Friends

the friendship I give is there always inside of me long after their shadows have obliterated into the morning sun. I have been called upon to let alone a friend who is dear and also been called upon to take arms with those and against those I love. Friendship is always at the core struggle within me as to when is it enough to walk away and say "I'm done."

We meet people everyday who share our values and ideals. I meet them in person and online and via telephone or through a mutual friend. A smile can warm the coldest of hearts but a friend knows how to get them to see it. A friend is the person you can tell what you feel about your man and know it will stay there. That same friend can tell you about his wife or her brother or maybe the dog and you will listen and comfort and hold and not make fun of them for being weak. Friends know we ALL are weak to different degrees. Even the Wamphyrii are weak and have their momos in the sun when they wish they hadn't stayed that extra hour at the pier and now race the traffic and daylight to get home before the organ failure sets in, knowing they will have to unload the car and such in the "inclement" weather. I miss those friends I haven't had the opportunity to see or speak to in years and wonder if they are afraid to break the ice as I am. I feel when they ail and lament, when their families suffer.

I don't measure the worth of a friend by what they do. I measure them but what they don't and how they look at themselves. Some of my friends are very insecure and I didn't plan it that way, but I rather think it reflects my past and my wanting to "give back" or dwell in it. I feel more able and alive in my state than I did before I was ill and look at them with arms outstretched and want to see their eyes when they open and take in the feeling that washes over you when you accept yourself first.

One of my exes used to tell me how he felt that women and men cannot be friends because there will always be that undercurrent of sexual energy and either one or both will eventually get hurt even if it means they might have casual sex. I used to get so mad at him for that but now, I am older and see the wisdom in it, though I would never tell him. I really don't think he knows he was wise in that instance anyways as he was angry because I had a male friend who was kind and expressed affection for me in what I thought at the time was brotherly love.

Men and women see what their eyes tell them, for those of us with sight. We pick our friends by what we like and what we don't and what attracts us, yeah...I said it, by attraction. No one wants to hang out with a "mook" or a slob or a douchebag...and we all have different ideas of what those are. We believe what we see first and what we hear second, then what we smell and touch. It is how we are wired, and we rely so much on it that when we lose "sight" of things, our whole world falls to shit because we thought sight was the most important aspect. Thinking is lost on us.

It may surprise you to know most of my friends are considered freaks like myself. I gravitate to what I know and by societal standards we all are part of that larger group of "people who aren't on television and who haven't succeeded but just are average motherfuckers that the rest of you hate to admit you belong to also" persons who are really just about as unique as a fucking rock. All rocks are unique. And if I liked the same rocks as you then we would all be fighting. I just don't get why we fight at all and why people are so cruel. Yes, we can tell a fat person from a thin one and a white from a brown one and an Asian from a European. But when we look closer the bloodlines are muddied and all our friends are brothers and sisters to us all. No one is better than another. It is a ruse. By now the genetics is so spanned that you will find mixed blood in most all peoples on this planet. All of us have our dirty little secrets...I just share mine more openly. I have no need to take them with me when I go and where I go and am NOT ashamed for what has happened in my life, beyond what I have control over.

Now I am here. Alone in the dark with multitudes of friends scattered in their daily dramas from Russia to South America and the Pacific to the Atlantic. We all have family, whether we love them all or not, and we all have duties. My lazy attitude is not to hurt or disarm the emotional set-up. I live and let live and miss them all. I make new ones faster than I lose some and feel a pang of regret for the know of when I leave this place I will have finally made a mark. A year has come to a close...in eleven days. A year ago I thought I wouldn't have made it this far. But I have and need to do it again and again until there are no more...for now, just be my friend as long as I am...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Greater Loss...

suffering and tossing in my sleep as I hear your wailing from the far far away places you have sent yourself to be imprisoned. I cannot take this either, my brother, and knowing you will be giving up the good fight for our existence kills something inside of my chest and angers me, compelling me to slaughter the hearts and hides of those who have brought your mind to your knees.

I knew when we met that we were meant to be side by side among our peoples. I knew you as you knew me and our eyes glowed the same black pools in the dark with the flicks of fire in the murky centers. You tested my fortitude and I passed. Chuckling, I remember the content and the trite banter and the sense of belonging to one another, not as mates but blood of blood and bone of bone. Don't you realize that the learned men and women even know so little as to what power can be held? Will you give up so easily with your broken body and your broken limbs? Why won't you lean on me, your lost sister now returned to you and let me ease your burden as was intended? My love for you breaks any lust I have, and this world without you dims even now with just the thought of the greatest loss in kinship and bond.

I want of no man or woman when you are in need of me and my strength. You carried a heavy burden alone because I took so long in my "desert" wandering, looking for answers...but I came! And now your pride will deny me the allowance of aiding you and comforting you. When you go I go too, in pieces, for some must travel with you to keep you safe on your journey. With so much to do here who will teach the children of what you-we are? Who will lead the pack when my student is still in academics looking out the window of our aerie hill? Why not come to take tea and listen to instruments melodically mend the holes you have that were poked by you and me and humanity, in all its filth, so that you will not carry that burden with you on your way?

I miss you already and know that you're gone in heart from here and would eat your heart and head had I the chance to contain you within me. It would honor me to accompany you but my time here has but one more decade, my brother, allowing time for the one student I have to accrue all she will need bequeathed to her. I will be reunited again with you. I will be by your side and will be born again when you return and we will find one another and test the wills of our children's adult selves before us. Until then, know I love you deeply and angrily and saddeningly it seems. I loved you always and continue even when the ashes have blown in the winds of the northern skies...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her love.

...to you S...knowing you are mine of yours and I am yours of mine eased my mind to want to stay. I am angry you go but will again give yield, you as royal of blood as I and allow you to take absence of this stay but beg of you to cry to me and come to me when you get across and let me know you shed that burden before you take that journey...all my love is poured into the sand of our peoples and at the feet of your shadow for you to bring with you...K

Ingrates

Ingrates

The years have been kind to both the moon and the sun
Our earth how she weeps for the things that we'd done
Wars that are waged, we bicker, fight and moan
Stealing and pillaging these grounds we don't own


She is changing, our mistress whose mood's upside down
Where once was dry land now the creatures will drown
Our wetlands are arid; our people fear she's dying
It once had seemed we'd all pitch in, yet not one of us is trying


The time we have here is short at best
Evolution changes us, our homage soon to rest
Constantly turning, she'll knock us off
Back to dust and flown to the guff


Spinning and turning like undressing herself
Purging off our parasitic selves
What horrific, selfish, unwanted guests are we
Casting too much for our host as she be


The painful scars connecting blisters to the burns
Our desecration marks her deeply, she yearns
But the old lady still stays and will continue to go on
And heal her own blemishes by the next day's dawn


Will we be remembered? By the next dynasty
Where will our souls go when we leave this tired place
Do we deserve a second chance having wrecked our first
Will our father forgive for our own mother's worst


The ground will thirst and the night will wane
How many times can we deny what we've done
Cane we ever undo-make amends? 
1july2007

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

Our Separate Journey

Our Separate Journey

You taught me well 
How to lie, cheat and steal
But I choose a diff'n't teacher
And a school with a diff'n't bell

I march on cadence

To a tune we all know

I follow my piper

Where he goes I go

The ground beneath my feet
Of gravel moss and peat
Drives me forward to
The place I wanna be

Funny I can't see you

My teacher is the first

My journey's changed me better

To you it's been the worst

I hear a diff'n't song
A new lesson yet to learn
My purpose swells inside
My soul it glows and burns

Your quiet is a signal

A flare of tempers hid

I feel your pain and see your pain

You try to hide within

Do not ask me to save you
I will not come to heal you
There's nothing more I can give
No words of peace I bring you

Find yourself, that's all I ask

You say yourself is all you care

Seek yourself, your greatest task

Don't reach for me I'm not there

How opposite are the roads
We walk to separate homes
Our music is not the same
And neither are our goals

I offer you friendship's hand

Refusing and you turn away

So caught up in self imposed rejection

I did "this" to you, you say

No time for sorrow's tears
We've days left, not years
I march on and dance on
You dwell in your fears

No time for pity's sake

For the diff'n't roads we take

28july2007

...this was written for my child's father though he has never seen it. We are so different and apart as two people could ever be. He is the US and I am USSR and this is 1980. I wish we could have been amicable and he continues to choose a different way as do I. It is what it is and it makes for wonderful poetry.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Individuals: Part 27

late in the evening the noise from the television tries to keep me company. It promises me all sorts of things from a better body to better children to a pain free existence and a larger penis. Useful right? But what it doesn't do is keep my attention or give me any hope for the sanity of humans.

