. "Someday" she thought again quietly to herself, "Someday it won't hurt so much and I will see him again." And with that last final thought, drained of the tears of the passing day and the torment of guilt she has bore for so many years, a woman in love, still, fell asleep with hope, dreams and love for her future(tbc)... mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

It's a Litigious Thing

there are plenty of judicial problems to be had with people suing each other from one state to the next. Litigation sucks especially when based upon the premise that innocence exists until one is proven guilty. Life isn't so. You are always guilty in the eyes of your superiors or rulers and even for transgressions they themselves own or have brought about.

I have so many issues going on and it seems unless someone loses an actual limb, I have no rights nor does my child. It is such a rape of the meaning of the system when I am told that I have certain unalienable rights from the day I'm born only to exact them and call upon the authorities to protect them with me and am told they don't mean any more than a shit stain on the toilet paper of life. I am tired of this drivel and this crap and the craptastic sandwich I am served everyday by our elected and "engineered" officials. Wear a condom kiddies, when you walk outside your door, because everywhere you go you may be accused of stuff some other blokes did and then held accountable for it while the governors and mayors and police slide their greasy little fingers into your back pocket and then shove their foot up your ass while they're doing it. One of the most profound examples of injustice can be summed up by a trip some of years back to my home state up Interstate 95 and back. On the return route, whilst driving through the great state of North Carolina, I was pulled over for a traffic infraction. The interesting thing was that I was speeding but I was in the legal right to do so because I was passing a vehicle. The said vehicle was filled with party-goers who were smoking marijuana and drinking and swerving all over the road so I sped up to overtake them and pass far enough ahead to put a safe distance between us while trying to note their license plate number in the dark.

I rolled up on a car dead in the left lane (there were only two coming and two going) and flashed my lights at them. It looked as if there was a person asleep at the wheel and this was confirmed a few seconds later when he startled from the flash of my lights. All I could think of was if I was a semi he would have been dead. My reward for my good deed was him slapping on the siren and pulling me over a short ways down the road and reading myself and my husband at the time the riot act with my toddler asleep in the back seat, yes car seat. I explained to him about the car I passed and he was so rattled by us catching him asleep that he made it his personal vendetta and last vow to make sure I never drive again. Called me a terrorist.(not that it matters but I am the whitest of white with red hair and my hubby was a big Paul Bunyan looking redneck from Florida) My husband and I later speculated the bastard had fallen asleep while on watch in the median and then took his foot off the peddle or something of the sort and rolled onto the highway. Well, I was mortified, cried and even explained to the officer that it was difficult because my speedometer had broke on our trip to the mountains. He just shook his head and acted as though we were drug smugglers. I truly believe if their was a legal and believable way for that shit to haul us in jail he would of and my little girl too! We even speculated that it was common practice to "bait and wait" on unsuspecting vacationers from out of state to feed their police funds and city coffers, as it was just too perfect the way letters from every ambulance chaser known to mankind in the Roanoke Rapids vicinity had shown up the very next day after returning home. The fuckers overnighted them!

