My World

My world is filled with words,

With images, with sounds.

My world lives with laughter,

Is watered with tears – sorrow and joy.

My world is scarred and beautiful.

My world is my own, and yours.


For With Real Toads, a nice challenge from Mama Zen to write about our world in 35 words.

Canvas is my She Art project, look it up it is amazing!

Devil you know

“Better the devil you know.”

This passes for wisdom.

That smiling demon

says, “love” and kills.

The devil you know.

Makes no sense to me.

There is no devil to know.

They are lies. They are pain.

They haunt and torture.

Friend, family and lover

can be a ‘devil you know’.

They are still a devil,

you know?


“Better the devil you know.”

Oh yes, that makes sense.

No, not really. Not at all.

One demon you know

does not make you

invisible to others.

One devil in your life

doesn’t make you safe.


“Better the devil you know”

I do know you.

I flee from you.

Walk, run and hide

from your sweetly

dripping false face

with killer heart

full of lies. Lies.


“Better the devil you know”

If this is wisdom, let me

be the fool who says,

“No, I”ll chance a new one.”

This one I know, and wish

to have nothing more of.

This one can pass me by.

Keep on walking, dragging

that tail of sulfur and lies.


“Better the devil you know”

means nothing to someone

who has faced her demons.

It is a cowardly way, falsely

safe and cruelly sane.

Call me crazy but when

I know it is a devil,

I pray the hedge and

then I run away! I walk.

Crawl. Dive. Dodge.


Devils you know, know you.

They can  find you again.

Don’t leave the door open,

not so wide. Windows either.

Shut them out, in any form.

There is no ‘better devil’ to know.

Keep it easy, them and us.


For With Real Toads Friday challenge with Fireblossom.

Off Line

“Today is the day we say good bye, right Mama?” asks a sad little voice.

Searching for photos, remembering stories, smiling and remembering.

Hurt and sick for so long it seemed, up and down, up and down.

Gone now.  At peace. Except for us. Still here.  Remembering.


“Remember when Nana…” and then “That time with Diana…” he says.

Searching for her voice. Listening for her laugh. Sad remembering.

Computer logs on. Seeing your profile.  ‘User is offline.’ I start to cry.

Offline. Peeking out heaven’s back door at us.  Gone. We remember.


What can you say, to a life lived so full?  What can you say to him?

“Nana loves you. Even when you can’t see me I love you all the time”

That book worn almost to pieces, her first to him. His favorite still.

“Nana we love you. Even when you can’t see us, we love you all the time.”


Missing my dear Diana, Luke’s Nana.

Do Not Pass

For some, a line, in sand.  In chalk.

A line in water on hot pavement.

Suggestion more than anything else.


For others, the line, demarcation. There.

A line in life drawn in blood across bone.

The reason for it all, after it nothing else.


You tell me, “Don’t cross me” and I smile.

Your warnings, watery and thin, mean nothing.

Sadly, you know this all to well, and still…


and still I wouldn’t utter the words of warning.

I don’t warn. I don’t threaten. I am. Just that.

Know me by my words, my life and take it in.


Soft hearted, yes I know I am, and yet not.

My heart is my own, but what it would

bleed for is business not of yours, know or judge.


Stare you down, cold eyed, and watch you walk.

Prayers for your soul, and for your going away.

Do not pass here. Do not cross that line you see.


It lurks there, the guardian, and only those who

have the ears to hear and the eyes to see know it.

Shiver and shudder, turn and go back. Do not pass.


You think you know me. You know nothing of me.

You’ve never seen the other side, lucky you.

Pray that line never gets crossed.  I pray it. Daily.


Once you thought you could dish it out.

Once you thought I had no choice but to eat.

Bitter cup washed it down. No more. Never.


In spite of you, not because of you, we live.

We drive it back, the darkness and the pain.

We seek light and defend it too. Here. Now.


Sure I laugh. I cry too. I share all those things.

Emotions.  Hearts on sleeves. Dangling raw.

Hands behind backs, eyes hard a stare. At you.


Do not pass. You should know better by now.

There is no mistaking when you hit the line.

The line is armed, and we hit back. Hard.


For with Real Toads, a late entry into the Demarcation challenge, and shared for both Real Toads and dVerse Open Link offerings this week.