For A Brother

I almost accidentally
Swallowed your poison pill
Every word soaked
In toxic ill will
Mellifluous monotony
Slowly strangles
While the rotten carrot
Quickly dangles
To be your family hurts
Like a deep stab wound
But severed nerves
Stop the pain
So soon
As I choose not to swallow
Whilst you play ever the victim
And wretch and wallow
While I fade into the pale hallow
Of life's most difficult choices
Ignoring phantom voices
To live or to die
To give up
Or continue to try
To understand your constant
Need for drama
And chaos and lack
No. This time I walk
Away
And never look back.

Lines 5/7/14

There’s a fine line,

Between love and hate,

The space in between is lies.

Lies that spill forth,

Without any guilt,

And always in disguise.

Disguised as the truth,

It’s so hard to tell,

Even within your eyes.

Eyes that deceive,

Just as your lips,

And the truths that they revise.

Revise the line,

And the line gets crossed,

And all that’s left are lies.

TLA 5/7/14

The Credits Roll 3/4/14

At the end the credits roll,

You tried so hard to keep control,

You did until they pierced your soul,

Until you felt you’d never be whole.

You tried so hard to chase the dream,

To only find it’s all a scheme,

To take away your self-esteem,

And leave you there with your silent scream.

You wanted so much to feel the hand,

That would cover yours and help you stand,

But all it ever did was demand,

A sick loyalty you couldn’t understand.

So you took the pain and made it your own,

And held it close so it was unknown,

Through it all it’s only grown,

And in the end you’re still alone.

TLA

Aunt Donna 3/3/14

The middle of the night in late October,

It was just like any other night,

The kids were asleep, the house was dark,

But the porch was awash in light.

It lit the porch, it lit the room,

That it was on there was no doubt,

But upon waking in the morning,

The first thing I noticed was it was out.

I walked over to flip the switch,

Assuming the bulb had blown,

It took a second to realize,

The switched had flipped off on its own.

I stood and pondered for a time,

My mind filled with my frustration,

I finally chocked it up to nothing,

It was just my imagination.

So I went and turned my music on,

As I do each and every morning,

And twice it turned off on me,

Without giving me any warning.

The radio has not done that since,

It had never done it before,

But as irritated as I was by it,

It was something I chose to ignore.

It wasn’t too long after this,

I got the call and then I couldn’t deny,

The events that took place that morning,

Was Aunt Donna saying, “Good-bye.”

For Aunt Donna (12/24/43-10/23/12)

Mr. H

It was the first big snow, and I knew it was not going to be an ordinary day. So much was happening and I was just trying to keep it together. There was a weird energy with this one. I had done so many weddings before, some celebrity, some for friends, but after the rehearsal a few days before, I just had a feeling I should stay at the top of my game because this one was somehow different. The bride was a very well respected acquaintance, the groom, an interesting person, and the family – eccentric. What threw me off was the energy of the location. I’ve probably visited many haunted places over the years, and I have a long history with being able to sense and smell and hear things that I believe most people don’t. I always try to never buy into it too much, even though I know it’s there. I am just very fond of being in the now, and I don’t usually feel like I want to delve into unseen mysteries. Just being in this life is complicated enough.

After visiting the mansion, for the first time, I felt a strong presence. I did a bit of research and I learned others claimed the mansion was ‘haunted'. I stopped myself from reading too much into it. I have a big thing about other people’s judgments, and I just feel really strongly about figuring things out for myself and not supporting gossip. 

It was 11.11. 2012, and the bride requested the ceremony be at 11:11 am.  I made a gorgeous hand crafted wedding vows book to read from. My then 18-month-old son was teething, and my three-year-old daughter were growing restless. As the snow fell, I waited in the back of the mansion with the bride’s famous artist father. 11:12, 11:13, 11:14. The wedding planner came to announce the groom had arrived late. The guests seemed apprehensive. Finally, we were given the go ahead to proceed. 