For the absolute low low price of $400 US they will "get me off" with no time served and a slap on the wrist for a no contest plea. Ha ha ha. Even the lawyers believed I was guilty or at least they were part of the cog of the system, but what they failed to realize was that I wasn't and the stupid law enforcement officer himself handed me the proof! The ticket was written for reckless driving, endangerment of my passengers, driving with the intent to do bodily harm, improper speed, failure to yield to a traffic control device (the speed limit sign as was later explained) and improper/malfunctioning equipment. He also cited I was belligerent (I assure you some 10 years ago I was quite mouthy but not when it came to authority and am more so now than I ever was and haven't gotten into any trouble as of yet) and threatened assault on his person. (lol) I informed him I would be using my right to litigate and I will see him in court and he said he would make it a personal day so he himself could attend and make sure trash like me was kept off the highways and byways. Insulting and lying prick. Slander is illegal isn't it-certainly litigious isn't it? How about falsifying a report for the intent to maliciously harm? Well he could have signed it Mickey Mouse and referred to me as that "fucking whore" for all he wanted or all I cared but he signed his name legibly right next to the time of infraction and listed it as 3pm that same day. At 3pm that day I was home some ten hours drive away and had the gas receipts to prove it. The sleepy fuck wrote the wrong time down, it was 3am when he had the pleasure of me saving his ass (life) from the real violators who were too drunk to notice him had I not woke him up first, or for any tractor-trailer who would be himself sleepy enough at the wheel. So, I copied the damn thing in triplicate and had each copy notarized before I mailed the original with that "low low" price I was talking about to some "yahoo" in Roanoke Rapids and they found me innocent and warned me to wait a while before returning to the fine state of North Carolina again. I assured them that if I did I would have a cop accompany me and a lawyer too, just in case. To his day I never got my money back and never have found out if that stupid prick died behind the wheel of his car asleep on another day or what. I was guilty in his eyes, the lawyers eyes and, for once, a smart judge's eyes were wise. I still have those extra copies of that ticket somewhere in my files. I look back on that as a perfect example on how the system is stuffed up its own ass. Sure the judge found it wrong but what if he had followed suit and just called me guilty. I would have lost my license to drive ANYWHERE and it would have ruined my life. There are no civil rights, unalienable rights, legal rights unless you are rich and famous and can "buy" into how the system works. Lucky for me I had the $400 for legal representation. People wonder why I am disdainful and why I am angry and why I hate people. Now you know, it's a litigious thing...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her love.

What?

contemplation's destination has got me in a tizzy this evening. It has sored my heart to open bleeding gothic brew and bothersome melodious drowning in my ears. I am so sick of the non absent nose and the droll doldrums of the airy gasps of utterance that befall the lips of the perceivers. AS spectacular debauchery of prude ignorant justification to light the deepest, blackest of cesspools within my mind. Toady is a day of most prophetic and poetic despairing probability.

The verbality and mediocrity of a situation is the direct result of the inclination to want to utilize all vernacular one can muster in a single setting and to forge a creative outlet for what will be the new words and phrases of a billenia. It behooves me to have the foresight to take on such a veritable task and to do so with such gusto and wanton abandon that I have become beside myself and one at the same time with that reflective imagery. Probably too voracious an elocutionary appetite but what can I say? There is a superfluous example of mouthed waste and it could either cause concern for vacating knowledge or bring about substantial change to the likes of a magnitude never witnessed before. The boredom has taken my mind to a darkened and blacked out place of romantic run-off and interjection. It has given way to a fulcrum of profound austerity on which to balance the tongue and the throat for its intake of air. (gasp)....~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

The Stalker: Part 3

to wrench one's heart so free from pain and render owner without disdain shall take a soul so mostly kind to help her put her past behind.

there sits a maiden so imprisoned but fare ~ within four walls out to venture won't dare
when along comes a spider too close to like ~ which brings the fair maiden in course for strike
a whack with a shoe and a smack with a hand ~ and all of the violence was mostly unplanned
even though he was watching and she was eyeing too ~ as he was coming and not the first she knew
tis been this way since a baby she be ~ as the spiders kept trying she soon stopped her flee
when one would crawl closer and drop for a look ~ much to his dismay he would be bound in a book
our maiden is not aggressive to squeamish delight ~ but it terrifies to know they keep on in the night
one too small to defend as they creep ever so ~ in the hopes of stopping by for conversation and more

there sits a spider with curiosity at hand ~ as he teaches his offspring of the task what he can
about the young woman and why it was prudent ~ to tell all her story to each of his students
because she was alone and so sad and depressed ~ that his family and kin and ancestors' quest
to watch and keep vigil always staying within reach ~ to her tears and her sobbing so late they beseech
on her head some will fall to be dust by dawn's light ~ next to wall some were squished with her terrified fright
she was tired of their game and the stalking they'd done ~ believed she was cursed and would never have fun
and decided her best course was to stalk them right back ~ and take up a shoe, newspaper or remote and whack
they kept coming by day by afternoon and by night ~ she heard them alone and without the aid of a light

