i tried to explain
the majesty of mushrooms
who grow best in darkness
and thrive in the damp
and flourish midst breakdown
and live in the bullshit

but he just laffed derisive
and opened his wolfmouth
and said you are still
just a fungus
Image 001

Nothing But Trash

I can’t seem to get it out of my head right now,
that voice that says I am nothing but trash.

I watched them eat today…all the love I poured out
into a soup made of cabbage and heart, tomatoes and soul,
sausage and love…and oodles of noodles spiced and
called Minestrone…

how could they know what I add to it,
as I stir it, sing over it, taste it, and most of all
picture their faces and hear their glad voices
as they partake of it and are made more whole?ophelia_by_avine-d8gzrdwI don’t use any measuring cups for adding me, I just
pour it in, and then add a bit more…that’s who I want to be.
That’s who I think I am, try to be…
but the voice, gawd that gibbering skritching itchy voice
so insinuating, sibilant, and reminding…it never forgets,
it never lets me forget either.tumblr_mh7kswp48l1qg39ewo1_500oh fuuuu…how I wish I could forget making
a love offering, excited and sweet and for
a Once in a Lifetime Special Occasion…
and to the trash bin…to the trash
and that is what the voice says I am
a transgender piece of trash not worth
the paper I am printed on.

“you call yourself grace, at least have the good grace
to go die, or at least put yourself in the trash”.

I poured me in!  My me…in there!
So nothing, me…so trashy me…so dangerous and poison,

and then voice speaks of the transgression of the me,
and the infinite regress of guilty, and
guilty by association…

not a good time for this garbage
nothing but trash.tumblr_mwe8yxcZhZ1rouua1o1_1280



inside, shrill, ringing and sounding tuneless and loud
never varying or rising or falling
and yet shrieking, screaming in horror
in terror of the tongues wagging
tongues slurring, and my heart

how can a shriek be, with no rising and falling,
doesn’t it usually sound like an ambulance
on the way to a 6 car pileup and bodies ejected?

no…this shriek is the ambulance on the way back in
with someone who will be called DOA
but arrival has not yet commenced

so it just tears and pours and roars and shrills
and spills and scratches and gouges
and shrieks.

god I wish it would stop.


I was touched by this

Dear Constace…any of you struggle with self-loathing?  Oh I know, we all at times don’t like ourselves, but that is different.  I struggle with self-loathing…a lot.  Self-Loathing is when you know better cognitively, you recognize that the feelings you have about yourself are inaccurate and not true in any external objective sense, but the feelings themselves just don’t care!  They exist anyway, no matter what you tell them or believe.

Usually the best I can get by myself is a compromise:  I will ignore you (the feelings) and you (the feelings) will hate me and we will just walk thru the day that way.  And silence…well silence is like gasoline to self-loathing because it feeds the feelings and the feelings get control and feed the wrong thoughts which feed the feelings and before you know it I am in internal 5 alarm fire and human emotional conflagration.

But there is a wild card:  Love.  Love can break the back of the feelings and make them go away, whether it be the words of my baby or my bestie or even a stray compliment from a total stranger.

And Mama…She has saved the day so often.

Well, I saw this lil quote and it made me smile, cus yeah…this works too!  Thanks Darling!!!

tell me which part of yourself
you hate the most
so I know exactly where to plant my lips
every time I see you


Khalil Gibran Just Beat Me UP!!

“God Said
‘Love Your Enemy’
And I Obeyed Him
And Loved Myself.”

— خليل جبران ‎
Khalil Gibran

Umm…okay so my face just got slapped big time, yes?  How about you?  Do you struggle as I with self-loathing and self-hatred (and not the holy, good kind)?

Jesus said to love your neighbor as you love yourself…so if I cannot love myself then what kind of pathetic love will have for my neighbor.

It is quite likely that self-loathing is merely a manifestation of pride and the old original bugaboo of self-worship.

Hmm…another thing to consider during Advent Waiting!



The Secret Keepers

Constance…please do not walk, but RUN on over to Karen’s blog and read this post! I just know that some of you are going to experience the gentle can opener she so skillfully wields.

I can attest to that…while I was never sexually abused, to my conscious knowledge and deep-long examinations, I have been abused in other ways. Shaking off the shame of it, the self-loathing of it, and worst of all, feeling that it was somehow what I deserved has been the 2nd biggest battle of my life.

I love Mama’s army of wounded healers! I love how Karen has intentioned and purposed to allow her life to be used for other’s good and Their glory. She has asked for this to be reblogged? I am happy to honor her request, but rest assured, it is worthy of reblogging in and of itself as a stand alone piece of excellence and sharp truth inside gentle clothings.

With thankfulness,

Words fail me

{I wrote this last week…and put it in drafts, because it seemed toxic and radioactive.  Now, a week later, I think that it is good to post it, as I want a picture to be painted that is as true and real as I know how.  Clearly, we all fall short of True-truth understanding of reality and our place in it, but practically our perception and experience is real, and valid for being vulnerable regardless…these colors are an essential part of the picture of my life that is being created…and this poem a small work in a larger Work which someday may indeed be found a profound and priceless creation:  A life well lived.}

Words Fail Me

No pretty words,
no elegant phrase,
no alliteration
dancing and spinning,
distracting from
the deformed spirit limbs
and lack of true hallmarks
as a woman.
Just the moments,
which heap up
and pile up
and ever deepen
the ache inside.
You know this about me,
and still let it be.
It is preferable
to having to talk
to this stupid bitchy mutant
and tolerate her

why…her what,

her her


I fall,
Icarus struck down
and wings revealed
as crude and pathetic