
Daddy’s Bottomless Black Pit
Clean my face, wipe dripping tears of blood that come from deep within. Born black and blue and forced to pay for my daddy’s kin. He was raped and abused, treated like a piece of shit. Little baby girl born to that unhealed victim, I had no place to grow, to learn or to run. So, I lived beneath the ground cradled ungently, in my Daddy’s arms, no place I fit…except deep down inside my Daddy’s bottomless, black pit.
Tag: jeanne marie
Codependency
Loved you until I was drained, empty
nothing left of the love as I recall,
refuse to lose my mind, so it is over
bruised brain won’t survive another fall.
Driven quite mad, aching for your touch
spirit crushed by your negative weight
splintering my weakened, damaged bones.
Set free? Set free? Shit, it is too late.
Too late to be an innocent little girl
too late to chase the passions of 17
too late to write that frigging book
but all my floors are sparkling clean.
My womb has left, cut from my body
so, too late to be a better mother
loved ones from my hands I dropped
always ran, hid beneath the covers.
Some other day, some other love
some other life, any but my own
thought I had time to find happy
old came first, please leave me alone.
Hopes shattered and then returned
laid to bleed in my hollow heart
the doors I had no will to open
never found the strength to depart.
Windows I painted closed, proud…
I held my ground…I took a stand
never seeing what would be forfeited
manipulations, I did not understand.
Never added up the sinister expense
of investing in a love already lost
relying on vows of a better tomorrow
never analyzed the enormous cost.
Driven by deceits, the knife sliced deep
guided by the sharp edges of yesterday
writing a check for the lies I believed
emptied the piggy bank, how will I pay?
For Jodie Lynne
Her eyes were watching for God© from Michelle Marie
Angels Among Us…
Maggie Mae Packs For Florida…leaving her coats and sweaters behind…and her Mama.

Maggie Mae was an angel on the plane ride to Florida, even with a connecting flight on our agenda. We arrived home safe and she is settling in and getting accustomed to her new sister, Ms. Kita.
Ms. Kita is thrilled to have another Chihuahua to run with and is happily sharing her toys. Happy about sharing her Mommy and Daddy? Not so much.
Blessed with a day of love before my daughter goes to prison…thank you for all your prayers. I feel your love.
Jeanne Marie~How does your garden grow? From amazing friend, talented writer and awesome graphic artist, Michelle Marie. Thank you.
What?! I’m getting a sister?!
What?! I’m getting a sister!?

I have to learn to share my toys!?

Are you joking!?

What’s her name? Maggie Mae? What kind of a name is that for a Chihuahua? She is a Chihuahua, right?
What does she look like?

Oh she is so pretty! But she’s not prettier than me, right Mommy? She has her own clothes, right?
Her own blankies?

Okay, I guess it will work out.

Let’s go get her!

