I find it interesting that when I post my opinions on certain media outlets, I get bombarded with so much hate and nasty replies. Then if they cant argue a good enough point, they pick on mispellings in your post. I try not to go on someones post that I disagree with especially to call them a name. Why do that? Why go out of your way just to be so hateful to sombody you dont know, that you disagree with?

So your opinion is different.

And? Thats what is supposed to make USA such a great country

We dont all have to agree on everything, what a boring world that would be! Ok, so no body is putting a gun to your head to make you agree with differing opinions. Just scroll on. Simple. I am not here to fight to change mindsets. But if certain individuals are allowed to state one opinion why isnt anyone else able to do the same?? Its a sad state of affairs and says alot about the character of people who cant agree to disagree without hatespeech and bullying.

If I have done so in the past, I deeply apologize and regret it emphaticaly.

Freaks out on the margins...

Sleep borders the eye...

Patrols follow their functions

Never questioning the 'why'...

We are out here picking

Through the dirt...

"Let's persecute the outliers

And buy our King sometime..."

The desert heat is still beating down...

There are stockpiles of excuses,

And their dying on this vine

Like the babies dying in the womb

Of a cropper being dusted...

All the tables have retreated now...

While our locks appear more rusted...

We have made our beds...

Foreigners have fled...

Now we're left here in the gloom...

Watch the dustbowl howl

All around us now

Like we're sealing up our tomb...

Pa is waving us inside...

There's a storm on the horizon...

Freaks out on the margins...

Sleep borders the eye...

Patrols follow their functions

Never questioning the 'why'...

Our old cow just pitched forward

Last night...

It was dead before it hit the ground...

Everyone is on the menu...

I see famine in your soul!...

There's a yearning to release a truth...

And a fear of letting go...

Some strange residue has

Settled on the windows...

This microphone hangs like a

Paint brush

Dipped inside a cloud of gas...

This mare's tail...

This murk of fog

Could be the next big blast...

There's a howling from the hills...

Take a sip out of the void,

And tell us now

Just what you see!...

...Are their tranquil sights?...

Or ruinous tears

Running down the

Panty hose

Of space?...

Everyone has powers

Of observation...

We are untold Oracles

Who speak unchaste...

Say something now!....

Spell it out!...

Say it proud!...

Or batten the hatches

And wait to die...

7/10/25

Bunny Villaire

I saw the gates of thee.

See my body and soul depart and flee.

I hope you remember me with glee.

I can view all aspects of life after me.

Like the fake crying and the wishing pleas.

Telling Jehovah that they miss me

When they couldn't seem to stand the sight of me.

I saw lovers turn their backs on me,

Now they're at the funeral on bended knee.

Beneath the knees, the ground shakes

Because I said once before

When I get taken out,

The Earth would find hell, but an even

Quicker route.

Don't just now start to scream and shout.

I can see and hear all the noise

If so God allows.

I say the things that never should be said.

In order for 3 men to keep a secret,

2 of them has to be dead.

I have bled the tears of the innocent

Who run to a traitorous friend.

I am everything you had ever hoped for

Until I wasn't enough in your head.

I was the beacon of hope

Until you found a better way to cope.

I saw me go from being needed

To neglected until I my name

Was engraved on a stone

With no farewell greetings.

I appreciate the roses

And proceedings, but wouldn't it be neat

If I got them thrown at my feet

Before my soul started retreating.

It was only a dream, but the memories

Of the crying faces are fleeting

Your voice is both the splitting wound and the balm. The day is distracting, but every night I face you again. I stand before the fault line snaking through the side of my heart. I stare into its darkness. I let it blind me. I let the tears fall into the deep.

I want to know what you want from me now. I want to show you that I can be strong. I want to feel safe with you always. Can you still be my safe haven when you're so far away?

I feel something aching. I feel sick. I feel loved. I was loved, wasn't I? Am I still loved? Is it true that death is only physical? Does only the holiest of love prevail?

I traded an orange pill for white.

It doesn't burn my chest. It's a powder shell not digestible plastic.

My hands shake more. I feel the anxiety winding like a snake in my stomach,

up my throat and out my mouth in unintelligible sentences where something sharp used to live.

I feel everything where there used to be fluff and fuzz and nothing quite coherent, and I ache terribly because of it.

I am filled with energy and yet blink spots from my vision. I sob and I want to be cradled but settle for a phone call and wish I was wanted more, but won't verbalize it.

I can feel my brain trying to heal itself through zapping and body trying to mend from aches and palpitations. The alcohol and nicotine that stained my teeth and rotted my heart don't feel like relief anymore, but a worsening for the ripe wound that covets me whole.

I want my father to call me his little girl. I want my mother to tuck me in. I want my brothers to put a hand on my head and laugh as I try to swing at them. I want to be small for I have been a tall child much too long.

I consider going back. But then I wouldn't cry when someone leaves. I wouldn't fall in love. I wouldn't feel pleasure or pain. I wouldn't feel so suffocatingly, for I wouldn't feel at all.

Used to be art imitated life.

Ive come to believe the opposite is true.

Ive noticed a patern in the "matrix" we live in.

