Friday, October 15, 2010

Mother


I love her despite her faults that caused my afflictions ..

I hate her because of lies, excuses and her pathetic  addictions 

She’s a bad song that keeps reoccurring in my head 
a bitter taste on my tongue, all the words we never said.  
Mother 
I forgive her effortlessly, weighing all options, offering help prayers and tears. 

Yet I refuse to answer the phone, its been too many years ...

Although there are 540,000 words in the English Language nothing she could say would change my mind....

An unrelenting search for a lost soul I will never find...
Mother 

I bathe you , feed you, read to you, sing to you, I wish upon a star for you... 

I smell your filth, allow you to go hungry ..and stand alone in silence, Wishing I had you  

Mother 

I see your weakness 

You have caused my scars 
 I love you Mommy, 

You have gone to far....

Mother 
SHe walks me to the mall 
I walk her to the clinic 

She tells me shes sorry 
Yet the sound of apathy fills within it...

Over 40 million people a year trudge the path you have chose
Yet I try to hide your sickness with creamy eyeshadow and fancy clothes. 
The truth is you died, 
A long time ago 
No perfume made could cover that well, 
As you lived your life, you created my Hell...
So quit calling my name and playing your games, 
Im out I quit -your life is full of shame 

Mother 

Dont braid my hair your 10 years to late,
Dont worry about the wedding it was just another date. 
And my daughter she’s Beautiful-  Everything that you will never be 

So leave us alone and allow me to be free 
Mother 

Over 17,000 people a year die from one pill to many ...
Your starving yourself of life....dwindling away, your getting to skinny..

The phone pierces in the middle of the night ...
my body immersed in sweat 
waiting for sentence, a call 
I’ll never forget 

I stumble in the madness , the keys in my hand.. 
The tears I wont cry over the times never spent playing in the sand .
The love letters you never read -ambitions left unsaid

They choke me like vines that continue to grow..

Identifying  the body of a woman I really don't know.. 

Mother 

This is my sad song muse, and my slam
There has to be a solution, cant we discover a plan...
Here it is, I will lay it on the line.. 
as innocence's speak the truth one more time... 

 Drugs equal corruption and one day the’ll fall .. 

It seeks out its victims affecting us all 
In hallways and churches, back rooms and buses

Your  sister, His  brother, her dad, my 
Mother

Friday, October 8, 2010

"And by the way, everything in life is writable about- if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." Sylvia Plath

Kenadie ....

One day when your old .. I want you to be able to realize the love story between a mother and a daughter... I had truly never experienced it at first hand, although my grandma and aunt did and excellent job trying to fill my void..... It wasn't until the day I held you in my arms when I realized pure bliss. And now you are 2 years old and every day is a new adventure... Your smily can turn any day around... Your touch and laugh and choice of words astonish me daily... You can spell your name and speak in Spanish .. You can sing and dance and bring your parents closer... When I look at you I can't help but fall more in love with your father .. We did a pretty good job if I say so myself .. :) video

10-07-2010

My husband and I celebrated our 3rd year wedding anniversary. He truly is amazing..and I am a lucky girl.. I love how different we are and how we truly complete each other ... I have never seen two Gemini's who are more opposite ..  Our daughter received the best of both worlds ;)

Gas to Prestonsburg $10
Dinner at Renos $20
Me riding a Harley in skinny jeans and dress shoes in 40degree weather ... = Priceless :)

I love you Jason and I cant wait to celebrate many more years of our wonderful life together ...

-Megan

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Now I lay me down to sleep..

As I urged my daughter to say her prayers last night, I began to think about my own prayer.. or lack of praying.. and my stream of consciousness began to flow like dirty orange iron water ... the bitter truth began to resonate with me.. and it hurt...  it hurt like hell...


Why is it so hard to be a Christian.. ? Why do I treat God like a First Aid box that hides beneath my bathroom sink and is only pulled out during an Emergency?  Why can I read my romance novels yet find no time to cleanse myself with God's amazing word... ?Why can I hit every ball game but not every service..? Why can I listen to trash on the radio but not the music that can uplift my soul? Why do I doubt? Why do I even questions existence?  Why do I place God on the back burner until I become hungry for something more than sin for simply a season.. ? Why do I  stay luke warm.. .? Why don't I change and be on fire...? Why am I afraid to cross the line...? Why cant I pick up the cross and follow him..? Why must I drop it down and then pick it up at my connivence..? Why do I forget to pray ..? He doesn't forget to let me breathe.. exist- fill my life full of blessings .. yet I forget him .. he forgives me and I forget him..

Food for thought .. or more like food poisoning .. Have a Happy Sunday

My friend Erica...

Soft warm grey box shimmers
       cold stiff limbs tucked away inside
                    left to dry lifeless like a prune.

No tears in her eyes they fall upon my cheeks instead
    salty lips reach for an unreachable hand
                 painted on peach color cheek bones.

Glass shell covers her- SnowWhite- preserved for greatness
          packaged -on her way to heaven
                         without a return address.

The price of the stamp
          Her LIFE.

-In memory of Erica Brown
                            

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Delighting Myself Through a Draft ..

Sample drafts of my writing from the conference... 

*How I managed to graduate from MSU without having the pleasure of being in the presence of Eklund's brilliance I will never understand.. All English Majors should be REQUIRED to take his class.. 


What you are about to read is what I consider and refer to as"Word Vomit"- I stole this phrase from my brilliant colleague and friend- Mandy..I will search writing to find the diamonds that sporadically appear  to create poetry or other types of writing... 


MY.....

My love pours from the pen 
leaking onto the paper creating my perfect place. 

My fear dreams the unthinkable dream 
as it drinks the bittersweet cocktail we call life.

My rage consumes  my vessel, stealing away my soulful inner child. 

My sorrow told me NO. 

My grief sang a song of innocence that whispered out the stained glassed window into the wind
as it howled and echoed into the night. 

My beauty pours from fake facades and grey covered eyes. 

My love lingers in scents, silence and the taste of my neck. 

My heart desires to touch you, yet my mind begs me to refrain. 

I turn my cheek and expose myself, bare-desolate alone
touch me, taste me and tantalize me.

My sympathy compels me to do wrong. 
I'm drowning in shame that swallows me whole..

My faults become translucent to the world.
My loneliness steals my secrets from my mind ..trying to find a friend.

My dreams play tricks, my illusions find flaws.









Words and ideas can change the world...-Dead Poets Society

After returning home from my "first ever writing conference" as a young professional I have come to several conclusions....

1. I want to quit my job and become a professional writer.
2. I met a young lady who inspired me to not only be a better teacher, but to truly grab a hold of life so tightly... that your fingers begin to bleed.
3. George Eklund is the bomb....