My pain is immense. I fear that my tolerance is either waning and I am feeling all that pain I have buried deep under adrenaline and endorphin naturally released through sex and anger. I teeter between those two, for those new-comers just getting involved in my world. Or if it isn't a matter of my tolerance waning, then it means my pain is increasing and I am not getting better anymore. It scares the shit out of me that a woman so young can hurt so much. Child birth, naturally, was orgasmic compared to this. And yes, I know a lot of you feel pain as well, and a few can relate and most all will tell me that "surely I am exaggerating" but I assure you that I am not. My vaginal opening was stretched to the diameter of fourteen plus centimeters and out popped a very sick, bluish, baby girl who suffered immensely the lights in the NNICU and only seemed to subside in the evening when the sun went down and the late shift came on, skeleton shift, and most lights were turned out as most "humans" were sleeping. It was beautiful except the sick kid part, drugs (not my own either-you'd be surprised what can pass through an amniotic sack when you are in a marriage and making love to the man who you are married to and what he was putting in his body on his way home from work so as to hide it from you), and I remember that temporary feeling of loss and coldness when my belly was emptied of that tiny little baby. Eight pounds and five ounces seems like much to most but to me she was small and lean and fragile. By the time we took her out of the hospital she had lost over twenty-five percent of her weight and that was IN the hospital under the care of trained professionals who were supposed to help her thrive in her fragile state. Imagine that! Medicine fucking up? How dare they?...anyway, we brought her home and once there in my dark world, even then, she began to do well and she ate hungrily from the tit every hour on the hour and she grew. I have no bad memory of the birth itself. It was beautiful.

Two weeks later I needed to get two wisdom teeth removed. I was told I would require pain medication and I warned them it was not my wishes, as I had warned the hospital. I didn't want to taint her breast milk. The hospital ignored my pleas and gave me a mild medication at the encouragement of my child's father and against my wishes. And now, I was afraid they would do the same when removing my teeth. They decided to strap me to the chair. I was glad. I left Lobo in a carrier up at the nurses' station under the watchful eyes of trained professionals while two grown men and one muscled woman held me down as they broke my jaws (upper and lower) to remove two impacted teeth. I won't lie. It hurt like a mother fucker and when I left the place with a mouth full of gauze I drove straight home with my foot almost burying the needle to the speedometer and placed her in her crib with her doggie and a small bottle of sugar water propped on a pillow so it wouldn't fall. I went into the master bedroom and lied down on the double bed willing my feet and arms to stay in the four corners and stared at the ceiling in wait for her father. When he got home he knocked on the bedroom door. I ordered him to take her and enough supplies and formula to get through forty-eight hours and to take my little girl to my parents. I planned my dentist trip for his friday morning-his last work week day. He went to my father's. He, for once, didn't question me as I bit through clenched teeth trying not to scream or cry or lose my cool. The house went dark and I fell fast asleep. Nightmares plagued me and guilt. I woke up every thirty minutes to rinse with salt water followed by straight Listerine (the yellow kind) and to express my breast milk and freeze it into little one ounce ice cubes. I called my dad and asked him to send Stephen home to retrieve them as I did not think it fair she had to suffer with crappy formula. She refused to eat, the little booger, until daddy brought her the "sweet stuff" and I could sleep better the second day with a little less guilt on my shoulders. The pain I felt between the teeth and jaws was nothing compared to the chronic pain I feel day to day now.

I do not take medication for pain. I have in the past but didn't like the side effects ranging from dry mouth to eye ickies and yeast infections to irritability. In most cases it wasn't worth taking the edge off only to feel that edge overwhelm you again some four to six hours later making you crippled to and dependent upon chemicals to get through day to day. Now and for the last decade I have refused pain medicine. The more the pain persists the more I refuse medication and I often wonder about my decision and my quality of life over these years. Keep in mind my genetic disease had not started to deteriorate me as fast as it has this last decade. I lived by night hours all the way up until she was three. I never really suffered the traditional ills associated with this. When I met her stepfather, I decided to live a more normal, human existence in keeping with the normalcy he expected and the rest of the world as well as her school was to expect but still not knowing why I was so different and why no one else seemed as discomforted as I had. I never really told people much about pain for fear of being made fun of and ridiculed for my "weakness" and my complaining. I would simply explain to them that the sun and I had an agreement to stay as far away from each other as possible. I didn't know it wasn't just the sun that hated me then, but I suspected as much because most bright indoor lighting had the same itchy, fiery, thrashing response.

Can you imagine how difficult it is to have a nervous tick and be continually bombarded with things that bring grievous pain and not flinch? I don't know whether to be ashamed of my fear or proud of my fortitude but I will tell you this, not flinching is an ART FORM! It became humorous and novel to try and tickle me. I am ticklish but good fucking luck when I am secure on "twitchy lock-down" and am in pain. I would never flinch. Even if you made me laugh, and laughing was always more of a grimace, even as a child, as I have noticed by old photographs still floating about the family coffee tables.

But now, I am hurting more this week than last and more last than the week before and have been trying to not "flinch" again or complain. People do not understand what they cannot see, if even they have the documentation right in front of them. I don't know how many people I have explained the dynamics of this disease to who still forget I can't go out on a date in daylight hours and trips to amusement parks, beaches and fairs before sundown are deadly. I feel ignored by people who are supposed to love me and have my best interests at heart when they say callous things like "Well you go out in the day to your doctors and seem fine, I guess I'm not worth a little discomfort for you to spend time with me!" and then punish me or pull away from me as if I deliberately was sick to make their life miserable. Yeah, that's it. It is all my fault. It is why my mom tried to kill me. In her words: I never shut up and stopped crying from the minute the sun came up until it went down and I MADE her feel inferior as a parent and she figured I was SOOO miserable that I just WANTED to die! (Yes! I am STILL angry on that one-wouldn't you be finding out they knew you were sick and did nothing and then punished you on top of it as if the devils themselves had placed you here just to fuck with your family and your "lovers"??!!??!!)

So I hurt. I don't know how long for and if it will subside. I don't know if I will finish my book or make love again or be able to ride my shiny new mountain bike (2 yr old Christmas gift to myself to get exercise for the bones that keep breaking-even still) one time. I don't even know if I will make it long enough to finally settle a lawsuit brought on over five years ago or to see Lobo graduate. All I know is it hurts just to get up to pee and I find I am sleeping more and lately, blacking out for two to three hour increments with no recollection or dreams and only disorientation and significant head pain upon awakening. I am worried, people. I am worried that I will go sooner than the time I was lead to believe I had left. I was told I wouldn't barely make a half a century. I wasn't supposed to have these last ten years, but I fought. And now may not even have the next ten because I am too tired. Life has no quality in it right now and only a sense of duty and loyalty to my daughter's childhood and academics. She will be eighteen in less than three years. Is that all I have left? Will I even have that much? Can I fuck over fate again?

Sadly I have no answers and don't want pity. I want understanding. I want people to teach their children and grandchildren to not poke fun at the fat lady at Walmart. I want them to teach them to learn and like learning and how horrible the disease of ignorance is compared to what I go through. Knowledge is what strips away the lies and brings to "light" the truths. Myths of my ancestral past are nothing but ignorant tales of an unlearned species (you-no offense but 'tis true) from four-hundred plus years ago. Now science is catching up but the people refuse to read the writing on the wall. I do nothing in my day. I read and surf the net and write and socialize with far away peoples I dream of meeting for coffee and pie or far away men I would love to teach a trick or two who think they know their way around the organs of woman but it has been proven scientifically that over eighty-five percent, when asked to identify the basics on a chart, cannot get them right. I dream of a companion and lover who can see the royal queen inside and not the hunchback who is afraid to look people in the eye unless she is speaking directly to them and awaiting a response because she is tired of the rude stares and disgust by their prejudgment. I dream of a painless body and existence where I dont' have to see another penis enlarging commercial or another video princess flashing her cooch at us all. I dream of grandchildren I may never see. Tearfully tonight...~mobe's love to her all and her to her loves.

