Monthly Archives: August 2013

Omnipotent Need (and its screaming)

The sorrow always comes in your leaving and the rage comes when I have you yet life still is an empty damp box on someone’s doorstep. That stripped and stained mattress of yours and the garbage that glares at me … Continue reading

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others might see

In the glaring light of day we parcel out upon the world our blame and condemnations, our envy and frustrations, our Herculean efforts to be strong. In the deepest shadows of night we offer to God our hopes and fears, … Continue reading

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yearning

My heart, fragile as a laser carved eggshell, still beats. Beautiful, i know it is, yet taken for granted and only appreciated when it pounds against my chest or breaks. Why must I live this life I have chosen, indeed … Continue reading

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pawns, peasants and slaves

Imagine this: the concept of owning a slave surfaced like a boil on the face of the planet 12,000 years ago. Certainly it was not when bipedal males of the genus Homo habilis were developing stone tools over 2 million … Continue reading

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Bruce Cockburn – The Rose Above The Sky

Cockburn is a poet for the masses. And his music will take you to where you most need to be.

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Spirit Upon Dust

We draw lines in the sand and pretend we have created something. The Creator blew Spirit upon the dust and clay of this land and we awakened into sight and sound and sensation. That is, if you believe the tale. … Continue reading

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Note To Self

You don’t need to ring that bell with a one ton hammer. All you have to do is stir up a gentle breeze. Whisper. © Tina Zabielski 2011-2019

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One With

Once I have teeter-tottered to my grave on the same wobbly feet that have carried me through life, please don’t memorialize me with fluff, dull as a spoon, useless as a dream never recalled. For that matter don’t slather it … Continue reading

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Almost Green

It is almost green again, the world. Almost new, almost a reflection of something no one has ever seen. I dream a dream that repeats itself, familiar similar faces spaces and streets. To dream other wise would be prophecy, no? … Continue reading

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an Open heart

You don’t know or maybe you do. Maybe you pretend. I can’t. I am the ink on the page you’d already written when you said, “that’s an idea” but didn’t show. Too sensitive, I am. My trusting, yearning heart breaks … Continue reading

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