Carried Away

A dusty forgotten book found on how to rescue a relationship That can’t be rescued and would it have been? A dead man with a needle in his arm sitting on a toilet A waste of a perfectly good life, we get one A terminally ill girl who went to prom with her boyfriend and town I never went to prom, but I’m alive

British Suri is decidedly daft I said call Rich's cell Not stock price of Dell A ketchup bottle thrown Across the kitchen Has high impact on naughty Fodder for the wee gee And gossip mill Keep your pills They make us slow Pretty little policeman Sit in the snow Don't forget to write About surfing with Kelly And flying at night

There is distraction in my mind To be in a moment Different than the one I'm in To fast forward to the life I desire and deserve Yes I deserve to be happy! My soft heart has taken a beating Pun not intended but serves I've earned my stripes and badges I've honored everyone else Sacrificed skin and bone And yet the snow falls

I talked to a friend of mine who has cancer and a multitude of other diseases, yet she lives life to the fullest. She took me to a trapeze class. She got a cowbell clang for her efforts, I was lucky to climb the ladder, swing and land on the net. She told me, "Stand in your truth." If you think about it, it's harder than it may seem (at least for me). Everything about you is your truth. Of course, the journey involves finding out who you are and then accepting yourself. For exactly who you are. And then there's the part about other people accepting your truth! It's too much! Yet I must try. My friend is losing her job in June and she's going to travel the Australian countryside in a van for awhile. I've decided to tell myself, "Stand in your truth. It'll be alright. Someday." More cowbell!!

I’ve been thinking a lot about fire lately.   I’d like to sit by a warm fire, I feel like I’m in hell, burning ring of fire (hello Johnny & June). But mostly I think this… I do not fear walking through fire with you.   I fear not being with you.

My life is shaping Every minute now Pricked by the sharpest pin Burned by ambivalence Starved by the fishermen Carved in the softest pine I am a sculpture Of rings

Storms crush my footprints I wasn’t there long enough For them to last Too bad the Irish priest Can’t tell me what to do Where to be Who to be How to be He’d give me the blessing God I need it May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back, May the sun shine warm upon your face, The rains fall soft upon your fields and, Until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.