Untitled II (looking for suggestions~mobe)

this is another "untitled" from some two years ago. Keep in mind I had not known then about my "beastly" state though was fully aware sunlight and light-light were not my friends. It is still a good tale and no, I haven't burned anyone to death, just mere wishing and yes, there was someone(s) in mind...

Untitled

I know it's okay if I don't want to convey to the mass
Feeling dragged down by the weight of the chain that has
Gotten it's hold quite tight around my neck
Reminding me and binding me like I'm a tiny speck


There cannot be so much sickness and ill
And the putrid defecation of humanity's will
Forever tarnishing a pure heart that's true
These are the twisted teardrops; I am blue


I know that I stand out even though I'm not noticed
As an insignificant specimen supposedly on the list
So, somewhere at the bottom is the name you seek to find
When you complain and gesticulate with anger on your mind


There never is the satisfying grasp of a job well done
And my inbox keeps getting full, too many tasks for just one
When all I'd rather do is to sit and sleep and reflect
Not ponder and placate some insidious human prick


Why don't they leave me alone and go away now
I want a dark room that's quiet, some way some how
And a sheet of paper that goes on and thus never ends
With a number two pencil that forever rends


And I will write down your transgressions till my fingers bleed
Every trick or deceit or lie and every bad deed
So the whole world will witness the "king's" fall from grace
As my twisted smile grows with the shame upon your face


But to what avail would it be, if you've no shame at all
If after all this time no conscious regret, just having a ball
Then how can you be punished for all of your sins
He has challenged me as His tool and He always wins


No dearly departed had gathered here yesterday
In the judges chambers only two stand to say
That was done could have been erased if given the chance
And your slovenly, lazy choices led you to this dance


While others now do your work for no pay or award
And you reap the benefits on and of your own accord
That deep down inside you must have known all along
This day would come, the day to pay for all the wrong


And I'll watch unflinching at hot burning embers
Of hell, your new home, as they lick at your limbs, sir
So please do not cry-you've enough tears to put out
The fires you started, the flames, the drought


But just smell the sweet smoke up from your infernal flesh
For I am a good tool and He granted my wish
Making me stronger and durable and toughening my hide
Yet still leaving that glimmer of hope deep inside


Forged in blood and bone and more hardness than steel
The more I am used as a tool, the sharper I wield
The fine edge is necessary to carve out the niche
Of the seediest of hearts in the filthiest of beasts


The wolves are very hungry and smacking their lips
With their nostrils flaring, the sounds of pups yips
Waiting patiently on haunches by the piles of smoulder
I will feed them the discards from the youngest to the older


So not a trace is left behind as your name is struck away
From the book of time and there is not another day
The wrongs will be righted, the hounds will be fed
As I lay myself down, clear conscience, in bed


I dream of a place that's serene and full of light
Though I am bound by my own penance and forced into night
So I do His bidding well and someday I shall see
The dawning of man not aggressive and at peace


I want a place to go in the sunshine that is crisp and clear
And feel the changing seasons throughout the entire year
To bite into the flesh of fruit, picked fresh from off a tree
And lay upon the sand looking outward to the sea


I yearn for children's laughter and watch them dance around
Or to listen to the creatures that crawl upon the ground
These things I hope for each and every morn
Sunrise signals night time, so now I am forewarned


There is always hope to be had when I wander and I roam
For the things that I must witness, the distance away from home
Before bed time I sit on the floor with my head raised to the sky
I don't pray or beg or banter for only one is knowing why


Then to take a moment's pause to consider all in past
I heave a single sigh of relief letting out a ragged gasp
With a tiny tear strolling down a cheek of the damned you see before
This is my life, my goals, my sentence...it is a beastly lore.
14mar2009

...it wasn't finished. I had to finish the last line of the second to last stanza and add the last stanza...not bad for being on hold for two years plus...enjoy~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Individuals: Part 26

been stewing over the information for almost a week. I offered to you some past work of mine because lately, haven't been able to grasp the words needed to form a complete sentence. The news I have been waiting on and hoping for came, your favorite freak of the night was finally approved for Social Security Disability.

It took me damn near two and a half years really. In the end it will cost me twenty-five percent of my back pay, I knew in advance and it is a fair price considering the lawyers would have taken one third or forty percent had I had one. Now they will factor in all the way back to my last day at work, taking into consideration they never pay you for the first six month it will put my back pay coming from July that same year and fast-forwarding to the present they will/do owe me something like twenty-nine months now and they have approximately sixty days to implement it. I will not go into details into the stipend excepting to say I earned quite a bit for a fat girl considering how supposedly lazy and useless the world thinks we all are. I will be getting more than most people's parents and family members and it is reflective and proof of my work ethic and history to which I have never lied about (Lobo, momma rarely ever if at all lies and yes, I have been working over 40hrs a week since I was 11yrs old!).

My private insurance that I paid for out of my own pocket wants to take these monies. I supposedly signed some paper saying they can. But they don't have the paper to show me. I do know one washes the other, meaning that if SSD gives me "B" and Met Life gives me "A" and A is more than B then they deduct B from A and Met still owes me that portion of A that is over and above B. Didja get that? Confusing ain't it? If B was more than A then I would no longer receive A but still be considered on A's payroll until my retirement age in case I should lose the SSD or get a decrease or some other government/corporation fucking around. Great, now I am stuck with Met Life watching my every move and my every shit. I am not completely sure of what they think, but I think they should have no entitlements to any monies considering they had gotten them already from me. I lost my home but paid taxes every year for the last 29years and even donated to charity and such the whole way of that duration. With the loss of my independence (as a result of the home loss) last Christmas...I was thrust into poverty and after almost a year, now can no longer afford my medication.

What troubles me is I want out. I want to work-go figure right? But their are no jobs I can safely do without seriously putting my life and what little is left of it at risk. Sitting in the dark stark raving mad and banging away at the keys for eight hours gives me some semblance of "work." I want to be independent again and for Lobo to have her own room where she will only be yelled at by me and be allowed to be a kid. Kids are supposed to "get away" with some shit. It teaches them that they have to live with the consequences they create and the choices they make. It also teaches them they have to strive and be willing to take risks to have something gainful in their lives, so yes, it is useful to overlook the little disobediences that occur and wait for the big ones before punishment is doled out.  I want to use these monies to get a home. Either rent one or purchase a small one for the two of us and our pets and to furnish it and set aside the rest for emergencies. I need to unload two storage units (small 10x10s) and my brother's house and will have to pay the expense of professionals to help me do it. And it will take into next year to go through and sort through everything in my life once dumped on my "new" living room floor and put away what we are keeping and reload what we aren't and donating it or selling it at flea markets.

I read somewhere the breakdown of what the government takes in for Social Security and what it amounts to with interest and so on and cannot help but wonder how they can say there is no money left and put people through the hell they do to get their portion it. I will be getting more than most, and because of this I am ineligible for certain programs I was hoping to be. I will be on Medicare and if my medical expenses are surmountable to being more than a certain percentage of my supposed income Medicaid will kick in under special circumstances. I have been praying for this more than anything. And with receiving SSD, I am able to work again but only a small amount and cannot make over a certain amount or I will lose my benefits. I need to be careful. Now Met informs me they can take more monies (that I haven't even received yet) when I sign up Laurel to claim on my SSD. Of course she will get SSD of her own once she has worked and such but until she is 18years of age, 22yrs if enrolled in college institution she can claim against mine because she is a minor and they are not factored in readily as most people don't "retire" until they are past child raising years.

