Making a Metta Moment

Breathe in peace.

Yesterday was a horrid day.

Breathe out anger.

Breathe in love.

I never do anything right. I am a loser.

Breathe out self-hatred.

Breathe in acceptance

My body is gross. Who could ever love me.

Breathe out dark refusal.

Breathe in stillness.

I’m so anxious my hair is falling out and I’m grinding my teeth.

Breathe out nervous energy.

Breathe in radical love

No one ever invites me to do anything.

Breathe out dark hatred.

Breathe in peace.

What do people expect from me. A robot? A doormat? A yes woman?

Breathe out hostility


Breathe in love.

Breathe out love.

Breath in love.

Breathe out love.


The Other Alphabet Song

A you’re so assanine

B you’re a big bovine

C you’re so carefree with your words

D you’re a dodo head

E eeekkkkk you’re so bad in bed.

F you’re a fool who smells like turds

G I hate it when you goose me

H you’re a hellion to the T

I you’re so idiotic to me

J you’re just a Jack wipe, too

K you kiss like poo

J you’re just a trickster full of charms

K you’re a kicker full of harm

M N O P I could go on and on and on all day

Q R S T alphabetically speaking your a Jack off, okay

U are a track stain

V you’re so very vain

W X Y Z it’s fun to put you down

You dirty, measly clown

And my life without you gets an A


God Is There

When your best poem is lost forever

And, your dreams feel like now or never

Is God there?

My God is there.

When your heart is closed and fully broken

When your love’s memory is just a token

Is God there

My God is there

When your Mom is gone when you really need her

And, your best friends are two furry creatures.

My God is there when the tears are pouring

When I want this life to end.

He is there when, after, and during.

He holds me in the palm of his hand

When I am unsure and doubting, He holds me again

When it seems like there’s no good reason

When despair lasts season after season

God is there

My God is there.

Out of Service

Oh, days of being toney about the town,

how I miss you.

My pinkish hue has turned to punk.

My finest food has been made funk.

My smile’s been padlocked in a trunk.

I sloop down farther in my bunk.

I wish that I was more than drunk.

When depression calls on me.

Where did you come from ravenous brute?

You bully in a zoot suit,

I thought that I had given you the boot.

I figured I had killed you at the root.

I can’t even go on a two day toot*

When depression calls on me.

Then, if by miracle, a new wind blows in

giving back my zeal, vigor, zen.

Depression calls, but my number has changed.

Do do do…the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please, check your number and try your call again.

*Going on a toot is sneaking off to get drunk for a few days. During that time, a drunken person may attempt wild and dangerous feats.

How I Love You So

I am so exhausted by seeing you one hour a week and wondering how you are feeling the time that I am alone.

Alone, stuck down here in hell where the Bible Belt hooks together.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that though I was ill and missed church again today. Darn Shingles! I keep breaking out from one side to the other back to the other. It utterly drives a person insane.

As do you, but I understand. You have a family there, and I am your family down here. I just miss you and your goofy smiles and belches.

I remember when you used to point Heavenward when you belched like this one is for the Barbie Dream House you forgot to give me, God. And, I would get so worried and challenge saying, “One day He’s going to come down here and ask you what your problem is!” And, you simply replied that you couldn’t wait, because you had some daring questions for Him. I knew what they were, Thea. I understand now, but now, finally, you two have made up. Yes, you and God are just like this (with two fingers crossed together, and I am the thumb way down here.

I miss you more. Being a decade apart, I have always missed you. I went into second grade; you went to college. I went to high school, you went to Yale. Finally, I finished my frosh year in college, and you went came home to get another Master’s. We lived together in an old, beat up, haunted house. The fun and funny years.

Then, David died. The fun stopped. You stopped being you for years that seemed like millennia. Our bickering became full fledged fighting brawls. And, Moreland came around. Life started getting better. Harry joined the group. Definite upswing! You had him at first blueberry muffin; you are the nose that nose and the cook that cooks.

When my now dead husband banished me to hell where we didn’t know a single person, then died two months later, you were there even when I wasn’t. Now, I am crawling my way back to Purgatory while you have lowered the rope. Between us, haven’t we covered every religion? Between us, haven’t we been through everything?

And, we never truly leave each other’s hearts.

Oh, my sister, how I love you so.