Last night I watched angels painting…
Doing Time…
I publish tons of personal stuff on my blog, but I wasn’t going to write about my thirty-nine year-old daughter going to prison, not because I’m ashamed of her, but because the hurt is so enormous.
I have made mistakes. Some that will haunt me until the day I die. Everyone makes mistakes. We all pay for our mistakes too, whether it’s through Karma, prison, divorce, broken hearts, family members who never speak to us again or whatever. You don’t have to wait for an official Judgment Day.
I believe that every day on Earth is Karma’s Judgment Day.
My heart has been sliced, diced and pureed, but much of it I can blame on myself and my bad decisions, decisions made from fear and insecurity.
And just when I think that I have bottomed out on heartbreaks, my middle child, who has also made bad choices, gets herself in enough small trouble with the law to end up with a very big sentence.
Twenty-years, three in and seventeen-years of probation. If she sneezes, she will do twenty-years. And she is a sneezer. She received that sentence for non-violent, minor crimes.
Meanwhile, rapists, child molesters and murderers do less time. They get out and do it again. Sometimes within a week. The man who killed my daughter’s first husband had six convictions for drunk driving, no license and his blood tested positive for alcohol and drugs at 8:a.m.
He went through a red light taking down my son-in-law’s motorcycle that was stopped at the red light.
I had to call in the news before he was even charged. He did fifteen months in prison.
I am not excusing my daughter’s crimes, but doesn’t rehab make more sense for an addict who hasn’t found sobriety?
The worst part is that we couldn’t afford a lawyer and justice is for people who can afford a lawyer. Take my word for it, because that is one theory you don’t want to test.
And I get to fly 2000 miles on Monday and then drive three hours to deliver her to the prison. There isn’t a big enough box of tissues for this one, but I am grateful for the opportunity because I want to stand by her and I want her to see her mama’s face loving her as she walks into prison.
I keep giving her to God and He has saved her life so many times and I am grateful. She has thrown away a hundred chances to turn her life around, so maybe prison is the only way to save her life again. He sees the whole picture and I trust Him, but it’s an extremely painful solution.
Seriously. I have no clue how I am going to make it through that day or the days that follow, because she won’t be the only one doing time. We are connected and she holds my heart, so we are both doing time.
Jodie Lynne, I Will Stand By You…
I publish tons of personal stuff on my blog, but I wasn’t going to write about my thirty-nine year-old daughter going to prison, not because I’m ashamed of her, but because the hurt is so enormous.
I have made mistakes. Some that will haunt me until the day I die. Everyone makes mistakes. We all pay for our mistakes too, whether it’s through Karma, prison, divorce, broken hearts, family members who never speak to you again or whatever. You don’t have to wait for an official Judgment Day.
I believe that every day on Earth is Karma’s Judgment Day.
My heart has been sliced, diced and pureed, but much of it I can blame on myself and my bad decisions, decisions made from fear and insecurity.
And just when I think that I have bottomed out on heartbreaks, my middle child, who has also made bad choices, gets herself in enough small trouble with the law to end up with a very big sentence.
Twenty-years, three in and seventeen-years of probation. If she sneezes, she will do twenty-years. And she is a sneezer. She received that sentence for non-violent, minor crimes.
Meanwhile, rapists, child molesters and murderers do less time. They get out and do it again. Sometimes within a week. The man who killed my daughter’s first husband had six convictions for drunk driving, no license and his blood tested positive for alcohol and drugs at 8:a.m.
He went through a red light taking down my son-in-law’s motorcycle that was stopped at the red light.
I had to call in the news before he was even charged. He did fifteen months in prison.
I am not excusing my daughter’s crimes, but doesn’t rehab make more sense for an addict who hasn’t found sobriety?
The worst part is that we couldn’t afford a lawyer and justice is for people who can afford a lawyer. Take my word for it, because that is one theory you don’t want to test.
And I get to fly 2000 miles on Monday and then drive three hours to deliver her to the prison. There isn’t a big enough box of tissues for this one, but I am grateful for the opportunity because I want to stand by her and I want her to see her mama’s face loving her as she walks into prison.
I keep giving her to God and He has saved her life so many times and I am grateful. She has thrown away a hundred chances to turn her life around, so maybe prison is the only way to save her life again. He sees the whole picture and I trust Him, but it’s an extremely painful solution.
Seriously. I have no clue how I am going to make it through that day or the days that follow, because she won’t be the only one doing time. We are connected and she holds my heart, so we are both doing time.
Wordless Wednesday Turned Into Thursday When I Blinked
My heart holds on when you feel like letting go
childhood is but a whisper then comes the living…
Another Chance