once in the shower she was startled and bit ~ by a reclusive bastard upon her wet hip
and loathed her the pain and the torturous wound ~ as her flesh was dissolved by his venomous spew
as she frantically slapped and stomped the carcass to dead ~ her left side went numb and she fell on her bed
she ponders her death with a smile so serene ~ and how she had killed without mirth or some mean
and wonders just why they all single her out ~ and don't run and hide when she screams and she shouts
then it happens to come to her one summer's day ~ that they watch her and comfort her in perverted a way
just to know they do want her if even for food ~ has uplifted her spirits enlightened her mood
and may make her a smile that stays on her face ~ shedding new light and happy just allowing her grace

once it has started and there's no turning back ~ one can get quite proficient if giving a knack ~ for the things one endures when mind starts to shudder ~ sets a course for quieter winds on the wings and tail rudder ~ a villainous trial may not be as seeming ~ as more than a friendship not budded or teeming ~ and the mischief t'was made but mistaken by all ~ when the ruse that was laid would tumble down in the fall...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

The Stalker: Part 2

look at her just sitting there all alone. She so needs a friend and my brother once told me about her. I listen all the time to her conversations and know my time is drawing near. Her kind outlives mine, always has, and it's a shame we can't sit and talk over a drink or two and discuss a union of sorts.

I think she knows I watch her. She must because I see her watching me back and hear the words she says to me and to the others like me that aren't even here or are long gone. She's a sad creature really, and it's been told there was a time when she wasn't, though in my day it hasn't been seen. Back in my father's day, long before he was killed tragically at the hand of my own mother, she was quite beautiful and rarely home. We had to keep an eye on her everywhere but now, mostly we just keep tabs on her house and have her room bugged. There's always someone to talk to and there is no shortage of things to say but she sits and combs through the computer and types away her thoughts and ideals like a mad chef hell bent on coming up with the next greatest thing since sliced bread while none too intently watching whatever drivel pops up on the television. I don't even see the point really when you can just tear a hunk off from a loaf and slap some meat to it. Her kind are so complicated but their needs are so basic and my family and I have watched millions of them through the centuries as they wander aimlessly through life afraid of us and other things or small animals that they far outweigh and out produce. It can't be like this forever.

Every time I try to get close to her she freaks. I only want to talk to her and comfort her and let her know I understand. I know how she feels because we feel quite similar. The one good thing is she adores the darkness as much as I do and others like me, so it gives us ample enough time to observe. I have been forewarned not to get too close as she is prone to violence and will attack if she feels threatened. And they think themselves civilized and such but slap and punch and stomp whatever they feel will intrude. I don't know what they are all so afraid of. If they'd only just listen they will hear us and maybe not feel so weirded out by my kin. Seriously, there was a time when they knew how to fend for themselves and were quite nice and accommodating to all creatures great and small and now, they can't even hear their own failing heartbeats. These people have become so ignorant and sad and useless, but I am fond of this one. Like my father before me, I hope to achieve a communication, a relationship with her. She is one of the most interesting of her kind in her displacement within her own likenesses. I have been speaking to her for some several months now but she never says anything remotely obvious to let me know she heard me. I tell her it isn't so bad being one of the largest of her kind. I tell her she's beautiful and a queen and special. I tell her she's gentle and if I were a bigger male I would take her and make her happy; I'd give my life for her. But all I can do is stare and hope she recognizes me and reaches out with her gentle, small but soft hands and caresses me and whispers the affection I feel for her right back. Oh, if only I could be the one to bridge this gap, to make her smile and feel loved again.

Inching closer has gotten me nowhere. It angers her and today she came close to killing me. It hurts. I adore her and she wants to kill me and hasn't heard a damn word I said because she is too grieved for the damage her own people have done to her. It's painful to dwell on and even more painful to know what they have done to her and when I think back on the look of intent upon her face, I get choked up and well up some good and start to writhe in agony. How can I convince her that I love her? How can I secure a sense of safety and let her know she will never be alone or hunger or want again? How can I get her attention in a positive manner so we can have a drink and discussion and see if there is anything I can do, of any service I can be? I am willing to even settle for just friends if that is her wish. I would never hurt her, unless she begged me and we were playing and even then, I wouldn't harm a hair on her head for she is a most regal specimen and deserves to be treated like a queen. Someday...(sigh).~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

The Stalker: Part 1

being stalked is scary. I want you to know that I have been stalked for what seems an awful long time. I am tired of the cat and mouse game and wish it would end as it does neither them nor I any good. Everyday it's the same thing and there are those days where it is worse.