I am overwhelmed. I fought to be allowed onto the mountain and finally was told yes. Now I am at the base of that mountain and have to fight to keep what is rightfully mine while struggling up that mountain of independence and trying to get the rest of the aid we will need to survive, however long I have left. It is grueling and scary to me right now, especially having to continually tell a child who was once used to not worrying about her next meal and such. I have to tell her we are too poor and ask her father to pitch in more and he wants to drag me back into court to lower his child support (which has not been raised in over 10years) after telling his whole community of contacts that he has been supporting "ME" doubly because his taxes have paid for her and I to live these last two plus years and that I am a fat-assed lazy cunt of a whore who made up a fictitious disease to get out of work. He knows better and it disturbs me to no end to hear him speak that way and treat his kid that way when he knows she has it TOO.

I am so sick of defending my right to live and raise my child in a drama free existence as I see fit. I am tired of explaining what has happened, what is happening and what little we have to look forward to. I am tired of grown people taking form the sick and poor and elderly and using it to only squander it like our government has. I am tired of science not having an answer to why I exist but I have found so many reasons and they have access to them all. I am tired of humanity questioning my right to breath and to bear a child who also is different. I was even asked, rather scolded, about the fact that it was irresponsible of me to even conceive an idea that I should have children knowing I was sick and different, if even not knowing exactly what ailed me. I defend her and myself everyday. And am made to feel ashamed because I am larger than life itself in the physical sense and in theory as well, for what we are. I am made to feel ashamed for what I think and how I love and the passions contained in me. I am made to feel ashamed for teaching my daughter the truths rather than the lies they would and do teach your children. I am made to feel ashamed because my body is weak and my mind is not when this society WANTS it the other way around in order to keep the rich in the top ranks and the poor footing the bill.

I don't know if I will stay here in this state or flee for the hills. I don't know what I am going to do but fighting will be a crucial part of it I'm sure. Not because the Wamphyrii love to fight but because, we are forced to at every turn. I am just plain sick and tired, there has to be a better way.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Completely Whole

Completely Whole

can you see without your sight
feel and be strong without your might
suffer and contain amid the blight
darkness falls for this is night?


is there smell without a nose
pretty red petals but not on a rose
extremely hot highs and satisfying lows
are you my love the one I chose?


where is the noise I cannot hear
are my eyes deceiving is that a tear
or a honey dew drop at springtime this year
oh how I'd cry I love you my dear?


come cling to me my body and soul
look deep and dark into feral eyes of coal
it's an ageless love song from days of old
you make me feel so completely whole!
17may2006

...this one needs no explanation really. It is sweet and dark and true to what I am in a sense. The most vile of hopeless lustful romantics that are twisted and disdainful and happy and melancholy and dangerous. I really love this poem and hope you enjoyed it.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Pretty Carnal Garden

The object is not to give a shit, to do it then get.
I don't give a damn if it's woman or a fucking man.
I fuck them all up and leave as soon as can.
Tears will find the earth as soft hearts harden.
Come on little minions to my pretty carnal garden.
Pleasure you'll seek; absolution to find,
Behind every plant and bush an unfulfilled demon yearns his time.
Live, love, hate, lust the present is the only true church,
So worship in my garden and pray to your soul,
For what lies ahead, the fantastic fun and pain, will take its toll.


Where are your dreams, as if I care?
The garden is now your home, slave to it you are-
Never to be seen again outside these walls.
The sins here committed are psalms within my hell.
I love the silent torment how quiet all appear to be.
Their voice has been removed; their minds are now unglued.
I inflict the best pain, display the worst love, relish in your shame.
No one here is above another, you signed up sisters and brothers.
My incestuous children. My town of cocksuckers and baby rapists.
Do you enjoy your heaven? Hey you faggot pedophile, come on over
To my resort-stay awhile. Welcome all to the carnal garden.


How pretty are my trees and flowers giving place for winged and legged.
Sweet are silent tears. Their wetness to water what else?
Finally order and balance is restored. HE has his place (I have mine)
Father has given me this job, he taught me well and is proud of my acclimation.
He does not despise me if only you knew
I answer only to one, I am his muse, his fun.
The need for a garden such as mine grew and grew and filled the earth.
Recycled trash turned into something new. I please my father he shows his love.
When rain falls down and silence all around...mmmm, quiet resolve.
Oh you don't understand? Okay, but who cares, be careful in your thought,
In my pretty carnal garden there is always room here...
15may2007

,,,it was a very dark place for me and I know exactly what my thoughts were. This was a way of venting and wanting to erase the evil and vile and make a "place" for them...in the garden. At first a heavenly retreat so they will WANT to come but later they would become permanent fixtures and be the perverse beauty in the frozen state of art they become...I was definitely genius in idea but quite the macabre cunt/bitch if you will...though I still think it would make a lovely profession for me to tend to the new plants and flowers sent my way from the gods and fates. That I must make place for them and be their in the flesh mastress to govern and torment and rule and abuse...mmm...sorry got lost there a second! *giggles.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Not Human.

then she wrote something one day at a Denny's and it was good. It was good because good was enough to convey all she had wrote. It was long and full of thought and little did she know exactly how true her words would become for her future was to take a perverse tilt on axis and make it so...~mobe

Not Human

My teeth hurt, tremendously. He calls. I smell a scent familiar to a sun ago. My nostril flare and he draws me near. I cannot deny this attraction. I am feral, almost lichen. No matter where be he, I too shall be. Blood pumping organ of emptiness. And I'm the old? Soul? You have only but to ask. I wait. First patiently, then impatiently. I heard your call. Your breath smells sweet, how I crave. What I crave for now I do naught else. I haven't tasted in days. Sup has eluded my lips for what seems an eternity. If you have any merci at all, fed I will be when we next are close. Skin touching skin. Blood and bone propelling a sweet ring of fire. You stare and I cannot look too long-you will know. What's in my heart, how my legs ache. There truly would be no secrets between us and them. Would there? Come to me. Call out my name. Burn me to my core. I cannot take the torture of your silence. Master. Mistress. Both are we. I want to feel your darkness. To light a torch in the cellar. There is nothing you couldn't do with me. We are what we are. I am your keep and you are mine. It's cold, shivery and uncomfortable. I pine. Needs suck. I want you yesterday. Two creatures of the night, are we mad? You knew me as assuredly as you knew I knew you. And you make me wait. Are you afraid? Is that what I smell? I'm hungry-it won't hurt. I am not a very patient specimen. The longer I sit. My thoughts are eroding the beauty in it like seeping blood from a cold corpse. Ring. Damn it. Want. My eyes burn like hot steel, grey as the winter's night. I hurt all over. My teeth hurt.I keep moving only to stop ever so to listen. He will call. I owe him something and he will come to collect. Or not. I am a toy. When he clutches me in his teeth I can only squeak. Every now and then he smiles. I am a good toy. My teeth hurt. My back hurts. Not enough hurts. I want to be bruised. Real things bruise. Bruises are sweet. Mouth candy. The fire comes up again and I fear I cannot contain it. He will be disappointed with me. I torched someone. Damn. Oh well. My teeth hurt. My head aches. I'm going insane. There is no memory here and now.I cannot focus. Deep. Blue. Pools. I'm dreaming. And you know it. Why won't you release me? Let me be selfish. Give me what I want. The others are here. Funny how my fire grows. I'm angry. I will torch them-four you. I perch with my head held high. Your scent is far away. There's enough to keep me tight. Coiled. I will hurt them. My teeth hurt. They feel too huge. I must bite something. I need to burn something. Freeze me. Encase me in your icy stare. There is not enough rope to bind me. There is not enough hemp to bind you. They lure me. The others. Such weak stand ins. Their blood is thinned. Their meat will not fill at all. Again they know not. Do they? Where are you? Why are you so far? Come closer. And then there were three. Damn. I continue to disappoint. Oh well. As long as night is half started, morning is half near. Two. Gone. Someone infringed on my food! How dare. My stomache hurts. My teeth hurt. The pain grows. You are gone. This madness won't end. My sight is totally impaired by soul rain. The wetness stains. Acidic reminder of your torturous neglect. How can you be so cruel? My heart. I'm bleeding. Please! I can only keep this up as long as my will is with you. I plead. Aloud. Cut me out, cut it out. Tiny pieces of warm meat steaming in a red thick broth. Eat! You deserve what you get. Taint. My teeth still fucking hurt. The pain erodes my self. Invades my pleasure and disciplines my will. I lick the salty wounds. Don't touch me. The longer the wait the stranger the remembrance. Want. Need. Have. Interesting? Interested. And again. My roots are rotten. I am a perverse branch on the tree of life. A literal human stain. Shadows befall me every where. I seek shelter in your darkness. Will you let me in? My bloody, muddy thoughts. I should be punished. How well I will let you know me. Will you return the deed? Do not be too busy to remember the interruption. My teeth hurt. Salt cleanses. May I lick the salt off your brow? Heal me. Angst. Inflames. Puffed. Plumes. Billows. And your figure finally approaches. Damn. You never disappoint me. Mmm.
20july2005

