Tuesday, October 23, 2012


Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you:


Also known as "GET THE FUCK GONE."


You see me at the bus stop, the QT, the gift shop

Approach me like you know me, wanna show me

Say you owe me.

Can you please, please have my number?

Make me dinner?

You're a winner!

So you say...

"Baby gimme one chance

Watch my dance

I'm romance

Get in my pants?

Wait...where you goin'?"

So you say...


But while you keep talkin' talkin'

this bitch be walkin' walkin'

Cause I'm sick and tired

of being mired

in the games you wanna play.

So with two birds front and center

I'll allow you, fool, to enter

my thoughts as you approach me

like you know me, wanna show me

and you say what you say.


Livin' up the single life, don't want a wife? Well baby, GET THE FUCK GONE.

Got no job, no prospects? Livin' off of state checks? Your last girl's a damn wreck? Then GET THE FUCK GONE.

You ex is a psycho? You're homo? Like disco? Go anywhere the wind go? Then GET THE FUCK GONE.

Oh what's that? You're married? You and wifey wanna share me? Well 'less she's dead and buried, GET THE FUCK GONE.

12 beers a day, no work and all play? Well, what else can I say? GET THE FUCK GONE.

10 kids. 10 mammas. I don't want your drama.

Smoke out, do drugs? Bitch, I don't date thugs.

You got no life, no story...guess what? You bore me.

A zealot, a monger? Can I say it any stronger?

Humor? You got none. But your deer rack's full of shotguns? Dude, you're fuckin' with the wrong one. So GET THE FUCK GONE.

Can't complete a statement? Live in your parents' basement? I ain't got the patience, so bitch, hit the pavement!

Don't listen? Been missin' the last one you were kissin'? You just got out of prison? Then GET THE FUCK GONE.

Unfaithful, distasteful, unintelligent and hateful? I find you all disgraceful! So GET THE FUCK GONE.

'Cause I have my own home, my own car

Don't care who you think you are

I've been there. I've got scars



One lap

Two laps

Three laps

Four laps

Push until I collapse

Every time I relapse

Burn it

Earn it

Every time I yearn it's

MY pain

MY gain

Master of my own brain

Though rife

with strife

Author of my own life

Five laps

Six laps

Pulling up my bootstraps

Running with no road maps

A prolapse in my synapse

Allowing me to time-lapse

I'll get fast

Get past

the hurdles of the now-past

Push through

Rear view

Always was my go-to

But my past includes you

How much must I go through?

Burn it

Earn it

Every time I yearn it's

MY pain

MY gain

MY strife

MY life

Every time I relapse


Friday, October 19, 2012

Homeward Bound

Cully was a puppy

big of feet, big of heart

Who loved to run and laugh and play

He'd meander across the yard

sniffing here and checking there

It was all good fun

He'd discover something new and neat

And off dear Cully'd run.

When Eve would fall there'd come a call

and Cully'd bound away

from the smells and tortoise shells

Run home at the end of the day.


But then one day the pup he played

too far from his dear home

He wandered to a neighbor's porch

and there began to moan.

Whimpers lead to whispers as the neighbor's lights turned on

The door open, Cully came in, and had himself a bone.

A woman's face, a warm embrace

held him for the time.

But at the end of the day, he was a stray

and his heart could never be mine.


A stop on the road, I lightened the load

for the happy wayward hound,

but then came the day Cully scampered away

And I knew he was homeward bound.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Scar Tissue





of woes





it shows





it grows











Wednesday, October 10, 2012

On Feminism or "Fuck You Very, Very Much"

Women of the world are under attack, and I'm looking for some men (and women) to join me in giving a damn.

My soul has been sick since yesterday, when three noteworthy events occurred--each piggybacking on the other--in heightening my awareness that the "fairer sex" continues to receive unfair treatment.

And I've, quite frankly, had it.

These events were (in this order):

1. Observing the Prime Minister of Australia stand before her government and lambast a misogynist for his deplorable example. http://jezebel.com/5950163/best-thing-youll-see-all-day-australias-female-prime-minister-rips-misogynist-a-new-one-in-epic-speech-on-sexism?utm_campaign=socialflow_jezebel_facebook&utm_source=jezebel_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow

2. Being personally verbally attacked by a professional male weightlifter for assuming a position of authority on my own film set. That I was the only woman present in a room full of muscular men was one problem. That none of those muscular men came to my aid, opting instead to stand by and watch, was another.

3. A beautiful feminist voice was silenced when the Taliban decided to murder (they failed) a 14 year old Pakistani writer by shooting her to death as she rode on a school bus. http://hellogiggles.com/14-year-old-pakistani-girl-malala-yousufzai-shot-by-the-taliban-for-being-a-feminist-blogger?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter


Does it piss me off that women continue to make less than men for the same job? Yes.

