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Becoming butterflies

A friend’s mother just passed away after a long illness and I truly feel her sorrow. My daughter tells her young children that in death people become flowers. That you transform. and that makes sense. We don’t know what happens to consciousness after death.  Our atoms survive in a different form. The energy that we are converts into something else.

The question: Does the butterfly remember being a caterpiller or its death in that form to metamorph into something entirely different?


His current girlfriend and their 2 children live in another country. She doesn’t know that he has a 2 year old son here. His son’s baby mama doesn’t know that his girlfriend just had another baby. His 3 children by his first wife need financial help. And he has high blood pressure.

Poem from awhile back

This is a very personal and intense poem, but I will share it with you.  I am an artist and take my emotions and experiences and “put them out there”.  Otherwise, I would go nuts. Sometimes the poetry just needs to be written.  I ‘m not upset or anything right now.  It is just how I felt one day in California about being the “other woman”.

Seeking something that just isn't there for him.

My fantasy

My fantasy is that is that he loves me

Willing  to give me the stars and the moon.

He is my dream come true

My fantasy is that he doesn’t  care for her.

She means nothing to him.

My reality is that she exists and I mean nothing to him.

Otherwise he would treat me more kindly,

My reality is that I seek what is not mine to take or receive.

My reality is ugly truth compare to the crystalline fragile fantasy.

The muck of everydayness intrudes upon the unreal in my mind.

Would that my fantasy become my reality –

But that is why it is a fantasy.

Copyright 2002.

Mini Saga – Priorities

She needed her clunker car fixed. She had no job, no skills, and no money.  She asked for a $500 loan.  He countered with a proposal she had heard often in her life. Fifty dollars for a quickie in the storage room was the price to pay for steady transportation.

Saw this on another website and thought of all the mini-sagas of the people I know.  Here is the first one..


He had taught her daughter to drive and now the mother wanted to learn. He had taken advantage of her poverty and hoped the same with the attractive mother. Why not — sex with the daughter was great.  The mother was not convinced of the necessity of the exchange of services.