If you concieve and imagine it, the posibility of it happening is greater.

Have you noticed how the movies have portrayed humanity? Before cinema, we had books.

Books ignighted inspiration for fantasy and science fiction, if was imagined and put to paper, it became real in one way or another.

Stories once by word of mouth, spoken into existence, printed on paper, became life.

Isnt it interesting how what was once fiction has become reality.

Flight. Outerspace. Staying young.

Look at all the achievments that have exploded into existance in the last 120 years. Thats such a short time when you look at the big picture of life on this planet.

Have you noticed celebrities getting younger? Whats up with that? In the story "Jupiter Ascending" they manufacture a youth serum from harvesting human beings. Described humans like raising cattle for the market of consumption.

Given what weve learned about the occult being the underlyng intity in Hollywood, maybe there was a message in that story.

It is a lie that imortality means never dying or leaving this reality.

The human condition should be described as like a catipillar existing for a short while as one thing, then transforming and ascending to a higher self, intellegance.

Does that mean staying in this body? The butterfly doesnt start life as a butterfly but as a catipillar. It learns about life in that existance, then changes into what it was meant to become.

Human life is similar i believe.

We shouldnt fear what we dont fully understand. Dont fear aging, dont fear changing into what we are meant to be.

This existance is an evolution of the soul.

Think about that....

I had a problem this morning and Chuck my husband of 35 yrs had to save me.

A little background,

When i was a little girl about 4yrs old, The nieghbors brothers threw a big fat bug into my long hair!

I was terrified!!

A few yrs later I was probaly 8 or 10 and I was visitng with my friend at her aunties house. They had a large screened in porch but bees had made a nest inder the overhang.We were told not to let the door slam, but I forgot and the bees chased me. One got tangled in my long hair, my hair was down to my butt.

I could hear it buzzing and feel it crawling on my head!

I was terrified!!!

The adults didnt believe me and I was hysterical, finally the bee fell out and stung me on my shoulder.

All this to say, this morning one of those big black waterbugs crawled up on me!

I totally freaked out!!! I screamed and cried, Rajah, my big great dane puppy, came and tried to save me!

It took Chuck getting the bug and taking it outside then coming back and holding me before i could calm down.

In a way its kinda funny, cause I'm not scared of mice, lizards or snakes. But a big ole bug crawling on me freaks me out!

I feel better now but it sure did get me!

To all the voiceless Surrenderist...

...Merely numbers on a sheet!...

Your bones make kissy squelching yelps

For the grinders of the meat...

A man with less respect for life

Than an Earthmover run amuck...

Has burned and stripped our world for lucre...

We're out here standing in his wake...

He's bombed another country!...

Iran has children,

And to those that may survive

We will owe them eternally

For all the evils of our kind...

The cards are laying on the tarmac...

The writings dripping from the wall...

We can't pretend that this is normal...

As institutions slip and fall

And hope's and dreams slip through the cracks

On the way to work each day...

With less and less reaction time...

From people who get paid

To promise all the hanging Chad's

Who make up the faceless polls...

The Heidi's, and the Alejandro's...

The Jakub's, and the Amir's...

The Malika's and the Zuri's...

The new babies every year...

Families living in their ranch-style homes,

Or tenement dwellers who live day to day,

Or drifters on the sidewalk

Who pass in solitary ways...

We are more then just cruel fodder!...

Though I am sure from steely eyes

While flying his big-ticket

Air Force One

We look like ants that he must

Strategize

To factor in to his assumption

That he must consummate his gain...

To become a King that tosses gestures

That offer little more than stink

From his crude, indecent fingers...

He'll be pacing in a room...

If we choose to sustain our silence

It will be a coastal tomb,

And blackened balls on frozen stalks

From the last insects left alive

Will be his final audience of onlookers,

If hearts and voices choose to die...

Will it be...business as usual?...

Will we lay...down on our backs?...

Will we walk...with both our hands tied?...

Will we close...our eyes to facts?...

Will it be...business as usual?...

Will we let...our faucets dry?...

Will we stop...helping the one's in need?...

Will we halt...pausing to cry?...

6/27/25

Bunny Villaire

Damn these expectations. These demands that I struggle and fight to meet. The corners that I push myself into. The confines I bend and break myself to fit within.

If the world didn’t measure beauty as being skin deep. If I stopped caring what the world thought. Then I would know without a fragment of doubt. That I am beautiful. That I am enough. That I am worthy.

Deep down inside the trenches. Beyond the steady stream of my constant thought. I know I am good. I know that I am real. I know that I am rare.

Perhaps someday. When the light has left. When the edges have dulled. When the years have pulled their weight. Perhaps then it’ll be enough. To be as chaotic and unpredictable as the ocean. To be as weighted and deep as the night sky. To be as mysterious and tragic as the wilderness. And perhaps then, I’ll let go. I’ll stop chasing the illusion of perfection. I’ll stop demanding more than I was ever made to give. I’ll stop sabotaging myself with the stabbing pain of self insult. With the morbidity of constant comparison. Perhaps it will finally come to an end.

And I will be…

I will be free…

I will be me.