Poems

I sat down next to her

On a sunny day

She raised her head politely

To greet the warming rays

I talked to her of troubles

She listened all the while

Daisy never said a word

I think I saw a smile

She nodded with the breezes

She stood so brave and tall

And though her days are numbered

She was bothered not at all


No, I don’t feel like I am shunned or some sort of an outcast.

Nobody “hurt” me and I’m not bitter or pouting or angry.

Actually, I’m trying really hard to not show anyone my cards…

I was dealt a different hand and one by one I discarded them. I had my ace in the whole, so to speak. I was one of them. I was a follower and I was all in.

But now I’m holding my beliefs like a full house. I could play it but I wouldn’t win anything except freedom.

Nope… I’m not gonna play.

I’m…


Self-Reference

The cook sees a car broken down on the road. She offers the driver help. She insists on pouring hot soup into the gas tank…. Because that’s what makes people move

Meanwhile back at the cafeteria, a hoard of hungry patrons await. The cook is elsewhere so the mechanic steps in to assist. He fills the kettle with gas.

Self-referenced and unable to see the actual truth… we hurt when we help sometimes… because when you are a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

When you are a believer, every struggle seems like some sort of sin… oh poor sinner…


someone told me to write everyday. I am trying

The Lookout

I have absorbed the info. I have listened to the accounts. I have climbed up into the forest ranger’s lookout to see the horizon and gather my heart.

I look to the north, it is bad. I look to the east, it is bad. I look south and west and it is bad.

Is there anything at all that is not fucked up?

I can not think of one healthy system. I can’t find a single institution that isn’t corrupt or bankrupt. I can’t find a sliver of true…


Today I was challenged to think of the something that causes me to feel outrage. There are a several issues but the one that kicks me in the gut is institutionalized misogyny. I get really upset and downright angry with any group that relies on “traditions” to justify the disrespect and degradation of women — especially Evangelical Christianity.

I used to be one of those willing and trusting sheep that smiled and nodded as powerful men justified treating women as less. After all, it’s how God thinks, right? …


Forrest loved Jenny.

He didn’t expect anything in return.

He just kept an eye out for her… on his shrimpin’ boat, at his mama’s house, when he was run-nang, she was on his mind and in his heart.

Jenny was a long-shot but Forrest hoped, resigned to adore from afar.

That’s me for you, David. You’re my Jenny.

I keep an eye out for you (rather your writings, appearances, tours and such) as I plod along in anonymity, you know… just doing small-town life. One day I took a chance and wrote you. I still can’t believe that you wrote…


For your safety (and you know who you are)…

The longer you choose not to adapt…the more we love our bubble.

There are about a bazillion articles on the web about introversion. Some of them nauseate me by softening the blow with nice gracious explanations of why introverts need space.

Theses articles and essays are written very politely. This introvert article is not one of those. Simply put, if you are married to an introverted woman you better be doing your homework. It’s your job to understand that when she says that she needs space she is actually saying GTFO.


My first attempt at Creepy Pasta

The school bus windows were all open because it was very hot day. The ten kids still left on the bus were the same ones everyday except for Toad. Toad didn’t normally ride this bus.

Toad was the nickname she had been given back in September by some 5th graders and it stuck. They couldn’t call her Toad in front of the teachers but she had learned to answer to it all the same.

She was another poor fat girl. Their were plenty of them in school. This girl was uniquely suited for a…


j

Linda picked up a container of organic mixed greens and placed them next the half-gallon of low fat milk and the packages of ground turkey. She pulled a neatly folded list from the pocket of her purse that was riding in the child seat. She unfolded it and checked it again. It was a shorter list, only about ten items. She scanned it again trying to remember anything she had forgotten to write down. Her neat cursive list interrupted her husband's imperative large scrawl:

multivitamins

pick up my Rx

She sighed and checked her wallet for her prescription card and…


My favorite place to be is inside my own mind.

I need this cerebral “get away” and go there as often as I can. Some people might retreat with a bottle of vodka, or a Netflix binge. My brain is my playground, there’s always so much to think about. My favorite “trails” are psychology and how screwed up some people are, medical science or stuff about dead bodies (Hey, embrace your fears, right?) and true crime(Why am I only just now discovering the dark hobbies of H. H. Holmes?)

As a full-time artist and mom, my time alone is precious…

This Now by Kacy Latham

Not your usual pile of words. Writing is about the movement of the mind.

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