Does it anger me that women's healthcare coverage denies necessary annual exams but will cover prostate checks? YES.

Does the fact that women are underrepresented in nearly every power-related field in this country? Yes, yes, YES.

But despite my annoyance at these situations, my investiture usually does a consta-hover at just that - annoyance. After all, this is just the way things are, and change comes slow, and I have no doubt that my daughters (should I ever have them) will one day be afforded opportunities that I never had...

That's me usually. Susan B. Anthony am I none.

Until today.

Because, goddamnit, someone has to stand up for the ladies. And I guess that someone is just gonna hafta be me.

From my vantage, each instance on the above list shares two common characteristics: 1. that they all involve an instance of acknowledgement of extreme gender inequity and 2. the media.

Let's consider:

That genitalia is not a signifier of intelligence, grace, wit, or entitlement has been scientifically verified in every way possible. But in a society (societies) where gender roles dominate (and are heightened and perpetuated by media outlets), this equity is often thrown by the wayside in favor of perpetuating the ideals of subservient, pretty women and powerful, take charge men.

And while there is nothing wrong with any or all of these traits--should someone come by them naturally--there is something very wrong with listing them as a mandate. And with punishing those that choose not to fit in with the "Brady Bunch" structure of our socioeconomic mindset.

And most of us refuse to even admit that gender mandates continue to be a problem. After all, there's a war in Iraq and the economy's in the toilet. But while we focus on the men dying on the Middle East battlefield and the men who caused the economic decline and the men we are going to turn to to clean up the mess, we refuse to see what has, since yesterday, become quite plain to me: women's voices are all but absent in these pressing matters. And that, my friends, is a pressing matter.

If we truly take an unbiased look at the evidence, most of us would rather turn a blind eye to sexism than admit that there is not only an elephant in the room, but that it is shitting all over the lives of vagina-wielding members of our populace.

Most of us really just haven't thought about it, because we don't want to think about it, because it's ugly and it's scary and we're better off here than those poor girls like Malala Yousufzai in Pakistan who are getting bullets on buses.

My friends, "Injustice somewhere is a threat to justice everywhere." And whether in the Australian Parlament, on a Mid East school bus or in a gym in Marietta, Georgia, our choice to turn a blind eye to the rampant inequity fostered by gender roles is, at best, obtuse and, at worst, a death sentence.

Think that's hyperbolic?

Think gender equity is not a problem here?

Think again.

That it remains "emasculating" when a woman's wages exceed her husband's is misogyny.

That people care more about Hillary Clinton's haircut than the policies set forth through her post? Misogyny.

That a female producer can't call for "Quiet on the set" without a roid-raging egomaniac screaming and cursing at her, exerting his physical dominance because she dared to assert herself as a position of authority? Misogyny.

And it's coming to a head.

Most likely because we often refuse to even see or acknowledge it.

I guarantee you Mr. Temper Tantrum didn't go home and assess the fact that he has a deep-seeded issue with female authority figures. Double or nothing he went home seething about that "uppity bitch" who tried to take over his gym, and punched it out on his heavy bag, content in that he had "put [me] in [my] place."

All I can say is, I hope this man doesn't have sons.

And therein, my friends, is our solution: sons. and daughters. US.

First, we must take a good, hard look at what we personally believe about gender roles. What is good? What is not? What is acceptable? What is not? WHY.

Why, for example, is it NOT okay for a man to be "effeminate"? Why are female weightlifters "disgusting"? Why does a man speaking with authority equal leadership, and a woman doing likewise equal an attempt at usurping authority?

Realizing we are all guilty.

And then teaching our children differently.

Because our sons will not believe they can be "real men" without being the biggest, strongest, richest guy on the block if we do not believe it.

And our daughters will never stand up, speak up and tell anyone with a problem to shut up so long as The Secretary of State's pantsuit is more important than her policies.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012


Did you like Elvis Presley?

I reckon probly so.

He seems like someone you would like,

but I guess I'll never know.


I don't know just what brought me here

or why I feel that you're so near

when I hear his wistful song.


We never listened to this tune.

You never saw this lonely room.

but I can see you, plain as day

When The King starts to play

This melancholy ode to love

a woman he's been dreaming of

to me a kitchen 50's style

blinking lights and your young smile

in a house I've never known

but its me there

not yet grown

And you, with youth upon your face

take my hand in your embrace

and sweep me 'cross the shining floor


Is it possible...HOW is it possible

that you're not here anymore?


Yes, I think I know it now

I can't say when or why or how

but you'd have sang this song to me

You. And me. And Elvis Presley.