Nothing seems to impede their will on me. I sit quietly and then look up to find them staring. If it isn't him it's his agents, and no matter where I be they're there. It gives me the shivers knowing they have seen everything I have done. Most days I pay no heed and can resume a somewhat fairly normal existence. For me that is hard either way, but at least things will settle down and I can almost forget that I was even part of this little cat and mouse game. I don't know why I am being targeted and don't much care as I have had plenty of offenses to reap up more negative behaviors. I just know that I have done worse and deserve worse and that this stalking business has gotten under my skin because of the duration I have been forced to suffer.

Did you ever have that feeling that eyes are upon you and then spot the perpetrator only to witness his arrogance as he draws in closer and tries to intimidate you. He knows you can hurt him and you know he can hurt you and it should be enough to keep him at his safe peeping distance, but no, it draws him in because he knows he's been caught. If you leave him alone and act as though you don't see him, he'll even get pushy enough to the point where it almost seems he could crawl inside you and whisper vile disruptances and infiltrate your will. But if you make like you're going for him he will run fast and hop whatever hurdles he can to avoid engaging in the fight he knows will ensue. It's a game. The "I am watching you do EVERYTHING" game and it rankles and unsettles the soul. No one should have every waking moment under a microscope and being studied. Our behavior is such that we are compelled to ask questions. Like "what are you looking at?" and "what do you want?" or how about "whatcha studying?" All of them warranted but none will be answered because the staring appears to be their way of play or entertainment and you are their personal life-like television and everything you do from picking your nose before you blow it to farting quietly in a room that you thought was empty and devoid of life outside your own, they are there, watching, and sometimes not even just one, sometimes even a peer or two so they can converse at the scene as it unfolds.

I want to be left alone. I want to not have to pay bodyguards to protect me and subject myself to living with them and having my privacy even that much more invaded. No matter who I call or who I write to, nothing has been able to dissuade them from their nosy task. After all this time I haven't even figured out what their true intent is and have been caught up in their "looking" world to the point to where I study them watching me wondering the purpose. Sure enough, I am still quite afraid of them, and in some twisted fate they may be of me as well, but they intrigue me and give me something to do. Not that I don't have five thousand other things to do with my time than to babysit a nosy little prick hell bent on the personal terrorization of yours truly. Either way I am still here and not giving up...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Monkey See...

why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? Why do tomorrow what was expected today? Hell, why do a damn thing at all unless it is personally gainful to whatever enterprise you have in play?

Tonight is full of thought and irk for no apparent reason. Nothing out of the ordinary has taken place and the ordinary is culpable to deal with so there really is no need for the surge of dread that is filling my soul. I know I'm forgetting something or someone or maybe they are forgetting me somehow. I am just meandering through this day and keeping a low profile in case the pianos fall from the sky and the anvils drop out of windows. Either way I'm going to wrap my fat self in bubble wrap and ensure that I come out unscathed! It's really a shame the way the fates play with me knowing full well I understand them more than an average sentient. Certainly would give cause for concern for them to want to be more appeasing, not necessarily condoning of everything I do, but definitely more polite to my causes. Alas, they won't yield to sound reasoning so it will be up to me to get things done and in a timely fashion if even not on time.