A homeless man and I crossed paths today
As he looked hopefully into my eyes
I’m ashamed to say, I looked away.
His angry face, his dirty, tattered clothes
they frightened me, although for all I know
I scared him with my new car, fancy clothes.
Jesus said He is the beggar at our door
He lives among the homeless in the street.
All day I fretted at what I hadn’t done
said hello or shared money so he could eat.
I used to roll down my window at the stop light
and hold out dollars to the countless homeless
and it always felt like doing that was right.
I stopped giving freely a few years ago
after I brought food and blankets to a family
holding signs that said, “We are hungry.”
and they turned my offerings away.
“We can only accept cash,” they said.
so I stopped giving without noticing
to the homeless after that rueful day.
Have I become so cynical and
and is it a million dollar business
as I have read? Maybe. I just don’t know.
A poor excuse even even to my ears
that all should pay for one group of cons
and my habit of giving should flip to no
when I had given joyously for so many years.
This man deserved a smile and kind words
and brave soul that I am, I looked away.
Now, I drive the streets seeking his face
and if I see him, I will do right by him today.
Weeds

Walking among the flowers,
bending to touch the weeds
they are fragile, blooming at will
sprouting from no planted seeds.
An array of splendor soon to be
fed to the noisy lawn mower.
Weeds, do you know that you are
as beautiful as any planted flower?
Purple, pink, yellow and white blooms
who decided that you were a weed?
While flowers close by are honored
in words and pictures and deed.
You keep on growing, waiting for my notice
instead you’re pulled, torn up and trashed.
Hey, stop swaying, let me take your picture
so for me at least, your beauty forever lasts.
by Jeanne Marie
The first picture is called an Air plant. It grows anyplace it wants to and while often latching on to other plants, branches and wires, it requires no soil. The next five pictures are weeds that grow wild in Florida. Silly Yankee girl that I am, I have nurtured and transplanted these beauties to each place where I have lived in Florida. Yes, the neighbors laughed at me. The last three pictures are of flowers, but since they appeared and were not planted by me at all, blown into my yard from where I don’t know, I count them as weeds. But I treasure my weeds as well as my flowers for which bloom should be called a weed and which bloom a flower? I just love them all.
Florida Hibiscus
Today…from Jodie Lynne
I Am Sixty, Part Two: The Oil Stain August, 2013

My friend told me stories about her yearly trips to Sanibel, Florida. After hearing her stories, I was longing to go there, especially after viewing all the gorgeous shells she had collected during her visits to Sanibel with her family.
Sanibel Island in Florida is a vacation destination dream place, but the reality of the ocean’s condition there since the BP oil spill in the Gulf is extremely sad. The sea water is cloudy brown and the shells that used to line the beach have disappeared. The entire shore is utterly devoid of shells except for tiny bits and pieces.
My friend and I searched all along the island’s beaches for three days. We hit every beach on Sanibel Island; plus, Captiva Island and came back with empty sand pails. We did fill a three ounce bottle with tiny shells which we collected at midnight when the tide was out.
The excitement I felt at going to stay at an ocean front hotel to celebrate my 60th birthday was tempered by the still visible damage that was supposedly cleaned up in the Gulf Coast. Why is it still showing its ugly face in the brown ocean waters of Sanibel? When I asked the hotel management why the ocean water was brown and a little sudsy, they told me that the “town” had put something in the ocean a few days ago to help keep the ocean clean. Mmmmm. Really?
When I got home I did some research and found websites manned by Gulf Coast residents explaining the still ongoing pollution residue left behind from BP’s oil spill, the mess from the disbursement solution included. Oil sitting in puddles in their back yards, sea life and plants diseased and dying off.
I did have sand dollars all over my feet and legs when swimming at Sanibel. I enjoyed meeting them and scooped them up by the handfuls, said hello and set them back into the sea.
My friend, standing beside me had none near her, so in addition to being a gecko and butterfly whisperer, I am now a sand dollar whisperer.
Sanibel is still a beautiful island to visit but it was so sad to witness the ongoing damage from the BP oil spill and I was furious when I recalled BP’s recent commercials stating that there was no lingering damage from their oil spill.
https://womenwhothinktoomuch.wordpress.com/2013/08/26/i-am-sixty/
https://womenwhothinktoomuch.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/least-we-forget-i-cried/




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