Exploding normality...

I will never feel safe or pain free, at least not until I die. I don't understand why others think that I'm beneath them and can dominate me. WOW! life is so painful; it's so finite; it's so UNBEARABLE!

And others say there is no normal??? Sure... Okay, let me put it this way. I wouldn't mind a life that BORING. Too much drama in mine - just would like BORING! Maybe the way would be to keep away from my neighbors.

Gee, my upstairs neighbor always draws the cops here, constantly gets in fights with people he brings over, has been arrested many times, doesn't put money in for the dryer, brings unknown people over here, has been robbed, BUT Mean Marlene loves him - he does not scare her. PRETZEL LOGIC for sure.

I'm not perfect by any means, but I take out the trash cans when Mean Marlene asks me and even when she doesn't sometimes, I try to be as quiet as possible, pay for my dryer loads, give her dogs treats, play with them, walk them occasionally, give her part of the flowers I buy, and I generally do my best to be respectful and nice to her. BUT I scare her and she accuses me of things I don't do. DOES NOT COMPUTE! NOPE...


Okay, it will take a while for this to go away, but it will...Just don't think I'll ever feel safe while I'm alive. Thank God I have God, Jesus, & Sasha...

Poetically speaking

Pain bring out creativity. It comes from deep within and seeks release.

"Pain is a flower like that one,

like this one,

like that one

like this one."               Robert Creely, "The Flower"

Shadow Petals

Deep bruises shadow petals

Where white purity lacks necessity

Floral stalks sprout flourish grow die

– a short life –

Alive promoting beauty

Dead teaching lessons

It is piercing pain reminiscent

of what is mysteriously terrifying

lurking on the edge of sleep

but not allowing sleep but scaring into wakefulness

then forgetfulness

Morning: in the light a hangover of pain persists

Memories fade although it is thought wounds

Will be remembered after they heal

No, says the Universe, I will

take you to another place

Trust me, although it’s thorny, but trust me

just because


this heart so fragile desires more
in dreams it sees what appears beyond reach 
you my Psyche with arms uplifting

Beauty, where I find it...

It is often in the unseemingly ordinary sights that a beauty not often realized can be found.

My Peaceful Place

I've found my place, my home, my heart

where I can let go

where I can let Him take over

In preludes and postludes

the organ voice invades me

allows me to relax

In this place I have no fear

Photos from around the block

Some photos I took walking around the block in Hollywood. Some I played with for certain effects, others I didn't do very much editing.

~Rina Rose~

Poem: Under the Corona

UNDER THE CORONA

midday
Lady Sol's corona glows
through marine layers a jet flies south, banks west
Is it going to the airport?

Inside a lighting distributor's
wrought iron fence a well-dressed woman
talks with a ragged homeless man They rest on a bench after walking

I check my wallet which I know contains
only two dollars
handing them to the man
he needs the two dollars
more than I do

I am impatient for the bus to arrive
so I scroll through my iPod menu
picking one of my favorite songs
singing with it
walking to the next bus stop
where I will catch a bus to the bank

Rent is due today

On the bus I wonder how much difference exists between this man and me
He has no home on the other hand, I will give all
except thirty-five dollars
from the deposit to my landlord so I have a roof over my head

Yeah, we're both kind of broke

My Feline Acrobat

My Feline Acrobat


I’m busy doing
my morning routine
in the bathroom.

Sasha likes to sit in
the north-facing window there
in the cool dawn shade.

I’m between the floor
and the window sill. She
does not want me to pick her up.

From the marble tiles,
she bounds up to my right leg,
springing onto the window sill.

As she grooms herself,
only then does my feline roommate
allow me to pet her longer than momentarily.



May 6, 2011

A Day at the Park...

The lake at MacArthur Park in the Westlake/MacArthur Park section of LA isn't the most beautiful of lakes. It's a park that sits right in the middle of the city. But, I took this photo because of the message and painting on the concrete planter. Before I snapped the photo, there were 3 seagulls sitting there. I waw just a minute too late, since the one sea gull took off. But I like the message, "Let's Work Together." Sounds like a good thing for all of us to do on any day.

Tonight on the way home, I saw a woman get on the bus; she hadn't closed her wallet correctly, and there was something that looked like it was going to fall out of it. I tapped the man in front of me on the shoulder and asked very politely if he could tell her. Well, he was less than polite, telling me that I was bothering him. Such is life. I told the woman on the when I exited the bus and she thanked me.

Is there ever any season or right time for being courteous or kind? I think not...

Some of the birds at MacArthur Park

Add caption

I love birds, I don't care what kind they are. I even love birds other people think are pests. Well, MacArthur Park isn't one of the best parks in SoCal, but I needed a walk the other day and I walked around the lake and took pictures of the birds there. Here are just a few of the photos I took.

Photos from Memorial Day

Seeing as how I dislike posting my photos on facebook - it's too difficult and causes too much trouble on my computer, I will post them here from now on. My friends can come here and look at my photos. This way they belong to me and I don't have to fuss with fb's stupid rules. ;-) I had more photos, but they didn't come out very well - I'm still trying to learn what I'm doing with my camera (most of the photos turned out like the people in them had skin disease since I used the wrong light setting) - but I have been getting more comfortable with the basics of Photoshop. Enjoy the few photos I have posted here. When I get time, I'll revise and post more.

One Bird

Bird on rope
sits
in quiet contemplation

Crimson sun
frames
tiny song messenger

Avian contends with
dangers
speaking its own foreign tongue

Human writing poem
wishes
to understand this language

Before the next
sunset
winged creature flies home

Black Shirts of Love: Sixteen Short Years

in memory of Melody Ross, 16 years old

Who says one person can't
make a difference?
When a stray bullet
cut Melody's life short,
a wave of students
wearing black shirts
in her memory
swept across the nation
reminding those who knew her
and those who didn't
how much her life meant
and what it represented

Melody and I are worlds
apart since she will never reach
old age and I look back
on my youth in high school
as a distant memory
when we never worried
about stray bullets
or our fellow students
having guns

We grew up with different
concerns because then,
as high school students
we wept for a president we
saw as our nation's hope
while her classmates
shed tears for a girl whose
potential remains untapped
for firearms are too easily
accessible

Reading the news story today
I wept for Melody's
family and friends who
understood as a result
of her death that life
does not have enough time
to spread love through
sixteen short years

Tearful Way

Awakening from her dream
she cries
knowing
that her tears spill
into all grief's stages
welcomed
as a way to help
its flow
to a place
where she meets
the One who can
soothe the ache
no one can see
or touch

Moon Ride

She was at my left shoulder
during most of the ride
whispering what I chose
not to believe
You're stronger than you know"
I looked at her

She winked
Yes,it's true

Then she disappeared
hiding in front of the bus
I settled in with my thoughts
and came into the station

Exiting the bus
there she was to greet me
shining over the station entrance

Ok, I agree with you