To include the making of plans and not just resigned to the execution of plans, the enjoyment would be had by all if it not for the smirks and gestures coming my way when what I really need is approval and to instill the old belief back in me again that people are predominantly good and want to contribute to the world and each other. I have gotten tired and wan and unwanting of the responsibility of being the last of the great unwilling "do-gooders" who give and give in some forced Christian moral and angelic like quality. I want no part of that regime and take no orgasmic interlude from the thought that is how we operate. It isn't and the bulk of the people want a quick avenue down the road of life and want easy street to be paved with side-walking escalators (such an anti-contradictory term~giggles) so as to not tire their feet that they will need for their up and coming televised performance of what a douche-bag they all seem to be. It sucks. I have no hero or role model. People don't want a day's work for a day's pay. People don't want a fair trade for the cow anymore and all feel entitled. Well, mobe has her own sense of entitlement too. It's called the "I don't give a damn club" where we sit and get sick of the view and fling shit on the windows to block the real monkeys outside from looking in!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Deciding What To Do

it's a new day and a new way and I cannot decide what to do with it. I know what I want and I know what I need and what I need is too busy and what I want I can't have so what wants me will probably win despite not wanting it too much.

Amazing is the light in a teenager's eye when she pushes her momma's buttons. I am getting older and wiser and more apt to deal with her but yet others still give cause for concern to bitch and gripe about the splinter in my eye while looking through a plank of their own. I see their falls ahead and the rocky torrents of a whitewater rafting experience to be had. I know I will have to sit and decide for myself what is going to happen on this weekend with my kid. Where we want to go, if we can go and when we can go and with whom. She's a good kid and I been trying to make a better effort to providing a good summer for her as we lack the many opportunities most families have for adventure in these months. Our time is limited to dark and in the summer the days are lit longer. Not enough dark for us so every minute counts even if it means she has to trounce around with her old decrepit mom. Tonight I am going to go to sleep to be up for the day and see what it entails.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Men!!

today is not a good day to be a man. I'm crying in my beer only without the beer and without the tears at this point.

I don't want any attention, affection, protection, erection, information, sophistication or undulation. I don't want anything to do with the lot of 'em.

It wouldn't be prudent to be a king. Nor would it be funny to be a knave. For a jester's cloak is not what I want to see nor a hangman's noose on parade.

There isn't enough ways to express how I feel about the opposite of sex when I feel so unreal in my mental instability brought on by them. Those fuckers and selfishly too busy men.

Don't bring me a cabby to offer a ride or a policeman on duty if ever I survive a brutish attack by a ripper for sure. Just leave me on ground heaving sobs that are pure.

One doesn't get huffy if tis just a fight. Peace never was worth it without a won plight and the victor the spoils and a maiden's hand. But definitely not mine if thou goest to a man.

Decades and eons of gender proclivity have rendered me angry for all of the things I see and when they come forth to call upon mobe soon surprised. They'll find that I won't appear, no flash of my robe or my pride.

Sunshine falls on my face and it scorches my soul but not half as bad as men have and it's taking its toll. So to render a wall most defiant indeed I have hired the best lesbian architecturee.

No prince will dare climb such a spectacle so high. No clergyman will stay to pray on any old night and my loneness will bother none and none will be here. If ever I get my wish, if ever I fear.

Today is not a good day for man, son or males. If it's a dog or a bird or a bee or a whale and I cannot go on so they've told me too often as this sadness just brings me much closer to coffin.

Keep tight to your husbands when they leave you for work. Hold hard to your boyfriends, yes even the jerks, because they all come to bother even though I don't care at your dear mobe's heartstrings that don't repair.

An infant will whine for the tit and the meat. And grow up to be strong from head unto feet until that old bias doth indoctrinate that the stupid young buck should search for a mate.

So I say to you all and all to whomever will list that I asked for no call and not note and no "psst" but just wish to be left alone in the tower I'm in now, if even just metaphorically along with my frown.

Today wasn't a good day too for phallic dreadful dreams of the weaker of the two with so many babies to ween and I'm tired of being mother to the other children too when they tire and shout to me calling me shrew.

And tomorrow you ask? What of it I'm a woman after all and capable of snap decision even turnover at call and will decree something different as the new day dawns...

...nope, wasn't a good day for men, now your mobe's tired, yawns.

