His Bare Bride

Crazy Bride

He called her crazy

    and she giggled with glee

    flinging her top off

    for all to see

He drove down the road

    bare bride at his side

    her hands in the air

   enjoying the ride

A honk and a whistle

    oh she got more than one

    he smiled as he watched her

    having sheer naked fun

How lucky am I

    he thought with a grin

    to have married this girl

    who revels in sin

So here’s to the Crazy Ones

    who don’t give a fuck

    if you find one to marry

    godspeed and good luck!






Run With Scissors Because

run w scissors

Run with scissors

   because you’re not supposed to


Say NO when asked

   because you don’t have to


Day drink

   because you simply want to


Go commando

   because it’s freeing


Wear the high heels

   because your legs look great and to hell with pain


Break made up rules

   because who the fuck made them anyway


Love more than one

   because hearts are big and have lots of room


Live how you wish

   because the only rules come from within




Ph|Google Images

Me Again


You know what? The sun came out today.  Wow.  Not happening here lately.  And what happens inside me when the sun is out–a good thing.  The winter heart dissolves.  The smiling soul rises. That long lost giddily happy no cares girl comes out to play.  And she did.  A little wine on outdoor patio with best friend.  Sunglasses. Giggles.  Sex talk.  All fun. Loss of melancholy  me and sadness.  Damn, this is what makes me alive.  Maybe I am me again.

Territory of My Mind

via Daily Prompt: Territory


I love to wander

a territory all mine

it’s no one else’s land

entrance banned

from all outsiders




no horizons

no end

A place

I can run, hide, or seek

I  laze in sun

or weep in cloudy gray

I plod steadily along

with heavy feet

or skip with light heart

This land is mine to own

sometimes it owns me

 a saving grace

or a graceful fall

it doesn’t matter

it’s the only thing

that is all mine




I Don’t Accept

via Daily Prompt: Acceptance


Acceptance.  What we are all supposed to do.  Right? Well I kind of say Fuck that.

I don’t accept my hair turning gray.  I like it blonde.

I don’t accept knees hurting.  I keep working out.

I don’t accept being tired.  I fight it.

I don’t accept wearing old lady clothes.  I shop in juniors.

I don’t accept slowing down.  Hell with that.

I don’t accept not going to fun, young bars.  Hell, they make me dance!

I don’t accept staying home in quiet every night.  I am alive! Let me breathe!

I don’t accept I can’t do that anymore.  Fuck yes I can and will.

I don’t accept wearing a tankini.  I wear my bikini.

I don’t accept “we never have sex”.  That’s a death threat.

I don’t accept solemn, non-smiling.  There’s a lot to be fucking happy about!

I don’t accept not being me.  No matter my age.  Not matter my looks.








Not the Usual

Not poetry here.   Just, you know, kind of a Ok I’m going to write some shit.

I’m drinking homemade amaretto, yummy by the way, after wine and beer earlier today.  Yeah, I kind of had a “me do whatever day.” *fist pump in air*

When your day starts with going to dentist, and he fills your cavity without numbing you–and nothing hurt you at all–you know you fricking rock the day.  And take advantage.

A lake.  Then lunch. Chatting with people who don’t know me at a little dive place I have come to love. All the while thinking, writing, feeling like I can do me “alone” and absolutely love it. And I wrote good stuff.  I tell myself that.  So I’ll just believe it.

Trying to make myself into something I don’t really know yet.  But hey, it’s cool.  And I’m smiling.  What can’t be good about that!