...this was one long collection of an animalistic thought process. It was good too and still give me chills. Mark that there is the use of the word "four" in place of the word four. It is telling you that not only is there a gift but it have four parts. Most have failed to capture that one fact but the rest they got...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

My Dream

...more work from my past...this is what a writer does with unpublished shit when they make obligations to themselves and find themselves swamped...I am swamped...but this stuff is still good and chokes me up and some even makes me think again, about life and death and all points in between...~mobe

My Dream

to be caught, be seen, belong, perceived as mean
to be held, be bound, be gagged, even drowned


I ask you again, wherever I be that I can be me


to be awake, be spotted, be short, accused of tertness
to be secret, be exposed, be silenced, even loud


to be observed, be hurt, be sore, demanded a fee
to be alone, be watched, be stalked, able to scream


I ask you again, wherever I be that I can be me


to be together, be happy, be one, sentenced to the extreme
to be found, be cleansed, be sane, also amused


I ask you again, wherever I be that I can be me
                       ...this is my dream
11sept2007

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

When The Lights Go Out

okay, now I am reaching into the deep of the past to one of the songs I wrote. It is hard to describe to you all the melody and no, I will NOT call each and everyone of you to sing it to you. This is written for someone and they haven't heard it yet. But they will and it will make sense to them when it is heard. It is a sort of bittersweet lullaby~mobe

When The Lights

the wind in the willows it sways to and fro
I want to leave here and you're telling me no
I don't want to stay here just watching you go
when the lights go out


my love for you is as strong as can be
it's weakened by torment and pain that I see
I must get away-away far as I can
when the lights go out


when the lights go out, I'll be far away from here


you'll be too busy, have places to go
huggings and kisses, goodbyes and all-so
tears will be falling on grounds down below 
when the lights go out


when the lights go out will you remember me?
when the lights go out there'll be places to be.


I will run, jump and play with maple seed noses
help you sell windows b'fore Christmas comes closer
find all the tent pegs we lost every summer
if the lights don't go out


please don't be sad I will miss you a lot
I will be crying and hold dear cherished thoughts
hold a place for me when you get across
when the lights go out


when the lights go out I will miss you so
when the lights go out it'll be time to go
when the lights go out and you're gone from here
I will remember that you loved me too...daddy, dear.
25nov2005

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

Concert In The Green

Concert In The Green

tiny dew tricklets gliding down the raised veins
swollen trunks lined up, arms outstretched to the sun
air, rain and snow trying their hardest to knock down what nature has set forth
and still, Mother Earth brings forth berries and branches, bushes and nuts, seeds of 
     tomorrow
many a bird has lain its home within my strong arms
how gentle is the breeze, the breath of Grandmother's kiss and fields and meadows too
how precious is the glow of Grandfather's moon to light the night's faces
magically setting fire to cold and desolate dark
nymphs of light pulsate and flit all about my leaves caressing and scorching each and every 
     vein
many a beast will try to gorge on the dancing lights only to be left empty
the dance is long, each step and glide calling forth the morn
soon the orchestra will begin


as the audience crawls into the wood, some on four, some on six and more, noisily finding 
     their seats, the lights assemble themselves overhead
to light the moss covered stage down below
our conductor's longlegs tap the root podium signifying the hour
all the croakers have settled on the pads of the horn section
the longlegs have taken their seats in the string sections, ground tappers have sat 
     where percussions do too
the live lights dim and the audience hush  tap.tap.
sweet whisper is the tiny whine of the opening cello
such beautiful music from the tiniest of the hoppers
aged is our master of ceremonies but very limber calling from deep in his abdomen >now<
beautiful chorus
melodious harmony bouncing off the trees
singers dancing and cannot be seen
all around
up above Grandfather is happy, Grandmother blows another gentle kiss as Mother trembles 
     beneath our feet ever so slightly
clapping through the soil her heavenly approval and delight while brightly coloured fan 
     dancers flutter in and out of the light, and the music rolls on
all the forest is singing and dancing
spiders spin gossamer curtains for the last call as our strong, capable conductor beats out the 
     the tempo with its frantic approach
higher and higher; louder and louder
swirling and twirling in the mist
perfumes fill the air as now daylight approaches and glories bloom
glorious is our concerto, is the dance
salutorious is the celebration
life's gentle and rhythmic hymn, ecstasy in itself
I love these performances
I am proud to play my part and appreciate how infinite are the symphonies
and now, it's over
everyone has places to be, jobs to perform, even though I am sad the night's festivities have 
     ended
I am excited and looking forward to
morrows concert
so many things to sing 
for now I'll just sway and remember the music...                      
3jan2007

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

Snippets: Untitled

every once in a while I find I have snippets of thought's put to prose or verse that just make practical sense to me whether dark in nature or not. You will find some amusing and even confusing and I have a collection of these I have amassed over time and am utilizing and finally publishing here for you to all see. I have a hard time believing that they will every make copy for gain though I love my work and am both my own worst critic and loudest cheerleader. Below is a very short but meaningful one, please enjoy~mobe

(untitled)

my morbidity is catching up with me
my salinity is falling down my face
my brevity has no equal here
there's nothing in this shameless place
8sept2007

...like I said a snippet. It means something different to everyone I ask about it so I stopped asking. It is art, pure and simple. I love when I can produce and give birth to such nonsense that touches you all, even if some just don't get it or get it differently...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Economics for Majors (giggles)

The 2011 United States Fiscal Year in Review: An Economic Crisis

Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown of the economy, Congress has decided to implment a scheme to put workers of 50 years of age and above on early, mandatory retirement, thus creating jobs and reducing unemployment.

This scheme will be known as RAPE (Retired Aged Peoples Early).

Persons selected to be RAPEd can apply to Congress to be considered for the SHAFT program (Special Help After Forced Termination).

Persons who have been RAPEd and SHAFTed will be reviewed under the SCREW program (System Covering Retired-Early Workers).

A person may be RAPEd once, SHAFTed twice and SCREWed as many times as Congress deems necessary and appropriate.

Persons who have been RAPEd could get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependents & Spouse) orHERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel Early Severance).

Obviously, persons who have AIDS or HERPES will not be SHAFTed or SCREWed any further from Congress.

Persons who are not RAPEd and are staying on will receive as much SHIT (Special High Intensity Training) as possible. Congress has always prided themselves on the amount of SHIT they give their citizens.

Should you feel that you do not receive enough SHIT, please bring this to the attention of your local Congressman, who has been trained to give you all the SHIT you can handle.

Sincerely,

The Committee for Economic Value of Individual Lives (EVIL)

ps. Due to recent budget cuts and the rising costs of electricity, gas and oil, as well as the cureent market conditions, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been turned off.

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

From Beginning To End

the slimy oozings from a cavern's ceiling making its way to the cold rocky ground below in the darkness will become something great only to fall from the pedestal in due time. A slight breeze between the rubble picks up trace elements and carries it to the creatures. The ingestion and metabolism of "pre-man" will become the fecal matter of yesterday.

A tree will grow through the muck and bear fruit and seed. Somewhere a bird flies hungrily and sees the shiny, red, fallen apples and relishes the sweet pulpy flesh as it picks what it can including seed pods. Once again that humanity will be shat out into the ocean's salty tears. Perchance for a waterfriend to consume and be caught in by a bear at the shore and later piled into more filth and muck that a rat or owl will gravitate to. And eventually that which will create man.

We hold ourselves in such high esteem and seem to think there is no barrier between the filth we were and the filth we are. Life begets life and we are no more civilized than the next evolutionary spectacle ready to usurp our seat.

