Christine Ray – They come to play
haunted hours
when my ghosts
emerge from
the ether
waltz
in slow rotation
through my memory
music
only they can hear
skeletal orchestra
backside of the night
when my demons
come out to play
leapfrog through
my dreams
like rowdy children
with fangs
with talons
Red Rover
Red Rover
shall we play
hide and seek?
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Christine Ray – Memory of life
you declared that you
loved me
more than life itself
to any
and all
that would listen
if only
you had valued life
a bit more highly
than the darkness
you received your
first kiss
from Lady Midnight
herself
on moonless eves
the imprint of
her pale, frosty lips
still glitters
on your neck
as we lay black narcissi
blood red roses
before our empty crypts
I remember when hearts
and hope
still beat in our chests
before we were mere memory
and shadow
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Christine Ray – A night visitor
he is stealthy as the night
slipping through
bedroom windows
bare feet leaving
faint impressions
in the rug
he likes to inch
the covers down slowly
oh so slowly
from my body
as he whispers
with forked tongue
the games he wants
to play tonight
I tell him one day
I will lock my windows
hang a crucifix
on the wall
sprinkle holy water
around the room
this just makes him laugh
as he slides confidently
into my bed
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Christine Ray – They wish not to be disturbed.
we have always lived in the castle
safely nestled behind
thick stone walls
tall metal gates
their wickedly pointed tips
razor sharp
murky moat full of frogs
turtles
koi
we have always lived in the castle
playing tag
hide and seek
in dusty rooms
with the living
and the dead
we are never lonely
here
we bathe by candlelight
besides the cozy kitchen hearth
carefully comb the tangles
from each other’s hair
we have always lived in the castle
keeping ourselves
to ourselves
rarely venturing past
the grounds
to visit the nearby village
some could call quaint
deliveries received
at the property line
Mondays and Thursdays, please
we will meet you
with our wheeled wagon
we do not welcome guests
or strangers
gladly
not all of our skeletons
safely hidden in closets
or buried six feet below
the shade of willow trees
the unsuspecting are hurried
quickly back to the…
View original post 34 more words
Christine Ray reprises one of mine for Halloween.
You’ll get used to it
What the old ones say
Just takes some time
To learn how to control
Control when the screaming
Turns to howling
How many times it takes
How many full moons
They don’t say
To stop dreading that moon rise
When the shape change comes
Shape of man to
Shape of wolf
And back again
When the moon sets
Feels like hammers on bone
Bob Wertzler is retired from almost twenty years in the mental health field in California and Arizona. There are times the title, “Recovering Therapist”, seems to fit. In 2006 he retired to move to Western North Carolina to help and become primary care giver for his father who had developed Dementia. Before all that, there was work at various times as a soldier (US Army 1967-70), community organizer, cab driver, welfare case worker, wooden toy maker, carpenter, warehouse worker, and other things…
View original post 17 more words
Christine Ray – An assembled bride
stitched carefully together
from odd parts
of other women
you preferred me
to be
you recklessly
called forth
roaring thunder
flashes of lightening
that wracked through
my body
electric agony
ignited a spark
of independent life
I rose from the table
reborn
something new
something other
you gazed upon me
your creation
not with love
not with compassion
but with revulsion
with horror
you had longed for the
perfect rag doll
to pose
to toy with
we both knew
the moment
my mismatched eyes
met yours
I was not she
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Image courtesy of Pinterest
Calico Jack – Resources and opportunities for protecting the vote.
So, you’ve voted.
You’ve urged others to vote.
You’ve posted that cool meme about voting and stupid MAGAs.
You’ve sent postcards to swing states.
You’ve got a shift on a phone bank.
You’ve done everything you can, right? Wrong! There is more that you can do to help save our democracy and protect our vote! You can volunteer at Protect Our Votewhere you too can fight for more secure and transparent elections.
The main way full-time concerned citizens and part-time blog readers can volunteer is to take photos of precinct poll tapes when they are posted on precinct doors or windows. Then at the end of the day, upload them to their website. Once uploaded, their analysts will then compare the daily vote totals with the final county and state vote counts to determine if there are discrepancies or other monkeyshine shenanigans going on. As the results…
View original post 281 more words
Calico Jack – Is it going to work for him again?
In our ancient history, the Ol’ Pussy Grabber professed a belief that his large rallies were far more indicative of his support than the polling, and that rallies were key to “winning” the 2016 election in the greatest Electoral College landslide ever recorded in recorded human history and, probably, since human beings stood upright and climbed out of the trees if we’re being realistic.
We here at Ye Olde Blogge like many others scoffed at the notion that rallies were any kind of meaningful indication of support. The derisive scoffing continued as the Ol’ Pussy Grabber desperately re-ran his ’16 election playbook, but then a post from a lifetime ago resurfaced and it cued up some doubts mid-scoff.
You remember January 2020 when we were not consumed by mask controversies; we hadn’t lost 225,000+ real live dead Americans…
View original post 788 more words
Christine Ray shares a song for the age of quarantine.
Because some days, Jason Isbell is just what your heart and your soul need. . .
Lyrics
A heart on the run keeps a hand on the gun
You can’t trust anyone
I was so sure what I needed was more
Tried to shoot out the sun
Days when we raged, we flew off the page
Such damage was done
But I made it through, ’cause somebody knew
I was meant for someone
So girl, leave your boots by the bed
We ain’t leaving this room
Till someone needs medical help
Or the magnolias bloom
It’s cold in this house and I ain’t going out to chop wood
So cover me up and know you’re enough
To use me for good
Put your faith to the test when I tore off your dress
In Richmond on high
But I sobered up and I swore off that stuff
Forever this time
View original post 150 more words
Calico Jack points to research on emotional intelligence and political orientation.
Political scientists have studied conservatives and liberals searching for what makes them different. They’ve come up with a lot of stuff. This is another in a long laundry list of consistent traits that cluster for each approach to life, liberty, and the right to racist, misogynistic, single-party, pseudo-democratic minority rule. They seem to include everything from embracing or rejecting change to how round you see a circle as. The topic even fits into the discussion of the Big Five Personality traits and the latest entry in that series, Signs of the Times: Snooping the Yard Displays of Trumpsters.
The observation that left-wing and right-wing adherents tend to differ on so many psychological characteristics is amazing
Alain Van Hiel
This article reviews the findings of a study that investigated the emotional abilities of people on the political continuum. They were interested…
View original post 423 more words
Life is make believe, fantasy given form
Finding Inspiration
POETRY RANDOM THOUGHTS AND STUFF LIKE THAT...
hand-drawn comics & other musings of an androgynous punk rock wild witch
An Instrument of the Divine's will.
Parcham, which in Urdu, roughly translates into "Flag" or "Banner", is an online forum, mediating on literature, poetry, art, culture and Politics. It stands for the spirit of resistance against forces that are out to stifle and throttle voices around us.
Poetry, stories and some random words...
For expression, for freedom, for joy, for solidarity in womanhood
Cycling, breast cancer recovery, bipolar disorder
Traveling the great passage of life - Art in nature and writing
Building Perspective on Trauma, Loss, Attachment, Familial Pain, and Moving Forward: LaDonna Remy, MSW, LICSW
An exploration of a world beyond borders...
Stretch your brain
Paintings for Kids and Kids at Heart
Life from the Tail End
Poetry ~ from my heart ~ to yours ~
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
writer — poet — word and reality rearrange(r)
Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays
cabbagesandkings524 