~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

The Ceremony

of cats and dogs and polliwogs and toadstools by the tree
I found my love looking far above once upon they sat on knee
tweet di-di-di tweet di-di-di tweet di-di-di dum
sang a tune for love's full swoon upon my tattered drum

of mice and men and goats in pen that make noise for all to hear
there sits a flute on player's lute whistling whence upon an ear
toot dum-dum-dum toot dum-dum-dum toot dum-dum-dum di
played Pan's tune for love's full swoon like heaven's bells do ping

of day and night where owls fight and flitter in the dark
all creatures fall whe'er great or small and then the angels hark
ho la-ti-da ho la-ti-da ho la-ti-da-ti-la
the chorus sang for lover's lost pang whilst the dead be carried on lark

of cats and dogs and polliwogs I lay my baby down
with whining harp and pond of carp I put them in the ground
sob-sob-sob, weep-weep-weep, sob-weep-sob-weep-sob sniffle
my dark cloaked instrument walks away in the rain wearing a lonely frown.

A Fishing Attitude

fishing around for the answers to life when all the signs in the road tell you to go back takes some balls. I went fishing with my daughter recently. Most of you know that as I am rarely slack in updating what is going on via our favorite social network. Anything that could go wrong did but I made a winner out of the deal which is a difficult task for me seeing as I am the queen of disdain. I know right?!? It shocked me too...

First of all my objective and plan was to leave the house at 3pm and head to the storage unit to retrieve the poles that are needed (I have more fishing poles than Cabella's has tent poles!) and any other tackle and equipment not here at the house. Then we would eat and head south some thirty minutes away to the Dunedin Causeway. Haven't been fishing there before but know some who had and thought it would make for an outstanding evening for my Lobo and I. The thing was the minute details that were lost in translation. Cleaning out and packing a cooler, getting gasoline and ice, packing snacks and literally packing the car, resetting the transport tackle boxes (I have a giant box some hundred pounds and have portables I take with me). These details can make or break a trip especially the more you forget of them, the more difficult it is to pull off. I never left at three. When I did leave I was asked to be the gas provider to retrieve my brother's meal and things which way-laid me even more. Counting running to McDonald's and the storage unit and back to the house, we technically left at five o'clock or somewhere's there's about. Dinner was to be hurried and we headed out after that at seven, still daylight but dark enough not to create too much stress on our sensitive bodies. We only stopped briefly for a key (oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that my wonderful daughter locked my keys in the trunk of the car while packing it and it took my brother some half hour to break in with a coat hanger) at Walmart and found it would be for the low-low price of $49.95 because it is an electronically coded key which means the car won't start without the little beeper deal that sends a signal I am ME. We stopped again for gasoline and frozen drinks then headed to the causeway where we found it was low tide, or getting near low tide and would be impossible to cast out as the place was a sandbar. Not wanting to call it in and waste the time and energy put in, a decision was made to head further south to old haunts and fishing holes. I noticed several tackle shops were closed as if some cosmic god won't allow the weekday sport fisherwoman her dues. Conversation led to the conclusion that we may not have enough chairs and the equipment I packed with her was for the purpose of surf casting and not deep sea pier fishing. Change of gear was needed but I didn't want to go home and admit failure just yet, so, I figured we could make do and stop at the Walmart down here for a couple of leaders for deep water drops (found some cool floats too). Now we're cooking with gas! So the question was Skyway or Ft. DeSoto? (we chose the Skyway because the handicap accessibility is way better)

We were excited. The delays didn't get us down and we arrived just after sunset around nine-fifteen and found no parking spaces open near the bait house/restrooms so went to the closest one we could and unloaded the Taurus. Once we had gotten situated we started rigging the poles. I really wasn't in a hurry so was teaching her how to rig as we never had time for that before because her and I never went alone before and the other people and I interacted more. She was a pain but I loved it and she was so in a hurry to drop her line when I noticed a parking space next to the bait house open and power slammed everything but the poles in the back seat of the car and drove the 500 yards to park. She was miffed and I was even more happy. Irony: what makes one gleeful can bring a tear to another's eye. I wasn't thrilled she was miffed, but I accepted it and considered it worth it so we could have the amenities that I needed so badly. Forgetting my medicine meant I would rue this night but I kept smiling. We found our little niche and began to cast. Oh how my darling monkey complained. She didn't like the distance between us (it wasn't enough) and didn't like that we were directly over a piling. She didn't like the fact that I didn't give up ownership of the "ghostpole" one of my favorites and named such because it is an opaque dirty whitish that could have been see through. She brought her two I grabbed but insisted she wouldn't use the red one. So all were rigged and she was as unhappy as ever and then bitched about the music. I like most music and when I fish it is a relaxing sporting event and not some death metal concerted excuse. Needless to say, she was pissed it wasn't what she wanted, still I smiled.