I will not be around to see the devolution of mankind. But I smile sweet sardonic grins on what it will be to be the enlightened soul who does not bear witness to and suddenly realizes they are the lowest species on the evolutionary food chain of the universe.

Just some random food for thought...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Beast Within

rubbing elbows is an inescapable action in "close quarters" living arrangements. It becomes difficult to even remember where one person begins and another ends. You get accustomed to a way of life and each other. A fair amount of shame gets left behind on the wayside. You get too comfortable in the mundane and needfulness of the situation.

I don't like my privacy invaded. I'm an open creature and most comfortable within my own skin. Nakedness and exposure are not new to me even in a public "for instance." But like a wild creature, I loathe being looked at or ogled. It is not a reflection on self worth, but rather an abject disliking to being the subject of another's microscope. People seem to think of themselves as the only intelligent thinkers in the cosmic scheme of things, but they are not. All living things experiment and adapt and evolve based upon the trial and error of that data. Yes, some pay the ultimate sacrifice in that laboratory we call life, but the rest of the herd still learns from those failures. Even the "wild things" that roam the night.

So, I don't like to be studied and, it would surprise you to know, I like being touched even less. There needs to be a respect of privilege when it comes to touching me. I'm sure many of you can relate. Casual bumping or an unexpected hand on the shoulder or the reaching out by a loved one to touch a cheek repulse me. Even if it is my own child, and I try to be as less invading of other's physical selves as I would like and appreciate them being to my own.

This is an observation and I notice certain patterns of reason among the lesser creatures. Smaller creatures run a higher heart rate and subsequent temperature. This make the physical infiltration difficult to accept. I run a thermonuclear temperature naturally and feel "frozen" while this occurs. People tell me all the time how warm I feel and gravitate to me, but I am freezing and prefer to be left in that state and not have another oven shoved up against me causing me to feel pain and combust internally. This "contact to contact" stimuli raises body temperatures and heart rates to very uncomfortable levels for me. There isn't a nice way to say it. I don't like these metabolic changes. I feel agitated and invaded, even violated when I make it known, and people try and fuck with me to see how severe my dislike really is. It is a medical and mental condition and needs to be respected. I agree one should feel comfortable in the family unit with siblings, children, parents and spouses. I just don't. I have never made a true mental bond or connection of heart to them so the final physical one escapes me as necessary and is lost on my emotion, having no anchor. I go into "fight or flight" involuntary responses when it has been disrespected. And the range of these attacks can be mere heart pounding to possible other's bodily injury or my own, stroke based one.

It happened today. I cannot control it and I do trust people just only so long as I can see and keep distance and perimeter clear. it happened yesterday and I know it will happen again tomorrow. I can count on it. I loathe it. Like some mad game to see how far I can be pushed.

The older I get the more I abhor the fact. Worse still, I hate that I even loathe the touch of my own child. It's not her fault and she has done me no harm (nor I her). It's not that I don't touch her at all or love her or trust her either. She remarked to me about my lack of physical affection. And it occurs to me this is a repeated diatribe to my existence. My own parents lacked the ability to pick me up, hug me and comfort me. At least I have done better than that with Laurel when she was smaller, though the older she gets the less inclined and more fearful I become. They brag about it, the neglect, each with their own reasoning as to why.

The circle is continuing. Only I am aware. She made me aware and I have been trying  to let her closer, little by little. Since she was ten. That's when she first told me. She hinted at it earlier when she had first started second grade and began to compare notes with other children and witness the public displays of physical affection she had already started to miss. I didn't get it then. I do now. I'm just not sure I will ever let her or anyone else completely in. There is beauty in my mental "dis"ease.

I often wonder how little humanity will be left in me in the end when I fully accept that in me which pushes you and them away. Will you stay and watch "my" experiment, my metamorphosis? Does it intrigue you to know this regression exists, that the man, woman in this case, can truly become the beast you all so fear?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

The Master vs The Student

as a teacher we find it difficult to see a student fall and not get back up. It is also difficult to see them fail and fight to the bitter end in their twisted logic. You yearn for them and their ignorance and pray that they find a way to still want to learn and trust that you know what you're talking about. As a mom who is also a teacher, my one important student did both. It broke my heart as I could do naught but inform her she failed, in her folly and her forced ignorance. It killed me but I had to stand firm and I was ruthless.

It would be unfair of me to rob her of the opportunity to better herself. Most of you would have done things different, I'm sure. No one wants to bring bad news to their little prince's or princess' doorstep. No one wants to discourage their kids and neither do I. Understand that. Inherently, many parents secretly fear their children succeeding them, but ultimately do not give in to their own selfish fear and try to perpetuate them forward. I see things differently than you. It doesn't mean you are wrong, it just means I don't agree and here's why.

I don't want my child representing herself and her environment and community with a failure's attitude. Nor do I want her to misrepresent herself because she has been coddled and lied to her whole life (which she hasn't but you get the point). Today was a harsh day in teaching her and guiding her. She is stubborn and brought to my attention two passages she wrote. I couldn't read them. They made no sense and were riddled with grammar, punctuation, spelling, vernacular and sentence structural failures. Try as I may she wanted nothing to do with fixing these items and it was infested with ignorance. She wanted my opinion. She said. But the truth was she wanted acceptance and unconditional kudos and I couldn't give her that honestly. It's hard being a writer with a kid you have corrupted who looks up to you as her idol who shits on a paper and hands it to you and expects total acceptance because of relativity. She didn't get it. She cried. I felt like shit but stood firm.

The truth is I was insulted. I was insulted she would represent herself in this unfinished manner. She wanted me to approve of her idea, but I found an idea lacking in all the sea of misused adjectives and adverbs and metaphors among the many clerical errors that she is old enough to correct. The vernacular wasn't even up to par for a fourth grade "C" student and it broke my heart. She is trying too hard and didn't finish the work and there was nothing to form an opinion on, but she pushed and defended her words, what few of them had made sense. I tell you this because I want you to know not only am I hard on you all or myself but I am also hard upon her. I expected better from her. There was nothing for her to say but it seemed she wasn't happy with my confused anger and the opinion I had. I questioned her intent in wanting my opinion and challenged her back citing the need of acceptance. We all need it as artists. When we don't get it we go back to the drawing board or we quit. I told her if that was all she had to offer and if she stands on that kind of work and defends it, as she has proved, that she needed to quit and soon. Remarkably I meant it.

No one would be more proud if their child surpassed them in fans and notoriety when it comes to following in their parents footsteps than I would be if she did and succeeded. But she represents herself, we all do and not just herself but me, her future children and spouse/partner, her father (asshole! >cough<) and her environment. It WAS insulting. That she was so blinded by the want of stardom that she failed to see the valid need for improvement and the fact that she deliberately chose to forgo the laws of "writing" and invent her own laws and force them onto a person and hold them hostage. She even told me another person was not pleased and I questioned her, she citing this girl knew so little about writing. She still didn't see how she failed, epicly! If a child of her own age couldn't identify with the material then she had not succeeded in producing anything of use to the world she wants so much to belong to, mine and other writers'. I told her this. I told her if she continued to write for herself alone without having an audience in mind and without a structured and organized plan, then she might as well write her disorganized shit in a journal and never put it to the world. I "banned" her from the kingdom of pens and pencils and paper and ink and paint and crayon. I banished her from my eyes begging her to never bring her teacher another passage.

I don't have a single regret. If she wanted an opinion on an idea, especially an unfinished one, then she should have sounded off the idea, and then I would give an honest opinion and she could write from there in her own words what she expressed and she wanted to convey. A seamstress is designing a dress and her master dressmaker sees her plans and tweaks them with her. Then she goes and sews and builds the dress, always under the watchful eye of her master (until she herself becomes a master) to guide her and help her to produce a worthy gown. But Lobo went and made a train wreck of a dress that didn't fit its customer and was awful and gaudy and had no significant purpose other than to reflect to the world the seamstress had not learned a damn thing and that she did not care what the customer wanted. Then proceeded to tell them they HAD to wear it and that she was appalled and flabbergasted that they would see it as anything but brilliant. They were flawed in her eyes and not her untrained self and her inflated ego. >POP< I burst that bubble and ripped every seam and shredded every bit of stitching and left her there with her heap of disorganized thread and fabric and mess and told her to clean it up.

