








Running full tilt thru each day
leaves no time for reckoning
no time to breathe or seek relief
till exhaustion stops the flight
feeling can be too intense
too mundane-much to real
icky sticky hugs and kisses
that Hurt too much to feel .











Running full tilt thru each day
leaves no time for reckoning
no time to breathe or seek relief
till exhaustion stops the flight
feeling can be too intense
too mundane-much to real
icky sticky hugs and kisses
that Hurt too much to feel .

So, So Glad to be feeling like myself again. Taking it easy, not staying inside my head so much. Letting the colors and shapes do the talking…letting the details take the place of the racing thoughts. Dot, dot instead of thought-thought….
I was finally motivated to produce my second painting in the “Inside Voice”series. Although I am beset physically with devastating exhaustion, I was able this past week to get some work done. This is very encouraging, I have been fighting the fully immersing fatigue that envelops me each morning.
. I dosed myself up with a handful of vitamins earlier, I take them religiously, today I doubled the quantity and added an iron supplement. I must start eating some fresh fruit and veggies… Not Rocky Road. Anyway, I hope you are doing well, gentle reader.
. Here is my latest work, “Inside Voice #2 “
This work is a 12″x 12″ acrylic on canvas, and will be available for purchase soon.

Cats outside, raising a ruckus, peeing on everything
. I wash it off.
. Dog inside, rolling with glee, woops! she takes a pee
. I clean it up.
. I’m so tired, clumsy and hungry, spilling my juice, ants come
. I kill them all.
. Round we go, round and round, cleaning and messing
. I am fighting.
. Was I born for this kneeling ?
. Cleaning up piss?
. Break my back, have an attack? For a hovel?
. A place like this.
. A place my very Own.
. Who are you, growing up rich?
. Drunken and spoiled
. Face down in a ditch.
. “Clean it up Joe, find you a Doe!”
. You kissed her, now Dad says
. “Get hitched.”
. You will hate her, yet deny it,
. Wishing you did not choose it
. Now you beat, berate, and tie her
. ( You can’t keep your wick lit.)
. It was too hard to comprehend,
. This awful struggle to the end.
. You see, the fight’s the thing,
. This is the madness our life brings
. It’s not the lovely picnic resting,
. But the jabbing and the testing
. The Cat’s reign ends in terror,
. When the rat’s the standard bearer,
. When the pigeon trumpets loudly
. ” Too much foreplay, much too rowdy”
. Lay down your arms,
. Your legs, and tiny minds
. Pursue peace, seek you’ll find
. Even in these troubled times.
. I am sad and very weary,
. Throw in the towel,
. Wipe your eyes, Deary
. The fight now over, lost and gone
, Send the soldiers to their homes.
. Bruised and battered , torn and crusty,
. Their uniform so dank and dusty
. Where’s your fight now, wheres your medal?
. All alone upon the Pedestal.
. No more gallant hero jesting
. No more contact sport or testing,
. The battles over and we won.
. The fighting is now dead and done.
.
.
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