The evening carried on and around four in the morning the cruise ship came in and went under the bridge we were flanking. It is a sight I have seen many times but I still get excited when I see it. We started to catch all manner of fishies. Little ones, little bit bigger ones and most not fit to bring home let alone eat. I caught a starfish and Lobo one-upped me and caught a stargazer (puffer) and I caught an oyster so she caught a dogfish (they bark) and I caught some old tackle that had sunk and she caught another puffer. We went back and forth and she got tired and curled up into a ball in the back seat of the Ford and crashed. I fished and listened to music. I fished and listened to my heart and I fished and listened to nothing. She slept like an angel and wouldn't be the only one I see by the end of our trip. When the sun came up and most all other anglers were long gone leaving just maybe three of us total, I was prepared. I had slathered on SPF100 and braced for the inevitable pain that would let me know all organic functions had ceased, they did completing their shut down by nine-thirty in the morning, when I would throw in my towel after a beautiful but defiant sunrise. I would catch the last fish, a large zebra angel (see, told you!). We packed up and trekked homeward without a stringer of fin-food but a sense of peace and time well spent together. I couldn't have had a better "disappointing" evening had I displayed defeat long before sunrise and considered the agonizing next several days worth the trip.

Something to be said for attitude in this lesson kids. Had I kept my "mobe as usual" ego I would have not had as well an adventure as I did. After checking with mini me, I am informed she had a blast! Go figure, kids! Well I guess it was a blast giving me hell, but it didn't ruin it for me or her so, it was a win.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Guardians:The Errant Approach

the errant behavior of adults and what they see fit has come to the surface today. I have been away of sorts and spent the previous day in the company of my own "monkey" as it were, and she and I had a pretty decent time of it.

Most people don't get along with teenagers, not even their own. Most people don't get along with any kids whether theirs or another's, and some people, like yours truly, get along for the most part but then lose it via sanity because they have reached their limit of exposure that day and/or are hurting and need peace and quiet and not the usual "gimme this" or "it's mine" crap that the wee ones bring to the table. My child is a heathen when she wants to be but no where near as corrupt and abusive as most kids her age, and though mouthy, she usually has a good reason for her own disdain. The only trick now is trying to get her to see she is not as invincible as she deems herself and to get her to listen more often and soak up knowledge rather than feeling she has acquired all she needs and let her run rampant through the streets like most parents and guardians do.

You see, we as child raisers seem to think our jobs lie in giving them what we got. The "If it was good enough for me..." concept. No more no less. But I am a believer of giving them more, by instilling good behavioral patterns and such, which I might add is no easy feat. I don't want my kid to "have what I had" and suffer as I did. I let her have her say because I didn't and now have to teach her about knowing when it is worth voicing or should be left alone as quiet contemporary thoughts to herself. I didn't let her run the streets after dark like I did because the world is much more populated and it isn't populated with angels and good Samaritans. I let her make the bulk of her choices because I was not allowed to do such and children don't learn consequences when they aren't held accountable for their actions or have repercussions for the choices they make. The flip side of that are the parents who let their children make ALL their own choices (too far to the "left" if you ask me) and cop out and go berserk when the little monsters suddenly don't fit into the scheme of things and others point out what little shits they are because they are the most unhappy little fuckers around. Children need boundaries and boundaries are just that-limits, and you don't let the a prisoner set his own sentence so why would you let the student decide where their classroom is going to be or what they're going to study?