I'm a cunt ain't I? And keep in mind this is my princess! (Calm down, calm down!) I love her more than life and she is MY GOWN that I present to you and what good of a master dressmaker would I be if I hung and unfinished product in my shop window? Would you buy it? More than likely not. I have an obligation to produce a functioning citizen who represents her culture in her own unique way but within the realm of the laws of her craft. These laws were made by me and other masters who put our time in and by you, the consumer. And I take my job, work, art, motherhood seriously enough to make her see the error of her ways. She wants to quit. I get that. She thinks she has wasted her time, and she has in this moment. But I know she can do better-I have seen it, and I know she has potential, seen that too.

It is up to her. She has to decide her dream is worth fighting for and admit failure (that's the hardest step and the most important) and return to the desktop and the teacher and seek help for where she went wrong. I will gladly open my arms and tell her it's okay as we all have set backs. I will demand truth, honesty and hard work and I will reward it kindly. I asked her what she did with the two papers. She said she destroyed them, shredded them herself (my shredding was metaphorical for those of you lovelies that didn't pick up on that), and upon looking for them, I find she lied to me, again. I feel for her, I confronted her as she again defended herself saying she shredded them in her heart. She didn't (I'm glad), and in a none too motherly tone and more like a school marm from 25th Reich, I told her she will correct them and I will see them again and we will discuss them!

It behooves me. I actually paused this blog tonight to go to the kitchen trash and get the "shredded" articles to rewrite them word for word to present them to her as an assignment to correct as a surprise. But instead found more lies on top of the ones she's been telling me all along and worse, herself. And I have never lied to her, ever...it's true, but she sees the rest of the world and the other hominids doing it all the time to a selfish benefit and gain and sees Honest BAbe struggling and losing most of the time in her honesty and figures it's okay. (She won't even get the BAbe pun because she refuses to learn. She feels it is beneath her to learn and that the things I do just fall out of my ass as gold. She wasn't there when I fell and got up and fell and got up and fell and got up...etc.) So either way, the donkey will drink the water if I have to take her to the sea myself and drown her. If she's lucky, she will die and be reborn again more pleasant. If she's blessed, she will die and come back as another master's daughter/son. But she will take in the water. I wished for a hallmark moment. I wanted to find them shredded and make them whole again and encourage her, but she chooses every time to do things the hard way.

If she wants it she's got it. A fight for her life and her life's work. But I guarantee she won't step out into this world unfinished. She will either be one of the elite and make herself proud or she will decide to become a baker, but I will still love her no matter what she decides and still push her and still be her worst critic until she learns to be that and be her best cheerleader when she succeeds. I can't be naught else...It's been a long and tiring day and will be this night, as I have to force myself to stay up after the sickness that attacked me the last 48. I love you all and her more and hope you understand and respect what I did, even if you don't agree with it...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Paradise?

the illuminated face of an old man's loneness shows us the madness we keep inside. He mocks me and tells me he is pleased at my ill and hopes that I will never take succor from the pleasant moments in life. I let him have his monthly dues and stick out my tongue as a child-like stance to allow him the knowledge that I will smile and my will is not defeated but for the moment. It is his day, rather night and I will leave him this night and resign myself to my bed sheets and fan and comforter and suffer the sun's company at dawn if only to keep peace.

The light he brings this eve is of no use to me or mine. Most all us lay creatures cower from the sight of his lit face away into the dark crevasse of a rocky crag to keep hidden and live longer. I challenged him last evening and I pay, fully, as he stabs my wounds when my eyes have closed and withdrew him a blackened and bloody blade and slid it across his lips to taste the forbidden. He knows there will be a time when we will have to finally accept a fate and face one another, alone and duel out the aggression and loathing we have held onto so dear for one another. But tonight...alas...he owns this night...

Crawls her damaged body into the cool cotton woven sheets striped like a candy cane. Stares up at the ceiling knowing tomorrow will be a different kind of pain, the searing heat of thermonuclear combustion causing her to cry out and hide but never effectively as she has appointments. A sigh escapes from her chest as the weight of her bossom presses in a little heavier with each short and painful breath. The feel of her lungs giving in and the rotted nutrients in her stomach is enough to make her cry but she won't, she did this. She forgot in her madness to take better care of herself, so she will endure and pray for death to release her or the torment to end. The pale body rolls to her right side and faces the wall wishing sleep would come. At least when she is sleeping she can dream of greater battles and chalk up any discomfort to the happily gained wounds of some great feat. But sleep won't come and the human chemicals coursing in her body won't release the inflammation from her decaying process. To be Wamphyrii is a truly great gift in all that you are above others in physical abilities. But to endure the doorway of death over and over and the putrification of one's own flesh as you rot from the inside out...the things one must endure for everlasting youth and great strength. No crying tonight or any other night except the cries of battles held in the final end. Only one single tear to stain and dry upon her cheek as she lay their helpless to her self-induced folly waiting for the sun's scorching heat to torment her more into awakening. She will need to fast and to keep alert through more than a day to rectify the damage and the time to get back on track...finally...sleep comes...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her love.

Temporary

everyday has the potential to be exactly what you wish it to be. But not all live up to it as we rummage along the hours like rats in a maze. No one seizes what is theirs anymore, and it seems most of what we have is squandered for reasons known and unknown alike.

Temporary is life. Things don't last, reminding us of what in this world doesn't last but she mocks us, this planet. I listen in the late hours when most of you are sleeping and hear her silent laughter as she suffers the temporary pains we provide her when we rape her skin and steal her secrets. I was cooking this past evening. Not the whole baker's ordeal and what not but had gone shopping and returned home to realize the day was not as long as I wanted it. I wasn't angry. What need would there have been? Time didn't slip away, I just miscalculated what was needed and how much. Most of us do that in all or some facets either way.

So I did not get the children (borrowed one) home until late and by the time my own daughter had finished helping me it was hours past her sleep time. Today she had planned for school but that was only temporary as I cannot let her suffer my mistake. I bent time and bent reason and gave her a day off...a sick day...a sick of life day. She was more than accepting and will give me grief when I wake up at 2-ish for all the work I will give her to do to ensure she is good and tired and ready for bed on time. I don't like her idle. I am not idle. And despite my fragile state and good looks (giggles), I get more done than any three of my exes combined!
Tonight my replicant will cook with me and eat and be merry and we will resume her schedule as if there never was this little radar blip, and the temporary break will be vanished only slightly in our past.

I wish all of you and yours a temporary blip. I wish that your free day is filled with work you love, people who love you and a full plate. I do not squander what I know I can't take with me. I utilize everything as my peoples had. And when I am gone there will be just the words on the screen or paper and maybe a voice recording or two of what I was like...temporary.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Day Of Pain

A Day Of Pain

a light does shine on a well in a field. There is a shadow that stands there within another. Behind them stands the shadow of yet another fallen and the they stretch for miles and miles. Two towers fell that day. Two trillion people fell in the last four thousand years. Too many lost and all for what?


tears have shone on the faces of every evidence of mankind. They leave a shadow of pain on the face. That shadow stays there and is the most difficult stain to remove. It stretches for miles and miles since the day two creatures crawled from the muck and mire or were placed here by gods or other terrestrial peoples. Two people who did not get along and their ancestors who still are not getting along. For what?


on a curb there sits children playing with shiny cars. They cast a pleasant shadow on the concrete. One a male child and one a female. One black and one white. Another child steps up to play, he wears different clothes and his skin is brown and he brought along his friend with the darkest straightest hair she could see through her own squinty eyes. They sit and talk about school and teachers and cars and playgrounds. They compare mothers' milk and fathers' growls. Too many people walk past and don't even notice. Too many people don't get the message. Their shadows are lovely.


in a bed in a hospital lies a man who fought three wars. His wife passed long before he and her shadow is no more but a memory. He weeps because he should have been first. Then he cries for the men and women he has lost. His friends shadows are gone, one of his sons' is gone and he begins to see the impact he has had on this world. His shadow is fading and he weeps louder for the mothers of the sons he and his buddies killed. His shadow is nearly gone and a man appears by his beside. His enemy, his doctor. And that man casts a looming shadow over the ailing man and grabs his hand and smiles and tells him he is a good man and he can let go. That man was also his friend, Soon one shadow will no longer be visible in that room.

my shadow is small today. I am hunched over in heaves sobbing for all the hurt. The Earth won't cast a shadow this day upon the moon because she is hunched over with me, crying. May it rain and cleanse all the hearts. May the winds blow and clear all the minds. May we all be able to lift our heads to whatever gods may great your conscious and feel righteous again, as we once had, so many years ago. May our shadows be strong...