I mustered all I had learned from experience – leant positive energy to the crowd, preformed the rites I had written, and saw that couple through to legal marriage, the final kiss, and everyone was finally relieved. Deep breaths.

Suddenly, it was all over. I announced that the reception would follow downstairs in the old theater room, as Gypsy Swing Review began playing old Jaingo Reinhardt tunes. I knew my husband had taken our children outside, because I could hear my teething son fussing during the ceremony. I was the first one down the stairs. Champagne was indeed calling.

It was just about noon as I made my way down. On the middle of the staircase, a guest came out of nowhere. He had an old fashioned way of touching my arm just at the elbow. As he spoke, I remember looking at his striking glasses. They just don’t make them like that anymore. Maybe Gucci does. He must be a friend of the bride's father. The smiling man seemed to know my name.

“Gabrielle. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ab. I must say that this is the nicest ceremony I’ve ever seen here.”

I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, but his compliment put me at ease. I made my way to the Champagne stand as the music roared and jangled. My husband came down with the kids. Ab sat in an old wall seat. I was surprised he wasn’t mingling with any other guests. He just seemed to be taking it all in. I could tell he truly appreciated the music, as did I. My whole life, I always felt I belonged in the 20's, and the music made me feel nostalgic for a time I cannot remember except in sepia flashes. He stood out in a dashing way; his well tailored suit shined extraordinary in a room full of money. His Bakelite frames glittered in the lights as my daughter danced The Charleston with the flower girl. I listened intently to the strange white noise of him sitting alone, thinking I should introduce him to my husband at first chance.

Smiling thoughtfully from the wall seat, he seemed to communicate to me telepathically:

“This is a good time for you. Money is no problem. You will reach success. Your wildest dreams will come true. The world is looking out for you.”

Slightly bewildered, I tried to visit with other guests while simultaneously managing my husband's stress-as our son kept climbing the stairs. That’s what kids that age do. I intended to introduce Ab to my family but I turned around he vanished. I figured he was dancing or mingling, and trusted I would find him later. 

“Please get River!” My husband pleaded. 

I turned and our son was already at the top of those stairs again, so I promptly chased him into the old library. 

River giggled and looked up the wall. My face went white. Am I drunk? No, I had two sips. There, hanging on the wall was an old portrait of “Ab”.

Later, I finally finished the research: Apparently "Ab” was A.E.H. who had shot himself in the head there in a reported 'accident' in 1927, allegedlly, to avoid being forced to implicate important political friends in the Tea Pot Dome Scandal hearings the following business day. 

“This is the best ceremony I’ve ever seen here” was a kind compliment to my work. Furthermore, out of all the people I've met, living or dead, Ab is certainly one of the good ones. After much thought, I resolved not to make too much more of it. A compliment is compliment after all.

Tomorrow's Theme

Supernatural Experiences 

I have a difficult time writing about this one. First of all, it's part of what makes me me. Second of all, I have the worst time just allowing myself to be me. If I wrote about everything that constantly goes on both inside and out that seems just a little weird, I'd be here all day. But, then, there are just sometimes things that occur, that you know, one day-you must spill. 

A few days ago, my wonderful husband gifted me with a gorgeous new computer, and I have yet to sit down and write on it. I've played with art and photos, yet danced around avoiding what I know I'm supposed to be doing.

Part of starting this blog was all about self acceptance. And a big part of celebrating being alive today is not worrying about what other people think anymore. It's about sharing our stories, our authentic perspective, telling the truth, being proud of who we are. I'm on my phone now, and I'm BUTT exhausted, but I'm about to get on that shiny new Tec goddess, and type out a story! 

So, post your supernatural experiences like it's raining Halloween. I can't promise I'll finish in time to post mine tomorrow. I'll do my best.

G

Getting Started 3/2/14

Getting started is never the problem,
It's finding the time to finish.