I know of these parents and their errant behavior which sends a clear message to their children you are kissed and hugged but not loved because I didn't get hugged enough and now am going to make you responsible for your own actions from day one and blame you when shit goes wrong, though in actuality I am living vicariously through you and thinking with all the understanding and emotion of an ignorant six year old who didn't get their own way. The "I don't want to be a bad guy and only want to be your friend" parents who don't understand that you weren't put there to be their fucking friend! The word guardian means just that! It means protector and decider. A two year old should never decide what's for dinner or whether you (meaning you the parent here) can go to bed or where you travel. They aren't old enough and haven't acquired enough knowledge of the world and how it operates to be able to make sound educated decisions and keep themselves safe. They play with matches and "pokie" things and bring home diseased bugs and dead animals and such. They share hats and clothing with other children whose parents don't do their job and get those fun little disgusting bugs everyone has the heebie-jeebies about. These kids, if allowed to choose for themselves, will throw a tantrum and want to eat only cookies and candy and ice cream and chips and such. Basically, if ain't sweet-it ain't food. These kids grow up thinking the world owes them everything and find themselves sadly unhappy when realization strikes as it is sure to do eventually. I have never truly seen a happy toddler who's mother or father let them run rampant and control the house and/or who's diet consisted of their guardian allowing them to choose their meals and not teaching them proper eating portions or balance and nutrition. It isn't easy and such but if they don't want to parent maybe they should step aside and let those of us that do do their job for them! Even better, pay my ass and I will do it!

We have "old wive's tales" because they have been tried and tested for years and generations to come. "Spare the Rod; Spoil the Child" is not an excuse to beat the ever loving shit out of your offspring, but rather a truth, in that when your child tells you "fuck you" or "I don't wanna" you can flick their lip or punish them accordingly (I always make the punishment fit the crime). If they leave the barn door open and the animals out then I would make them open and shut that damn door 100 times until they figured out those two go hand-in-hand! When a child throws a tantrum, you throw one back-the silent treatment-and walk the little shit out of the frigging store/restaurant/shop/host's place and let them ask or figure out why the activity was curtailed. They do catch on. Quit raising assholes and the world will look a little less disdainful~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Our Queen is No More

into the glass and silver pane ~ a reflection past of a red red mane
but above the view a person stands ~ and holds my heart within their hands
to ever shine a face reversed ~ and screaming out loud a horrific terse
where people do stop and peek, ogle and stare ~ at the figure alone just standing there

the visage is old and creased from time ~ and holds no smile or grin sublime
when the eyes wrinkle up in their perfect disdain ~ to assert what you all come so close and refrain
who is this creature so sadly at home ~ without them a friend while they gaze from their throne
and what is its purpose in living at all ~ whilst the peasants rejoice at an ignorant ball

hair keeps on changing the color does drain ~ now no longer what was as a red red mane
has now turned staunch white likely a ghostly decree ~ when the looker stares on tis all they will see
they that taste the fruits of the tree ~ shall arbor the earth in their longing for sea
and lament all the loners and depressed the lot ~ for to give a damn now for ought not what they got

she sits in her timber and leather and lace ~ with the brassy old tacks that will hold it in place
taking in all that is witness to deed and done did ~ full knowing her dilemma of soul full of id
will there ever be heaven to embrace weakened bones ~ or a poet to loan her a sweet epitome
once heralded for all that accomplished men do ~ but onlookers on only see what is shrew

in the dark place she sits and she hides and she cries ~ when the passers on know nothing of royal demise
with the windows blacked out and the curtains tight drawn ~ she will take her full slumber at sunrise's dawn
and retire to her chamber of bed velvet dream ~ in silently torment so not one soul screams
tossing and reeling confounded of peace ~ her loneness and madness gone long ne'er cease

as she dips and she wanes as her sentence ticks on ~ none of sanity left as her last resolve gone
into the starry night with the beggars and thieves ~ with the discarded members who get no reprieve
she will take her last supper at a kitchen's fireside ~ while waiting for claimers for to just abide
now gone from it all she knows secrets and truths ~ but whispers ye none for our queen shows no proof

of the place she is headed or the place she will be ~ and the angels whether fallen from clouds mystery
as she reigns no matter where her cracked feet were to fall ~ without ever a word or a sword to recall
to kill her in stave off the destination she found ~ would make dust cause to flutter and spew down on ground
when the last final tear drop of sweat hits the floor ~ no one will notice our queen is no more