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

A Day To Remember: 9-11-2011

a decade has past and I look back on the war and fighting. Our soil was stained so many years ago with the blood of the Natives and again with the blood of the settlers. Now it has been stained for the second time with the blood of its citizens and civil servants because a war that stems from greed. And, it has been stained all along by crimes of humanity that get overlooked daily. Gone are the days of creativity and ingenuity and invention. Now...

This is a sad day for all of us. We all are suffering the attacks on our way of life whether on a global scale or on a more personal one as in my case and I'm sure, a few of your own. This is where the hands of fate step in and slap the ever-loving shit out of the people. All the people are guilty. It doesn't matter if you are a Christian, Hebrew, Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist, Agnostic, Pagan, Aboriginal. We all have committed acts of unkindness against one another. When will we realize we ALL live here and all need to band together for a common good? When will the fighting end and the living and sharing begin?

I am sad this day not for the ones who have passed or their families. I am sad for the ones who don't get the messages and the writing on the wall. All walls. How many children, people, elderly must be sacrificed for greed? All this war is nothing more than a "You have what the fuck I want and I'm going to take it and you can come chase my ass and kill the little guys on my soil but I still got your stuff!...nya nya nya naa nya nahhhh!"

This ridiculous and as long as we still see color, religion, sex, sexual proclivity, hate, economic status, educational setback, looks and disabilities and refuse to see the value in each other, we will continue to lose valuable people and resources. No one is watching their children. No one is watching their spouses and employees. Everyone's eyes are on the wrong prize! We need to look within ourselves regardless of race, species, color, etc... and start to make a difference.

I try to do my part. My parts are as witness and orator. I am the voice of the small citizen and the voiceless child. I am the voice of abuse and neglect. I am the voice of pain and hurt. I would love nothing more than to be the voice of reason, but it will only work if they listen...Are YOU listening?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves

The Disobedience of Mankind

the disobedience of mankind is amazing. They know exactly what they do and yet choose to leap to the occasion  and forever doom themselves to the disabling pieces of their self. I sense this addiction among many species but I notice it is far worse within mankind's existence.

Now, for those of you not on the same page as my few diligent followers, the difference between mankind and humankind is the human stain that is the "correct" and "preferred" genome. (<---yes she's being snide!) Mankind takes into consideration the other species that resemble and are kin to humans but not entirely enough, so they have their own clique! I am one of them as is Lobo. Today she exhibited the penultimate in disobedience. I got to give her credit though. When she fucks up she fucks up big time and goes above and beyond and stands out as an honor student of hard knocks just as easily as she does for her general academic studies!

Laurel is pushing back. She is in the tough spot between adulthood and childhood where your body looks adult enough but your mind is that of a child still, and the only time you seem to reflect an adult behavior is when you're expressing the more seedier side and negative emotions that come with being one jaded motherfucker....and for her...she had the best teacher of them all on jaded motherfuckers! She seems to think, like other children her age, that we as adults make rules and boundaries not to protect them but to make their life miserable. And when they see their bodies becoming as ours they think they can decide, like we do, what's good for them and us. Only now we have teens and preteens getting pregnant, doing drugs, stealing, murdering and so on.

Sure there have been instances of these issues in the past but not to the degree we have today. If a girl was knocked up before completing school (don't worry "her" virginity is still intact!) she was forced to attend night-school and such and was outcast to a minimal degree sending a clear message to our other young ladies that it IS unacceptable. Now we have day cares in school and these young sexually active mothers are bragging all about how wonderful it is and how awesome it is when they get attention and we have a fucking epidemic on our hands! I was lucky enough to not give a damn what society thought and teach my daughter with graphic tools about venereal disease and sex and give her ALL the facts. She has seen photos of genitalia and seen photos of diseases on genitalia and I have read to her very descriptively the standard operating procedures for ridding a patient of said diseases and funk. She knows about sex too and knows that when she is mentally ready that she has enough confidence to express her needs, whatever they be, and not slide into archaic ideals and lie there and take it!

Drugs is another story. I cannot tell her of a personal bad experience of my own. All I can tell her is of the experiences of others who failed miserably to keep themselves safe and on track. I was a little smarter than most and knew what to avoid and what not to, but it was/is my job to let her know the dangers and the truths and not just what I want her to hear. I never did them when I was a child and she won't either, and had I been college bound like I was supposed to be with supportive parents who helped me get financial aide and grants instead of kicking the crap out of each other and whichever random child crossed paths with them while I was watching their children, I might have put off experimenting with drugs until my education was completed BECAUSE I was smart enough to know I couldn't do both. Just like I was smart enough to know I couldn't start a family and raise a kid while under the influence. And I didn't...I quit when I got married, just like that.

I didn't need AA or NA to quit. I didn't go to rehab and say "No, NO, NOOOOO" and I certainly didn't abuse the ones I love (no matter how bad the family fucking deserved it, I swear I didn't) to steal their things and buy my "fixes" if you will. I was given most of my shit because I was responsible and generous and funny and, well, like you guys...people just liked having me around and the boys really liked the effects to my sexuality when combined with alcohol and drugs. Basically, I'm a whore and evidently, a really GOOD one at that! Lobo will probably do drugs and drink and I know she will have sex, but I hope she will wait. I hope she will make BETTER choices than I did. I hope she will use her head and not LOSE her head in the heat of the emotion and the surge of hormones like she has been as of late...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

ps. I deliberately left out her issue at hand because Little Miss Mini mobe is grounded for a very long time and she brought that wrathe upon her own head. She knows what she did wrong and her fates know too and it was bound to happen. The sucky part in it is that she isn't the only punished by her actions and she is figuring that out as we speak. Her friends and Boyfriend and what not are suffering right along with her for her actions. If it doesn't make her socially aware of her OWN IMPACT on others and their happiness and needs then she was born without a conscience and will have to travel a far different road than most of you....mobe

Untitled (looking for suggestions~mobe)

the lies you told so common and bold and the lips that spit them out were of poison
I cannot grasp how a venomous asp could be wicked enough to crawl from its hole
the words on untrue that had bellowed from you left a twisted feeling inside
as my gut had wrenched so and I knew you a foe, I put all that mattered to hide


la-da-ti-da la-da-ti-dee la-da-ti-da ti-do
la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-dee ti-dee!


my trust was your gift, but now with this rift there seems just and empty space
where once was a chair and I held you there but just now want to rid of this place.
to flee, to fly upon a steed so fast as an arrow's path will go. away my back from them eyes
and set wind to the flame that burns the emberous coals in the fire of your core whys.


la-da-ti-da la-da-ti-dee la-da-ti-da ti-do
la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-dee ti-dee!


one's had too much, too little, not enough, and one needs too much, to little and not enough
with a week so short, so long, so this and a month so long, so longer it's rough.
but you mock and neglect what you claim as yours, and you wish and make plans to be.
now have lost that very shiny bore from the hands that tried grip me.


la-da-ti-da la-da-ti-dee la-da-ti-da ti-do
la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-dee ti-dee!


it will end and not so nice because it had to can't you know it had to,
and I promised myself I won't cry because I can't and you know it and now have to go you.
away I say away so far but close to my proximity with a lustful turn! you want and yearn
when I can hear a word as you look and herd all the others you seek when it was I once spurn.

la-da-ti-da la-da-ti-dee la-da-ti-da ti-do
la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-dee ti-dee!

a loss a gain and life to maim and your tears will fallow the ground
not one look back on the rocky road to wonder or guess or to see
la-da-ti-da la-da-ti-dee la-da-ti-da ti-do
la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-do la-da-ti-dee ti-dee!