Senator Kamala Harris Appears To Make The Old Boys’ Network In The Senate, Nervous — Gronda Morin

There is not a woman alive who has ever held any executive type position who has not experienced this phenomenon of being interrupted, talked over by male co-workers while she was simply doing her job. There are literally hundreds of published articles out there in the real world, advising women how to navigate successfully under […]

via Senator Kamala Harris Appears To Make The Old Boys’ Network In The Senate, Nervous — Gronda Morin

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The Cat — Heather Sawaya Writing

I thought about calling you

but have no idea

who you really are.

Perfect ending. I’m reblogging.

Heather Sawaya Writing


(Hieronymus Bosch, 1450- 1516)

Part of the program

was to trigger and split

those wounded by rape

and abuse.

It is almost impossible to

not be affected by

such twisted symbolism.

The murder one of it is

that you will not want it

until you want it.

You will adjust

to not feel

this much pain.

Your mind does all it can

to protect you,

distorting the unbearable

into some warped version

of acceptable.

Through the downpour

and over every bridge,

the soul cannot be destroyed

and so

you cannot ever lose who

you truly are.

You will

trying to control and enslave you

you will find strength and peace within

the sanctity of growth symbolism

that will help you resist


and fade alters.

You will surface.

I felt sick today,

headachy and exhausted,


I managed to avoid

the cops’ and the puppets’

ventilation burn and

parable threats.

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Orion’s Wheel reblog – Whimseygizmo

Marvelous imagery…

Whimsygizmo's Blog


We steal celestial moments,
thread our words through belt
loops touched only by
gods light years away.
We call names.

Fall apart.

Whistle and wait
for the echo of
our own syllables.

The stars are pin-prick cat prints
on construction paper,
somebody gnaws a moon
-ring in the black licorice
of this broken sky.



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Posted in Delightful imagery | Leave a comment

Of Paradoxes and Pop – by Mimik

So beautifully expressed and wise…I’m reblogging

Waiting for the Karma Truck


So here’s what’s been rolling around in this very addled head of mine…My neighbor Gary is an avid gardener.  So much so, that we have never spoken about anything else.  He came to the door a few weeks back to tell me that our grass was being over-watered and that I should adjust the scheduling of the sprinkler system.  Ok, done.  The other day he flagged down my car to advise me that my grass wasn’t getting enough water (I’m abbreviating the conversation to keep this thing going).

Everything needs water – but not too much.  Every meal should be savored – but not so much that you get heartburn.  My cyber pal David (, is pondering the extremes of emotional bungee jumping, as I extol the state of balance.  But highs are awesome – it’s the lows that suck.  It’s all a paradox (sidebar – Annie LaMott’s Ted…

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Oh poo!

I was trying to comment on a couple of d’Verse poems tonight but they wouldn’t take. It said Comment and I did and then it asked what site I was from and then for my site name and then wouldn’t take my comment–wanted me to start all over again and also asked if I wanted to join ATOM whatever that is.  Where are you supposed to learn new procedures?

I’m not really as upset as this may sound, just a little frustrated and feeling ignorant (which I do hate).

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VIGNETTE for d’Verse


She stoops, sags a little and has a mole.


Murderous fantasies overwhelm her at times.


Old patterns of obsequiousness remain.


She was raped, at eleven, by her uncle.


Alive, under an imperfect breast:


The woman.

Posted in Rape | Tagged | 26 Comments

Quote from Samantha Hunt

What further heaven could people want than to become part of a tree?

(Samantha Hunt, Lapham’s Quarterly: Discovery Spring 2017,  p 216)

Nan’s family photo.

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